ket over the little inclosures to recognize certain animals from
his own land. With mingled pain and pleasure he looked at the kangaroos,
and seemed to suffer in seeing them in the limited space which they
covered in three leaps.

He stood in silence before the light grating where the antelopes were
inclosed. The birds, too, awakened his compassion. The ostriches and
cassowaries looked mournful enough in the shade of their solitary
exotic; but the parrots and smaller birds in a long cage, without even
a green leaf or twig, were absolutely pitiful, and Madou thought of the
Academy Moronval and of himself. The plumage of the birds was dull and
torn; they told a tale of past battles, of dismal flutterings against
the bars of their prison-house. Even the rose-colored flamingoes and the
long-billed ibex, who seem associated with the Nile and the desert and
the immovable sphinx, all assumed a thoroughly commonplace aspect among
the white peacocks and the little Chinese ducks that paddled at ease in
their miniature pond.

By degrees the garden filled up with people, and there suddenly appeared
at the end of the avenue so strange and fantastic a spectacle that Madou
stood still in silent ecstasy. He saw the heads of two elephants, who
were slowly approaching, waving their trunks slowly, and bearing on
their broad backs a crowd of women with light umbrellas, of children
with straw hats and colored ribbons. Following the elephant came a
giraffe carrying his small and haughty head very high. This singular
caravan wound through the circuitous road, with many nervous laughs and
terrified cries.

Under the glowing sunlight every tint of color was thrown out in relief
upon the thick and rugged skin of the elephants, who extended their
trunks either toward the tops of the trees or to the pockets of the
spectators, shaking their long ears when gently touched by some child,
or by the umbrella of some laughing girl on their backs.

"What is the matter, Madou; you tremble. Are you ill?" asked Jack. Madou
was absolutely faint with emotion, but when he learned that he too
could mount the clumsy animals, his grave face became almost tragic in
expression. Jack refused to accompany him, and remained with his mother,
whom he considered too grave for this fete-day. He liked to walk close
at her side, or linger behind her in the dust of her long silken skirts,
which she disdained to lift. They seated themselves, and watched the
little black bo