quest of some liberator and on his terrible companion to watch her
uncertain clemency.

The panther looked at the place where the date stones fell, and every
time that he threw one down her eyes expressed an incredible mistrust.

She examined the man with an almost commercial prudence. However, this
examination was favorable to him, for when he had finished his meager
meal she licked his boots with her powerful rough tongue, brushing off
with marvelous skill the dust gathered in the creases.

"Ah, but when she's really hungry!" thought the Frenchman. In spite of
the shudder this thought caused him, the soldier began to measure
curiously the proportions of the panther, certainly one of the most
splendid specimens of its race. She was three feet high and four feet
long without counting her tail; this powerful weapon, rounded like a
cudgel, was nearly three feet long. The head, large as that of a
lioness, was distinguished by a rare expression of refinement. The
cold cruelty of a tiger was dominant, it was true, but there was also
a vague resemblance to the face of a sensual woman. Indeed, the face
of this solitary queen had something of the gaiety of a drunken Nero:
she had satiated herself with blood, and she wanted to play.

The soldier tried if he might walk up and down, and the panther left
him free, contenting herself with following him with her eyes, less
like a faithful dog than a big Angora cat, observing everything and
every movement of her master.

When he looked around, he saw, by the spring, the remains of his
horse; the panther had dragged the carcass all that way; about two