retraced his steps.

From that time the desert seemed inhabited. It contained a being to
whom the man could talk, and whose ferocity was rendered gentle by
him, though he could not explain to himself the reason for their
strange friendship. Great as was the soldier's desire to stay upon
guard, he slept.

On awakening he could not find Mignonne; he mounted the hill, and in
the distance saw her springing toward him after the habit of these
animals, who cannot run on account of the extreme flexibility of the
vertebral column. Mignonne arrived, her jaws covered with blood; she
received the wonted caress of her companion, showing with much purring
how happy it made her. Her eyes, full of languor, turned still more
gently than the day before toward the Provencal, who talked to her as
one would to a tame animal.

"Ah! mademoiselle, you are a nice girl, aren't you? Just look at that!
So we like to be made much of, don't we? Aren't you ashamed of
yourself? So you have been eating some Arab or other, have you? That
doesn't matter. They're animals just the same as you are; but don't
you take to eating Frenchmen, or I shan't like you any longer."

She played like a dog with its master, letting herself be rolled over,
knocked about, and stroked, alternately; sometimes she herself would
provoke the soldier, putting up her paw with a soliciting gesture.

Some days passed in this manner. This companionship permitted the
Provencal to appreciate the sublime beauty of the desert; now that he
had a living thing to think about, alternations of fear and quiet, and