1
It was one night, some days after the animals had held their meeting in the meadow.
The lion lay in his lair, as was his custom, and stared with his yellow eyes. His spouse was sleeping or pretending to sleep. At every moment she heaved a deep sigh. All was still in the forest.
The lion well knew what his consort’s sighing meant. He knew what the animals had talked of that day and all the other days in the forest. Not one of their complaints was unfamiliar to him; not one of the taunts uttered against him had escaped his ears. Not for a moment had he doubted the feeling in the forest towards the king of beasts.
Nor had he forgotten which of the animals had spoken of him most slightingly. He had imprinted the names of more than one in his memory and he would know how to be even with them when the time came and order was restored in the forest. Every day he had to bear his consort’s gibes, but he no longer heeded them. She would have to beg his pardon and yield him her love and admiration once again. His children would honour him as they had honoured him of old and even more. He would be remembered in the history of the forest as the monarch in whose reign the kingdom had incurred a great danger and misfortune, which he had finally overcome.