2
While they were talking, the lioness came slowly up and stood in their midst. They sprang up in alarm, but she lay down quietly and said:
“Do not be afraid of me. I sha’n’t hurt you. I have hardly eaten a mouthful this week for grief. The same cares oppress me as yourselves. And it is worse for me, because my husband ought to have protected us against these strangers and doesn’t. The disgrace, for that matter, concerns me personally.”
“The lion must help us! The lion must set us free!” they all cried together.
“The lion does nothing,” said the lioness, sadly. “He lies at home in our lair, staring and staring before him. But, now, listen to what I have to say.”
They all gathered round and listened.
“We are all concerned,” she said, “each one of us, without exception. I have taken in all that I have heard and seen of Two-Legs and I know his character and his plans as though he had confided them to me. He wants to subdue the whole earth. He and his children intend to reign over us all, whether we submit or not.”
“That is true!” cried the animals.
“Yes, that is true,” continued the lioness. “Let none feel safe! The most powerful animal and the tallest tree: if he has not laid them low to-day, their turn will come to-morrow. The lowest vermin and the sorriest weed, they know not on what day he may need them nor when they are in his way; and then their last hour has struck.”
“Yes, yes!” they cried.
The mighty oak waved his gnarled boughs in assent, the stag sorrowfully drooped his antlers, the worm whispered his “Yes!” in the earth and the bees buzzed with fear.
“Yes,” said the lioness. “To him we are either useful or injurious. If he thinks a flower pretty, he fences it in; if its scent offends his nostrils, he tramples her underfoot. If a tree stands where he can sleep in its shade, he lets it grow. If it is in his way or if he has a use for its wood, he chops it down. If he is able to use an animal, he catches it and makes it his slave. He dresses himself in its skin, eats its flesh, lets it do his work. He does not stop when he has had his fill, as we do. Greedy as he is, he catches animals and gathers fruit for many days, so that he may never suffer want.”
“That’s so, that’s so!” cried the animals, in chorus.
“Wait a bit!” continued the lioness. “There is more to come. He does not hunt fair, like ourselves. He does not go after his prey on his own legs. He rides at it on the back of the horse, whom he has compelled to carry him. He does not catch it with his claws, does not kill it with his teeth: he has a curious weapon, which flies through the air and brings death to whomsoever it strikes.”
“We all know it!” cried the stag.
“It has whistled past my ear!” said the wolf.
“It hit my wing!” said the eagle.
“He does not drink the blood as we do, does not eat the meat as we do,” continued the lioness. “He roasts it at the fire: he always has a fire in his hut. He has done violence to nature: we knew fire only when the lightning struck an old tree and set it alight; he strikes two stones against each other till the sparks come, or rubs two pieces of rotten wood till they catch flame.”
“True, true!” cried the animals. “He has subdued fire.”
“He does not wait to pluck the fruit in the forest when it is ripe,” said the lioness. “He cultivates the plants for which he has a use and roots out the others. Give him a free hand and he will transform the whole earth. No herbs will he let grow but those which he can employ. No animals will he let live but those which serve his use or pleasure. If we want to remain alive, we must become his servants.”
“Hear, hear!” cried the animals.
The lioness paused; all was still. They heard Trust bark a long way off.
“Listen to the dog,” said the lioness. “His first servant. Now he helps him watch over others.”
“The dog has betrayed us! Let us kill the dog!” they cried.
The lioness raised her paw and silence prevailed again. Then she continued:
“Do you remember the night when we met here in this same meadow, when the new animals had just arrived? There were some who warned us: they were the horse and the ox and the sheep; the goose and the duck agreed with them: now they are all his subjects; their presentiments did not deceive them. But do you not remember how the two animals looked when they lay here asleep? A couple of poor, naked wretches: we could have killed them without trouble, had we wished.”
“We could, we could!” cried the animals.
“But we didn’t!” said the lioness. “And now they are the lords of the forest. Do you know whence their power comes? It comes from the animals whom they have subdued. If we could take those animals from them, then they would be just as poor and helpless as before. Two-Legs’ power consists in this, that he can make others work for him. If, therefore, you take my advice, you will try to get his servants away from him. I propose that we send some one who will endeavour to talk them into their senses. Surely, we have only to appeal to their sense of honour and to remind them of the days when they wandered at liberty in the forest! Who will undertake the mission?”
“Do you go yourself!” they all cried.
“No,” said the lioness, “I had better not. It would not be wise. There is blood between their race and mine. They might remember this; and then my words would be in vain. It should be one from whom they have never had anything to fear.”
They discussed the matter for some time; and then it was resolved that the fox should be the emissary. He was at odds, it was true, from the old days, with the goose and the duck and the hen; but there was no one better at hand.
And so he sneaked off: none knew so well the shortest and most secret paths in the forest. He promised to bring back an answer as quickly as possible. The animals lay down to rest in the meadow and whispered together. In the midst of the circle lay the lioness, staring silently before her, with shame and wrath in her eyes.