Next morning they were all tightly chained to one another and the man, whip in hand, led them to the dog-market.
This market was held in a large square, slightly shaded by big elm trees. Ragged old women, squatting on their heels, or crouching on old chairs or baskets, held little dogs on their knees, petting them, cleaning them, offering them for sale to anyone who stopped to look. Some people had dogs on leashes. Suspicious-looking men walked dogs to and fro.
In front there was a long line of hunting dogs of every kind and breed; farther on, a line of pet-dogs; then a group of poodles—newly shaved and beribboned. Here and there were cats, monkeys, parrots, birds of all kinds, and, lastly, guinea-pigs and white rats.
All these creatures barked, whined, mewed, chattered, screamed. The din was beyond description.
Clown, confused, a white poodle on either side of him, was silent. With hanging head he pretended that he had quite given up the thought of escape, but just the same, when no one was looking, he turned his eyes quickly from side to side, ready to seize the first chance to get away.
