“‘You are right, Madame. Strange enough you should have guessed it. He was taken in Estremadura, where he joined a party of brigands. They knew my father by his queue; for, amid all his difficulties, nothing could induce him to cut it off.’
“‘I don’t wonder,’ said I; ‘it would have been very painful.’
“‘It would have made his heart bleed, Madame, to touch a hair of it. He was proud of that old queue; and he might well be,—it was the best-looking tail in the North of Spain.’
“‘Bless my heart,’ thought I, ‘these creatures have their vanities too.’
“‘Ah, Madame, we had more freedom in those days. My father used to tell me of the nights he has passed on the mountains, under the shade, or sometimes in the branches of the cork-trees, with pleasant companions, fellows of his own stamp. We were not hunted down then, as we are now; there was liberty then.’
“‘Well, for my part,’ said I, ‘I should not dislike the Jardin des Plantes, if I was like one of you. It ain’t so bad to have one’s meals at regular times, and a comfortable bed, and a good dry house.’
“‘I don’t know what you mean by the Jardin des Plantes. I live in the Rue St. Denis, and I for one feel the chain about my ankles, under this vile régime we live in at present.’
“He had managed to slip it off this time, anyhow; for I saw the creature’s legs were free.
“‘Ah, Madame,’ exclaimed Le Singe, slapping his forehead with his paw, ‘men are but rogues, cheats, and swindlers.’
“‘Are apes better?’ said I, modestly.