“But how will you take it away?” asked the sailor, slipping his two hundred louis into his pocket. “You have not brought a cage?”
“I have a collar and a chain,” replied Pezon.
He shackled the beast like a small Savoyard bear, and led him home with a leash. [p143]
Now Pezon owns at least thirty lions—as many adults as cubs. He has built a good house at Montreuil, and is thinking of giving his farewell performance.
The success of M. Bidel, Pezon’s comrade and rival, was even more rapidly attained. At fifty years old he had reached the summit of wealth and honour. His visiting card, now lying before me, recapitulates the series of lucky events which have placed the tamer in this unique position much better than I could do:
FRANÇOIS BIDEL, CHEVALIER DE LA VALEUR CIVILE ITALIENNE, PRÉSIDENT DE L’UNION MUTUELLE, DIRECTEUR D’UN GRAND ÉTABLISSEMENT ZOOLOGIQUE.
And in the left corner of the card, where you would put your address, the single word Propriétaire (house-owner).
Do not smile at this; Bidel has the right to be proud of his villa at Asnières. To him, after so many years spent in [p144] moving round the world, the word propriétaire signifies the anchor dropped, the harbour won. It is a genuine certificate of bourgeoisie.
