The keepers had rushed up with long spears and hooks, but it was too late. The cubs had bitten their teeth deep into the body of Adda Castillo and torn her flesh to shreds. They did not let go until formaldehyde was sprinkled on her scattered remains.
The cries of pity and terror, the weeping and wringing of hands, the thronging at the gates and the noise of the circus men, the image of a clown who stood as though frozen on a drum, a horse that trotted in from the stables, the sight of the bloody, unspeakably mutilated body in its dripping shreds—none of all this penetrated in any connected or logical form the consciousness of Christian. It seemed to him mere confusion and ghostly whirl. He uttered no sound. Only his face was pale. His face was very pale.
In the motor car on their way to Jean Cardillac, with whom they were to dine, Crammon said: “By God, I wouldn’t like to die between the jaws of a lion. It is a cruel death and an ignominious one.” He sighed and surreptitiously looked at Christian.
Christian had the car stop and asked Crammon to present his excuses to Cardillac. “What are you going to do?” Crammon asked in his astonishment.
And Christian replied that he wanted to be alone, that he must be alone for a little.
Crammon could scarcely control himself. “Alone? You? What for?” But already Christian had disappeared in the crowd.
“He wants to be alone! What an insane notion!” Crammon growled. He shook his head and bade the chauffeur drive on. He drew up the collar of his greatcoat and dedicated a last thought to the unhappy Adda Castillo without assigning any guilt or blame to his friend.
V
“Eidolon is not as cheerful as usual,” Eva said to Christian. “What has happened? Eidolon mustn’t be sad.”
He smiled and shook his head. But she had heard of the happening at the circus and also knew in what relation Adda Castillo had stood to Christian.