1
it was many, many years after.
and it was not in the forest in the warm lands where the sun shines stronger than here and the rain falls closer and all animals and plants thrive better, because the winter does not stunt their growth.
it was in a large village in jutland.
it was fair-time and the village was full of people and cattle. on every side stood booths with wooden shoes and tin goods, cakes and toys and all sorts of wares. there were refreshment-tents and a dancing-hall. there was a peep-show, there were two merry-go-rounds, there was a place where the fattest lady in the world was exhibited. in another place, for twopence, you could see a tiny dwarf. then there were white mice and performing fleas, numbers of barrel-organs, all playing at one time, so that you could hardly hear for the din, and drunken peasants and boys playing practical jokes.
but the most remarkable thing of all was hidden in a large tent in the middle of the market-place. this, too, could be seen for twopence; and, if you wished to know what it was, you had but to listen to the man who stood outside and shouted in a hoarse voice:
“walk up, ladies and gentlemen, walk up! only twopence for grown-ups, children half-price! here’s something that’s never been exhibited in this village before, but that’s appeared before all the kings and royal families in the world. it’s a king himself that i have the honour of introducing to you: the king of the beasts, ladies and gentlemen, the terrible lion! he lives in darkest africa and is so powerful that he can kill an ox with one blow of his paw. he has two lambs for his breakfast every morning. if he were to escape from his cage, he would do away with you all in no time. but you need have no fears, ladies and gentlemen! the lion is in his cage behind thick iron bars. there he stands and glares in his bloodthirsty way, at twopence for grown-ups, children half-price. walk up, ladies and gentlemen! hurry up, before it’s too late! never again, in all your lives, will you see so fine a sight at so cheap a price!”
he shouted like this all the time. a crowd of people stood outside the tent staring. many went in. when they came out, they told the bystanders about the lion inside. then more went in and so it continued all day long.
2
the lion’s cage stood at the back of the tent.
it was a low and dirty cage. on the floor lay some filthy straw and a few bones. the side which was turned to the spectators consisted of thick, rusty iron bars. in the far corner lay the lion, with his head resting on his paws. his yellow eyes stared at the onlookers with a dull expression. there was straw in his tangled mane; and he was terribly thin. now and again, he gave a nasty hollow cough.
the man stood with a long stick in his hand, talking and explaining. the visitors to the fair stared round-eyed at the great beast that lay there so quietly. sick and feeble as he was, they could see, nevertheless, that he was the lion, the king of beasts; and they felt cold in their backs at the thought that he might break loose. but, when he did not make a single movement, one of the spectators said, at last:
“i believe he’s dead!”
then the showman pushed his long stick through the bars and poked the lion with it. the lion slowly turned his head and looked at him, but gave no further sign of life. then the man poked him again and again; and, at last, the lion sprang up and gave such a roar that the tent shook with it and the people fell back in affright.
“he ate his former owner,” said the man. “i bought him of the widow. he is terrible and intractable. he’s dreaming of his native land, you see, where he used to hunt in the wild forest and all the animals honoured and feared him. but now you must go please, so that others may come and see the most extraordinary sight ever exhibited in this village. walk up, ladies and gentlemen! only twopence each! the king of the forest, the terrible lion!”
and so it went on until late that evening. not until the market-place was empty and there were no more visitors left to listen to him did the man shut up his tent, after counting the day’s takings:
“this has been a bad day,” he said, with an angry look at the lion. “you haven’t really earned your supper!”
he flung a small piece of half-rotten meat into the cage. then he shut the door and locked it and went to the inn, where he sat and drank and caroused till early morning.
3
the lion did not touch the putrid meat. with his head on his paws, he lay staring at the little paraffin-lamp that hung in the tent and flickered feebly. suddenly, he heard a sound and raised his head and looked about him:
“can’t i have peace even at night?” he said.
“it’s only i,” replied a squeaky little voice. “i have been locked in by accident. i want to get out! i want to get out! my mistress will die of fright for me.”
it was a tiny little dog, with a collar and bells round his neck and an embroidered rug on his back. he tripped to and fro, whined and cried and scratched at the door, but no one heard him. all was silent in the market-place outside.
“well, i never!” said the lion. “you’re the dog: i can see that. gracious me, what a sight they’ve made of you!”
“i want to get out! i want to get out!” whined the dog.
the lion laid his head on his paws again and looked at the dog:
“what’s the use of whimpering like that?” he asked. “no one’s hurting you. i couldn’t eat you if i wanted to.... the iron bars are strong, believe me. i used to shake them at first. i have to travel in my cage from place to place and let people look at me for money, submit to their scorn and teasing and roar when i am told to, so that they may shudder and yet feel quite safe from my teeth.”
“let me out!” cried the dog.
“i can’t,” replied the lion. “but i am not so contemptible as you. i am here against my will, caught in a trap. you voluntarily entered two-legs’ service, betrayed your fellows and helped him against them.”
“i don’t know what you’re referring to,” said the dog. “i know no one called two-legs. i am in service with human beings. my mistress is a great baroness and she will die of fright if i don’t come home to her soon.”
“just so,” said the lion. “human beings, that’s what two-legs’ confounded descendants call themselves. they have subdued the whole earth. there is hardly a place left where an honest lion can go hunting in royal style. i know the whole story: it has been handed down in my house, from father to son. i heard it all, the night before i was captured, in the desert to which the men had driven us: how two-legs and his wife came naked and unarmed to the forest; how my ancestor protected them; how they gradually outwitted all the animals: you alone entered their service of your own free will. the others they caught and tamed and dulled their senses until they no longer knew how to lead the lives of free animals and resigned themselves to slavery. finally, two-legs killed my ancestor with his spear: yes, yes, i know the whole shameful story.”
“i don’t,” said the dog. “and i don’t mind if i never know it. i only know that i have a cosy little basket at home with my mistress and that she pets and kisses me and gives me the loveliest food. i want to get out! i want to go home!”
the lion made no reply, but thought to himself:
“when i lie here in my cage, where i shall soon die of sorrow and coughing, it is a comfort to me to see how wretched two-legs’ descendants have grown. for he was lithe and slender and fair to look upon: he was an animal! but these people here! one can hardly see a morsel of their bodies, they are so wrapped up. two-legs could bound through the forest and climb trees: these people here can hardly stir hand or foot. he was a fighter; and it’s really amusing to watch the terror in these fellows’ eyes as i get up and move to the bars when i roar. they shake like aspen leaves, though they know that i am only a wretched prisoner.”
“i want to get out! i want to go home!” whined the dog.
the lion rose and went to the bars of his cage. he lashed his lean flanks with his tail and opened his jaws till his terrible teeth gleamed and glistened. the little dog trembled with fear before his yellow eyes.
“and you!” said the lion. “ha, ha, ha! it’s better to be a captive lion in a cage than a miserable little lap-dog, with bells and a rug.”
he gave such a roar that all the people in the village started up in their beds. then he lay down at the far end of the cage, turned on one side and slept.
the little dog shivered and whined until some one came and let him out.
