Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - IV. A Fashionable Doctor
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subdued thunder of her voice, only
disappointment that she was not allowed to lick it herself
with her sharp tongue. When the operation was
over and I was leaving the menagerie with the
baby baboon under my arm M. Pezon had
presented to me as my fee, the famous lion-tamer
said to me:
“Monsieur le Docteur, vous avez manqué
votre profession, vous auriez du être dompteur
d’animaux!”
And Ivan, the big Polar Bear at the Jardin des
Plantes, did he not clamber out of his tub of water
as soon as he saw me, to come to the bars of his
prison and standing erect on his hind legs put his
black nose just in front of mine and take the fish
from my hand in the most friendly manner?
The keeper said he did it with nobody else, no
doubt he looked upon me as a sort of compatriot.
Don’t say it was the fish and not the hand, for
when I had nothing to offer him he still stood
there in the same position as long as I had time
to remain, looking steadfastly at me with his
shining black eyes under their white eye-lashes
and sniffing at my hand. Of course we spoke in
Swedish, with a sort of Polar accent I picked up
from him. I am sure he understood every word I
said when I told him in a low monotonous voice
how sorry I was for him and that when I was a
boy I had seen two of his kinsmen swimming close
to our boat amongst floating ice-blocks in the
land of our birth.
And poor Jacques, the famous gorilla of the
Zoo, so far the only one of his tribe who had been
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