The City Jungle by Felix Salten

velvety lips, and gazed three times into the soft shimmering darkness of those glorious eyes.
    But when at last he pursed his lips splendidly for an answering kiss, the stag tossed his head wildly and started back a few steps into the enclosure. His gesture was that of haughty rejection and said—“Enough!” But Peter in his ravishment noticed nothing at all of this unfriendliness. He was making all preparations to clamber up the wire and swing himself over. All that he wanted now was to stay close to his new friend.
    Eliza stopped him. “Come, Peter,” she said. “Come. Be a good boy! That’s enough for today.”
    Obediently Peter picked up his bicycle and jumped on. As he rode away, he waved one hand to his comrade. It was a childish, careless gesture which, like all those he had learned from human beings, had made but an indistinct impression on Peter’s mind.
    The stag wheeled about, and walking very stiffly to the corner of his cage, stared after the departing figures. Who was that creature? Accompanied by a human beast, too! But his odor was not human, though otherwise quite strange. Perhaps a captive like himself, and yet free to wander around the zoo. Who was he?

Chapter Eleven
    A Fool
    H OME AGAIN IN HIS GLASS HOUSE, Peter was overcome by that exhaustion to which at times he was prone.
    He rolled listlessly on the floor, and creeping limply to his bed, lay still. His face, his shrewd eyes exhibited a sorrow that was shocking.
    The stag, his ride, everything seemed forgotten. Eliza knew these attacks; they filled her with anxiety. She sat rather dejected after the failure of her efforts to interest Peter in some grapes or a piece of orange.
    Suddenly she started. An elderly gentleman was standing beside her, saying, “Perhaps you should give Peter a glass of red wine.”
    She rose. “How did you get in here? It is forbidden.”
    â€œForbidden?” replied the stranger. “Pardon, I did not know that.”
    Eliza looked at him and she felt less afraid.
    The gentleman was dressed entirely in black, there was black crepe on his hat, and on his pale and kindly face a shadow of deep melancholy. Eliza could not recall where she had seen this face.
    â€œNo, it is not allowed,” she said, but her voice was now mild and somewhat bewildered, “and I must ask you . . .” She hesitated.
    The stranger looked at her as if each of her words made him curious.
    She began again. “If . . . if everybody were allowed in here, just imagine . . .”
    â€œBut my son visited little Peter so often,” said the gentleman. He was silent and seemed to be struggling with something that prevented him from speaking. Then Eliza realized that this was Rainer Ribber’s father.
    Tears came into her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She took her handkerchief and wiped them away, but fresh tears kept welling out.
    The gentleman went on speaking. “Rainer loved the little fellow so dearly. . . .”
    Eliza was sobbing aloud, crying into her pocket-­handkerchief. She could not utter a word.
    â€œHe loved all the creatures here in the zoo very dearly,” his father continued.
    Another silence.
    â€œHe loved all creatures everywhere,” said his father with a sigh. “Not only the prisoners in here, but those that live outside in freedom.” He interrupted himself, repeating with a strange emphasis, “Freedom! But it was these poor captives that possessed his whole heart.”
    â€œOh,” cried Eliza, “he was such a dear fellow.”
    â€œEven as a little boy,” Rainer’s father went on, talking to himself. “We had canaries, but he wouldn’t stand for it. Even as a little boy. The idea of keeping a poor little bird in a tiny cage! Rainer would be quite filled with despair when he saw it.” He sighed again. “Yes, yes, the child . . . the child. Perhaps he was extravagant in