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Updated: June 6, 2025
So saying, Sleepinbuff burst into a bitter laugh, which sent an icy shudder through the spectators of this scene. "My good fellow," said Morok, coolly, "listen to me, and follow my advice." "Thank you! I know your advice and, instead of listening to you, I prefer speaking to my poor Cephyse. Before I go down to the moles, I should like to tell her what weighs on my heart."
But, whilst the daughters of General Simon were reading with such deep emotion, these fragments of their father's journal, a strange and mysterious scene transpired in the menagerie of the brute-tamer. Morok had prepared himself.
"Good news." "You've met them!" "Yesterday; two leagues from Wittenberg." "Heaven be praised!" cried Morok, clasping his hands with intense satisfaction. "Oh, of course, 'tis the direct road from Russia to France, 'twas a thousand to one that we should find them somewhere between Wittenberg and Leipsic." "And the description?"
On hearing his courage as a toper called in question, Sleepinbuff looked angrily at Morok. "You think it is from cowardice that I will not drink brandy!" cried the unfortunate man, whose half-extinguished intellect was roused to defend what he called his dignity. "Is it from cowardice that I refuse, d'ye think, Morok? Answer me!"
The Prophet approached the cage with same uneasiness, fearing that, notwithstanding his orders, Goliath had given the lion some bones to gnaw. To assure himself of it, he said in a quick and firm voice: "Cain!" The lion did not change his position. "Cain! come here!" repeated Morok in a louder tone. The appeal was useless; the lion did not move, and the noise continued.
Unfitted for labor, no longer able to forego gross pleasures, Jacques sought to drown in wine a few virtuous impulses which he still possessed, and had sunk so low as to accept without shame the large dole of sensual gratification proffered him by Morok, who paid all the expenses of their orgies, but never gave him money, in order that he might be completely dependent on him.
"Oh!" said Morok, with a sigh of satisfaction, "they consent." "They refuse just as I do!" "What, the devil! they refuse? Have they no more courage than women?" cried Morok, grinding his teeth with rage. "Hark ye," answered Olivier, coolly. "We have received your letters, and seen your agent.
At the moment when the last of these unhappy creatures succeeded in reaching the door, dragging himself along upon his bleeding hands, for he had been thrown down and almost crushed in the confusion Morok, the object of so much terror Morok himself appeared. He was a horrible sight.
At that instant, Morok, being wounded, uttered a dreadful cry for help; the panther, rendered still more furious at sight of Djalma, make the most desperate efforts to break her chain. Unable to succeed in doing so, she rose upon her hind legs, in order to seize Djalma, then within reach of her sharp claws.
"I don't know if it's the brandy; but, devil take me, if you don't frighten me when you say you shall laugh tonight!" So saying, the young man rose, staggering; he began to be once more intoxicated. There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" The host made his appearance. "What's the matter?" "There's a young man below, who calls himself Olivier. He asks for M. Morok." "That's right.
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