The City Jungle Page 15

  “Let me go,” repeated Eliza. “And take care that the curator doesn’t find out how you . . .”

  “The curator,” Karl sneered, “the curator can go chase himself! I’m asking you now and I want an answer! Do you hear? An answer!”

  At that moment Peter sat up. He was disturbed and could not sleep. He started to put his arm around ­Eliza’s shoulder, to protect her and also to protect himself.

  But Karl seized him and threw him back furiously on the bed. “Leave us alone!” he shouted. “Leave us alone, you damned ape!”

  Peter somersaulted and lay dumbfounded, rolling his big melancholy clever eyes.

  Eliza stood between them. “Go!” she commanded. As Karl hesitated she cried again, “Go! That’s my answer!”

  There was such decision in her voice that Karl turned on his heel and went out, slamming the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Night Chorus

  PITCH BLACK NIGHT SPREAD OVER the zoological garden. The tumult of the sleepless city reached it only as a distant confused rumbling. Its electric lights throbbed as a pale glow against the sky a-glitter with a thousand stars.

  In the zoo arose the sound of voices.

  Voices from Africa and Asia, from the polar ice and the jungles of India, from the grassy plains of ­Tanganyika and the primeval forests of Borneo.

  They were all gathered here, and all cried, whimpered and raged with longing for their homes.

  Lions groaned and tigers moaned as if their breasts would burst.

  Elephants trumpeted like thunder.

  Polar bears roared and the brown bears roared furiously with them.

  Wolves howled in long-drawn plaints.

  Hyenas burst out in shrill laughter.

  Monkeys screeched.

  All cried the same thing. How long must we remain captive? What have we done that we should suffer so horribly? Why are we here? Why?

  Sudden silence.

  In the darkness of the zoo lights are moving, lights like stars that have fallen from some fabulous heaven and are wandering about here on earth.

  But these were no stars. There was no fabulous heaven in the zoo. Perhaps there is none anywhere—or only in the hearts of the children of men when very small and innocent.

  The flashing lights gleamed always in pairs. Two by two, close together.

  Anyone who knew the zoo would have recognized that these were the eyes of the captives, gleaming from the darkness of their cages as if ablaze with expectation and impatient longing.

  There were big eyes that flashed like precious magic amber; others that shimmered a weird emerald green; others whose gleam was shot with sparks of red, blue and gold. And there were little eyes that were like rockets just before they flare out, and others that glowed as red as boiling hot blood.

  All seemed to hover suspended, free and motionless, in the night air. Two by two they hung suspended, close to the ground, or at varying levels above the earth. But all signified one thing—life, expectation, longing.

  For several moments the captives were silent as if awaiting the response to their frantic outcries, their wild plaints, their impatient demands.

  The burning eyes stared into the darkness of the night and into the darkness of fate.

  Then a single howl arose, and others joined it, groaning. Others whined or roared their fervent pleas. Once more all were united, friend and foe, weak and strong, all were alike in impotence, in desperation.

  Their chorus of lamentation did not reach the ears of people enjoying themselves or sleeping the sleep of the just.

  The chorus of the captives mounted to the stars.

  But the stars twinkled and gleamed and glittered and remained mute.

  About the Author

  Felix Salten (1869–1945) was an Austrian author and critic in Vienna. His most famous work is Bambi.

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  Also by Felix Salten

  Bambi

  Bambi’s Children

  Renni the Rescuer

  A Forest World

  The Hound of Florence

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

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  This Aladdin hardcover edition October 2014

  Text copyright © 1932 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Jacket design by Karin Paprocki

  Interior design by Hilary Zarycky

  The text of this book was set in Yana.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2014936940

  ISBN 978-1-4424-8752-9 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-8751-2 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-8753-6 (eBook)