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were dismayed by the separation, were unhappy and filled with fear. But the elephant seemed to be thinking no more of violence than Minka herself.
    â€œWhen you have to shoot,” said the curator, “then shoot! But only when you have to. It’s frightful enough then! Almost as frightful as hanging a murderer.” He added softly after a pause, “It has always been especially shocking to me, because such a person is judged only by our human standards, but by those of nature he is always innocent. Always innocent!”
    His voice trembled as he pronounced the last words.
    The elephant, his huge head pressed against the bars and his trunk extended, uttered a sobbing cry. His gestures, his expression, his eyes—all held an uncanny, urgent, eloquent appeal.
    â€œYes, old fellow,” said the curator, “you’re crying, aren’t you? If I really wanted to punish you, I’d take Minka away for all time.”
    The elephant’s cry roared mightily through the empty tiled room.
    As if in response, the curator himself cried out: “I know! She’s the only friend you have in the world! But you don’t realize that you’ve destroyed the only joy of some poor parents. That you don’t know.”
    The elephant’s expression was that of a desperate prisoner. He really seemed to feel remorse. Actually he felt nothing of the kind. He simply wanted his little darling, Minka the goat. He desired her presence with all that terrible energy of his whole being which animals put into their wants.
    The curator rubbed his hands together nervously, cracking his knuckles. “We mustn’t excite him too much,” he decided, “or make him needlessly wild. We may have to repeat this test before the authorities. Let the goat go!”
    Eliza stood up and the goat ran to the cage. She was so small that she easily slipped between the bars to Pardinos.
    He saw that she was coming and received her with a transport of discreet tenderness. The goat ran round the elephant’s legs, one after the other, rubbing herself against the four iron-gray columns. Meanwhile the elephant was dancing slowly, apparently quite deliberately, raising his broad thick foot a little distance from the floor and setting it down again with surprising gentleness. He had swung his trunk high as if he meant to break the goat into pieces, but he brought it down very softly, running the finger at the tip in a breathy caress over Minka’s head and back. He exulted in the process, so that it sounded as if a gush of water were gurgling through a suddenly open pipe.
    Side by side, the goat looked even smaller and the elephant more gigantic. It was grotesque.
    â€œI wonder how that poor fellow managed to get in, and if he was hidden here all night,” said the curator. “We’ll have to have a thorough investigation; it must absolutely be explained.” With that he left.
    But in spite of his thorough investigation, nothing was explained.

Chapter Four
    In Peter’s House
    E LIZA HAD SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED after releasing Minka. She hurried to Peter the chimpanzee, with whose care she was entrusted and whom she loved like a child.
    She was crying quietly as she looked after the wants of the clever, cheerful monkey.
    Eliza knew something about the tragic event. Not all, but enough to make her shed a few self-­reproachful tears. Nor did she restrain them because there were visitors already standing before the glass front of the cage. Let them think what they liked. Even if one was only the girl who sat all day long with the chimpanzees, one could feel vexed or sorry. Whose business was it anyhow?
    Eliza was the only person in the zoo who knew the name of the unfortunate boy. She took good care not to divulge her knowledge. A vague shyness kept her from it.
    His name had been Rainer Ribber, and he had never been numbered among fate’s fortunates. “Mr. R.-R.,” she called him when they