"You know what fierce wild-beasts lions and tigers are?" Sylvie nodded.
"Well, in some countries men have to kill them, to save their own lives,
you know."
"Yes," said Sylvie: "if one tried to kill me, Bruno would kill it if he
could."
"Well, and so the men--the hunters--get to enjoy it, you know:
the running, and the fighting, and the shouting, and the danger."
"Yes," said Sylvie. "Bruno likes danger."
"Well, but, in this country, there aren't any lions and tigers, loose:
so they hunt other creatures, you see." I hoped, but in vain, that this
would satisfy her, and that she would ask no more questions.
"They hunt foxes," Sylvie said, thoughtfully. "And I think they kill
them, too. Foxes are very fierce. I daresay men don't love them.
Are hares fierce?"
"No," I said. "A hare is a sweet, gentle, timid animal--almost as
gentle as a lamb."
"But, if men love hares, why--why--" her voice quivered, and her sweet
eyes were brimming over with tears.
"I'm afraid they don't love them, dear child."
"All children love them," Sylvie said. "All ladies love them."
"I'm afraid even ladies go to hunt them, sometimes."
Sylvie shuddered. '"Oh, no, not ladies!' she earnestly pleaded.
"Not Lady Muriel!"
"No, she never does, I'm sure--but this is too sad a sight for you, dear.
Let's try and find some--"
But Sylvie was not satisfied yet. In a hushed, solemn tone, with bowed
head and clasped hands, she put her final question.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199