wn my grand lion with it, I
will give him a thousand ducats"--quite a large sum in those days, a
ducat being about equal to the American dollar.

At this time the Bey had several young lions that ran freely about in
the court-yard or garden of his palace, and in a great pit, entirely
surrounded by a high terrace, on a level with the ground-floor of the
palace, a superb Atlas lion was kept in royal captivity. It was this
lion that the Bey wished the Sicilian to combat. The proposition was
sent to the Sicilian, who accepted it without hesitation, and without
boasting what he would do.

The combat was to take place a week from that time, and the
announcement that the handsome Sicilian was to fight a duel with the
grand lion was spread far and wide, even to the borders of the desert,
producing a profound sensation. Everybody, old and young, great and
small, desired to be present; moreover, the people would be freely
admitted to the garden of the Bey, where they could witness the combat
from the top of the terrace. The duel was to be early in the morning,
before the heat of the day.

During the week that intervened, the Sicilian performed every day in
the show, instead of two days a week, as had been his custom. Never was
he more calm, graceful and fascinating in his performances. The evening
before the eventful day, he repeated in pantomime his victory over the
lion near Damascus, with so much elegance, precision and suppleness as
to elicit round after round of enthusiastic cheers. Of course everybody
who had seen him _play_ killing a lion was wild with curiosity to see
him actually fight with a _real_ lion.

So, on the following morning, in the early dawn, the terrace around the
lion's pit was crowded with people. For three days the grand lion had
been deprived of food in order that he might be the more ferocious and
terrible. His eyes shone like two balls of fire, and he incessantly
lashed his flanks with his tail. At one moment he would madly roar,
and, in the next, rub himself against the wall, vainly trying to find a
chink between the stones in which to insert his claws.

Precisely at the appointed hour, the princely Bey and his court took
the places that had been reserved for them on one side of the terrace.
The Sicilian came a few steps behind, dressed in his costume of velvet
and silver, and holding his club in his hand. With his accustomed easy
and regular step, and a naturally elegant and dignified bearing, h