The gentleman, however, was taken very sick, and was confined for
some time to his bed. Another person was necessarily intrusted with the
care of these lions. From the moment that M. Felix left, the male sat,
sad and solitary, at the end of his cage, and refused to take food from
the hands of the stranger, for whom, it was evident, he entertained no
little dislike. The company of the female seemed to displease him. In a
short time he became so uneasy, that no one dared to approach him. By
and by, however, his old master recovered, and with the intention of
surprising the animal, he crept softly to the cage, and showed only his
face between the bars. But the male lion knew him at once. He leaped
against the bars, patted him with his paws, licked his hands and face,
and actually trembled with pleasure. The female also ran to him; but the
other drove her back, and was on the point of quarreling with her, so
jealous was he lest she should receive any of the favors of M. Felix.
Afterward, however, the keeper entered the cage, caressed them both by
turns, and pacified them.
Sir George Davis, who was English consul at Naples about the middle of
the seventeenth century, happening on one occasion to be in Florence,
visited the menagerie of the grand duke. At the farther end of one of
the dens he saw a lion which lay in sullen majesty, and which the
keepers informed him they had been unable to tame, although every effort
had been used for upward of three years.
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