The first entertainment was the Chevaux au Galop, a delightful merry-go-round with the most fiery prancing horses, three abreast, and all jumping at different moments.  The Marquis helped me up, and Jean got on the other side; we all rode except the Comtesse and the old Baron.  It was too lovely; you are bounced up and down, and you have to hold on so tight, and every one screams, and the band plays; and I wish you could do it, Mamma.  I am sure the thorough shaking would frighten your neuralgia away.  I could have gone on for an hour, but there was such a lot to see, we could not spare the time for more than one turn.  The Marquis whispered when he helped me off that his walk down the Champs Elysees had indeed been fortunate, as he had seen me, and that it was he who had suggested to the Baronne to come to the Foire.  So of course I felt grateful to him.  We walked all together more or less, but Jean kept glued to my side, which was rather a bore, only the Marquis or the Vicomte were always at the other side.

[Sidenote:  The Ennui of the Lions]

The next place we came to was a huge menagerie of clever animals, with their Dompteurs—­cages of lions, bears, tigers, &c.  There were sets of seats before the cages where anything interesting was going on, and the audience moved up as each new Dompteur came in to the animals.  We sat down at first in front of the tigers’ cage, the Baronne next to me this time.  The creatures went through astonishing tricks, and looked such lazy great beautiful cats.  The Dompteur was a handsome man, just the type they always are, with a wide receding forehead and flashing eyes.  They positively blazed at the brutes if they did not obey him instantly.  I wonder why all “tamers” have this shape of head?  I asked the Vicomte, but he did not know.  The bears came next, horrid cunning white things, and turning in their toes like that does give them such a frumpish look.

The attraction of the show was to see the great Dompteur, Pezon.  He had been almost eaten by his lions a few months ago, and was to make his reappearance accompanied by a beautiful songstress who would charm the beasts to sleep.  Pezon was just like the other Dompteurs, only older and fatter, and the beautiful lady was such a pet! Enormously stout, in pink satin, with quite bare neck and arms; the Vicomte said that the lions had to be surfeited with food beforehand, to keep them from taking their dessert off this tempting morsel.  She began to sing through her nose about “l’amour,” &c., and those lions did look so bored; the eldest one simply groaned with ennui.  His face said as plainly as if he could speak, “At it again to-night!” and “Oh! que cela m’embete.”  When the song was finished, the Belle Chanteuse stretched herself on two chairs, making herself into a sort of bridge for the animals to jump over.  From our position we could only see mountains of pink satin embonpoint, and the soles of her feet.  The lions had the greatest difficulty in jumping not to kick her.  What a life, Mamma!  Then Pezon put his head right into the old lion’s mouth, and so ended the performance.