Fernand’s nights were haunted by his fear of the post. He was afraid of hearing that one or other of the men had died and having to go and tell the family and it kept him awake. In a way he almost welcomed the screams of the wild cats, because they reminded him of the excitement that life could have brought him. Hearing the beasts, he saw himself as strong and nimble, picturing himself as a daring lion tamer shining under the lights of the ring, conquering terror and playing on the fears of his audience. Since the beginning of the war, he had felt that everyone was looking to him as mayor. They all knew he was the one who would relay the bad news brought by the gendarmes and the préfet. Like mayors all across the country, he found himself thrust into the limelight. He was expected to know everything, as if he could do something about the war. Everyone was avidly waiting for the information he received, and sometimes suspected him of keeping things from them. People dreaded hearing from him that their husband or son, father or brother had been killed, and they hoped that, like an oracle, he would one day announce that the war was over and France had won, in the same way that he had suddenly announced that the war had started. The fears of his citizens seemed as hard to contain as wild cats, so, to the mayor, the lion tamer who lived on the mountain was the embodiment of all that he wasn’t, someone detached, confident and strong. The lion tamer was the model of the man he dreamed of being, a man who was free, an adventurer dominating an exotic and disturbing world. Without seeking him out, he was determined to make friends, always willing to chat to him when he came down to the village. Not least for the physical pleasure of looking at him, seeing how his muscles showed in his immense body, how they sprang to life with his smallest gesture and danced over his body like an armful of snakes. The man’s body fascinated him.

After a restless night with a full moon and heart-rending growling, Fernand, like the children, was well pleased. Before getting up he stretched fully, feeling as though the foot he no longer had was there again, stretching too. He inhaled deeply, his arms spread wide. With the presence of the lions, he felt invigorated; the appetite for life that sustained him before he lost his foot under a plough had returned. He rediscovered the sensation of strength he used to wake up to, stretching and feeling all his muscles, equal to anything, whether it was harnessing the oxen or wielding the axe, using the scythe or embracing someone. As he listened to the lions he was reminded of the impression the lion tamer had made the first time he met him.