Seeing the flock in an endless line at the edge of his land made the lion tamer angry, as agitated as his big cats, which he feared would now be upset for a long time. They would be uncontrollable and wild for weeks. The stream of ewes and cows passing under their noses was provoking unusual fury, a rage that would, if he were not careful, lead them to bite the bars, or bite each other, and would never leave them.

This morning the lions had learnt that their habitat was a place where herbivores passed through, that the hills that surrounded them were inhabited by docile flocks which dared to parade right there in front of their eyes. All they had to do now was wait for them to pass by again.

Once they had that idea in their heads, the tamer would have lost all his power over them. They would think: If there is so much small game here, what use is this master who deprives us of all the prey right here under our noses? To get to the wonderful flocks all they would need to do was stop respecting the cages. Instead of waiting for the miserly huntsman to provide for them, they would no longer submit to the authority which kept them locked up and they would have thousands of chances to escape the vigilance of this lion tamer who continued to make them rehearse in return for such meagre recompense. That was the defiance that he could read in his wild cats; he knew that from now on they would do nothing but watch out for the processions of herbivores. The large flock had turned off to the east and was straggling down the slope. Once at the bottom they would start up the little path on the hill opposite. They were going in the direction of the Auvergne; up there the plateaux were not made of the same soil and the land was fertile, as opposed to the limestone that ruined the roots here.