# The red book of animal stories/The Further Adventures of ‘Tom', a Bear, in Paris

adapted from the work of Alexandre Dumas
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ‘TOM,’ A BEAR IN PARIS
Part I
Décamps and his brother Alexandre were entertaining a number of their artistic and literary friends one evening in the well-known studio, on the fifth floor of No. 109 Rue du Faubourg St.-Denis, in Paris. Thierry had just finished reading a scientific paper on the peculiarities of frogs, of the same species as Mademoiselle Camargo, when the door opened, and the master of a neighbouring cafe entered, bearing a large tray covered with cups, saucers, teapot, &c, and followed by two of his waiters who carried a huge hamper, in winch were a loaf, some buns, a salad, and an enormous number of little cakes of every possible size, shape, and flavour.
The loaf was for Tom, the bear; the buns for Jacko, the monkey; the salad for the tortoise, Gazelle, and the tea and cakes for the guests.
The beasts were very properly served first, and the guests were then told to help themselves.
A few moments of confusion followed, during which each made himself comfortable after his own fashion. Tom carried off his loaf to his hutch, growling as he went; Jacko fled behind some busts to munch his buns, and Gazelle slowly dragged the salad to be enjoyed ​peacefully under a table, whilst each visitor provided himself with a cup of tea and such cakes as he fancied.
At the end of twenty minutes the teapot was empty and the cakes had vanished. The bell was rung, and answered by the master of the cafe. ‘More!’ cried Décamps, and the master of the cafe bowed himself out backwards, and hastened to obey orders.
Whilst waiting for ‘more,’ Janin read to the assembled company that interesting account of the early days of Jacko I., with which all readers of the ‘Blue Animal Story Book’ are doubtless familiar.
The applause which followed this history was suddenly interrupted by a piercing shriek on the staircase. Every one rushed out to see what was the matter, and found the porter’s little girl half-fainting in the arms of Tom, who, startled by this sudden interruption, hurried off downstairs.
A moment later another scream, even more shrill than the first, was heard. An old lady, who had lived on the third floor for the last thirty-five years, had come as far as the landing to discern what all the noise was about, and, finding herself face to face with the fugitive, fainted instantly away.
Tom turned back, hurried up fifteen steps, found an open door and burst into the midst of a wedding feast. Here was a hullabaloo! The whole party rose to their feet, and, headed by the newly married couple, rushed to the stairs. In a moment the inhabitants of the house from cellar to attic were standing out on the various landings, all talking at once, and, as generally happens in such cases, no one listening.
At last the story was traced back to its beginning. The girl who gave the first alarm said that, as she was bringing up the cream she felt some one seize her round the waist. The staircase was dark, and thinking she had to do with some impertinent lodger she promptly dealt him a smart box on the ears. Tom had replied by a growl, which
TOM FRIGHTENS THE LITTLE GIRL,
​revealed his identity, and the girl, horrified to find herself in a bear’s paws, uttered the scream which had given the first note of warning. As already said, the sudden appearance of Décamps and his guests had frightened Tom, and Tom’s fright had resulted in the fainting fit of the old lady and the rout of the wedding party.
Alexandre Décamps, who was a special friend of Tom’s, undertook to make his excuses to society in general, and as a proof of his docility, to fetch Tom wherever he might be, and bring him to make his own apologies. He went into the dining-room, and there he found Tom walking about the table with great dexterity, and in the act of finishing his third tipsy-cake.
Unluckily this proved a climax. The bridegroom shared Tom’s tastes, and he appealed for sympathy to all lovers of tipsy-cake. Loud murmurs arose, which not even the docile air of Tom as he followed Alexandre Décamps could subdue.
At the door Alexandre met the landlord, to whom the old lady had just given notice to leave. The bridegroom declared that nothing would induce him to stay in the house another hour unless justice were done him, the other lodgers chimed in as chorus.
The landlord grew pale, as he foresaw himself left in an empty house, and, turning to Decamps, told him that, much as he wished to retain him as a lodger, it would be impossible to do so unless he lost no time in getting rid of an animal which had caused such a disturbance at such an hour in a respectable house.
Décamps, who, truth to say, was getting rather weary of Tom’s various scrapes, only hesitated long enough to save appearances. He promised that Tom should leave the premises the very next day, and, completely to reassure the lodgers, he at once took his bear down to the yard, where he made him get into a large dog-kennel. He then turned the opening to the wall, and heaped big stones on the top.
​The promise, and the immediate removal of Tom, appeared to satisfy the complainants. The porter’s little girl dried her eyes, the old lady paused in the middle of her third attack of hysterics, and the bridegroom nobly declared his willingness to content himself with some other delicacy for want of a tipsy-cake.
All retired to their own apartments, and an hour later everything was as still as usual.
As for Tom, he first tried, like Enceladus, to get rid of the mountain weighing on him; but finding he could not succeed, he made a hole in the wall and passed through it into the garden of the adjoining house.
Part II
The tenant of the ground-floor of No. 107 was not a little surprised next morning at seeing a bear walking about amidst his flower beds. He had just opened the glass door leading to the garden steps with a view to enjoying the same exercise, but he quickly shut it again, and proceeded to examine the strange intruder through its panes.
Unluckily the hole Tom had made in the wall was hidden by some shrubs, so there appeared to be no clue as to where he came from. The ground-floor tenant then remembered having read lately in his newspaper an account of a most remarkable shower of toads which had fallen at Valenciennes, accompanied by thunder and lightning. The toads, moreover, fell in such quantities that the streets and roofs of the houses were covered with them.
The ground-floor tenant raised his eyes, and seeing a sky as black as ink overhead, and a bear, for which he could in no way account, in his garden, he began to fear that the Valenciennes phenomenon was about to be repeated on a larger scale, and that, in fact, Tom was but the first drop of a heavy shower of bears.
​One seemed no more marvellous than the other, the hail was bigger and more dangerous, that was all. Full of this idea he looked at his barometer, which stood at ‘Rain. Very stormy.’ At that moment a clap of thunder was heard, and a vivid flash of lightning lit up the room.
The ground-floor tenant felt that not a moment must be lost. More bears might fall, and he must protect himself against all emergencies. So he at once despatched his valet for the Commissioner of Police, and his cook for a corporal and nine men, so as to place himself under the protection of both the civil and military authorities.
The passers-by, seeing the valet and cook run off in haste, began to gather round the hall door, and to suggest all sorts of improbable reasons for this excitement. They questioned the hall porter, but he knew no more than they did. The only apparent fact was that the alarm came from that part of the house which lay between the courtyard and the garden.
At this moment the ground-floor tenant appeared at the front door, pale, trembling, and calling for help. Tom had spied him through the glass doors, and, accustomed to the society of men, had trotted up to make acquaintance. But the ground-floor tenant, mistaking his intentions, looked on these friendly overtures as a declaration of war, and hurriedly beat a retreat. As he reached the front door he heard the panes of the garden door crack.
Retreat became flight, and he appeared, as I have already said, before the idle crowd, with every sign of distress, and calling for help at the top of his voice.
As usual on such occasions, the crowd, instead of coming to the rescue, dispersed hurriedly, but a municipal guard who was standing near held firm, and approaching the ground-floor tenant asked how he could help him.
The poor man had neither voice nor words under control, but pointed, speechless, to the door he had just opened and the steps he had come down.
​The municipal guard understood that the danger lay on that side, and bravely drawing his sword ran up the steps, through the door, and into the ground-floor apartments.
The first thing which met his eye on entering the drawing-room was the good-humoured face of Tom, who, standing on his hind legs, had pushed his head and front paws through one of the panes and was inspecting these unknown regions with some curiosity.
The municipal guard paused—uncertain, brave though he was, whether to advance or retreat; but no sooner did Tom catch sight of him than with a kind of smothered roar he hastily drew back his head and forepaws, and made all possible haste to take refuge in the furthest corner of the garden.
The fact was that Tom had never forgotten the beating given him by the municipal guards on the occasion of that memorable visit of his to the masked ball at the Odeon Theatre. He connected the sight of their uniform with the treatment he had received at their hands, and this being the case, it is not surprising that as soon as he saw one of his enemies appear in the ground-floor drawing-room he made haste to quit the premises.
Nothing is so inspiriting as to see your enemy in flight. Besides, as already said, the guard was not wanting in courage; so he set off after Tom, who, after two or three unsuccessful attempts to climb the wall, had placed himself in an angle, rose up on his hind legs and prepared to defend himself in accordance with the lessons in boxing given him by his friend Fan.
The guard, on his side, put himself into position, and lost no time in attacking Tom according to every rule of art.
After a few rounds Tom dealt his opponent such a blow on the arm that his wrist was dislocated, and the gallant guard found himself at the mercy of the bear.
Luckily for him the Commissioner of Police arrived at
JUST IN TIME TO SAVE TOM
​this moment, and seeing this act of open rebellion ordered the corporal and his nine men to come down into the garden, whilst he himself stood on the top step to give orders.
Tom, interested in watching all those ceremonies, let his antagonist escape, and remained standing upright and immovable against the wall. Then began the inquiry. Tom was accused of introducing himself forcibly and by night into an inhabited house, and, further, of having attempted to murder a public functionary. Not being able to produce any witness to the contrary he was condemned to death, and the corporal was desired to proceed to immediate execution, and ordered his men to load their guns.
Then, amidst a profound silence throughout the crowd which had followed the soldiers into the garden, the corporal’s voice alone was heard. He made his men go through the full number of evolutions, but when he came to the word ‘present’ he turned and looked towards the Commissioner of Police.
A murmur of pity ran through the crowd, but the Commissioner had been disturbed in the middle of his breakfast, and was inexorable. He stretched out his hand.
‘Fi——’ began the corporal; but before the word was out of his mouth or the bullets out of the guns, a man hastily rushed through the crowd with a paper in his hand.
It was Alexandre Décamps with an order from Monsieur Cuvier for Tom’s admission to the Zoological Gardens, under the special care of one of the most eminent keepers.
It came only just in time; but Tom was safe, and Alexandre led him off, amidst enthusiastic applause, to spend his remaining years in dignified retirement.