"He’s not an animal," Charles said, without rancor. "He’s an instrument of the Conventions. The Conventions sent me a bear, once my inner mind had ..." Charles seemed to choke on his words. "I mean, after I left this city. It might have been a horse instead, but a bear better suited my ... my ‘temperament,’ is the term you might use." Charles shook his head in confusion. "It’s hard to explain to you, in a way you can understand. But Baltimore looks after me. That’s all. He won’t hurt you, Rodolphe."