“What are you doing?” he shouted.

His face was white and smooth. His clothes were white, too, and so was his sun-helmet. Yppa knew nothing about clothes or about sun-helmets. In her opinion the man looked hideous. In general, she felt the utmost aversion to these chattering creatures, who could take off their skin and put it on again, and could remove a part of their heads. Moreover, she did not understand their speech. She understood just one thing—they were enemies.

“Are you crazy?” the man shouted. “One blow was enough to make her drop him. What kind of stupid non­sense is this—punishing an orangutan! Beating her! Get out of the way, you idiots! Now she’ll never become peace­able! We’ll never tame her! She’ll never get to trust us!”

The others drew back. The man approached the cage and spoke softly, tenderly. “Did you grab the whip? That’s a good girl, Lily!”

He called Yppa “Lily.”

“Did you tear up the whip? That’s right, Lily. You’re a fine girl, Lily, a fine girl!”

He offered her bananas, he tempted her with green figs and nuts. “Look, Lily, they’re for you! Take some, Lily. See how good they taste!”

Yppa did not vouchsafe him the tiniest grimace. She sat motionless again, holding her head between her long, slender hands, hiding her face.

Meanwhile the journey continued.

These humans who were conveying Yppa had all kinds of other creatures. From time to time Yppa caught a glimpse of her companions in suffering. She could always catch their scent. There were little monkeys, parrots, a young tiger, and other inhabitants of the jungle. At night she could hear them, screeching, roaring, howling.

Yppa made no noise: she worked persistently to free herself. But gradually her hope faded.

They came to the ocean, which Yppa had never seen. She was put aboard a ship that was strange and mysterious to her. At the beginning of the voyage the cage stood on the open deck.

Yppa felt just one thing—from here she could never get back to her beloved jungle even if she succeeded in escaping from her prison. Endless water stopped her on every side. It was new to her, this water, strange, hateful. It was at this time that she finally abandoned the attempt to break open her cage.

She wept all night, quietly, perfectly quietly, and a heart-breaking look of sorrow came into her eyes.

Later, when the air grew cooler, the sky paler, and the sun less intense, they carried the cage into the engine-room. It was hot and damp, and there was a deafening noise. Yppa suffered from the stench, from nausea, from her longing, never for a moment stilled.

For hours until she became dizzy, she would watch the rhythmical motion of the piston. She thought the bright, oil-dripping engine was a captive animal. She thought everything was captivity, inconsolable, inescapable captivity.

There followed her arrival in Europe and the torture of the train journey. When she finally reached the zoological garden Yppa was completely befuddled.

Of the garden itself she saw very little.