My Blood, Shed for You

The Lion said to her, “Are you not thirsty?”

“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.

“Then drink,” said the lion.

“May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do,” said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And, as Jill gazed at its smooth motionless bulk, she realized she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic. “Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.

“I make no promises,” said the lion.

Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer. “Do you eat girls?” she said.

“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry, it just said it.

“I dare not come and drink,” said Jill.

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the lion.

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

There is no other stream," said the lion.