"Have you ever used elephants in your service with the Imperial Army?" asked Christiane, and Marcus laughed: "elephantry? where did that come from? have you ever seen them? or how did you hear of them? they haven't been used here since Emperor Claudius's Invasion! oh, I'm so sorry, that must sound callous – this is your Island to which we Romans came as conquerors, but your belonging here must go back many generations . . . ." and it was Christiane's turn to laugh, that light chuckle he had grown to love in such a short time; out of the Camp she was like a beautiful butterfly, freshly emerged from it's chrysalis, and her gentleness made him feel like a brachiate, an ape swinging from branch to branch, coarse, less human than her, but she said: "all of us are descended from Invaders, aren't we, no matter where we call home, it was someone else's home before us, before our ancestors crossed the desert or the sea to occupy it; and even if there were no other humans, there were animals and birds and fishes and trees and flowers and insects that long before us had lived out their own lives, long or short, so I'm not an aginner regarding you and your Emperor Claudius, or Caesar before him; Mankind will conquer wherever he can; and yes, I have seen elephants before, but not here," and he gazed on her loveliness and knew that this was the woman he wanted to take as his wife!

During the Great War Lord Greystoke became accustomed to the long waiting in the trenches, punctuating the boredom of playing cards and caring for his uniform and other gear with the terrifying charges across No Man’s Land, but his experiences of the war hardened him as an aginner when it came to civilization, and afterwards he shucked title, clothing, and English manners, emerging like a butterfly from a chrysalis as his old self—if at first a trifle paler—happily brachiating from tree to tree through the jungle, hurling his cries to help his ape friends find his position and ward off enemies, and knowing that if and when he did need a show of force, he could swiftly assemble an elephantry that could do quite stunning damage to the average poacher’s camp or a burgeoning safari stop; that happy state of affairs continued until the day the aging Tarzan missed his grip and plunged eighty feet or so through crashing branches to the forest floor below.