Chapter II: Part 2

Nothing. An Oriental proverb. If I wished, dog, to disturb the silence of this room I'd be clever enough to choose a rickety chair; its feet would pound out a regular tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc, in time with my tongue as I washed myself. It's a means I've invented to gain my liberty. Tic-toc, tic-toc, says the chair. She happens to be reading or writing, is easily irritated, and cries, "Be quiet, Kiki!" But I go on unconscious of any wrong-doing; tic-toc, tic-toc. She jumps up distracted and opens the door wide for me: slowly, like one exiled, I cross its threshold and once outside, laugh to find myself so superior to them all.

TOBY-DOG, (_who hasn't been listening, yawns_)

What a sad week, eh? I don't know what it is to take a walk any more. I haven't taken any pleasure in eating either, since She fell from her horse.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Heavens, one can love people and care for one's stomach too.

TOBY-DOG, (_with ardor_)

Not I! When She screamed and fell from her horse, I felt the heart crack inside me.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

That affair couldn't have ended otherwise. One doesn't go climbing up on a horse! People don't do such things! I see nothing but extravagance around me. To begin with, a horse is a fearful monstrosity.

TOBY-DOG, (_indignantly_)

Did one ever hear the like!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_peremptorily_)

I happen to have had the opportunity of making a very close study of one....

TOBY-DOG, (_aside_)

He makes me laugh!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

... It was the farmer's horse that grazed in the meadow. My life, for a whole month, was embittered by that roving mountain. Lying under the hedge, I could see his heavy feet disfiguring the ground. I breathed his vulgar odor and heard his strident cry shaking the air. Once when he was eating the lower twigs of the hedge, I saw myself--the whole of me--reflected in one of his eyes! I fled ... and from that day my hatred was so strong that I wildly hoped to annihilate the monster. I'll go up to him, thought I, I'll plant myself firmly in front of him, and the desire of his death will be so strong in my eyes, that perhaps, he'll die when he meets my look ...

TOBY-DOG, (_diverted_)

And then?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_continuing_)

I carried out my plan. But the horse I had waited for in fear and trembling, just blew through his nostrils a long jet of foul-smelling vapor, and _I_ fell back in atrocious convulsions.

TOBY-DOG, (_Inwardly writhing with laughter_)

You don't exaggerate?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_serious_)

Never! And She must needs go climbing on a horse's back, holding fast to four cords, one leg this side and the other that. ... Strange aberration!

TOBY-DOG

We don't think alike, Cat. For me, the horse is, after man, the most beautiful thing in the world.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_vexed_) And where do I come in?

TOBY-DOG, (_evasive and courteous_)

Oh, you're a _Cat_. But a horse, and with Her on his back! What a beautiful picture they make, high up in the blue air! To gaze on it, I have to throw my head 'way back on my thick neck. The horse lends her his speed. Now at last, She can race with me when I go off on a mad run. Sometimes I'm ahead, ears floating back and tongue hanging out like a little flag--the angular shadow of the horse on the road in front. If I follow her, a fragrant dust blows back at me. It smells of warm leather, moist beast, and a little of her own perfume too. The road runs under me, like a ribbon that someone is pulling. Oh, what joy it is to be so little and so swift, running along in the shadow of a great galloping horse! When we halt, I pant like a motor, between the legs of my friend, who snorts and in the kindliest way puts down his fettered mouth and sprinkles me ...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I know, I know! The horse "with long mane ashake; hoofs, heavy with tumult; eyes, glimmering white." ...You are the last of the Romanticists.

TOBY-DOG

I'm not the last of the Romanticists. I'm a little bull-dog that came into the world one evening, almost under the feet of a chestnut mare. She didn't lie down all night long, she was so afraid of crushing my mother and her puppies. A little bull-dog like me is almost the child of a horse. I lay in the warm straw against her warm flanks, I drank out of the stable pails. I used to get up when I heard the sound of hoofs coming in and I took an interest in the washing of the carriages, until the day She came and picked me out--_me_, the best-looking, the most snub-nosed, the stockiest of the litter. (_Sighing_.) And there She lies, so dreadfully quiet! It makes me sad to see her with that little cloth still 'round her ankle. You remember when He picked her up in his arms? He held her--and She's a lot bigger than I am--just as if She were a little dog that he was going to drown....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_bitterly_)

I remember. I was at the top of the stairs irritated by the noise, but curious. He came up and pushed me aside with his foot, as he would have done if a piece of furniture had happened to be in his way.

TOBY-DOG

Is that why you stayed away from this room--her room--for three whole days?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_hesitating_)

Yes ... and for another reason too.

TOBY-DOG

What reason?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Because of the fever.

TOBY-DOG, (_carried away by his love_)

Her fever smells better than other peoples' good health! KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_shrugging his shoulders_)

And they talk of a dog's scent! Truly the convictions of Two-Paws are based upon childish fables. You know of course that fever--

TOBY-DOG, (_in a low tone_)

Makes one afraid, yes.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_in a low tone_)

Makes one afraid, gives one cold shivers down one's back, distaste for everything and uneasiness all over. One hesitates on the threshold of a room where there is fever, searching fearfully some hidden thing.... She was in bed and burning hot. I looked at her a long time, ready to run, saying to myself: "Who can be with her there--behind the curtains--who is it stifles and torments her and makes her moan in her sleep?" TOBY-DOG, (_frightened retrospectively_)

There wasn't anyone, was there?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No one but He--and the fever. He, the most intelligent of Two-Paws, was leaning over her listening to her breathing, dimly aware of an invisible presence. I overcame my aversion and looked at her. I was melancholy and jealous. He must love her, thought I, to go so near and defend her, to kiss her, imbued as She is with the evil charm. Would He hold me to his heart, if I--

TOBY-DOG, (_imperatively_)

'Sh!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

What?

TOBY-DOG

She stirred.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No.

TOBY-DOG, (_alert, looking at her_)

No ... She didn't stir, but her thoughts did. I felt them. Continue.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_who has recovered his equanimity_)

I don't know now what we were talking about.

TOBY-DOG

The fev--

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_quickly_)

Enough. Don't recall it. Fever is the beginning of the thing one never speaks of.

TOBY-DOG, (_shivering_)

Yes, I know.... I don't like an animal that can't move. You know what I mean ...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_laughing cruelly_)

Nor do I. I can only eat live birds, and as for the tiny mice, I prefer to swallow them, squeak and all....

TOBY-DOG

Why does it amuse you to horrify me? You've a certain vanity that I can't understand. It consists in exaggerating cruelties that are already real enough. You call me the last of the Romanticists, aren't you the first of the Sadics?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Oh dog, poisoned with literature! An eternal misunderstanding separates us. "I'm a little bull-dog," you replied just now, with that stupid sincerity which disarms me. Let me say to you in my turn, "I am a Cat." The name is sufficient dispensation. There is in me a hatred of pain and ugliness, an overmastering detestation of all that offends my sight, or my reason. When the concierge's cat dragged around his wounded paw, I threw myself upon him, fired by a righteous anger, and until he stopped his whining I--

TOBY-DOG, (_supplicatingly_)

Don't tell me!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_getting angry_) Understand then, once and for all--if the pale recital of what I did upsets you--that I wished to abolish, to annihilate in that bleeding animal the suggestion of my own inevitable death ...

(_They are quiet for a little while_.)

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_shuddering_)

This confinement does us no good. I would gladly go out into the soft sunshine and do "the bayadeer's dance," as He calls it, on the dry gravel among the leaves, which look like fried potatoes. Everything is yellow out-of-doors. My green eyes would reflect the golden sun and the flaming woods and so turn yellow too.... Now I'll think only of what is joyous and yellow, the beautiful, cold Autumn, the rosy dawn that leaves its colors in the foliage of the cherry-tree ... Come, let's prove the strength of our legs and enjoy to the full the consciousness that youth has only just begun for us ... Who knows, death may never come ...

(_He jumps down from the console-table, without making the least noise_.)

TOBY-DOG, (_stopping him_)

What are you going to do?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Scratch at the door, and strike up the "Hymn of the Sequestered Cat."

TOBY-DOG, (_indicating the figure on the couch_)

And doubtless waken Her?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_stubbornly_)

I'll sing in a very small voice.

TOBY-DOG

And you'll scratch with your tiniest claws, I suppose? Stay here quietly, He commanded it when He went away.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_loftily_)

Does He command me? He beseeches me, and that's my only reason for obeying him.

(_He sits down again, apparently resigned, and yawns slowly_.)

TOBY-DOG, (_yawning_)

You make me yawn.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

On the contrary, it's you who bore me. (_Temptingly_.) You're thinking what a good thing freedom is, aren't you?... A hen has probably escaped from the chicken yard--what sport you're missing!

TOBY-DOG

You really think so?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I said: probably.... Have you finished exploring that rabbit's hole?

TOBY-DOG, (_disturbed_)

No ... it's so very deep! I almost buried myself, hollowing it out yesterday. The earth that stuck to my muzzle had some of the animal's fur in it....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_more and more satanic_)

I suppose you'll finish that to-morrow ... or some other day. TOBY-DOG, (_sadly_)

Why not say next year, while you're about it?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

What's the matter with you? Your shiny black lip hangs down an ell, and your froggy eyes glitter with tears. Are you crying?

TOBY-DOG, (_sniffling_)

No ...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Poor, sensitive heart, console yourself. You'll have your pleasures and your friends again. At this very moment the farmer's dog is crunching bones in the kitchen ... to beguile the long wait for you.

TOBY-DOG, (_overcome_)

Oh! oh! the farmer's dog!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

She's not alone either; that great dane, the watch-dog, keeps her company.

TOBY-DOG, (_rebellious_)

That's not true!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Go see.

TOBY-DOG, (_after one bound toward the door_) No, that would make noise.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

You're right, it would.

(_A mournful silence follows_. TOBY _curls himself up like a turban and closes his eyes, because he feels like crying. His breath comes in little sobs_.)

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_absently, in a low, monotonous chant_.)

The dog ... the little dog ... the bones, the little dog ... the rabbit ... the great dane, the rabbit's hole ...the little dog, the mutton bones ...the rabbit's skin ...

TOBY-DOG, _at first endures the torture heroically; then his nerves betray him and lifting his head he howls--the long plaint of the abandoned dog_.

Wooo--oo--oooooo!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_from the top of the console-table_)

Will you be quiet!

TOBY-DOG

Wooooooooo!!--oo--oooo--oo!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_aside_)

That's it! That's it!

(SHE _wakes bewildered, still captive of her dreams, while the Cat listens patiently to the approaching step on the stairs, which means liberty for him and punishment for_ TOBY-DOG.)

THE FIRST FIRE

_Because it is raining and an October wind chases wet leaves through the air, She has lit the first fire of the season in the great chimney-place_. KIKI-THE-DEMURE _and_ TOBY-DOG, _in ecstasy, side by side on a corner of the warm hearth-stone, contemplate the flame with dazzled eyes and address their meditations to it_.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_looking very like a cushion; no paws visible_)

Oh Fire, how splendid you are! You have come back more beautiful than my memory of you! You are hotter and nearer than the sun! The pupils of my eyes contract in your light, their lids half close, modestly hiding the joy I feel at seeing you again, and my inscrutable countenance shows but the semblance of a thought painted there in fawn color and black.... Your crackling drowns the soft sound of my purr. Don't snap too much. Be merciful, O inconstant Fire! Don't sputter sparks on my fur. Allow me to adore you without fear ...

TOBY-DOG, (_half baked; eyes blood-shot; tongue pendant_)

Fire! Divine Fire! Here you are again! I am still very young, but I remember how awe-struck I was the first time Her hand woke you in this same chimney-place. The sight of a god as mysterious as you are was most impressive to a baby-dog just out of the maternal stable. Oh Fire, I've not quite gotten over my fear! Hiii!... You spit at me, something red that smarts ... I'm afraid ... Well, it's gone now. How beautiful you are, Fire! Out from your ruddy center shoot tatters and shreds of gold, sudden spurts of blue, and smoke that twists upwards and draws queer shapes of beasts ... Oh, but I'm hot! Gently, gently, sovereign Fire, see how my truffle of a nose is drying up and cracking, and my ears--are they not ablaze? I adjure thee with suppliant paw. I groan ... ah ... I can endure it no longer!... (_He turns away_.) Nothing is ever perfect. The east wind coming under the door nips my hind-legs. Well, it can't be helped! I'll freeze behind if I must, provided I can adore you face to face.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I am a Cat and therefore aware of all that you bring in your train, O Fire! I foresee winter; its coming both troubles and pleases me. I've already begun to thicken and embellish my fur-coat in its honor, the darker stripes are becoming black, my white tippet swells into a dazzling boa, and the fur on my belly surpasses in beauty anything that has ever been seen. What shall I say of my tail, broad as a club, with alternate rings of fawn-color and black, or of the sensitive, priceless aigrettes which spring from my ears? My ear-rings She calls them.... What cat could resist me! Ah! the January nights, the serenades under a frosty moon, the dignified wait on the pinnacle of a roof, the encounter with a rival cat on the narrow top of a wall!... But I feel quite sure of my superior strength. I'll swish my tail, put back my ears, sniff tragically as one does before vomiting, and then lift up my voice--its modulations are infinite. I'll make it strong enough to waken all the sleeping Two-Paws. I'll vociferate, I'll whimper, pacing up and down the garden, my body distended, my legs bent outward, feigning madness to terrify the tom-cats!

TOBY-DOG

I know something of the changes and pleasures you foretell, Fire--for I'm a Dog. Already, it is raining in the garden. I suppose it's raining on the road too, and in the woods. The falling drops are not warm, as they were in the summer storms when my truffle, gray with dust, delighted in the damp smell that came from the west. The sky is troubled and the wind has grown strong enough to blow my ears out straight, like little flags. A sharp cry, such as I make when I beg, comes under the door. You'll be shining here every day, Fire; but I'll have to suffer for the right to worship you. For She'll continue to wander about, her head covered with the pointed hood which changes her so, that it frightens me. She'll put on wooden shoes too, and carelessly crush the puddles, the little heaps of mud, and the weeping mosses. I'll follow her, since I've promised to do so my life long (and also because I can't help it), I'll follow her, a forlorn and piteous object, shining wet, my belly covered with mud, until, through very excess of misery I'll forget, and ramble in the coppice, interested in every undulation of the grass, eager to revive the drowned scents in it.... She'll become communicative when she sees me hurrying along and we'll talk: "Ha, Toby-Dog," she'll say, "ha! ha! a bird! There on the branch! Look! you booby! Now he's gone." She'll condole with me then, until I'm on the verge of tears. "Oh, my little black boy, my sympathetic cylinder, my batrachian love, how cold you are, how wet, how sad, how you suffer, oooo!" And before I'm able to judge of the sincerity of her pity, the tears will overflow, my throat contract, and we'll wail in unison....

Ah, but what delirious joy when the capricious wooden shoes turn again toward the house, hurrying to rejoin Him whom we've left scratching paper! They don't go half fast enough for me then! I jump 'round her, barking with delight to see the hill diminishing, our climb at an end, to smell the good stable smell and that of burning wood as we near the house. At last you shine forth, O Fire, O Sun, through the misty window pane!... I shall hardly have crossed the threshold when an overpowering sleepiness will dash me to the floor in front of you--you, who will reduce the mud on my belly to fine powder and change the water of the roads to smoky vapor.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE A delightful glow penetrates my coat to the silky down, the impalpable colorless threads which protect my delicate skin. I feel myself swelling like a cloud. I must quite fill the room. My whiskers seem charged with electricity--a sign that I will sleep--but for the time being, the contemplation of your splendor and thoughts of the coming season keep me awake. It's raining. I shall not go out. I'll wait for the sun, or the dry wind, or better still, the frost. Ah, how the biting cold stimulates me! It lashes my lungs with handfuls of needles, and makes a _bonbon glacé_ of my charming nose. The rollicking frost-sprite will blow his madness into me. She'll laugh and He too, leaving his scratching-paper, to see me vie with the leaves in bounds, leaps and wild whirlings, resembling a floating flurry of gray smoke rather than a Cat. To the top of a tree! Down again! Then seven turns after my tail! A perilous backward leap! A vertical jump, with aerial _danse du ventre_! Girations, sneezes, careering from the real to the dream, until in terror of myself, I come to a sudden stop.... Everything turns before my eyes. I'm the center of a strange, spinning world ... In my bewilderment (half-feigned) I'll make a little moo, like a cow, which will bring them both running to me,--She laughing, and He fearing something wrong. That will suffice to sober me, and with a bold front and noble mien, I'll regain this cushion near your altar, O Fire!

TOBY-DOG

This hearth-stone burns the horny pads of my feet. What shall I do? Move away? never! I'll toast to death rather than give up this redoubtable bliss. Heaven prevent Her coming, now! I've reason to fear the lash of the whip, and the magic words which mean exile: "Toby! that's stupid! I forbid you to roast yourself. You'll have sore eyes, and catch cold when you go out." That's what She says, while I regard her with a stupid look of utter devotion. But She's never duped by it. I hear noises upstairs, her step coming and going ... I wonder is her vagabond fancy wearied at last? This morning She whistled to me and in my haste to obey her, I rolled to the bottom of the stairs--being low and thick-set, with short legs, no nose, and almost no tail to balance me. Well, we set off. The last apples were rocking to-and-fro on swaying branches. My happy voice, a joyful shout from her now and then, the vain crowing of the cocks, the creaking of wagons on the road--all these sounds floated on a bluish, cottony, suffocating fog. She took me far, and many marvelous things happened on our way. We met terrible giant dogs. My proud bearing seemed to exasperate them, but I kept them back with a single look (besides, a closed iron gate rendered them powerless). I chased a rabbit into the thicket, though She cried loudly: "I forbid you to touch the little animal!" ... My mother certainly gave me swift legs but they're short, and the white end of the little beast kept far ahead. A bush covered with red berries detained us a very long time. She sees no objection to eating strange things and I can truthfully say that I always taste everything She offers me, for I've great faith in her. But this morning--"Eat, Toby, nice berries. Eat! here are some rose-hips. Oh stupid! how can you not dote upon their delicious flavor? I assure you these are comfits of Mother Nature's making." In deference to her, I chewed a reddish ball; there were some rough hairs on it--put there doubtless by her teasing hand--and what was bound to happen, did happen ... Khaha! My throat rejected the nasty "rosehip." ...

But listen, Fire, what I saw after that, passes _my_ understanding. It was in a wood where stiff leaves rustled. Had She carried you under her cloak, or do gods like you come at her bidding? I saw her hands pile up the wood, arrange flat stones in some mysterious fashion, and then, Fire, I saw the sparks flash and your joyous soul palpitate, grow big, soar naked and rose-colored, veil itself in smoke, snap noisily (for yours is a belligerent soul), agonize--and disappear.... The world is full of incomprehensible things.... Last of all, on our way back, I discovered near the park gate--saw it before She did--one of those invincible beasts called hedge-hogs, the mere sight of which brings us dogs to bay. What madness to realize that an animal is hiding under that pin-cushion and laughing at me, and that I can do nothing, _nothing_! I implored her--She can do nearly everything--to pluck him for me. She began by turning him over with a little stick, as if he were a horse chestnut. "Astonishing," said She, "I can't find the top of him!" Then She took one of his spines between two fingers and carried him home that way--I dancing behind her--and put him in her work basket. After a while the horrid beast unrolled himself, stuck out a pig-like nose, opened two shiny rat's eyes and raised himself, holding fast by his little paws, which were exactly like a mole's. "How pretty he is," She cried, "a real little black pig." I stood near the table groaning with covetousness, but She didn't pluck him for me, not then, or ever, and perhaps the cook ate him.... This cat's a dissembler. Maybe _he_ ... But away with care! I'm too excitable! I mustn't let myself think of these things. Life is beautiful, O Fire, since you illumine it ... I'm going to sleep ... Watch over my unconscious body ... I'm going ... to sleep....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

One would think me asleep because the narrow slit made by my parted eyelids, seems but the continuation of that velvety line, that bold crayon-stroke, a sort of Oriental make-up, uniting my eyelids and my ears. But I'm awake, keeping watch like a yogi, in a state of blissful ankylosis, conscious of all that's going on around me.... My privileged eyes, Fire, do but behold you better when they're closed and I can count the various essences you mingle in a sparkling bouquet. Here in a flame of mauve-color and blue, glows the soul of a branch of arbor-vitae. Yesterday it waved a plume-like shadow on the garden walk ... To-day, with its delicate twigs, it is but a writhing skeleton. She cut it with one stroke of the pruning scissors. Why? That it might breathe out its fervent blue and mauve-colored soul? For like me, She delights in your dance, Fire, and chastises you when you're quiet, with a stern pair of tongs. Sitting there with her head bent and her arms hanging along her sides, what does She read, I wonder, in that fiery rose which is the labyrinthian heart of you?... She knows a great deal certainly, but not as much as a Cat.

That thick tear on the log represents the anguish of a very old fir-tree, killed by the assiduous ivy. Just a short time ago I saw it struck down, lying on the grass, its foliage looking like a beautiful head of reddish hair. I saw the axe that felled it, too. Its trunk weeps tears of resin, which trail along in drivel, then change to heavy, creeping flame. But the dry red locks break into lines of living fire, whistle and shoot innumerable jets of many colors underneath a broad gold wave that rolls voluptuously....

Ah, love ... hunting ... fighting.... It's your light, Fire, that discovers these passions in the depths of my being. It's time the little winged creatures searching withered berries came near. I'll have them soon! I'll watch, motionless in the brushwood, wildly wishing that the earth itself might hide me, the muscles of my legs twitching with desire to make the spring, my chin trembling.... Then, if I don't betray my hiding-place by an irrepressible quavering, frightening them away in one great commotion of wings and rustling branches!... But no, I'm master of myself. One bound at exactly the right moment and my feeble prey is panting under me. Oh, the ridiculous effort of a weak animal--its tiny ineffectual claws and pointed wings beating against my face! My jaws will open to the splitting point and my perfect nose wrinkle ferociously, for the joy of holding a living, terrified body. I'll know the intoxication of battle! I'll prance victoriously, shaking my head to torment the bird a little, for it faints away too soon between my teeth! Terrible to see I'll gallop towards the house, singing in a strangled voice, without loosening my grip, for He must stop his scratching to admire me, and She must give chase with distracted cries: "Wicked, savage cat! Drop that bird! drop that bird!! Oh, I beg of you! It hurts me so...." Ha! She never can have hunted....

I intend to astonish the world, Fire, during Winter's reign. The Cat that lives at the farm (She says the farmer's cat, while we say the Cat's farmer), the fellow that's so badly dressed, disfigured by the nose of a weasel, and seems to walk on stilts, his legs are so long--well, he sharpens his claws and regards me the while. Patience! He's strong, brutal, irresolute, and utterly lacks distinction. The slamming of a door terrifies him; he puts back his ears and flies, panic-stricken. Still, I've seen him kill a good-sized hen, without making any fuss about it. For a glance of the young cat's deceitful eyes, or right of precedence on the garden wall, for a word of double meaning, for nothing, but the fun of the thing--I'll take my chances with him! He'll learn that a mysterious silence can demoralize the enemy quite as effectively as murderous cries. The low garden wall seems to me a convenient place. Let him try his hoarse miauling in all possible keys! May his unsightly face, and more hideous body dislocate itself in a deceitful ataxia (for they're still at these old tricks)! I'll be proof against it all, and merely flash the green magnetism of my magnificent eyes upon him. His brows will fall under their persistent insult, a shudder will run along his spine, he'll do a few steps of our ancient war dance--forward, back, forward again. But I'll stand--motionless as the statue of a Cat. The green witchcraft of my gaze will strike terror and madness into my rival and soon I'll see him writhe, utter false cries, and, as a last resource, try to balance himself on the nape of his neck, like a forked pear tree, only to roll over shamefully into the potato field....

All that will come to pass, Fire, exactly as I've told it. To-day the future dawns in your new flame.... I'm growing drowsy.... My purr and your crackling are ceasing together.... I see you still and already I catch glimpses of my dreams.... The silky sound of the rain against the window is soft as a caress, and the water-pipe on the roof sobs low like a pigeon....

Don't go out during my nap, Fire. Remember, you're the guardian of my august repose--that delicate death, known as a Cat's sleep....

THE STORM

_A suffocating summer's day in the country. The blinds of the house are half closed. Not a sound is heard from within; not a murmur from the parched garden, where even the sensitive leaves of the mimosa hang motionless_.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE _and_ TOBY-DOG _begin to feel uncomfortably conscious of the coming storm, which is yet but a slate-blue plinth thickly painted at the bottom of the dull blue sky-wall._

TOBY-DOG, (_restlessly lying first on one side, then on the other_) No use! I can't be comfortable. What does this heat mean anyway? I must be sick. It began at breakfast; I didn't like the meat and sniffed disdainfully at my dog-biscuit. Something awful is going to happen. I haven't done anything wrong that I know of--my conscience is clear--and yet, I'm suffering. There lies my chum, shivering and unable to sleep. I know by his quick breathing that he feels just as I do.... I say, Cat?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_irritably, in a low tone_)

Be quiet!

TOBY-DOG

What? You're listening to some noise?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No! _Heavens_, no! Don't mention noise. The mere sound of your voice makes the skin on my back go in waves like the sea. TOBY-DOG, (_frightened_)

Are you going to die?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I hope not. I've a sick headache. Can't you see the arteries throbbing under the almost hairless skin of my temples--the transparent, bluish skin that denotes a thoroughbred? It's atrocious! The veins on my forehead are like writhing vipers, and I don't know _what_ gnome forges in my brain! Oh, be quiet! Or at least speak so low that the coursing of my agitated blood may drown the sound of your voice....

TOBY-DOG

But it's this very silence that oppresses me. I tremble and don't know why. I long for the familiar voice of the wind in the chimney, the slamming of doors, the whispering of the garden, the poplars' ceaseless rustle--it always sounds like a trickling spring--

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

The uproar will come, soon enough.

TOBY-DOG Do you think so? I wish He'd scratch paper. It's an idle habit but an honored one. And see how listless She is, there in her wicker chair. Their silence frightens me more than anything. She seems asleep, but I can see her eyelashes move and the tips of her fingers, too. She's forgetting to play with the little balls of thread and doesn't sing, or whistle. She suffers just as we do.... Do you think this can be the end of the world, Cat?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No. It's a storm. Heavens! how uncomfortable I am! If I could only get out of my skin, cast off this fleece which is smothering me, fling myself naked as a skinned mouse into a fresher atmosphere! Oh Dog, you cannot see the sparks that make every separate hair on my body crackle, but I feel them. Don't come near! A blue flame is going to shoot out of me....

TOBY-DOG, (_shuddering_)

Things are coming to an awful pass! (_He drags himself to the porch_.) _What_ have they done to the out-of-doors? Look! the trees are all blue and the grass glistens like a sheet of water. What mournful sunlight! It shines white on the slate roofs, and the little houses over there on the hill look like brand new tombstones. A heavy odor, like bitter almond, creeps from the white bell-shaped blossoms of the daturas, and makes me feel sick and faint. Far away, some smoke, heavy as the perfume of the daturas, goes slowly up in a straight line and falls again--like a broken aigrette.... But come and see for yourself!

(KIKI-THE-DEMURE _walks falteringly to the porch_.)

TOBY-DOG

My word, _you're_ changed too, Cat! You look as if you were starving, your face is so drawn. Your fur is plastered down in some places and sticking up in others; gives you the expression of a weasel that had tumbled into oil.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Don't let that worry you! I'll regain my dignity--if ever another day dawns for us. To-day, I drag myself around unwashed, uncombed, like a woman out of love with love, and life....

TOBY-DOG

You say such distressing things. I think I'll whine and call for help. Perhaps I'd better go to Her, and look in her face for the comfort you refuse me. But She seems asleep now, in that wicker chair, and how can I read my fate in her eyes, when their lids are down. I'll lick her hand very respectfully and ever so lightly! That will wake her and oh, may her first caress drive away the evil charm!

(_He licks the hand hanging at the side of the chair_.)

SHE, (_with a scream_) Heavens! how you frightened me! Was there ever such a ninny as this Dog? There!...

(SHE _administers a smart rap on the nose_. TOBY'S _nerves give way and he howls loud and long_.)

SHE

Quiet! Not a word I say! Out of my sight! I don't know what's the matter, but I hate you! And that Cat sitting there, looking at me, like a bump on a log!...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_bristling_)

If She dares to touch me, I'll devour her!

(_Just at this dangerous crisis a low rumbling is heard, distant and then near. Impossible to tell whether it comes from the horizon, or arises in the house itself. All three lose interest in the quarrel_.

TOBY-DOG _and_ KIKI-THE-DEMURE _slink away, as if responding to a signal, and seek shelter, one under the bookcase and the other under an armchair_. SHE _turns anxiously to the leaden-hued garden, and the great violet bank of cloud, which of a sudden is riven by a blinding streak of blue fire_.)

SHE, TOBY-DOG, KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_all together_)

Oh!

(_A sudden crash shakes the windows, and instantly a great rush of wind envelopes the house, with a noise as of flapping canvas:--all the garden prostrates itself_.)

SHE, (_in anguish_)

Heavens! the apples!

TOBY-DOG, (_invisible_)

I'll let them cut my ears into strips rather than leave this hiding-place!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_invisible_)

I can't help hearing, and it's as if I saw everything that's going on. She hastens to close the windows. Someone is running on the stairs. Aïe! Another awful flame--and everything is falling in! Silence now.... I wonder are they all dead? I'll look through the fringes of the chair, though it's risking my life to do so. Ah, hailstones making holes in the leaves! Here comes the rain, in silvery drops, wide apart, and so heavy that the gravel wrinkles up when they fall.

SHE, (_heart-broken_)

I can hear the peaches falling, and the green nuts too!

(_All three are silent. Rain; quivering streaks of lightning; hissing in the pine-trees. The wind howls. A lull_.)

TOBY-DOG

I'm not quite so afraid as I was. The sound of the rain relaxes my tired nerves. I seem to feel its streaming warmth on my ears and the back of my neck. Now the hubbub is further off! I can hear myself breathe. The light coming under this bookcase, is brighter than it was. What is She doing? I daren't go out yet. If only the Cat would move! (_He sticks out his head, like a wary turtle. A flash of lightning makes him draw it back again_.) Ha! It's beginning all over again. Rain by the bucketfuls against the window-panes. Something in the chimney is trying to imitate that far-away rumbling. Everything's falling to pieces ... and _She_ gave me a rap on the nose!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Drop by drop, a little brownish river is filtering under the loose window-sash. It's stretching out and out on the floor, winding its way over to me. I'm so hot and thirsty, I'd like to lap up some of it. My joints ache and my ears are tired of standing up like weather-cocks at every crash. My jaws are still clenched with nervous fear. The seat of this chair is too low; it annoys me, rubbing against the fur on my back. However, it's some comfort to be able to _think_ of such things--thanks to the peace that's descended on the house. The rain is falling quietly and the wind has gone down, but the memory of the din still hums in my ears. What can He be doing? The storm distresses him too. Why didn't He come forward to calm the raging elements? There She is, opening the porch door. Isn't it too soon?... No, for the hens are cackling like old maids as they hop over the puddles. We're going to have fine weather. Oh, the adorable smell of wet leaves and earth refreshed! It's so new, so pure, I seem to breathe for the first time!

(_He creeps stealthily to the porch_.)

TOBY-DOG, (_suddenly_)

Um! How good! That smells like a walk! Things change so quickly one hasn't time to think. She's opened the door? Let's run! (_He dashes out_.) Well! well! the garden has got back its own color again! A warmish vapor moistens my rough-grained nose. I'm filled with the desire to jump and run. The grass is reeking, shining wet. Horned snails are feeling around in the pink gravel with the tips of their eyes, and speckled black and white slugs embroider the wall with a silver ribbon. Oh! what a beautiful green and gold beastie running out there in the wet! Shall I catch it? Shall I scratch its metallic shell, until it breaks with a little crackling sound? No. I'd rather stay near Her. She's leaning against the door, taking deep breaths and smiling quietly to herself. I'm _so_ happy! Something inside me feels grateful to the whole world. The light is beautiful, and I'm quite sure that there'll never, never be another storm.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I shan't wait any longer; I'm going out. I'll find dry places between the puddles for my dainty paws to step on. An imperceptible thrill runs through the streaming garden, making the jewels hung all about, tremble and sparkle.... The slanting rays of the setting sun find their reflection in my eyes which are spangled with green and gold. Down near the horizon, where the sky is still unsettled, a glittering sword leaps up and puts to flight the dark, fuming cloud-horses, that have been galloping over our heads. Now the odor of the daturas rises and perfumes all the air, mingled with that of lemon leaves, bruised by the hail. The roses are crowned with midges. Oh sudden springtime! An involuntary smile stretches the corners of my mouth. I'm going to play at tickling my nostrils with the point of a sweet-smelling blade of grass, carefully stretching my neck to avoid the falling drops. But I want Him to follow and admire me. Will He not come out and enjoy himself with us?

(_A voice is heard humming the motif of the_ Regensbogen: _sol, si, re, sol, la, si,--all flats. A door opens and closes again_. HE _appears under the dripping foliage of vines and jasmine, framing the veranda, and at the same moment, a rainbow is seen in the sky_.)

A CALLER

(_A winter's afternoon, in Paris. The studio; a fire crackles gently in the tower-shaped stove_. TOBY-DOG _and_ KIKI-THE-DEMURE, _one on the floor, the other on his own particular cushion, proceed with the minute toilet which follows a long siesta. Peace reigns_.)

TOBY-DOG

My nails grow faster here than in the country.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

It's the contrary, with mine.

TOBY-DOG

Really!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_bitterly_)

Not to be wondered at! She clips them for the sake of the hangings ... Well! (_Magniloquently_), what can't be cured must be endured.

TOBY-DOG

What are you going to do to-day?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Why ... nothing.

TOBY-DOG, (_ironically_)

For a change I suppose.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE Pardon, to _avoid_ change. What is this rage for change that takes possession of you all? Change means destruction. Only that which remains stationary is eternal.

TOBY-DOG

I'm eternal then, these three hours past.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

But you've been out with Her, haven't you? You came in like a whirlwind; bells rang, clothes were shaken out, you were sneezing and laughing and aureoled with icy air.... The end of her nose felt so cold when She kissed me on the forehead. She always kisses me there, just over the dark stripes forming the classic M, which She assures me stands for miaou and for Minet, my name in French.

TOBY-DOG

Yes ... we had a fine run on the banks of the fortifications, and then we went into a shop.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Is that amusing?

TOBY-DOG Not often. There are a great many people crowded together. I'm immediately seized with the fear of losing Her, and I stick close to her heels, no matter what comes. Strange feet push and knock me about and step on my paws. I yelp but the skirts all around stifle my voice.... When we're out of it, we both look as if we'd been shipwrecked....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

May the gods preserve _me_ from anything of the sort! Here, the moments have glided peacefully by. When She's not in this house, there's nothing to hinder me; I employ the time as my system of hygiene dictates. After my breakfast of rosy liver and milk, my kittenhood seems to come back to me; I'm filled with a foolish gayety. I go over to him. He's rumpling big, blackish papers and welcomes me with a quiet smile; we loll on the same divan, and revel in a few idle moments together. Sometimes, with imperious paw, I tear the paper He holds like a screen between us. It always seems to me the most desirable--the one that crackles best. He cries out, and I throw myself on my back and wriggle with joy in a sort of horizontal dance, He calls "the dance of the bayadeer." Then somehow, everything dwindles before my eyes, grows dim, and far away; I want to rise and go back to my cushion, but dreams already separate me from the world ... Ah! blessed hour when you and She disappear, when the house is at rest and takes a long breath. Soon I'm in the depths of a dark, sweet sleep; my ears alone keep watch and turn like sensitive antennas towards vague sounds of doors and bells ...

(_At this moment someone rings_. TOBY-DOG _and_ KIKI-THE-DEMURE _start and change their positions. The Cat, sitting, encircles himself with his fluffy tail. The Dog, in a sphinx-like attitude, lifts his head boldly_.)

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

What's that?

TOBY-DOG

A tradesman?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_shrugging his shoulders_)

That's not the kitchen bell. Perhaps it's caller.

TOBY-DOG, (_with a bound_)

What luck! They'll have tea and cakes! Come on!! Sugar, sugar! Little cakes! Little cakes!!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_gloomily_)

To see ladies who shriek, and put gloved hands on my back--hands covered with dead skin?... ugh!

(_Feminine voices are heard--Hers among them--and the clear tinkling of a little bell; then the door opens and a very diminutive toy terrier enters, alone. She's black and tan, seems in love with herself, and comes forward with a mincing step_.)

THE LITTLE DOG, (_voice way up in her head_)

I'm the darling little dog, so pretty!

(TOBY _is struck dumb with admiration and astonishment_. KIKI, _indignant, has jumped on top of the piano and remains an unseen and hostile spectator_.)

THE LITTLE DOG, (_astonished at not hearing the chorus of admiration that everywhere greets her, is reciting_--)

I'm the darling little dog, so pretty! I weigh only one pound, eleven ounces, my collar is of gold, my ears of black satin, lined with shiny rubber, my nails are polished like the beaks of little birds. (_Catching sight of_ TOBY-DOG.) Oh!--someone--(_silence_). He's rather good-looking.

(_They ogle and strut_.)

TOBY-DOG

How tiny she is!

THE LITTLE DOG

Sir--don't come near me.

TOBY-DOG

Why not?

THE LITTLE DOG

I don't know. My mistress knows. She's not here. She stayed in the other room.

TOBY-DOG

How old are you?

THE LITTLE DOG Eleven months, (_reciting_) I'm eleven months old. At the dog show, my mother took first prize for beauty. I weigh only one pound eleven ounces and--

TOBY-DOG

You've said that already. What makes you so little?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_from the piano_)

She's ugly, and has an evil odor. Her paws are deformed, she can't stand still an instant, and this dog takes pains to make himself fascinating!

THE LITTLE DOG, (_very coquettish and talkative_) It's my lineage, of course. One can hold me in a muff. You've seen my new collar? It's gold....

TOBY-DOG

And what's that hanging from it?

THE LITTLE DOG

My mother's medal, Sir. I always wear it. I come from the _Palais de Glace_, where I made quite a hit. Imagine! I wanted to bite a gentleman who was speaking to my mistress. _How_ they laughed!

(_She wriggles and chirps_.)

TOBY-DOG, (_aside_)

What an odd creature! Is she _really_ a dog? (_Sniffs_.) Yes ... smells of rice powder, but it's a dog just the same. (_Aloud_.) Sit down a moment, it makes me quite dizzy to see you moving about so.

THE LITTLE DOG

Certainly. (_She lies down, like a miniature greyhound, crossing her fore-paws to show the slimness of her toes_.) You were here all alone?

TOBY-DOG, (_looking toward the piano_)

Yes, no other dog. Why?

THE LITTLE DOG

There's a strange odor.

TOBY-DOG

The Cat, doubtless.

THE LITTLE DOG

The Cat? What's a Cat? I've never seen one. Do they leave you in the room all alone?

TOBY-DOG

It happens so now and then.

THE LITTLE DOG

And you don't bark? _I_ cry as soon as I'm left alone. I'm bored, afraid, feel sick, and chew up the cushions.

TOBY-DOG

And then you're whipped.

THE LITTLE DOG, (_insulted_)

I'm--what did you say? You're losing your senses, I imagine. (_Suddenly amiable again_.) That would be a pity. You have lovely eyes.

TOBY-DOG

Haven't I? They show well, don't they? They're large, and then they stick out. She says I have eyes like a lobster's, and sometimes She says "his beautiful seal's eyes, his frog-like eyes of gold."

THE LITTLE DOG

Who's She?

TOBY-DOG, (_simple_)

She.

THE LITTLE DOG

I don't understand all you say, but I find you so _very_ sympathetic! What are you doing this evening?

TOBY-DOG

Why ... I dine.

THE LITTLE DOG

Naturally! I wanted to know whether they receive here this evening, or do _you_ go out?

TOBY-DOG

No, I've been out already.

THE LITTLE DOG

Driving?

TOBY-DOG

Walking--of course.

THE LITTLE DOG

Why, of course? I hardly stir except in a carriage. Show me the underside of your paws. Horrors! One would say 'twas the stone they sharpen knives on! Look at mine. Satin on top, velvet underneath.

TOBY-DOG

I'd like to see you in the country, on the cobble-stones.

THE LITTLE DOG

I've been there, Sir. I was in the country last summer and there weren't any cobble-stones.

TOBY-DOG

Then it wasn't the country. You don't know what country means.

THE LITTLE DOG, (_vexed_)

Indeed I do, Sir! It's fine sand, and velvety lawns that are swept every morning; it's a reclining chair on the grass, great, fresh cushions of cretonne, foamy milk, naps in the shade, and charming little red apples to play with.

TOBY-DOG, (_shaking his head_)

No. It's the road covered with white powder that makes the eyelids smart and the paws burn, the tough, shriveled, sweet-smelling grass, where I scratch my nose and my gums; it's the fearful night--for I'm the only one to guard them, He and She. I lie in my basket, but the beating of my poor overdriven heart keeps me awake. I hear a dog crying to me from far off, that the Bad Man has passed on the road. Is he coming in my direction? Will I be obliged in another minute, my eyes bloodshot and tongue dry as chalk, to throw myself upon him and devour his shadowy face?...

THE LITTLE DOG, (_trembling and in ecstasy_)

Go on! Go on! Oh! how frightened I am!...

TOBY-DOG, (_modestly_) Don't be afraid--it has never happened. All that is the country, yes, and the interminable hill, in the shadow of the carriage, when thirst, hunger, heat and fatigue, render the soul submissive and hopeless ...

THE LITTLE DOG, (_quite worked up_)

And then?

TOBY-DOG

Oh, nothing. One arrives at the house, after all, and the pail of dark water, one drinks without taking breath, ("his tongue," She says, "his big tongue is parted in the center, like an iris-petal") while sore eyelids and dusty lashes are splashed with cooling drops.... The country is all that and many things besides....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_on the piano, musingly_)

All that, yes ...and the habits of the year before that one finds again, molded to one's shape, like a cushion marked with the imprint of a long sleep ...the long nights of freedom, when the lone owlet, with his sad little laugh, makes his way through the air as quietly as I do on the ground, and silvery gray rats cling to the vines, eating grapes and keeping their eyes on me at the same time. It's the sun-cure on the hot stone-wall, from which I arise wan and shrunken, baked through and through, but svelte enough to make the youngest tomcat envious. (_Coming back to the present with a murderous look at_ THE LITTLE DOG.) Death to you, ill-smelling beast, for having evoked these by-gone joys! Aren't you going to disappear, that I may come down from this cold pedestal, where my paws are growing numb?

TOBY-DOG, (_enthusiastically to_ THE LITTLE DOG)

But let us forget all that! With you there, I can think of nothing but you. I feel that I love you!

THE LITTLE DOG, (_lowering her eyes_)

Do you mean ...really?

TOBY-DOG

Of course I do!

THE LITTLE DOG

So soon!

TOBY-DOG

We've already wasted a great deal of time.

THE LITTLE DOG

But ... we've been chatting. I've enjoyed it very much ... and I fail to understand why the society of young dogs like you, is forbidden me ...

TOBY-DOG

Allow me to make love to you.

THE LITTLE DOG

What's that?

TOBY-DOG

I'll show you. First I hold myself very erect, stiffen my legs, walk 'round you, barking low and melodiously. My tail wriggles, my ears ...

THE LITTLE DOG

Don't come near me. I feel quite upset. (_Escaping_.) Aïe! You unmannerly fellow!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_standing up_)

These preludes are indeed a sad parody on our wild love-making ... (_aloud, very angry_) I should think--

THE LITTLE DOG _looks to see where the dreadful voice is coming from, and espies a strange striped monster with eyes afire, and eyebrows and whiskers bristling ferociously. She dashes towards the door crying_,

Help, help! There's a tiger on the piano!...

_And falls into the arms of her mistress, who has come upon the scene and proceeds to console her with great volubility; Fifi! my Zezette! My darling! there, there, goo, goo, goo, goo, you poor helpless little doggie! What did they do to her? Ooooo!--Ooo! Was it the naughty bow-bow? etc., etc., etc_.