Chapter V (9)

A Starling had the misfortune of upsetting a bottle of ink over Minette’s reply to Bébé, so that several pages of the letter are illegible. The loss of these passages, however, does not interfere with the narrative. The missing matter is indicated by dotted lines. {286}

MINETTE TO BÉBÉ.

THIRD LETTER.

. . . . “Do you remember the doll given to us by our mistress, which soon became a subject of discord. How you used to scratch me. Oh dear! I almost feel my back bleeding when I think of it. How I used to complain of you to my mother when you so persistently called me a story-teller, but I got no satisfaction. It is from this point, this little wrong, that all my miseries sprang? Indignant at repeated miscarriages of justice, I resolved to fly from you and seek a happier home. Ascending to the roof, the heaven of cats, I viewed the distant horizon, and determined to wander to its furthest limit. The prospect {288} for a kitten so young was not tempting. I foresaw many dangers to which I would be exposed in making my way into strange lands. I remember . . . . I seemed to hear choirs of voices in the air—

“ ‘Do not cry, Minette,’ whispered a voice—no doubt that of my evil genius—‘the hour of your deliverance approaches. This humble dwelling is an unworthy shelter for one born by nature to adorn the halls of a palace!’

“ ‘Alas,’ replied a voice softer and more musical—that of my conscience—‘You mock me, sir, I am a lowly maiden, a palace is no place for me!’

“ ‘Beauty is queen of the world,’ continued the first. ‘You are extremely beautiful, therefore you are queen! What robe is whiter, what eyes brighter than yours!’

“ ‘Think of your mother,’ said the pleading voice. ‘Can you forget her? Can you forget your sister Bébé?’

“ ‘Bébé makes you her slave, and your mother does not love you. You are a child of misfortune. You have been reared by chance. Chance is your foster-mother. You are alone indebted to chance. Come, Minette, come, the world is before you. Here is misery and obscurity, yonder, riches and fame!’

“My good angel in vain tried to picture a future of darkness and despair. The love of finery took possession of my heart and sealed my doom!

“The voice became more and more irresistible, and I blindly followed its commands.

“I had fallen into a faint, but when I became conscious, judge my surprise to find that my charmer was no illusion. Before me stood a young cat gazing tenderly down on me.

“Ah, Bébé, he was handsome! and his eyes sparkled with the flame of kindling love. He was the ideal cat of whom we sing when gazing on the moon veiled by the city smoke. At last, in a high-pitched rapturous voice, he exclaimed, ‘Divine Minette, I adore thee.’ I felt my tail expand at his audacity, but my heart expanded as if in unison, for I already felt that he was mine. Soon he settled down, his gaze riveted upon my face. You ought to have seen how humbly he begged for a single glance from me. How could I refuse his request, he who, perhaps, had rescued me from the terrible death of a fall from the tiles.

“If you had only heard his eloquence, Bébé. I confess I felt {289} flattered and puffed up with pride, and saw myself prospectively arrayed in all the finery he promised to lay at my feet; lace, collars, jewels, and a superb ermine muff. This last gift brought me into great trouble.

“I was naturally indolent—he pictured to me a life of ease, with its soft carpets, velvet and brocade cushions, arm-chairs, sofas, and all sorts of fine furniture. He assured me that his mistress—an ambassador’s wife—would be delighted to receive me whenever I cared to visit her, and that all the collection which made her apartments a magazine of curiosities was at my disposal.

“Oh, it was delightful to dream of being waited on so; I would have a maid, and my noble mistress would serve me.

“ ‘We are called domestic animals,’ he said, why, it is impossible to say. What position do we fill in a house? Whom do we serve and who serves us, if not our masters? He assured me I was simply perfect, in tones so musical, that I heard the old landlady below screaming with delight. I said I felt lonely, and he swore eternal fidelity—Oh! how he did swear—and promised a life of cloudless joy. In a word I was to become his wife, and the ambassador’s titled cat.

“What more need I add. I followed him and thus became Madame de Brisquet.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

FOURTH LETTER.

“Yes, Bébé, Madam de Brisquet.

“Pity me, Bébé, when I write this name it seems to me to contain the whole story of my misery, condensed and sublimated, yet I have imagined myself happy in the possession of wealth, honour, and his affection. Our entrance into the hotel was a real triumph, even the ambassador opened his window to receive us. The lady pronounced me the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and after exhausting her store of agreeable flatteries, she rang for her people, told them all to respect me, and committed me to the care of her lady-in-waiting. I was at once named the queen of cats, the fashionable beauty, by all the most renowned Angoras in Paris. My husband was proud of my success, and I looked forward to a lifetime of happiness.

“O Bébé, when I recall all this, I often ask myself how it is I have any heart left. {290}

“My honeymoon lasted fifteen days, after which I discovered that Brisquet had no real love for me. In vain were his assurances that his affection had not changed—I was not to be deceived. But love desires what is impossible, and is after all satisfied with very little. Even when all tokens of affection were at an end, I felt I still loved him, and would not believe that love so sincere awakened no kindred flame in his heart.

“Remember this, Bébé, there is nothing more transient than the love of cats. Far from being pleased at my constancy, Brisquet became impatient with me.

“ ‘I cannot understand,’ he exclaimed angrily, ‘why love, the most gay and agreeable pastime of youth, should become the most serious, absurd, and bothering business of our maturer years.’

“I abandoned my mother and sister, because I loved you! I, I——wept!

“My grief only hardened his heart, he became cruel, even brutal, and I, who had rebelled against my poor mother’s neglect, bent under his oppression, and waited, hoping for brighter days. But time is a pitiless monster, and teaches us many a hard lesson we would rather not learn. Time may also be likened to a good physician, who, after many days heals the deepest wounds. I became calm, feeling that the last ember of my unrequited love had been rudely stamped out; and I forgave him.

“Brisquet was one of those who love themselves better than all the world, and who are easily elated by anything that flatters their vanity. He was a true disciple of the school of gallantry, whose doctrines are framed to please, without the troublesome sentiment of love. Their hearts have two doors which open almost simultaneously, the one to let you in, the other to kick you out. Naturally, Brisquet while ceasing to care for me, had found another dupe. Fortune had furnished a singular rival, a Chinese creature from the province of Peichihli, who, soon after she had landed, set all the cats in Paris in a ferment. This gay intriguer had been imported by the manager of a theatre, who wisely foresaw that a Chinese cat would create a tremendous sensation among the Parisians.

“The novelty of this last conquest pricked the self-love of Brisquet, while the drooping ears of the foreigner did the rest. Not long after he announced his intention of leaving me.

“ ‘I found you poor, I leave you rich. You were despairing and {291} knew nothing of the world, now, your instinct has been sharpened by experience. You owe all to me; thank me, and let me go.’

“ ‘Go,’ I said, ‘I ought never to have loved you,’ and he left me.

“His departure lifted a load from my heart. I no longer cared for him. O Bébé, if I could only have forgotten all, and become a kitten again.

“It was about the time of Brisquet’s disappearance that I renounced the world, and refused to quit my apartments. Under the able tuition of my mistress, I soon perceived that there was more probability in the fable of the cat transformed into a woman, than one would suppose. In order, therefore, to wile away the time, I took to the study of human nature from our point of view. I resolved to put together my observations in the form of a little treatise, entitled, ‘History of a Woman, as a Caution to Cats; by a Votary of Fashion.’

“Should I find an editor, this important work will soon see the light. Bébé, I have no heart to write more. Oh, that I had, like you, remained poor, and never known the pain of luxurious misery. Bébé, I have decided to return to the loft to rejoin you and my dear mother, who, perhaps, after some time may know me again. Do not deter me, I will work, I will forget all the pomp and vanity of riches. Adieu! I hope to leave for home to-morrow.”

BÉBÉ TO MINETTE.

FIFTH LETTER.

“As I have just received and perused your long, sad letter, I can only say, that I am ready to welcome you home. Your story was read through a mist of tears. Although, as I say, I am ready to receive you, for your own sake, I entreat you to remain where you are. Think well before plunging into poverty, and exchanging the sentimental misery of your position for the real woes of want. Remain where you are, for beneath the richly-laden boards of the great, you can never feel privation. You can never feel the savage instinct that causes your poor relations at home to fight for the foulest refuse.

“Mark well my words, Minette. There is only one overwhelming type of misery in the world, and that is, born of poverty. I need say nothing to prove that our lot is a sad one. The masons have just left the loft, where they stopped up every mouse-hole, and transformed our happy hunting-grounds into howling wastes of bare timber and plaster. {292} My mother, who knows nothing of all this, is dying for a meal. I have nothing to give her, and I have tasted nothing for days.

“BÉBÉ.”

“_P.S._—I was begging the privilege of hunting in the neighbours’ preserves, and have been driven from their roofs and spouts. Keep your sorrows, you have leisure to weep over them, and over the sad lot of your poor sister and mother.

“It is said no one dies of hunger in Paris—we shall see!”

FROM BÉBÉ TO MINETTE.

SIXTH LETTER.

“We are saved! a generous cat has come to our aid. Ah, Minette, how joyous it is to come to life again!

“BÉBÉ.”

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

SEVENTH LETTER.

“You do not reply, Minette. What is the reason? Ought I to excuse you? I have great news, I am going to be married. I have consented to wed our deliverer. He is elderly and fat, but very good. I feel certain you will approve of the step. His name is Pompon, a nice name which suits him well. It is, besides, a good match, he is a well-fed cat. You see my education has led me to view this union in a plain practical way. Write soon, lazy one!

“BÉBÉ.”

FROM MINETTE TO BÉBÉ.

EIGHTH LETTER (_written in pencil_).

“While I write to you, Bébé, my maid—the one kept for me by my mistress—is engaged in making a linen bag, when finished I will be thrust into it, it will be sewn up, and I shall be carried off by the footman and thrown into the river.

“This is to be my fate.

“Do you know why, Bébé. It is because I am sick, and my mistress, who has the most superfine feelings, dreads the sight of suffering and death. ‘Poor Rosa Mika,’ she said, ‘how she is changed!’ and in a sad voice gave the fatal order, ‘Be sure to drown her well, do not have her suffer pain.’ {293}

“Ah, Bébé, what do you say now? Do you still envy my miseries? My illness prevented me from writing. Adieu.

“Bébé, in a few minutes all will be over.

“MINETTE.”

You know the history of my married life, would you wish me to begin again?

As for Bébé, her lot in life was a happy one, only marred by the death of her mother, who expired in her arms while blessing her daughter.

Pompon proved a devoted husband and father, for Bébé soon became the mother of a numerous family of little Pompons and Minettes. {294}