with only an innate sense of propriety to oppose to a coarse-minded
magistrate, and a circle of mocking friends. The judge,
imperturbably obtuse, dropped the kitten on the rug, and prepared
to resume their former friendly relations. The kitten did not run
away, she did not even walk away; that would have been an admission
of defeat. She sat down very slowly, as if first searching for a
particular spot in the intricate pattern of the rug, turned her back
upon her former playmate, faced her false friends, and tucked her
outraged tail carefully out of sight. Her aspect was that of a cat
alone in a desert land, brooding over the mystery of her nine lives.
In vain the handkerchief was trailed seductively past her little nose,
in vain her contrite family spoke words of sweetness and repentance.
She appeared as aloof from her surroundings as if she had been wafted
to Arabia; and presently began to wash her face conscientiously and
methodically, with the air of one who finds solitude better than the
companionship of fools. Only when the judge had put his silly
handkerchief into his pocket, and had strolled into the library under
the pretence of hunting for a book which he had never left there,
did the kitten close her eyes, lower her obdurate little head, and
purr herself tranquilly to sleep.
A few years afterwards I was permitted to witness another silent
combat, another signal victory. This time the cat was, I grieve to
say, a member of a troupe of performing animals, exhibited at the
Folies-Bergere in Paris. Her fellow actors, poodles and monkeys,
played their parts with relish and a sense of fun. The cat, a thing
apart, condescended to leap twice through a hoop, and to balance
herself very prettily on a large rubber ball. She then retired to
the top of a ladder, made a deft and modest toilet, and composed
herself for slumber. Twice the trainer spoke to her persuasively,
but she paid no heed, and evinced no further interest in him nor in
his entertainment. Her time for condescension was past.
The next day I commented on the cat's behaviour to some friends who
had also been to the Folies-Bergere on different nights. "But," said
the first friend, "the evening I went, that cat did wonderful things;
came down the ladder on her ball, played the fiddle, and stood on
her head."
"Really," said the second friend. "Well, the night _I_ went, she did
nothing at all except cuff one of the monkeys that annoyed her. She
just sat on the ladder, and watched the performance. I presumed she
was there by way of decoration."
All honour to the cat, who, when her little body is enslaved, can
still preserve the freedom of her soul. The dogs and the monkeys
obeyed their master; but the cat, like Montaigne's happier pussy long
ago, had "her time to begin or to refuse," and showman and audience
waited upon her will.
THE END