Then Dry-throat, turning to Beppo with a frown that would scare any
one, asked him, “Who has eaten the lining of my pocket?”
As if these words were not addressed to him, the little monkey began
to look here and there. Then, fixing his mobile and nervous eyes on
the face of the chief of the assassins, he said in a caressing voice:
“Rest contented, Mr. Assassin. I speak to you seriously. I have never
seen a beard as pretty as yours! You have the prettiest beard in all
the world.”
“Leave my beard alone and answer me. Who has eaten the lining of my
pocket?”
“But not only is your beard beautiful,” added the little monkey,
“everybody says that you are the kindest man in the world. You have
the heart of a Cæsar!”
“Let my heart alone. Who has eaten the lining of my pocket?”
“And that is not all. Everybody says that you are handsome. Would you
like me to tell you what I think? I have seen many handsome men; but
a man as handsome as you I have never seen.”
“You ought to have seen me thirty years ago,” replied Dry-throat,
smoothing his beard. “Then I was handsome! Hey, Candle-bit! Was I not
handsome thirty years ago?”
“The first time I saw you,” said Candle-bit, “you were like the sun!
Yes, the mid day sun!”
[Illustration]
“To-day you are the setting sun!” added Beppo; “but a magnificent
sunset! A sunset that is better than an Aurora borealis.”
“I perceive, my dear little monkey, that you are bright and smart:
for this I like you,” said Dry-throat. “Come from the soup tureen
and sit alongside of me. We will eat together. Candle-bit! Bring
immediately a plate of peaches and a plate of cherries for my friend
Beppo. My friend is a sincere little monkey and is a lover of truth.
If he meets a man truly handsome, he does not fear to tell him before
his face, ‘You are the handsomest man in the world!’”
So they ate together with a great appetite. When the supper was over,
the little monkey asked, “If I might be not too indiscreet, I would
like to know where you wish to carry me.”
“To the house of a beautiful fairy with blue hair.”
“What does she want with me?”
“She is angry.”
“And why?”
“Because she says you made a promise to accompany her son Alfred on a
long trip, and that you broke your promise.”
“How far away is the house of the fairy?”
“More than a thousand miles.”
“I do not wish to go there.”
“You do not wish to go,” replied Dry-throat, becoming serious. “But I
will carry you by force.”
“You will not be able to carry me.”
“Why?”
“Because I will run away.”
“You will run away?” yelled the assassin, blowing like a wounded
bull. “Get right into my pocket, and to-morrow morning at daylight we
will leave.”
Saying this, Dry-throat seized the little monkey and placed him in
the dark pocket, securing the pocket with the same buttons that
looked like carriage wheels. Then taking off his coat, he laid it
over a chair, and, resting his head against the wall, said to the
host, “I will take a little nap on this bench, and take care to wake
me at daylight.”
“Sleep tight,” replied Candle-bit, and, taking a candle, he returned
to his room.
Now you must know, little readers, that Dry-throat had a very bad
habit of snoring. He made a noise with his mouth, like the painful
and prolonged whistle which birds make when chased by a falcon.
Hearing this whistle, Candle-bit’s tabby-cat Nanni entered the room
on the tips of her feet, sniffling here and there, perhaps with the
hope of finding some little bird escaped from a cage. Instead of a
bird he found a coat on a chair, and he smelt a warm and strange odor
like flesh. “What animal can that be?” he said to himself. “A mouse?
Certainly not. It is too large. Perhaps it is a piece of roast lamb?
No, that can’t be it, because that is not the odor of cooked beef.
What can it be?”
He began to sniffle again. After moving his little nostrils from
side to side, he decided that that odor was to him like a sealed
book. He understood nothing. But, while he was licking his mustache
and was wrapped in deep thought, it appeared to him that he heard
a slight noise. He pricked up his ears, and moved his head to one
side to listen better. He heard inside the pocket a weak noise like
“Kickiriki!”
“It is a chicken,” said Nanni, meowing with happiness, “yes, it
is truly a chicken! The odor does not appear to be truly like a
chicken; but these bad chickens are sly and deceitful things. Why, I
remember once at the theatre I carried away a chicken that was behind
the scenes, and, when I arrived home, I found it full of rags and
sawdust.”
“Kickiriki!” sounded a second time.
“You call me, eh?” said Nanni to himself. “I am coming. It has been a
great many days since I ate a chicken.” And he commenced to work with
teeth and nails to open the pocket. Scarcely, however, had he opened
one button, when he saw jump outside a little monkey, all bowing and
scraping.
Beppo said: “I have heard, my dear Tabby-cat, that you desire to eat
a little chicken meat. It gives me infinite pleasure to tell you that
I have left in the bottom of that pocket a nice big piece of breast.
If you wish to eat it, go inside, and good appetite to you.”
Without being invited the second time, Nanni entered the pocket; but
he had hardly entered when the button was closed above him.
“Are you inside?” said Beppo, rubbing his little front paws with
satisfaction.
“While you are looking for the nice piece of breast, I will leave
here. Give my respects to the people of the house.”
When the little monkey had mumbled these words between his teeth, he
opened quietly the door of the inn, and disappeared among the trees
of the forest. It was a very black night, and he could scarcely see
where he went.
[Illustration]