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