In former times there lived an old woman in a state of extreme
debility. She possessed a cot more narrow than the heart of the
ignorant and darker than the miser's grave; and a Cat was her
companion, which had never seen, even in the mirror of imagination, the
face of a loaf, nor had heard from friend or stranger the name of meat.
It was content if occasionally it smelt the odour of a mouse from its
hole, or saw the print of the foot of one on the surface of a board,
and if, on some rare occasion, by the aid of good fortune one fell into
its claws, it subsisted a whole week, more or less, on that amount of
food.
And, inasmuch as the house of the old woman was the famine-year of that
Cat, it was always miserable and thin, and from a distance appeared
like an idea.
One day, through excessive weakness, it had, with the utmost
difficulty, mounted on the top of the roof; thence it beheld a Cat
which walked proudly on the wall of a neighbouring house, and after the
fashion of a destroying lion advanced with measured steps, and from
excessive fat lifted its feet slowly. When the Cat of the old woman
saw this, it was astonished and cried out, saying: "Thou, whose state
is thus pleasant, whence art thou? and since it appears that thou
comest from the banquet-chamber of the Khan of Khata, whence is this
sleekness of thine, and from what cause this thy grandeur and strength?"
The Neighbour-Cat replied: "I am the crumb-eater of the tray of the
Sultan. Every morning I attend on the court of the king, and when they
spread the tray of invitation, I display boldness and daring, and in
general I snatch off some morsels of fat meats, and of loaves made of
the finest flour; and thus I pass my time happy and satisfied till the
next day."
The Cat of the old woman inquired: "What sort of a thing may fat meat
be? and what kind of relish has bread, made of fine flour? I, during
my whole life, have never seen nor tasted aught save the old woman's
broths, and mouse's flesh."
The Neighbour-Cat laughed, and said: "Therefore it is that one cannot
distinguish thee from a spider, and this form and appearance that thou
hast is a reproach to our whole race. If thou shouldst see the court
of the Sultan and smell the odour of those delicious viands, thou
wouldst acquire a fresh form."
The Cat of the old woman, said, most beseechingly, "O brother! thou art
bound to me by neighbourship and kinship; why not this time, when thou
goest, take me with thee? Perchance, by thy good fortune, I may obtain
food."
The heart of the Neighbour-Cat melted at the speaker's lamentable
position, and he resolved that he would not attend the feast without
him. The Cat of the old woman felt new life at these tidings, and
descending from the roof stated the case to his mistress. The old dame
began to advise the Cat, saying: "O kind companion, be not deceived by
the words of worldly people and abandon not the corner of content, for
the vessel of covetousness is not filled save with the dust of the
grave." But the Cat had taken into its head such a longing for the
delicacies of the Sultan's table that the medicine of advice was not
profitable to it.
In short, the next day, along with its neighbour, the old woman's Cat,
with tottering steps conveyed itself to court, but before it could
arrive there ill-fortune had poured the water of disappointment on the
fire of its wish, and the reason was as follows:
The day before, the cats had made a general onslaught on the table, and
raised an uproar beyond bounds, and annoyed, to the last degree, the
guests and their host. Wherefore, on this day, the Sultan had
commanded that a band of archers, standing in ambush, should watch, so
that for every cat who, holding before its face the buckler of
impudence should enter the plain of audacity, the very first morsel
that it ate should be a liver-piercing shaft.
The old woman's Cat, ignorant of this circumstance, as soon as it smelt
the odour of the viands, turned its face like a falcon to the
hunting-ground of the table, and the scale of the balance of appetite
had not yet been weighted by heavy mouthfuls, when the heart-piercing
arrow quivered in its breast.
Dear friend! the honey pays not for the sting,
Content with syrup is a better thing.