CHAPTER I._The Story of a Cat

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THE STORY OF A CAT

Translated from the French of

EMILE DE LA BEDOLLIERE

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH

With Silhouettes by L. Hopkins

Boston and New York

Houghton Mifflin Company

The Riverside Press Cambridge

This Book or Parts Thereof in Any Form

PREFACE.

M. Bedolliere's charming story of Mother Michel and her cat was turned

into English for the entertainment of two small readers at the writer's

fireside. Subsequently the translation was fortunate enough to find a

larger audience in the pages of a popular juvenile magazine. The

ingenious and spirited series of silhouettes with which Mr. Hopkins has

enriched the text is the translator's only plea for presenting in book

form so slight a performance as his own part of the work.

THE STORY OF A CAT.

CHAPTER I.

HOW MOTHER MICHEL MADE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF

HER CAT.

There lived in Paris, under the reign of King Louis XV., a very rich old

countess named Yolande de la Grenouillere. She was a worthy and

charitable lady, who distributed alms not only to the poor of her own

parish, Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, but to the unfortunate of other

quarters. Her husband, Roch-Eustache-Jeremie, Count of Grenouillere, had

fallen gloriously at the battle of Fontenoy, on the 11th of May, 1745.

The noble widow had long mourned for him, and even now at times wept over

his death. Left without children, and almost entirely alone in the world,

she gave herself up to a strange fancy,--a fancy, it is true, which in no

manner detracted from her real virtues and admirable qualities: she had

a passion for animals. And an unhappy passion it was, since all those she

had possessed had died in her arms.

[Illustration: The Countess distributes Alms.]

The first, in date, in her affections had been a green parrot, which,

having been so imprudent as to eat some parsley, fell a victim to

frightful colics. An indigestion, caused by sweet biscuits, had taken

from Madame de la Grenouillere a pug-dog of the most brilliant promise. A

third favorite, an ape of a very interesting species, having broken his

chain one night, went clambering over the trees in the garden, where,

during a shower, he caught a cold in the head, which conducted him to the

tomb.

[Illustration: The Ape fatally exposes himself.]

Following these, the Countess had birds of divers kinds; but some of them

had flown away, and the others had died of the pip. Cast down by such

continuous disasters, Madame de la Grenouillere shed many tears. Seeing

her inconsolable, the friends of the Countess proposed successively

squirrels, learned canaries, white mice, cockatoos; but she would not

listen to them; she even refused a superb spaniel who played dominoes,

danced to music, ate salad, and translated Greek.

[Illustration: Her Friends propose Squirrels, Canaries, Mice, etc.]

"No, no," she said, "I do not want any more animals; the air of my house

is death to them."

[Illustration: The Boys after the Cat.]

She had ended by believing in fatality.

One day, as the Countess was leaving the church, she saw a crowd of boys

hustling and elbowing each other, and giving vent to peals of joyous

laughter. When, seated in her carriage, she was able to overlook the

throng, she discovered that the cause of this tumult was a poor cat to

whose tail the little wretches had tied a tin saucepan.

The unfortunate cat had evidently been running a long time, for he seemed

overcome with fatigue. Seeing that he slackened his speed, his tormentors

formed a circle around him, and began pelting him with stones. The

luckless creature bowed his head, and, recognizing that he was surrounded

by none but enemies, resigned himself to his hard fate with the heroism

of a Roman senator. Several stones had already reached him, when Madame

de la Grenouillere, seized with deep compassion, descended from her

carriage, and, pushing the crowd aside, exclaimed: "I will give a louis

to whoever will save that animal!"

These words produced a magical effect; they transformed the persecutors

into liberators; the poor cat came near being suffocated by those who now

disputed the honor of rescuing him safe and sound. Finally, a sort of

young Hercules overthrew his rivals, brought off the cat, and presented

it half dead to the Countess.

[Illustration: The Luckless Creature bowed his Head.]

"Very well," she said; "here, my brave little man, is the reward I

promised." She gave him a bright golden louis just out of the mint, and

then added, "Relieve this poor animal of his inconvenient burden."

[Illustration: "Dear me, how homely he is!"]

While the young Hercules obeyed, Madame de la Grenouillere regarded the

creature she had rescued. It was a true type of the street-cat. His

natural hideousness was increased by the accidents of a long and

irregular career; his short hair was soiled with mud; one could scarcely

distinguish beneath the various splashes his gray fur robe striped with

black. He was so thin as to be nearly transparent, so shrunken that one

could count his ribs, and so dispirited that a mouse might have beaten

him. There was only one thing in his favor, and that was his physiognomy.

[Illustration: The Cat is presented, half dead, to the Countess.]

"Dear me, how homely he is!" said Madame de la Grenouillere, after

finishing her examination.

At the moment she stepped into the carriage, the cat fixed his great

sea-green eyes upon her and gave her a look, strange, indefinable, full

at the same time of gratitude and reproach, and so expressive that the

good lady was instantly fascinated. She read in this glance a discourse

of great eloquence. The look seemed to wish to say,--

"You have obeyed a generous impulse; you saw me feeble, suffering,

oppressed, and you took pity on me. Now that your benevolence is

satisfied, my deformity inspires you with contempt. I thought you were

good, but you are not good; you have the instinct of kindness, but you

are not kind. If you were really charitable you would continue to

interest yourself in me for the very reason that I am homely; you would

reflect that my misfortunes are owing to my ugly appearance, and that the

same cause,--should you leave me there in the street, at the mercy of the

wicked boys,--the same cause, I say, would produce the same effects. Go!

you needn't pride yourself on your half-way benevolence!--you have not

done me a service; you have only prolonged my agony. I am an outcast, the

whole world is against me, I am condemned to die; let my destiny be

accomplished!"

Madame de la Grenouillere was moved to tears. The cat seemed to her

superhuman--no, it was a cat; it seemed to her superanimal! She thought

of the mysteries of transformation, and imagined that the cat, before

assuming his present form, had been a great orator and a person of

standing. She said to her maid, Mother Michel, who was in the

carriage,--

"Take the cat and carry him."

"What, you will bring him with you, madame?" cried Mother Michel.

"Certainly. As long as I live that animal shall have a place at my

fireside and at my table. If you wish to please me, you will treat him

with the same zeal and affection you show to myself."

"Madame shall be obeyed."

"That is well,--and now for home!"

[Illustration: Mother Michel is told to take the Cat.]