and that you can teach him yourself. I need not keep him any longer.'
'Do you hear, Michel?'
'Oh, sir,' said Michel, 'he can do that already. He retrieves like an
angel!'
This failed to convey to me an exact idea of the way in which
Pritchard retrieved. But Michel threw a handkerchief, and Pritchard
brought it back. He then threw one of the rabbits that Vatrin carried,
and Pritchard brought back the rabbit. Michel then fetched an egg and
placed it on the ground. Pritchard retrieved the egg as he had done
the rabbit and the handkerchief.
'Well,' said Vatrin, 'the animal knows all that human skill can teach
him. He wants nothing now but practice. And when one thinks,' he
added, 'that if the rascal would only come in to heel, he would be
worth twenty pounds if he was worth a penny.'
'True,' said I with a sigh, 'but you may give up hope, Vatrin; that is
a thing he will never consent to.'
II
I think that the time has now come to tell my readers a little about
Mademoiselle Desgarcins, Potich, and the Last of the Laidmanoirs.
Mademoiselle Desgarcins was a tiny monkey; I do not know the place of
her birth, but I brought her from Havre, where I had gone--I don't
know why--perhaps to look at the sea. But I thought I must bring
something home with me from Havre. I was walking there on the quay,
when at the door of a bird-fancier's shop I saw a green monkey and a
blue and yellow macaw. The monkey put its paw through the bars of its
cage and caught hold of my coat, while the blue parrot turned its head
and looked at me in such an affectionate manner that I stopped,
holding the monkey's paw with one hand, and scratching the parrot's
head with the other. The little monkey gently drew my hand within
reach of her mouth, the parrot half shut its eyes and made a little
purring noise to express its pleasure.
[Illustration: 'MONSIEUR DUMAS, MAY I ACCOMMODATE YOU WITH MY MONKEY
AND MY PARROT?']
'Monsieur Dumas,' said the shopman, coming out with the air of a man
who was more decided to sell than I was to buy; 'Monsieur Dumas, may I
accommodate you with my monkey and my parrot?' It would have been
more to the purpose if he had said, 'Monsieur Dumas, may I _incommode_
you with my monkey and my parrot?' However, after a little bargaining,
I bought both animals, as well as a cage for the monkey and a perch
for the parrot; and as soon as I arrived at home, I introduced them to
Michel.
'This,' said Michel, 'is the green monkey of Senegal--_Cercopithecus
sabaea_.'
I looked at Michel in the greatest astonishment. 'Do you know Latin,
Michel?'
'I don't know Latin, but I know my "Dictionary of Natural History."'
'Oh, indeed! And do you know what bird this is?' I asked, showing him
the parrot.
'To be sure I know it,' said Michel. 'It is the blue and yellow
macaw--_Macrocercus arararanna_. Oh, sir, why did you not bring a
female as well as a male?'
'What is the use, Michel, since parrots will not breed in this
country?'
'There you make a mistake, sir; the blue macaw will breed in France.'
'In the south, perhaps?'
'It need not be in the south, sir.'
'Where then?'
'At Caen.'
'At Caen? I did not know Caen had a climate which permits parrots to
rear their young. Go and fetch my gazetteer.'
'You will soon see,' said Michel as he brought it. I read: 'Caen,
capital of the department of Calvados, upon the Orne and the Odon: 223
kilometres west of Paris, 41,806 inhabitants.'
'You will see,' said Michel, 'the parrots are coming.'
'Great trade in plaster, salt, wood--taken by English in 1346--retaken
by the French &c., &c.--never mind the date--That is all, Michel.'
'What! Your dictionary never says that the arararanna, otherwise
called the blue macaw, produces young at Caen?'
'No, Michel, it does not say that here.'
'What a dictionary! Just wait till I fetch you mine and you will see.'
Michel returned in a few minutes with his book of Natural History.
'You will soon see, sir,' he said, opening his dictionary in his turn.
'Parrot--here it is--parrots are monogamous.'
'As you know Latin, Michel, of course you know what monogamous means.'
'That means that they can sing scales--gamut, I suppose?'
'Well, no, Michel, not exactly. It means that they have only one
"wife."'
'Indeed, sir? That is because they talk like us most likely. Now, I
have found the place: "It was long believed that parrots were
incapable of breeding in Europe, but the contrary has been proved on a
pair of blue macaws which lived at Caen. M. Lamouroux furnishes the
details of these results."'
'Let us hear the details which M. Lamouroux furnishes.'
'"These macaws, from March 1818 until August 1822, including a period
of four years and a half, laid, in all, sixty-two eggs."'
'Michel, I never said they did not lay eggs; what I said was--'
'"Out of this number,"' continued Michel in a loud voice,
'"twenty-five young macaws were hatched, of which only ten died. The
others lived and continued perfectly healthy."'
'Michel, I confess to having entertained false ideas on the subject of
macaws.'
'"They laid at all seasons of the year,"' continued Michel, '"and more
eggs were hatched in the latter than in the former years."'
'Michel, I have no more to say.'
'"The number of eggs in the nest varied. There have been as many as
six at a time."'
'Michel, I yield, rescue or no rescue!'
'Only,' said Michel, shutting the book, 'you must be careful not to
give them bitter almonds or parsley.'
'Not bitter almonds,' I answered, 'because they contain prussic acid;
but why not parsley?'
Michel, who had kept his thumb in the page, reopened the book.
'"Parsley and bitter almonds,"' he read, '"are a violent poison to
parrots."'
'All right, Michel, I shall remember.'
I remembered so well, that some time after, hearing that M. Persil had
died suddenly (persil being the French for parsley), I exclaimed, much
shocked: 'Ah! poor man, how unfortunate! He must have been eating
parrot!' However, the news was afterwards contradicted.
The next day I desired Michel to tell the carpenter to make a new cage
for Mademoiselle Desgarcins, who would certainly die of cramp if left
in her small travelling cage. But Michel, with a solemn face, said it
was unnecessary. 'For,' said he, 'I am sorry to tell you, sir, that a
misfortune has happened. A weasel has killed the golden pheasant. You
will, however, have it for your dinner to-day.'
I did not refuse, though the prospect of this repast caused me no
great pleasure. I am very fond of game, but somehow prefer pheasants
which have been shot to those killed by weasels.
'Then,' said I, 'if the cage is empty, let us put in the monkey.' We
brought the little cage close to the big cage, and opened both doors.
The monkey sprang into her new abode, bounded from perch to perch, and
then came and looked at me through the bars, making grimaces and
uttering plaintive cries.
'She is unhappy without a companion,' said Michel.
'Suppose we give her the parrot?'
'You know that little boy, an Auvergnat, who comes here with his
monkey asking for pennies. If I were you, sir, I would buy that
monkey.'
'And why that monkey rather than another?'
'He has been so well educated and is so gentle. He has a cap with a
feather, and he takes it off when you give him a nut or a bit of
sugar.'
[Illustration: {THE AUVERGNAT AND HIS MONKEY}]
'Can he do anything else?'
'He can fight a duel.'
'Is that all?'
'No, he can also catch fleas on his master.'
'But, Michel, do you think that that youth would part with so useful
an animal?'
'We can but ask him, and there he is at this moment!' And he called
to the boy to come in. The monkey was sitting on a box which the
little boy carried on his back, and when his master took off his cap,
the monkey did the same. It had a nice gentle little face, and I
remarked to Michel that it was very like a well-known translator of my
acquaintance.
'If I have the happiness to become the owner of this charming animal,'
I continued, 'we will call it Potich.' And giving Michel forty francs,
I left him to make his bargain with the little Auvergnat.
III
I had not entered my study since my return from Havre, and there is
always a pleasure in coming home again after an absence. I was glad to
come back, and looked about me with a pleased smile, feeling sure that
the furniture and ornaments of the room, if they could speak, would
say they were glad to see me again. As I glanced from one familiar
object to another, I saw, upon a seat by the fire, a thing like a
black and white muff, which I had never seen before. When I came
closer, I saw that the muff was a little cat, curled up, half asleep,
and purring loudly. I called the cook, whose name was Madame Lamarque.
She came in after a minute or two.
'So sorry to have kept you waiting, but you see, sir, I was making a
white sauce, and you, who can cook yourself, know how quickly those
sauces curdle if you are not looking after them.'
'Yes, I know that, Madame Lamarque; but what I do not know is, where
this new guest of mine comes from.' And I pointed to the cat.
'Ah, sir!' said Madame Lamarque in a sentimental tone, 'that is an
antony.'
'An antony, Madame Lamarque! What is that?'
'In other words, an orphan--a foundling, sir.'
'Poor little beast!'
'I felt sure that would interest you, sir.'
'And where did you find it, Madame Lamarque?'
'In the cellar--I heard a little cry--miaow, miaow, miaow! and I said
to myself, "That _must_ be a cat!"'
'No! did you actually say that?'
'Yes, and I went down myself, sir, and found the poor little thing
behind the sticks. Then I recollected how you had once said, "We ought
to have a cat in the house."'
'Did I say so? I think you are making a mistake, Madame Lamarque.'
'Indeed, sir, you did say so. Then I said to myself, "Providence has
sent us the cat which my master wishes for." And now there is one
question I must ask you, sir. What shall we call the cat?'
'We will call it Mysouff, if you have no objection. And please be
careful, Madame Lamarque, that it does not eat my quails and
turtle-doves, or any of my little foreign birds.'
'If M. Dumas is afraid of that,' said Michel, coming in, 'there is a
method of preventing cats from eating birds.'
'And what is the method, my good friend?'
'You have a bird in a cage. Very well. You cover three sides of the
cage, you make a gridiron red-hot, you put it against the uncovered
side of the cage, you let out the cat, and you leave the room. The
cat, when it makes its spring, jumps against the hot gridiron. The
hotter the gridiron is the better the cat is afterwards.'
'Thank you, Michel. And what of the troubadour and his monkey?'
'To be sure; I was coming to tell you about that. It is all right,
sir; you are to have Potich for forty francs, only you must give the
boy two white mice and a guinea-pig in return.'
'But where am I to find two white mice and a guinea-pig?'
'If you will leave the commission to me, I will see that they are
found.'
I left the commission to Michel.
'If you won't think me impertinent, sir,' said Madame Lamarque, 'I
should so like to know what _Mysouff_ means.'
'Mysouff just means Mysouff, Madame Lamarque.'
'It is a cat's name, then?'
'Certainly, since Mysouff the First was so-called. It is true, Madame
Lamarque, you never knew Mysouff.' And I became so thoughtful that
Madame Lamarque was kind enough to withdraw quietly, without asking
any questions about Mysouff the First.
That name had taken me back to fifteen years ago, when my mother was
still living. I had then the great happiness of having a mother to
scold me sometimes. At the time I speak of, I had a situation in the
service of the Duc d'Orleans, with a salary of 1,500 francs. My work
occupied me from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon. We
had a cat in those days whose name was Mysouff. This cat had missed
his vocation--he ought to have been a dog. Every morning I started for
my office at half-past nine, and came back every evening at half-past
five. Every morning Mysouff followed me to the corner of a particular
street, and every evening I found him in the same street, at the same
corner, waiting for me. Now the curious thing was that on the days
when I had found some amusement elsewhere, and was not coming home to
dinner, it was no use to open the door for Mysouff to go and meet
me.[5] Mysouff, in the attitude of the serpent with its tail in its
mouth, refused to stir from his cushion. On the other hand, the days I
did come, Mysouff would scratch at the door until someone opened it
for him. My mother was very fond of Mysouff; she used to call him her
barometer.
[5] A remarkable instance of telepathy in the Cat.--A. L.
'Mysouff marks my good and my bad weather,' my dear mother would say;
'the days you come in are my days of sunshine; my rainy days are when
you stay away.'
When I came home, I used to see Mysouff at the street corner, sitting
quite still and gazing into the distance. As soon as he caught sight
of me, he began to move his tail; then as I drew nearer, he rose and
walked backwards and forwards across the pavement with his back arched
and his tail in the air. When I reached him, he jumped up upon me as a
dog would have done, and bounded and played round me as I walked
towards the house; but when I was close to it he dashed in at full
speed. Two seconds after, I used to see my mother at the door.
Never again in this world, but in the next perhaps, I shall see her
standing waiting for me at the door.
That is what I was thinking of, dear readers, when the name of Mysouff
brought back all these recollections; so you understand why I did not
answer Madame Lamarque's questions.
Henceforth Mysouff II. enjoyed the same privileges that Mysouff I. had
done, although, as will be seen later, he was not distinguished by
similar virtues, but was, in fact, a very different sort of cat.
IV
The following Sunday, when my son Alexandre and one or two intimate
friends were assembled in my room, a second Auvergnat boy, with a
second monkey, demanded admittance, and said that a friend having told
him that M. Dumas had bought his monkey for forty francs, two white
mice, and a guinea-pig, he was prepared to offer his for the same
price. My friends urged me to buy the second monkey.
'Do buy this charming creature,' said my artist friend Giraud.
'Yes, do buy this ridiculous little beast,' said Alexandre.
'Buy him, indeed,' said I; 'have I forty francs to give away every
day, to say nothing of a guinea-pig and two white mice?'
'Gentlemen,' said Alexandre, 'I am sorry to tell you that my father
is, without exception, the most avaricious man living.'
My guests exclaimed, but Alexandre said that one day he would prove
the truth of his assertion. I was now called upon to admire the
monkey, and to remark how like he was to a friend of ours. Giraud, who
was painting a portrait of this gentleman, said that if I would let
the monkey sit to him, it would help him very much in his work, and
Maquet, another of my guests, offered, amidst general applause, to
make me a present of it.[6] This decided me.
[6] Maquet. The immortal Augustus MacKeat.
'You see,' said Alexandre, 'he accepts.'
'Come, young man,' said I to the Auvergnat, 'embrace your monkey for
the last time, and if you have any tears to shed, shed them without
delay.'
When the full price was paid, the boy made an attempt to do as I told
him, but the Last of the Laidmanoirs refused to be embraced by his
former master, and as soon as the latter had gone away, he seemed
delighted and began to dance, while Mademoiselle Desgarcins in her
cage danced, too, with all her might.
'Look!' said Maquet, 'they like each other. Let us complete the
happiness of these interesting animals.'
We shut them up in the cage together, to the great delight of
Mademoiselle Desgarcins, who did not care for Potich, and much
preferred her new admirer. Potich, indeed, showed signs of jealousy,
but, not being armed with the sword which he used to have when he
fought duels, he could not wash out his affronts in the blood of his
rival, but became a prey to silent melancholy and wounded affection.
While we were still looking at the monkeys, a servant came in bringing
a tray with wine and seltzer water.
'I say,' said Alexandre, 'let us make Mademoiselle Desgarcins open the
seltzer-water bottle!' and he put the bottle inside the cage on the
floor. No sooner had he done so, than all three monkeys surrounded it
and looked at it with the greatest curiosity. Mademoiselle Desgarcins
was the first to understand that something would happen if she undid
the four crossed wires which held down the cork. She accordingly set
to work, first with her fingers, and then with her teeth, and it was
not long before she undid the first three. She next attacked the
fourth, while the whole company, both men and monkeys, watched her
proceedings with breathless attention. Presently a frightful explosion
was heard: Mademoiselle Desgarcins was knocked over by the cork and
drenched with seltzer water, while Potich and the Last of the
Laidmanoirs fled to the top of their cage, uttering piercing cries.
'Oh!' cried Alexandre, 'I'll give my share of seltzer water to see her
open another bottle!' Mademoiselle Desgarcins had got up, shaken
herself, and gone to rejoin her companions, who were still howling
lamentably.
'You don't suppose she'll let herself be caught a second time,' said
Giraud.
'Do you know,' said Maquet, 'I should not wonder if she would. I
believe her curiosity would still be stronger than her fear.'
'Monkeys,' said Michel, who had come in on hearing their cries, 'are
more obstinate than mules. The more seltzer-water bottles you give
them, the more they will uncork.'
'Do you think so, Michel?'
'You know, of course, how they catch them in their own country.'
'No, Michel.'
'What! you don't know _that_, gentlemen?' said Michel, full of
compassion for our ignorance. 'You know that monkeys are very fond of
Indian corn. Well, you put some Indian corn into a bottle, the neck of
which is just large enough to admit a monkey's paw. He sees the Indian
corn through the glass----'
'Well, Michel?'
'He puts his hand inside, and takes a good handful of the Indian corn.
At that moment the hunter shows himself. They are so obstinate--the
monkeys, I mean--that they won't let go what they have in their hand,
but as they can't draw their closed fist through the opening, there
they are, you see, caught.'
'Well, then, Michel, if ever our monkeys get out, you will know how to
catch them again.'
'Oh! no fear, sir, that is just what I shall do.'
The seltzer-water experiment was successfully repeated, to the triumph
of Michel and the delight of Alexandre, who wished to go on doing it;
but I forbade him, seeing that poor Mademoiselle Desgarcins' nose was
bleeding from the blow of the cork.
'It is not that,' said Alexandre; 'it is because you grudge your
seltzer water. I have already remarked, gentlemen, that my father is,
I regret to say, an exceedingly avaricious man.'
V
It is now my painful duty to give my readers some account of the
infamous conduct of Mysouff II. One morning, on waking rather late, I
saw my bedroom door gently opened, and the head of Michel thrust in,
wearing such a concerned expression that I knew at once that something
was wrong.
'What has happened, Michel?'
'Why, sir, those villains of monkeys have managed to twist a bar of
their cage, I don't know how, until they have made a great hole, and
now they have escaped.'
'Well--but, Michel, we foresaw that that might occur, and now you have
only to buy your Indian corn, and procure three bottles the right
size.'
'Ah! you are laughing, sir,' said Michel, reproachfully, 'but you
won't laugh when you know all. They have opened the door of the
aviary----'
'And so my birds have flown away?'
'Sir, your six pairs of turtle doves, your fourteen quails, and all
your little foreign birds, are eaten up!'[7]
[7] Let the reader compare the conduct of Mr. Gully, later!
'But monkeys won't eat birds!'
'No, but Master Mysouff will, and he has done it!'
'The deuce he has! I must see for myself.'
'Yes, go yourself, sir; you will see a sight--a field of battle--a
massacre of St. Bartholomew!'
As I was coming out, Michel stopped me to point to Potich, who had
hung himself by the tail to the branch of a maple, and was swinging
gracefully to and fro. Mademoiselle Desgarcins was bounding gaily
about in the aviary, while the Last of the Laidmanoirs was practising
gymnastics on the top of the greenhouse. 'Well, Michel, we must catch
them. I will manage the Last of the Laidmanoirs if you will get hold
of Mademoiselle Desgarcins. As to poor little Potich, he will come of
his own accord.'
'I wouldn't trust him, sir; he is a hypocrite. He has made it up with
the other one--just think of that!'
'What! he has made friends with his rival in the affections of
Mademoiselle Desgarcins?'
'Just so, sir.'
'That is sad indeed, Michel; I thought only human beings could be
guilty of so mean an action.'
'You see, sir, these monkeys have frequented the society of human
beings.'
[Illustration: {THE LAST OF THE LAIDMANOIRS AND MADEMOISELLE
DESGARCINS}]
I now advanced upon the Last of the Laidmanoirs with so much
precaution that I contrived to shut him into the greenhouse, where he
retreated into a corner and prepared to defend himself, while Potich,
from the outside, encouraged his friend by making horrible faces at me
through the glass. At this moment piercing shrieks were heard from
Mademoiselle Desgarcins; Michel had just caught her. These cries so
enraged the Last of the Laidmanoirs that he dashed out upon me; but I
parried his attack with the palm of my hand; with which he came in
contact so forcibly that he lost breath for a minute, and I then
picked him up by the scruff of the neck.
'Have you caught Mademoiselle Desgarcins?' I shouted to Michel.
'Have you caught the Last of the Laidmanoirs?' returned he.
'Yes!' we both replied in turn. And each bearing his prisoner, we
returned to the cage, which had in the meantime been mended, and shut
them up once more, whilst Potich, with loud lamentations, fled to the
top of the highest tree in the garden. No sooner, however, did he find
that his two companions were unable to get out of their cage, than he
came down from his tree, approached Michel in a timid and sidelong
manner, and with clasped hands and little plaintive cries, entreated
to be shut up again with his friends.
'Just see what a hypocrite he is!' said Michel.
But I was of opinion that the conduct of Potich was prompted by
devotion rather than hypocrisy; I compared it to that of Regulus, who
returned to Carthage to keep his promised word, or to King John of
France, who voluntarily gave himself up to the English for the
Countess of Salisbury's sake.
Michel continued to think Potich a hypocrite, but on account of his
repentance he was forgiven. He was put back into the cage, where
Mademoiselle Desgarcins took very little notice of him.
All this time Mysouff, having been forgotten, calmly remained in the
aviary, and continued to crunch the bones of his victims with the most
hardened indifference. It was easy enough to catch _him_. We shut him
into the aviary, and held a council as to what should be his
punishment. Michel was of opinion that he should be shot forthwith. I
was, however, opposed to his immediate execution, and resolved to wait
until the following Sunday, and then to cause Mysouff to be formally
tried by my assembled friends. The condemnation was therefore
postponed. In the meantime Mysouff remained a prisoner in the very
spot where his crimes had been committed. He continued, however, to
refresh himself with the remains of his victims without apparent
remorse, but Michel removed all the bodies, and confined him to a diet
of bread and water.