“Ferme tes yeux à demi,
Croise tes bras sur ton sein,
Et de ton cœur endormi
Chasse à jamais tout dessein.”
* * * *
“Je chante la nature,
Les étoiles du soir, les larmes du matin,
Les couchers de soleil à l’horizon lointain,
Le ciel qui parle au cœur d’existence future!”
I
The animal paused on the threshold, interrogative, alert, ready for
flight if necessary. Severn laid down his palette, and held out a hand
of welcome. The cat remained motionless, her yellow eyes fastened upon
Severn.
“Puss,” he said, in his low, pleasant voice, “come in.”
The tip of her thin tail twitched uncertainly.
“Come in,” he said again.
Apparently she found his voice reassuring, for she slowly settled upon
all fours, her eyes still fastened upon him, her tail tucked under her
gaunt flanks.
He rose from his easel smiling. She eyed him quietly, and when he
walked toward her she watched him bend above her without a wince; her
eyes followed his hand until it touched her head. Then she uttered a
ragged mew.
It had long been Severn’s custom to converse with animals, probably
because he lived so much alone; and now he said, “What’s the matter,
puss?”
Her timid eyes sought his.
“I understand,” he said gently, “you shall have it at once.”
Then moving quietly about he busied himself with the duties of a host,
rinsed a saucer, filled it with the rest of the milk from the bottle on
the window-sill, and kneeling down, crumbled a roll into the hollow of
his hand.
The creature rose and crept toward the saucer.
With the handle of a palette-knife he stirred the crumbs and milk
together and stepped back as she thrust her nose into the mess. He
watched her in silence. From time to time the saucer clinked upon the
tiled floor as she reached for a morsel on the rim; and at last the
bread was all gone, and her purple tongue travelled over every unlicked
spot until the saucer shone like polished marble. Then she sat up, and
coolly turning her back to him, began her ablutions.
“Keep it up,” said Severn, much interested, “you need it.”
She flattened one ear, but neither turned nor interrupted her toilet.
As the grime was slowly removed Severn observed that nature had
intended her for a white cat. Her fur had disappeared in patches,
from disease or the chances of war, her tail was bony and her spine
sharp. But what charms she had were becoming apparent under vigorous
licking, and he waited until she had finished before re-opening the
conversation. When at last she closed her eyes and folded her forepaws
under her breast, he began again very gently: “Puss, tell me your
troubles.”
At the sound of his voice she broke into a harsh rumbling which he
recognized as an attempt to purr. He bent over to rub her cheek and
she mewed again, an amiable inquiring little mew, to which he replied,
“Certainly, you are greatly improved, and when you recover your plumage
you will be a gorgeous bird.” Much flattered, she stood up and marched
around and around his legs, pushing her head between them and making
pleased remarks, to which he responded with grave politeness.
“Now, what sent you here,” he said—“here into the Street of the Four
Winds, and up five flights to the very door where you would be welcome?
What was it that prevented your meditated flight when I turned from my
canvas to encounter your yellow eyes? Are you a Latin Quarter cat as I
am a Latin Quarter man? And why do you wear a rose-coloured flowered
garter buckled about your neck?” The cat had climbed into his lap, and
now sat purring as he passed his hand over her thin coat.
“Excuse me,” he continued in lazy soothing tones, harmonizing with
her purring, “if I seem indelicate, but I cannot help musing on this
rose-coloured garter, flowered so quaintly and fastened with a silver
clasp. For the clasp is silver; I can see the mint mark on the edge,
as is prescribed by the law of the French Republic. Now, why is this
garter woven of rose silk and delicately embroidered,—why is this
silken garter with its silver clasp about your famished throat? Am
I indiscreet when I inquire if its owner is your owner? Is she some
aged dame living in memory of youthful vanities, fond, doting on you,
decorating you with her intimate personal attire? The circumference of
the garter would suggest this, for your neck is thin, and the garter
fits you. But then again I notice—I notice most things—that the
garter is capable of being much enlarged. These small silver-rimmed
eyelets, of which I count five, are proof of that. And now I observe
that the fifth eyelet is worn out, as though the tongue of the clasp
were accustomed to lie there. That seems to argue a well-rounded form.”
The cat curled her toes in contentment. The street was very still
outside.
He murmured on: “Why should your mistress decorate you with an article
most necessary to her at all times? Anyway, at most times. How did
she come to slip this bit of silk and silver about your neck? Was it
the caprice of a moment,—when you, before you had lost your pristine
plumpness, marched singing into her bedroom to bid her good-morning? Of
course, and she sat up among the pillows, her coiled hair tumbling to
her shoulders, as you sprang upon the bed purring: ‘Good-day, my lady.’
Oh, it is very easy to understand,” he yawned, resting his head on the
back of the chair. The cat still purred, tightening and relaxing her
padded claws over his knee.
“Shall I tell you all about her, cat? She is very beautiful—your
mistress,” he murmured drowsily, “and her hair is heavy as burnished
gold. I could paint her,—not on canvas—for I should need shades and
tones and hues and dyes more splendid than the iris of a splendid
rainbow. I could only paint her with closed eyes, for in dreams alone
can such colours as I need be found. For her eyes, I must have azure
from skies untroubled by a cloud—the skies of dreamland. For her lips,
roses from the palaces of slumberland, and for her brow, snow-drifts
from mountains which tower in fantastic pinnacles to the moons;—oh,
much higher than our moon here,—the crystal moons of dreamland. She
is—very—beautiful, your mistress.”
The words died on his lips and his eyelids drooped.
The cat, too, was asleep, her cheek turned up upon her wasted flank,
her paws relaxed and limp.