Chapter 4
KIKI-THE-DEMURE A delightful glow penetrates my coat to the silky down, the impalpable colorless threads which protect my delicate skin. I feel myself swelling like a cloud. I must quite fill the room. My whiskers seem charged with electricity--a sign that I will sleep--but for the time being, the contemplation of your splendor and thoughts of the coming season keep me awake. It's raining. I shall not go out. I'll wait for the sun, or the dry wind, or better still, the frost. Ah, how the biting cold stimulates me! It lashes my lungs with handfuls of needles, and makes a _bonbon glacé_ of my charming nose. The rollicking frost-sprite will blow his madness into me. She'll laugh and He too, leaving his scratching-paper, to see me vie with the leaves in bounds, leaps and wild whirlings, resembling a floating flurry of gray smoke rather than a Cat. To the top of a tree! Down again! Then seven turns after my tail! A perilous backward leap! A vertical jump, with aerial _danse du ventre_! Girations, sneezes, careering from the real to the dream, until in terror of myself, I come to a sudden stop.... Everything turns before my eyes. I'm the center of a strange, spinning world ... In my bewilderment (half-feigned) I'll make a little moo, like a cow, which will bring them both running to me,--She laughing, and He fearing something wrong. That will suffice to sober me, and with a bold front and noble mien, I'll regain this cushion near your altar, O Fire!
TOBY-DOG
This hearth-stone burns the horny pads of my feet. What shall I do? 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