Chapter 4

Dinner-time came: and as Viper was to dine with the cat, Ermengarde brought in _two_ plates this time, and to work they fell with all their might. Viper had nearly eaten up all his own dinner, and the cat was saving a beautiful merrythought for her last _tit-bit_, when, as ill luck would have it, the countess was suddenly called out of the room.

Instantly, with a growl that sounded in the cat's ears like thunder, Viper darted full at the merrythought, exclaiming:

'You vile little wretch of a stray cat, do you suppose I shall suffer you to come in here, and rob me of my bones?'

'Indeed, my lord,' said the cat, dreadfully frightened, 'I did not mean to take more than my share!'

'And pray, madam,' screamed Viper, 'what do you mean by that? Do you intend to insinuate that I have taken more than mine? Now, Mrs. Puss, just listen to me once for all,--if you give me any more of your impertinence, I'll worry you to death in two minutes!'

Poor puss! she trembled so from head to tail, that she could hardly stand: but just as she was going to beseech him not to be offended, the countess came in again; and as she soon afterwards took Viper out an airing with her, the cat saw no more of him for that afternoon. Poor puss! she had a great deal of sorrowful reflection all that evening. The result of it was, that she very seriously asked herself what she had gained by leaving her mistress's cottage? To be sure, she had cream for breakfast, and chicken for dinner, but what was that, if, every mouthful she ate, she was in fear of that savage brute of a dog snatching away her meal, or even attacking and worrying her?

Fifty times did she wish herself a hundred leagues off. How careful she resolved to be to do nothing that could possibly offend the dog. And so, for the next three or four days, by dint of giving up to him all her best bones, and always jumping down from her cushion whenever he wanted to lie upon it, and looking the picture of humility whenever he was in the room, she contrived to get on in tolerable peace with him. But unluckily, one morning, puss, finding herself all alone in the drawing-room, and everything quiet, and feeling very sleepy (for she had had very little repose the night before, from distress of mind), thought she might as well take the opportunity of getting a nap; so she jumped upon a high footstool, beside the fire, and was soon fast asleep. How long she had napped she could not tell, when she was awakened by a furious barking; and opening her eyes, she saw Viper standing at a little distance, looking as if he was going into fits with passion.

Poor puss! she recollected, all in a moment, that she had got upon Viper's own footstool! She jumped down before you could count one.

'You audacious little upstart!' cried the dog, as soon as his rage allowed him to speak, 'do you think I shall submit to such impertinent liberties?'

'Indeed, indeed,' stammered the poor cat, 'I humbly beg your lordship's pardon, but I really quite forgot----'

'Forgot, indeed!' roared Viper, 'I'll teach you to forget, Mrs. Puss!' and making a tremendous dash at her, he would doubtless have demolished her in no time, had not, fortunately, the window been open a little, just enough for the cat to get through.

She was on the window-seat in an instant, and had scrambled out of the window before Viper, who was very fat, could come up to her. It was with some difficulty that he got up upon the window-seat, and quite in vain that he tried to squeeze his fat body through the opening of the window. How he growled with disappointed passion, as he stood on his hind-legs on the window-seat, stretching his head, as far as his little short neck would allow, through the opening, to see what had become of puss.

What _had_ become of her? She had dropt down into the street, and had crept into the shade of one of the heavy broad stone-carvings beneath the window, knowing that there she was safe enough for the present; and she lay down, panting with the fright, to recover her breath a little, and consider what was to be done. To go back to the palace was clearly out of the question. But then where could she go? Poor cat! what a perplexity she was in! She lay snug for the best part of an hour before she durst venture out of her hiding-place. At last, cautiously peeping about her, she crept out, and ran, with all her speed, down the street, not knowing in the least whither she was flying. She had not gone far before she attracted the attention of a group of children, who were playing in the street. Shouting, whooping, and laughing, they pursued her. She redoubled her speed, and darting suddenly down a little side alley, was soon out of sight of her pursuers. She heard their screams and yellings, growing fainter and fainter, in the distance; and feeling that the immediate danger had past, she relaxed her pace, and looked to see where she was. She found that she was in a little, dirty, miserable court, open at the end, through which she saw trees and green fields. But she thought it would be very hazardous to loiter; so she ran on, and in a short time found that she had left the town behind her, and was once more in the open country. Dreading lest she might encounter any more dogs, she carefully avoided approaching any human habitation; so she glided along among the grass, till she came to a small clump of trees, which put her in mind of the forest near her old mistress's hut. Seeing no better prospect of shelter for the night, she climbed up into the largest of the trees, knowing that, at least, she should be out of the way of _dogs_ there; and finding a snug place among the branches in the middle of the tree (for, though it was autumn, yet the leaves were still pretty thick), she made up her mind to pass the night there.

But it wanted some hours yet of night: and what was she to do for supper? It was not at all a pleasant consideration. Moreover, her squabble with Viper had taken place _before_ dinner; and now there was no prospect of any supper but such as she could earn by her own exertions. Perhaps she might, with good luck, catch a robin before night; but that could very ill supply the place of the nice bits of fowl, and saucers of rich milk, that Ermengarde gave her every night. However, she was too glad to be safe and snug up in the tree, to be very particular. So she made up her mind to lie there till it grew towards roosting-time, and then see what she could find for supper. She peeped out as well as she could between the branches to see what the surrounding country was like; it all looked quite wild and lonely, and she saw but few dwellings anywhere near the clump of trees.

Her place of refuge seemed at a considerable distance from the high-road; so she hoped she was tolerably safe from both men and dogs.

At length the cold dews of the evening began to fall, and the little birds began to return home to their trees: so the cat ventured to descend and look about for her supper. I am sorry to say, that being by this time exceedingly hungry, she obeyed the dictates of nature, and in a very few minutes had attacked and devoured a dear little robin, that might have sung merrily all through the autumn, if puss had only been _contented_, and staid quietly at home in the cottage. Be that as it may, poor little Redbreast fell a victim to her hunger, and yet she considered him but a very poor supper, after all. He was the best she could get that night, however; for the other birds proved too nimble for her: so, weary and hungry, puss climbed up her tree again, and was soon asleep--for she was very tired indeed, with all she had done that day. The next morning, when she awoke, her limbs felt quite stiff; for the night had been frosty, and she was very cold. But there was no fire in the tree; so she had nothing for it but to crawl down, and try to warm herself with catching a bird for her breakfast. She was so benumbed, that she could hardly get down, and her bones ached as if she had got the rheumatism all over her: however, jumping about after the birds revived her by degrees, and she began to feel in a little better spirits; till, spying, at a distance on the high-road, a carriage with a large dog running after it, all her panic returned, and she climbed up into her tree again with all expedition. But the carriage rolled along, and took no notice of puss; and the rumbling of the wheels soon died away, and all was quiet again.

What a melancholy long day it seemed! and, moreover, she could hardly catch a bird--they all seemed to fly away from the trees, instead of settling upon them; and puss had really hard work to get any dinner at all that day. And then the night was _so_ cold again. Many a time when she awoke, and felt the frosty wind whistling round the trees, stripping away more and more of the leaves at every gust, did the poor cat, in her cold and hunger, think of the nice bright fire on her old mistress's hearth, and her brown bread and milk, till she was ready to cry her eyes out with vexation at her own folly--and what was still worse, her own ingratitude--in being willing to leave the good old woman, her best friend, who had taken care of her all her life long, merely because she fancied it would be very grand to live in a palace. People sometimes find out their mistakes when it is too late.

But, to make a long story short--three or four more days and nights--melancholy days, and cold wretched nights--passed over in much the same miserable way, or, rather, things grew worse: for the weather became stormy, the trees were almost stripped of their leaves, so that they scarcely afforded her any shelter from the wind, and the cat was so dreadfully cold!

It became still more difficult, too, to procure any food; and the birds became very shy of venturing within her reach: the poor cat did not know what to do--she was really half dead with cold and hunger!

'Oh!' groaned she, stretching herself out upon some of the fallen leaves at the foot of the tree--'Oh, that I had never listened to that deceitful, mischievous magpie!'

And, indeed, she had good cause to say so.

It was drawing towards sunset; there had been several storms during the day, but, as the evening came on, the weather had a little cleared up; and a gleam of sunshine just then shot out from among the black clouds, and fell upon something glittering beside her.

She lifted her eyes languidly, for she had no strength to be alert now, and saw the bright and beautiful Fairy, with her car drawn by the silver pheasants.

'Have you learnt yet to be contented with plain fare at home?' said the Fairy to the cat, with an expression in her countenance that the cat could hardly make out: she did not know whether her strange visitor meant to be kind or not to her.

'Oh! if you would but take me back to my old mistress again!' cried the poor cat, clasping her paws in an agony of entreaty, 'I would never be discontented any more!'

The Fairy smiled, and touching her lightly with her silver wand, bade her close her eyes--another moment, and she bade her open them; and, most wonderful of all the wonderful things that had happened to her, the trees, the country, the distant city, all were gone! There was a charming log-fire on the hearth, sparkling and crackling; whirr, whirr, whirr, went the old woman's wheel, and there she sate in her chair just as usual; and the wind was blowing, and the rain was pelting against the shutters, exactly as it did the very night puss had left the cottage in such a mysterious way. In fact, everything looked _precisely_ the same. The cat rubbed her eyes, but nothing could she see of the Fairy, or the car, or the silver pheasants.

However, had she got back, and so quick too? And the old woman did not seem at all surprised to see her--it was very odd. She could not make it out anyhow: at last it struck her that, perhaps, she might have been dreaming, and never have been out of the hut at all. Yet those terrible growls of Viper's, and those dismal days and nights in the trees--no, they _must_ have been real! Still, it was very strange that the old woman should take no more notice of her, if she had been lost--how could it be? It was really unaccountable.

But her perplexities were interrupted by the cheerful voice of her old mistress calling out, 'Come, my pussy! it is supper-time!' and as she spoke, she rose up from her spinning-wheel, and taking down some eggs and a cake of brown bread, with a large jug, from her corner cupboard, she broke the eggs into the frying-pan, and they were soon hissing and sputtering over the fire. Then she placed a large saucer on the table, and broke some bread into it; and returning to the fire, she took off the frying-pan, and emptied the eggs into a dish on the table, and sat down to her supper. But before she tasted a bit herself, she poured some nice goat's milk over the bread in a saucer, and set it down on the hearth before the cat.

Now I will venture to say, puss never ate a meal in her life half so thankfully before. She made a resolution, between every mouthful, never to say one word to that silly chattering magpie again; and never to indulge in any more foolish wishes, but to stay at home, do her duty in catching her mistress's mice, and be contented, and thankful for the brown bread and milk, without troubling her head about countesses and buttered crumpets any more.

And I am happy to be able to tell you that she faithfully kept her resolution. She never spoke to the magpie afterwards; but contracted a steady friendship with the owl, which lasted to the day of his death; and when he did die, which was not till he had attained a venerable old age, he bequeathed to her his share of the mice that infested the neighborhood of the cottage.

As to the magpie, finding that her company was no longer desired in that part of the world, she very wisely took her flight far away to the other side of the wood.

Whether she still lives there, and goes on chattering about the grand things she used to see in the palace of the Countess Von Rustenfustenmustencrustenberg, is more than I can inform you. If you want to ascertain that fact, you must go to the northern part of the Duchy of Kittencorkenstringen, and then you must walk seventeen leagues and three quarters still further north, and then you must turn off to your right, just where you see the old fir-stump with the rook's nest in it; and then you must walk eleven leagues and a quarter more, and then turn to your left, and after you have kept straight on for about fifteen leagues more, you will see the wood where the magpie lives;--and then, if you walk quite through it to the other side, you will see the old woman's cottage; and if it should happen to be a fine day, I dare say you will see her sitting in the sunshine spinning, and, curled round beside her, the contented cat.

THE WISHING-DAY.

Long, long ago, in the glorious reign of King Huggermuggerus, there lived in an ancient castle a highly respectable cat and his wife. They led a very comfortable life of it, for the castle belonged to an old baron who kept very little company, and was very fond of his cats: so it was very rarely that any strange dogs were admitted within the walls; and the cats breakfasted every morning with their master. They had only two children; all the rest of their numerous family having been barbarously drowned by the housekeeper, who was a very cross old woman, and did not like cats, nor anything else very much. But the cats did not trouble their heads much about her; in fact, they had very little to do with her, for they were allowed full liberty to wander about the castle at their pleasure.

It was a delightful old castle, full of such queer odd nooks and corners, that one might have been lost in it for days together; and there were long corridors, in which the kittens used to run races on moonlight nights, when the old housekeeper was safe in bed, and make such a racket, it would have done your heart good to hear them. But they chiefly took possession of a charming old room, hung with tapestry representing all sorts of strange things, and very convenient for the two kittens to play at hide-and-seek behind it; and as the room faced the south, they got all the sun to warm them. The elder of them was called _Wishie_, the younger _Contenta_. Their papa and mamma had given them these names, because Wishie was always saying she wished she had this, and she wished she had that, and never seemed satisfied unless she had everything she mewed for: while Contenta, on the contrary, was of the sweetest disposition in the world, and always pleased with what was given to her. One would have thought that neither of them could have had anything to wish for; for they had plenty to eat and drink--nice long galleries to run about in--no dogs or children to tease them--and a garden with many tall trees, and abundance of sparrows. What could they want besides?

One bright summer-day, the sun was shining splendidly--the flowers were in full bloom--the air was laden with sweet scents from the honey-suckles and moss-roses, and the larks were singing away high up in the sky, as merry as if they had all gone out for a holiday, when Wishie took it into her head to have a stroll in the garden. Now, it so happened that Contenta, who had been keeping the baron company at his breakfast, had carried off into the garden a very nice chicken-bone which her master had given her. So she sat down under a rose-tree to eat it. But she did not remain there long before Wishie spied her out. 'Well, to be sure!' exclaimed she to her herself, as she drew near the rose-bush, 'What a bone Contenta has got there! She has been breakfasting with our master, that's very clear. I'm sure nobody ever gives _me_ such great bones! I wish Contenta would let me have a bit of it--;' and so saying, she threw herself down beside her sister, pretending to look very tired and hungry, and whined out, 'Do, Contenta, give me a bit! I am so hungry!'

'Willingly,' replied Contenta, who was very good-natured; 'but have you had no breakfast, Wishie, this morning?'

'O, nothing to speak of,' said Wishie, falling tooth and claw upon the bone; and in a very few minutes she had devoured by far the largest share of it. Now, I don't mean to say that Contenta was such an unnaturally amiable cat, as to be exactly well pleased to see her breakfast disappear in such a wholesale fashion; but she consoled herself with reflecting, that dinner would come some time or other; and being, as I said, very good-natured, she made Wishie very welcome to the bone, and began frisking after the leaves upon the gravel-walk. I am sorry to say, that when Wishie had devoured the chicken-bone, she did not seem half so much ashamed of her selfish conduct as she ought to have been; but, seeing a fine plump little sparrow perch himself upon the branch of an old tree near, she sprung up the stem after him. Now it was really very greedy of her, but however she _did_ it, and some wonderful things happened in consequence. The tree was very old, and the trunk was quite hollow; but that Wishie did not know; so when she had clambered up to the top she suddenly found herself on the brink of a frightful abyss--there seemed a hollow deep down to the very roots of the tree. She peeped cautiously down to see what she could see, but somehow or other, whether she overbalanced herself, or whether a bit of the bark gave way, or how it was I can't tell, but Wishie tipped over, and tumbled headlong into the hollow of the tree. But as she luckily fell into a bed of thick moss she was not the worse; and giving herself a shake, she opened her eyes and looked about her.

Was there ever anything so wonderful? She was in an enormous hall, supported upon at least two hundred columns of gold, while, between them, curtains of the richest white silk, fringed with pearls and diamonds, hung from the roof to the floor, which was spread with a carpet of azure, covered with flowers in their natural colors, intermingled with stars of gold and silver. The roof of this wondrous hall was of fretted gold, and from the centre hung a lamp formed of an enormous precious stone, which shed forth rays of many-colored hues. At the upper end of the apartment was a chair of state, over which fell a drapery of azure velvet, embroidered with pearls in beautiful devices. But how shall I describe to you the lady who sat in this gorgeous chair? She was bright and beautiful as a summer's day; her hair, shining like gold, fell in curls to the very ground; she was dressed in a robe of azure-blue, a crown of white roses, sprinkled with diamond dew-drops, rested upon her brow, and in her hand she carried a long slender bright wand of gold. You may imagine that Wishie was very much astounded at the sight of all these strange things; however, the Fairy, in a very soft voice, called to her to approach nearer. 'Wishie,' said she, 'do you know where you are?'

'Not the least bit in the world, please your ladyship,' replied Wishie; 'how should I? Who would ever have thought there was such a grand place as this under ground?'

'Never mind its being under ground, Wishie,' said the Fairy, 'that's no concern of your's; attend to what I am going to say to you. You are very fond of _wishing_, are you not?' Wishie made no answer, for she felt rather ashamed; and the Fairy continued: 'I advise you, Wishie, as your friend, to give up such a bad trick, you will find it very inconvenient some day or other.'

By this time Wishie's fright was a little gone off; and being always rather pertly inclined, she plucked up courage, and remarked that she did not see how it was to hurt her. Now it was very rude in a little good-for-nothing kitten like Wishie, to speak so saucily; and the Fairy looked very angry, as well she might; however, she only said, 'You will know better, perhaps, at some other time. Hear me, Wishie, I am going to bestow a wonderful gift upon you; for this day you shall have everything you wish for. But I warn you, that should any of your wishes bring you into trouble, you must abide by the consequences, you cannot undo it.' As the Fairy said this, she lightly touched Wishie with the end of her wand, and the kitten instantly found herself again in the castle, in the old room hung with tapestry, and her mother purring by the fire-side. Wishie was too full of her adventure to keep it another minute to herself; so, running up to her mother, she related it at great length.

'Nonsense, child,' said the old cat, 'you don't think I shall believe such absurd stuff, do you?' I'll box your ears for telling stories--' and she gave Wishie such a hearty cuff with her paw, that she sent her spinning into the great gallery, to amuse herself as she best could.

How dreadfully cross my old mother is to-day; thought Wishie to herself, as she scampered up the corridor; however, I must try and find something to do here--it's very dull being all by oneself. Just then, as she drew near one of the windows, she heard a great buzzing and fluttering, and looking up, saw a large wasp dancing about in the sunshine. Wishie thought it would be very good fun to try and catch him, so she made several springs at the window, but all in vain; the wasp was as young and active as she was, and eluded her very nimbly. Quite out of breath, she paused for a minute to look at him.

'O how I wish I could catch you, master wasp!' she exclaimed, giving a final jump with all her might.