Part 7

He told her to sit down in a chair, but did not take the mysterious case out of the drawer. Instead, he seized a pair of scissors which lay on the marble top of the table, and grasped her little thin braid, whose color was a dull, brownish black. Snip, snap, and he held the rat tail in his hand and flung it contemptuously into the corner. Snip, snap, and her skull was shaved so smooth that no one who looked at her could help laughing.

“I’ve finished,” he said roughly. “You can go.”

“But the hair tonic?”

“What hair tonic?”

“The one which makes the hair grow out again so quickly, only more beautiful than before.”

“It costs eighty-one marks,” he said.

“No matter,” she answered haughtily. “I have it.”

He took the money, then opened a bottle, and sprinkled over her head a few drops of liquid, which smelled like pitch and sulphur. It itched and burned horribly, but she stifled the pain. “One can suffer a little for the sake of being beautiful,” she thought, and went off very well pleased, while the hairdresser, smiling scornfully, shut the shop door behind her.

When she reached home, and her husband and servants saw her, they clasped their hands in horror. “Just wait,” she said, and going to her chamber, she lay down in bed like a sick person. She remained there patiently all day long, and fell asleep late in the evening, firmly believing that her discomfort would be over the next morning. She woke very early, for her impatience would not allow her to sleep longer. The first thing she did was to seize her head with both hands—alas! it was as bare as when it left the hands of the hunchbacked hairdresser.

“Perhaps it doesn’t grow so fast,” she thought, and stayed in bed twenty-four hours longer. But the next day she was just as bald as before. Then, in a rage, she hurried on her clothes, wrapped her head in a veil and hat, and rushed off to the hunchbacked hairdresser.

“Man, you have cheated me!” she screamed.

“That is not so. How?” he answered roughly.

“Your tonic is a swindle. The hair does not grow out again.”

“Have you children? Or at least one child?”

“No.”

“Well, my tonic helps only mothers. You ought to have known that. Leave my shop.”

It was of no use. If she did not wish to remain as ugly and ridiculous as a scarecrow, she was obliged to buy a wig, and as her hair never grew out again, she had to wear this wig to the end of her life. But the young mother fared better and better. She had plenty of work, so she was soon able to leave her attic room and move to the second story. She never needed to cut off an end of her gold braids. She brought up her little daughter, and when the daughter was a beautiful, educated, charming girl twenty years old, she married a fine young man; they had a large family of children, and if they are not dead, they are living still.

THE CATS THAT WOULDN’T CATCH MICE

In an old library there once lived a cat, kept to protect the books and their leather bindings from the teeth of the mice. She was descended from a long line of ancestors, who had all held the same office, and she was the mother of five charming kittens: a black one named Miese, a white one named Lise, a black and white one called Purr, one spotted with brown and yellow named Murr, and one striped with black and gray, called Hinz. Purr, Murr, and Hinz were tom-cats, the other two were pussies. The brothers and sisters were old enough to study, and had an hour’s lesson from their mother every day. They could already purr, spit, and mew, make velvet paws, clean their fur, and wash their faces with their wet paws. Now their mother began to introduce them to the higher knowledge, that is, she taught them to catch mice. This was not at all easy. Behind and under the book shelves were a number of holes, which the mice used for hiding-places and refuges, where no grown cat and not even a kitten could possibly reach them. The chase could only be successful in the clear open space in the centre of the library. So it was necessary to watch patiently until a mouse ventured out, and then catch it at one spring, before it had time to slip back into its hole. The kittens were obliged to decide quickly and to act at once. If they hesitated even a second, their prey escaped.

One morning the lesson was in full course. Mother and children had chased a mouse, but it had darted past fat Purr and slipped under a book shelf before the clumsy fellow could stop it. For this awkwardness his mother cuffed his ears several times, and his sisters Miese and Lise laughed at him for being such a blockhead. After some time a mouse, the same one or another, put its sharp nose out from under a book shelf, and looked around it. The mother and teacher instantly saw it with her keen eyes, and motioned to her children to keep quiet. As everything remained still, the mouse, from imprudence or bravado, came out entirely. Like a flash of lightning the old cat was between the mouse and the book shelf, cutting off its retreat. A wild running and leaping began. The mouse, which could do nothing else, ran up the books, the kittens followed, and so eagerly that they upset a pile of books which had been carelessly arranged. It fell to the floor with a great clatter, and behind it appeared a mouse’s nest, where ten half-grown mice were tumbling over one another, vainly trying to escape by flight. The mother stunned them by swift blows with her paws, and gave them, struggling, to her kittens, that they might play with them before killing them with teeth and claws. Hearing the squeaking of the little mice in their pain and terror, their mother came out from the rows of books still standing on the shelves. She could only scream with fright, but could not help her little ones. Yet, when she was obliged to watch the massacre, the horrible spectacle was more than she could bear. Rushing as if crazed to the nearest little mouse, which Purr was cuffing right and left with his clumsy paws, she ran straight into the old cat’s claws. There was a joyful mew, a blow of the paw, and the mouse mother lay dead beside her ten dead children.

The cat put them all in a row, called the librarian, to show him her prey, and then dismissed her children to take a long nap.

The kittens did not follow their mother’s example. Instead of going to rest, they gathered in a corner of the library, where Miese began: “Those poor mice! They are really very pretty little creatures!”

“Nonsense!” growled Purr. “How can people think mice pretty!”

“You are a cannibal!” hissed Miese, angrily. “Didn’t you feel sorry for the mother who came so bravely to help her little ones?”

Purr was silent in confusion, and Murr muttered: “That’s true. The mother was a little heroine. I’m sorry for her.”

“I must say,” remarked Hinz, “that I am not at all proud of what we have done. It’s really a cowardly thing for us, who are so big and strong and active, besides being so terribly armed with teeth and claws, to attack the weak, defenceless creatures.”

“We ought to be ashamed of ourselves,” said Lise.

“We all saw it,” said Miese. “The spectacle will haunt me a long time. There before us was the peaceful nest. The ten brothers and sisters were lying comfortably together enjoying their young lives. Their mother’s love watched over them. Suddenly destruction came. We killed and slaughtered. Now the mother and children are gone; the nest is torn to pieces. Why do we commit such cruelties? By what right? For what purpose?”

“Bravo! You speak from the soul!” cried the vivacious Hinz. He admired his sister very much. She was the brightest, most eloquent, and best educated of them all. She had not been born and brought up in a library for nothing; she did not boast in vain of an endless line of learned ancestors. She stood high above the ordinary roof and cellar cats, and promised to be an ornament to the cat family.

“I could cry when I think of those little mice,” said Lise.

“I won’t do it again,” Hinz declared resolutely.

“But if mother orders us,” objected Purr.

“We are no longer children,” replied Miese, vehemently; “we ought to and must act according to our own views. We will tell mother so frankly.”

In fact, when the old cat called her children in the afternoon to take their lesson, Miese stood boldly before her and said, “Mother, we have determined not to catch any more mice.”

The cat could hardly believe her ears. Putting them back angrily, she answered: “You have determined? Why, that sounds very fine! True, it is more comfortable to be lazy. Now begin, or you’ll have your ears cuffed.”

Miese did not allow herself to be frightened. “It isn’t for the sake of laziness. Only we will not again commit the crime of murdering an innocent family of little mice.”

“Mur-der-ing!” repeated the old cat, fairly stammering in her amazement. “Have you gone crazy?”

“I think I have never been more sensible than I am now,” said Miese, quietly but firmly. “We have agreed to keep peace with the mice in the future. Their lives and property shall be sacred to us.”

The cat could not yet understand. “Are you my children or changelings? No true cat ever talked so before. We are here to catch mice, and that you will do too, or I’ll punish you.”

“I deny that we are here for that,” replied Miese, boldly. “We are here to love one another. The mice, too, are our brothers, like everything that lives and enjoys life.”

“What! The mice must be my brothers? Stop all this.” The cat was not patient. She made a spring at Miese, to punish her, but the kitten escaped the threatening paw, ran into the corner, and cried defiantly: “Long live justice! Long live brotherhood!”

The mother tried persuasion and entreaties. “Children, this foolish jest has lasted long enough. Let us lose no more time. To work. I will train you to be capable cats. You must become good mousers, like your mother and all your ancestors back to time immemorial.”

“What do we care what our ancestors have done!” replied Miese, obstinately. “We will break with the humdrum old ways. We are progressive cats.”

The brothers purred approvingly.

The old cat cast furious glances at them. “Progressive cats! The word seems to please you, simpletons. No doubt you think yourselves far more clever than your narrow-minded old mother. Have you asked yourselves how you are to live, if you don’t catch mice?”

“We don’t eat the mice,” retorted Hinz, pertly.

“No, because we have other food. But why are we fed? Because we catch mice. If we no longer caught mice, people would no longer feed us, or even let us stay in our library. Then we should see how we could manage.”

“There is food for everybody in the wide world,” said Lise.

“That’s enough!” screamed the cat, furiously. “Begin—or woe be unto you!”

The five kittens did not stir. Their mother sprang upon them, but they all ran through the open door, and kept on till the old cat stopped chasing them.

They rested in a meadow near a farm-house.

“We will begin a new life, a more beautiful, more just, and better one,” said Miese, when she had recovered her breath a little.

“Very well,” said Purr; “but meanwhile I am hungry, and would like to have my supper.”

“You never think of anything but eating,” replied Lise, reproachfully.

Murr came to his brother’s support. “I will gladly live for fraternity and justice. I will gladly be a progressive cat; but the stomach wants its rights, too.”

“You are right,” said Miese. “Only have a little patience. You’ll see that your virtue will not fail to have its reward. I have confidence in our good cause. Follow me.”

She had seen a barn in the meadow, and quickly led her brothers and sisters to it. They entered without any trouble through an open window. Inside was a perfect mountain of wheat, over which countless mice were swarming. At the sudden entrance of the five cats, they scattered, squeaking with fright, and vanished under, behind, and within the mountain of wheat, in mouse holes, and between the beams of the roof.

Purr looked after them with sparkling eyes, Murr made a movement to follow, but Hinz stopped him with a sharp “Mew.” Miese climbed slowly up the wheat mountain, and when she had reached the top, solemnly began: “Honored mice! Dear fellow-creatures! You have fled from us. We can understand this, after the experiences you have had with our race. But we come without any hostile designs upon you. We are no mouse hunters. We are progressive cats. We lament all the evil which our relatives have done you, and would like to atone for their wickedness during thousands of years. Dear mice, let us be brothers. We offer you the paw of friendship. Clasp it. Join hands. A bond of love shall unite us in the future, and we will work together until there is light in the world, till the innocent blood no longer flows, till cats and mice beautify each other’s short lives according to their powers.”

During Miese’s speech many mice had put their sharp noses out of their hiding places and listened with increasing astonishment. When she had finished, all was still for a time. At last an old mouse spoke. “I have lived a long while and had many experiences,” she said; “but I have never heard such words from the mouth of a cat. If we could only believe you.”

“Your distrust is unfair,” replied Miese. “Why should we pretend to feelings we do not possess?”

“Why?” answered the old mouse. “To lull us into security, so that you can eat us comfortably when we are so stupid as to obey your call.”

“Dear brothers,” said Miese, “you are doing us grave injustice. Our hearts are full of love for you, and we only wish there might be an opportunity to show it in other ways than by mere words.” There was so much warmth in her voice, that it made an impression upon the mouse.

“Do you speak in the name of the whole cat people?” asked the old mouse.

“For the present we can speak only in our own name,” replied Miese. “There is still much prejudice among us. Our old people will not give up their wicked customs. But the young ones are with us. I am sure of that. The future will be ours. We will set an example, which all our race will soon follow enthusiastically. Come, brothers, come, dear mice! Let us embrace one another. Let us celebrate the festival of peace and fraternity.”

The mice began to whisper and mutter. Some wanted to accept Miese’s invitation, others hesitated. Suddenly a young mouse squeaked: “I’ll risk it! Fraternity is so grand a thought that I will gladly stake my life to learn whether the progressive cat means honestly.” And, in spite of the anxious squeaking of the timid ones, it came boldly out of its hole. Miese went very gently up, that she might not startle it by hasty movements, stroked its back with a velvet paw, licked its nose with her rough tongue, and said, “Come to my heart, brother, this is the happiest day of my life.”

The mouse was terribly frightened, but did not show it, and bravely endured the caresses of the cat, even timidly returned them. At this sight the mice burst into cheers, and a large number of them boldly approached the cats. A few minutes later old and young mice were crowding eagerly around the cats, exchanging embraces and kisses with them, racing merrily through the barn, and calling to the more timid ones, who were cautiously watching this new spectacle from their holes: “Out with you all, cowards! The cats are our best friends! You will offend them by your reserve! Long live the cats! Hurrah for fraternity!”

This went on for some time, then a young mouse began: “Dear brothers and sisters! Love for love! Faith for faith! Since the cats have seen their injustice, we will forgive them without reserve. We will bear them no grudge and, in future, we will be one heart and one soul. Let us appoint them honorary mice. Let the difference in parentage be forgotten. Let us never reproach them for their origin. We will always treat our honorary mice like brothers, and admit them to the full rights of citizenship among us.”

Purr and Murr looked at each other in bewilderment, but Miese cried enthusiastically, “We will always try to show ourselves worthy of the name of honorary mice.” An old mouse protested against undue haste, and asked that the honorary mice should have their claws gnawed off, before they were admitted to citizenship in the mouse nation; but the young mice cried down the old fogy slow coach, reproached him for his distrust, told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, the mouse nation must not be outdone in generosity by the cats, and the motion to bestow the rights of citizenship upon the cats was passed by a very large majority.

“And now,” cried several young mice, “we will celebrate this historic hour by a great festival. Come, dear honorary mice, we will share what we have fraternally with you.”

This invitation greatly pleased the cats, especially Purr, whose stomach was complaining, for it was long after his usual hour for eating. He looked eagerly around, switched his tail to and fro, and asked earnestly, “Where is there anything to nibble?”

The mice squeaked merrily, and one answered: “Don’t you see it? You certainly have plenty of everything before you.”

Purr sniffed and peered around in all directions, then he answered angrily, “I smell nothing, and I see nothing.”

“Is it possible?” replied the mouse. “You are standing in front of a whole mountain of the finest wheat; you see how our whole people are feasting, and you find nothing to satisfy your hunger?”

Purr looked provoked and began to spit. “I suppose you take me for a fool,” he growled.

Miese interposed. “Dear fellow-citizens,” she said to the mouse, “we can do nothing with your wheat. It is no food for us.”

“See the despisers of our fare!” cried a saucy mouse. “You don’t know what is good,” exclaimed another. “What would you like? Probably a young mouse?” shouted a third, snappishly. But other mice reproved them for these unfriendly speeches, and turning to the cats, said: “Forgive this rudeness, and don’t be offended by it. All sensible mice condemn them. We do not yet know your taste. What do you eat, if you cannot take wheat?”

“Could we perhaps have some beef liver?” asked Miese.

The mice looked at each other, and answered: “Beef liver? What’s that? We don’t know it.”

“Or a little milk?” said Lise.

“Mice do not drink. There is no milk here,” was the reply. “Would you perhaps like nuts? They are the most delicious food there is; we haven’t many of them, but we will give them to you gladly.”

“Nuts? No,” answered Hinz; “people play with nuts, but they don’t eat them.”

The mice smiled, and one of them said, “Perhaps, if you prefer bacon—”

“Bacon! Capital! Bring it out!” cried all five of the kittens at once, joyously holding their tails straight up in the air.

The mice eagerly collected a few scraps of bacon, on which the cats sprang with such haste that the mice were startled, and ran into their holes. In an instant it was devoured, and Purr cried, “More!”

The mice, who had looked on in horror, answered: “Is it possible! That was our whole supply for the winter. And you have eaten it at one meal!”

“Hold your tongues, you louts!” cried Murr in a rage.

Miese soothed him and, turning to the mice, said: “No offence. We are somewhat hungry after our long walk. And, to tell the truth, we are still. If you could perhaps tell us where this nice bacon is—”

For a long time there was no reply. The mice put their heads together and whispered. At last an old one said, “In the farm-house over yonder is a garret filled with flitches of bacon.”

“Quick! Let us run over there!” cried Purr.

“Gently,” replied the old mouse, “that won’t do. You can’t get in, for the door is locked. We have dug a passage into the room, but it is too narrow for you.”

“Then do us the favor to go over yourselves and bring us some bacon,” said Miese.

“We’ll take precious good care not to do that,” cried several mice at once. “There are two abominable cats in the garret, and we can only venture in when these two bloodthirsty murderers have gone out.”

The cats made wry faces when they heard their relatives spoken of in this way. A mouse noticed it, and said quickly: “You see, we are doing you the honor of considering you entirely as mice. A harsh word against cats cannot offend you, for you certainly have nothing more in common with those miserable bandits.”

“That is true,” said Miese. “But I thought that, for our sakes, you would think somewhat more kindly of the cats and admit that they are not all miserable bandits.”

“Surely you would not wish to defend the horrible cat tribe—you, whom we have just made honorary mice?” screamed several mice, excitedly.

Miese saw that the conversation threatened to take a bad turn, and remained silent. Meanwhile the mice had finished their banquet and, going back to their holes well satisfied, bade the cats good night. They were left alone in the barn and, looking at each other in perplexity, made all sorts of unpleasant reflections.

Hinz was the first to break the silence, “Well, dear honorary mouse,” he asked Miese, “how do you like our new countrymen?”

“Pretty fellows,” replied Lise in the same subdued tones; “I would like to eat them.”

Purr laughed grimly, “So would I.” And Murr added, “Miese, you are the most clever one of us all; but to-day, I’m afraid, you have done a very foolish thing.”

“Let me alone,” Miese spit angrily. “Of course, the old humdrum way is easier than the bold, progressive one. We are treading entirely new paths. We have undertaken a great educational work. So we must have patience, and bear some discomfort without grumbling. The poor mice are not lacking in good-will. If some of them still doubt the purity of our intentions, we must not wonder at it. This will soon pass away.”

“But just now my stomach is hollow,” growled Purr.

“We will learn to eat wheat,” said Miese, and resolutely taking some grains in her mouth began to chew them. But, in spite of the most desperate efforts, she could not swallow them, and secretly spit them out. Meanwhile there was no quiet in the holes of the mice. In every passage and room they put their heads together, talking in low but eager tones about the great event. Some said, “This will come to no good end,” others, “Cats will be cats, even if we appoint them honorary mice,” and others added, “Perhaps they are spies.”

A young mouse defended the new friends and said, “The leader of the progressive cats is really a noble creature,” but was interrupted by cries from all sides, “If she isn’t a swindler, if she isn’t sneaking in among us with evil designs, she is surely crazy.”

Several voices added: “Her brothers have regular murderers’ faces. They are tramps, who want us to feed them. All our bacon is gone already; if we could only get rid of them pleasantly.”

But the mice finally fell asleep; for they were tired and in a safe place. The five hungry cats on their hard beds found the night very long. All thought of their mother’s warm fur and their ample meals, and Miese asked herself if the whole mouse nation was worth so much privation and hardship.

When day dawned, the rested mice came out of their holes and began to attend to their business, without troubling themselves about the five sulky kittens. Some were peeling grains of wheat for breakfast, others were cleaning themselves, others still were playing. Lise watched the bustle awhile, then she asked impatiently: “What does this mean? Are we to have no breakfast?”

A mouse answered rudely: “I suppose we ought to feed you with pap, poor little things?” The others laughed.

“Pardon me,” said Miese, gently. “We belong to you. You cannot let us starve to death.”

“You bore us!” screamed a mouse. “If you won’t eat wheat, steal some meat from the farmer, or catch birds on the trees and roofs.”

“You are not in earnest,” replied Miese. “To kill birds would be a crime. Surely we want to have fraternity, love, and virtue reign in the world.”