CHAPTER II.
HOW THE CAT WAS INSTALLED WITH MADAME DE LA
GRENOUILLÈRE, AND CONFIDED TO THE CARE OF
MOTHER MICHEL.
Mother Michel.
Madame de la Grenouillère inhabited a magnificent mansion situated on the corner of the streets Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre and Orties-Saint-Louis; there she led a very retired life, on almost intimate terms with her two principal domestics,—Madame Michel, her maid and companion, and M. Lustucru, the steward. These servants being elderly persons, the Countess, who was possessed of a pleasant humor, had christened them Mother Michel and Father Lustucru.
The features of Mother Michel bore the imprint of her amiable disposition; she was as open and candid as Father Lustucru was sly and dissimulating. The plausible air of the steward might deceive persons without much experience; but close observers could easily discover the most perverse inclinations under his false mask of good nature. There was duplicity in his great blue eyes, anger concentrated in his nostrils, something wily in the end of his tapering nose, and malice in the shape of his lips.
However, this man had never, in appearance, at least, done anything to forfeit his honor; he had been able to guard an outside air of honesty, hiding very carefully the blackness of his nature. His wickedness was like a mine to which one has not yet applied the match,—it waited only for an occasion to flash out.
Father Lustucru.
Lustucru detested animals, but, in order to flatter the taste of his mistress, he pretended to idolize them. On seeing Mother Michel bearing in her arms the rescued cat, he said to himself:
"What, another beast! As if there were not enough of us in the house!"
He could not help throwing a glance of antipathy at the new-comer; then, curbing himself quickly, he cried, with an affected admiration,—
"Oh, the beautiful cat! the pretty cat! that cat hasn’t his equal!"—and he caressed it in the most perfidious fashion.
"Truly?" said Madame de la Grenouillère; "you do not find him too homely?"
"Oh, the Beautiful Cat!"
"Too homely! But, then, he has charming eyes. But, if he was frightful, your interesting yourself in him would change him."
"He displeased me at first."
"The beings who displease at first are those one loves the most after awhile," replied Father Lustucru, sententiously.
They proceeded at once to make the toilet of the cat, who, in spite of his instinctive horror of water, submitted with touching resignation to being washed; he seemed to understand that it improved his personal appearance. After giving him a dish of broken meat, which he ate with great relish, they arranged the hours for his meals, the employment of his days, and the place where he was to sleep.
The Cat is washed.
They thought also to give him a name. Mother Michel and Father Lustucru proposed several that were quite happy, such as Mistigris, Tristepatte, etc.; but the Countess rejected them all successively. She desired a name that would recall the circumstances in which the cat was found. An old scholar, whom she consulted the next day, suggested that of Moumouth, composed of two Hebrew words which signify saved from saucepans.
The Cat grows Fat.
The Old Scholar looks for a Name.
At the end of a few days, Moumouth was unrecognizable. His fur was polished with care; nourishing food had filled out his form; his mustaches stood up like those of a swordsman of the seventeenth century; his eyes shone as emeralds. He was a living proof of the influence of good fare upon the race. He owed his excellent condition chiefly to Mother Michel, whom he held in affectionate consideration; he showed, on the other hand, for Father Lustucru a very marked dislike. As if he had divined that here he had to do with an enemy, he refused to accept anything presented by the steward. However, they saw but little of each other. The days passed very happily with Moumouth, and everything promised a smiling future for him; but, like the sword of Damocles, troubles are ever suspended above the heads of men and of cats. On the 24th of January, 1753, an unusual sadness was observed in Moumouth; he scarcely responded to the caresses which Madame de la Grenouillère lavished upon him; he ate nothing, and spent the day crouched on a corner of the hearth, gazing mournfully into the fire. He had a presentiment of some misfortune, and the misfortune came.
He will take Nothing from the Steward.
He crouches in a Corner of the Hearth.
That night a messenger, sent from the Château de la Gingeole in Normandy, brought a letter to the Countess from her younger sister, who, having broken a leg in getting out of her carriage, begged the Countess, her only relative, to come to her at once. Madame de la Grenouillère was too sympathetic and kind-hearted to hesitate an instant.
"I depart to-morrow," said she.
At these words, Moumouth, who followed his benefactress with his eyes, gave a melancholy miau.
"In her Youth she caressed a Kitten."
"I depart To-morrow!"
"Poor cat!" resumed the lady, with emotion, "it is necessary that we should be separated! I cannot bring you with me, for my sister has the weakness to hate animals of your species; she pretends they are treacherous. What slander! In her youth she caressed a kitten, who, too much excited by marks of affection, scratched her involuntarily. Was it from wickedness? No, it was from sensibility. However, since that day my sister has sworn an eternal hatred for cats."
Moumouth regarded his mistress with an air which seemed to say,—
"But you, at least, you do us justice, truly superior woman!"
After a moment of silence and meditation, the Countess added,—
"Mother Michel, I confide my cat to you."
"We will take good care of him, madame," said Father Lustucru.
"Don’t you trouble yourself about him, I pray you," interrupted the Countess. "You know that he has taken a dislike to you; your presence merely is sufficient to irritate him. Why, I don’t know; but you are insupportable to him."
"That is true," said Father Lustucru, with contrition; "but the cat is unjust, for I love him and he doesn’t love me."
"Mother Michel, I confide my Cat to you."
"My sister is also unjust. Cats, perhaps, love her, and she does not love them. I respect her opinion. Respect that of Moumouth." Having pronounced these words in a firm tone, Madame de la Grenouillère addressed herself to Mother Michel.
"It is to you, Mother Michel, and to you alone, that I confide him. Return him to me safe and sound, and I will cover you with benefits. I am sixty-five years of age, you are ten years younger; it is probable that you will live to close my eyes"—
"Ah, madame! why such sorrowful ideas?"
"Let me finish. To guard against mischance, I have already thought to provide for you comfortably; but, if you keep Moumouth for me, I will give you a pension of fifteen hundred livres."
"Ah, madame!" said Mother Michel, in an impressive tone, "it is not necessary to hire my services; I love the cat with all my heart, and I will always be devoted to him."
"I am sure of it, and I shall also know how to reward your zeal." During this conversation, Father Lustucru employed all his forces to conceal the expression of his jealousy.
"Everything for her, and nothing for me!" he said to himself. "Fifteen hundred livres a year! It is a fortune, and she will have it! Oh, no! she shall not have it."
The Post-chaise is ready.
The next morning, at half-past seven, four lively horses were harnessed to the post-chaise which was to convey the excellent old lady to Normandy. She said a last adieu to her favorite, pressed him to her heart, and stepped into the carriage.
Until then, Moumouth had felt only a vague uneasiness; but at this moment he understood it all! He saw his benefactress ready to depart; and, trembling at the thought of losing her, he made one bound to her side.
"It is necessary for you to stay here," said Madame de la Grenouillère, making an effort to restrain her tears.
Will it be believed?—the cat also wept!
The Cat wishes to go with the Carriage.
To put an end to this painful scene, Mother Michel seized the cat by the shoulders and detached him from the carriage-cushion, to which he clung; the door closed, the horses gave a vigorous pull, and started off at a speed of not less than three leagues an hour. Moumouth rolled in a convulsion, and then fainted.
Moumouth faints.
Madame de la Grenouillère, her head stretched out of the post-chaise, waved her handkerchief, crying:—
"Mother Michel, I commend my cat to you!"
"He shall die!"
"Be tranquil, madame; I swear you shall find him large and plump when you return."
"And I," muttered Father Lustucru, in a deep voice, "I swear he shall die!"