“Only guess,” said he, “where I have been!—to our new neighbour the griffin; a most charming person, thoroughly affable, and quite the air of the court. As for that silly magpie, the griffin saw her character at once; and it was all a hoax about his daughter,—he has no daughter at all. You know, my dear, hoaxing is a fashionable amusement among the great. He says he has heard of nothing but your beauty, and on my telling him we were going to be married, he has insisted upon giving a great ball and supper in honour of the event. In fact, he is a gallant old fellow, and dying to see you. Of course, I was obliged to accept the invitation.”
“You could not do otherwise,” said the unsuspecting young creature, who, as I before said, was very susceptible to flattery.
“And only think how delicate his attentions are,” said the fox. “As he is very badly lodged for a beast of his rank, and his treasure takes up the whole of the ground floor, he is forced to give the fete in the upper story, so he hangs out a basket for his guests, and draws them up with his own claw. How condescending! But the great are so amiable!”
The cat, brought up in seclusion, was all delight at the idea of seeing such high life, and the lovers talked of nothing else all the next day,—when Reynard, towards evening, putting his head out of the window, saw his old friend the dog lying as usual and watching him very grimly. “Ah, that cursed creature! I had quite forgotten him; what is to be done now? He would make no bones of me if he once saw me set foot out of doors.”
With that, the fox began to cast in his head how he should get rid of his rival, and at length he resolved on a very notable project; he desired the cat to set out first, and wait for him at a turn in the road a little way off. “For,” said he, “if we go together we shall certainly be insulted by the dog; and he will know that in the presence of a lady, the custom of a beast of my fashion will not suffer me to avenge the affront. But when I am alone, the creature is such a coward that he will not dare say his soul’s his own; leave the door open and I’ll follow immediately.”
The cat’s mind was so completely poisoned against her cousin that she implicitly believed this account of his character; and accordingly, with many recommendations to her lover not to sully his dignity by getting into any sort of quarrel with the dog, she set off first.
The dog went up to her very humbly, and begged her to allow him to say a few words to her; but she received him so haughtily, that his spirit was up; and he walked back to the tree more than ever enraged against his rival. But what was his joy when he saw that the cat had left the door open! “Now, wretch,” thought he, “you cannot escape me!” So he walked briskly in at the back door. He was greatly surprised to find Reynard lying down in the straw, panting as if his heart would break, and rolling his eyes in the pangs of death.
“Ah, friend,” said the fox, with a faltering voice, “you are avenged, my hour is come; I am just going to give up the ghost: put your paw upon mine, and say you forgive me.”
Despite his anger, the generous dog could not set tooth on a dying foe.
“You have served me a shabby trick,” said he; “you have left me to starve in a hole, and you have evidently maligned me with my cousin: certainly I meant to be avenged on you; but if you are really dying, that alters the affair.”