Another book-case was filled with the French poets, from Villon to Soulary. The editions were delicious, a pleasure to hold, and many of them bore the imprint of Lemerre. Among them was the Fleurs du Mal, an unexpurgated copy, and by it were the poems of Baudelaire’s decadent descendants, Paul Verlaine and Mallarmé.
There were other book-cases, and of these there was one of which the door was locked. In it were Justine and Juliette, by the Marquis de Sade; the works of Piron; the works of Beroalde de Verville; a copy of Mercius; a copy of Thérèse Philosophe; the De Arcanis Amoris; Mirabeau’s Rideau levé; Gamaini, by Alfred de Musset and George Sand; Boccaccio; the Heptameron; Paphian Days; Crébillon’s Sopha; the Erotika Biblion; the Satyricon of Petronius; an illustrated catalogue of the Naples Museum; Voltaire’s Pucelle; a work or two of Diderot’s; Maiseroy’s Deux Amies; the Clouds; the Curée; everything, in fact, from Aristophanes to Zola.
The collection was meaningless to Maida, and she turned aside and went out on the verandah. Below, on the gravel walk, was a cat with a tail like a banner, and a neck furred like a ruff. Maida crumpled a bit of paper and threw it down. The cat jumped at it at once, toyed with it for a moment, and then, sliding backwards with a crab-like movement, its back arched, and its ears drawn down, it caught a glimpse of Maida’s unfamiliar figure, and fled to the bushes with a shriek of feigned terror. A servant passed, and ignorant of Maida’s presence, apostrophized the retreating feline as a loafer and a liar.
A moment later Mr. Incoul and the marquis reappeared.
“I have been admiring your Angora,” Maida said, “but I fear I startled it.”
The marquis rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. “It is a wonderful animal,” he answered, “but it is not an Angora, it is a Thibetian cat, and though it does not talk, at least it converses. It is so odd in its ways that I called it Mistigris, as one might a familiar spirit, but my children prefer Ti-Mi; they think it more Thibetian, I fancy.” He coughed slightly and looking at the points of his fingers, he added, “I will leave it with you of course.”
And then Maida understood that the matter was settled and that the house was hers.