And Father Lustucru remained absorbed in deep meditation.
Lustucru meditates.
Moumouth had not yet dined that day, and he made it plain by expressive miauing that he would very willingly place something under his teeth. Presently, Mother Michel said to him—for she spoke to him as if he were an intelligent being,—
"Have patience, sir; we are going to attend to you."
She descended to the parlor, which she habitually occupied since the departure of Madame de la Grenouillère, and the cat, who accompanied Mother Michel, was clearly displeased at seeing her take the road to the chamber of Lustucru. Nevertheless, he went in with her, persuaded that in the presence of that faithful friend the steward would not dare to undertake anything against him.
At the moment she knocked at the door, Father Lustucru was taking from the shelf a green package which bore this label: Death to Rats.
"This is the thing," he said to himself, thrusting the paper into his vest. "Death to Rats should also be Death to Cats. Our dear Moumouth shall make the trial.... What can one do to serve you, my good Mother Michel?"
"It is five o’clock, M. Lustucru, and you forget my cat."
