“You touchingly remark that you are rich, and would rather sacrifice wealth for happiness. I do not clearly see how I can complain of being poor. How funny you are! you dine at a polished board, off gilded plates, and goodly fare. One would think from your way of putting it, that by stinting one’s self of food, one gets what riches cannot buy. Some wise cat will no doubt prove before long, that poverty is the cure for all evils. Seriously, do you believe that fortune impairs happiness? If that is your creed, become poor at once, ruin yourself! Nothing is easier than that, live by your teeth if you can. Tell me what you think of it. Complain of being unhappy, but not of being rich, for we who are poor are no strangers to misery. I scold you as your elder sister ought to do, so forgive me.
“Do you not know that Bébé would only be too happy to be of some use to you? Do not keep me waiting for another letter. I begin to fear you have been seeking happiness where it can never be found. Of course you will hide nothing from me. Ease your heart and write down your griefs on your perfumed paper, as you proposed. Adieu, Minette, adieu! This is enough, it is the hour for our mother’s meal, and it is yet running about in the loft. Things are not going on well there, the mice are clever, and every day seems to develop new instincts of cunning. We have feasted so long on them, they begin to notice it. My neighbour is a cat, not a bad specimen, were he not so original. He dotes on the mice, and pretends that some day there will be a revolution when mice will be able to hold their own against cats.
“You see I am right in profiting by the peace we now enjoy, hunting at will in their grounds. But do not let us talk politics!
“Adieu, Minette.
“Your messenger is waiting. He refuses to disclose your address. Shall we soon meet each other?
“Your sister till death,
“BÉBÉ.”
“P.S.—I own your old courier is very ugly. For all that, when I saw what he brought, I kissed him with all my heart. You should have seen him bow when he presented the letter from Madam Rosa Mika. Were you out of your mind Minette when you adopted such a name? Was Minette not a charming name for a cat so white as yourself? As I have no more paper, I conclude.”
A Starling had the misfortune of upsetting a bottle of ink over Minette’s reply to Bébé, so that several pages of the letter are illegible. The loss of these passages, however, does not interfere with the narrative. The missing matter is indicated by dotted lines. [a]