Part 3 (2/2)

You old rascal! KIKI-THE-DEMURE

... and long; poised on long legs she walks with the uncertain step common to all young things. She hunts field-mice, shrew-mice--even partridge, and this hard work in the fields has toughened her young muscles and given a rather gloomy expression to her kitten-face.

TOBY-DOG

She's ugly.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No, not ugly, but odd-looking. Her muzzle with its very pink nostrils strongly resembles that of a goat, her large ears remind one of a peasant's coif, her eyes the color of old gold are set slant-wise, and their naturally keen expression is varied by an occasional piquant squint.

With what a will does she fly me confounding modesty with fear! I pa.s.s slowly by (one would think me quite uninterested), draped in my splendid coat. She's struck by its stripes. Oh, she'll come back, a little love-sick kitten, and putting aside all constraint she'll throw herself at my feet--like a supple white scarf--

TOBY-DOG

I've no objection, you know.... I'm comparatively indifferent to all that concerns love. Here my time's so completely filled ... physical exercise ... my cares of watch-dog, I ... hardly give a thought to the bagatelle.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_aside)

Bagatelle!... He indulges in the persiflage of a traveling salesman!

TOBY-DOG

I love--Her and Him devotedly, with a love that lifts me up to them. It suffices to occupy my time and heart.

The hour of our siesta is pa.s.sing, my scornful friend. Do you know, I like you in spite of your scorn and you like me, too. Don't turn your head away, your peculiar modesty would hide what you call frailty and what I call love. Do you think me blind? How often, on coming back to the house with Her, have I seen your little triangular face at the window, light up and smile at my approach,--the time to open the door and you'd already put on your cat's mask--your pretty j.a.panesy mask, with its narrow eyes.... Isn't it so?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_resolved not to hear_)

The hour of the siesta is pa.s.sing. The cone-shaped shadows of the pear trees grow long on the gravel path. We've talked away our sleepiness.

You've forgotten the flies, your uneasy stomach, and the heat which dances in waves on the meadows. The beautiful, sultry day is dying.

Already there's a breeze bringing perfume from the pines. Their trunks are melting into bright tears....

TOBY-DOG

Here She is! She's left her wicker chair, stretched her lovely arms and, judging from the movement of her dress, I think we're going to take a walk. See her behind the rosebushes? Now, with her nails she breaks a leaf from the lemon tree; she's crumpling it up and smelling it. Ah ...

I belong to Her, soul and body. With my eyes closed I can divine her presence.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Yes, I see Her. She is quiet and gentle for the time being. He'll leave his paper now to follow her. He'll come out calling, ”Where are you?”

and sit on the bench, tired out. For _him_, I shall rise politely, and go ”do my nails” along the leg of his trousers. Silent, happy companions, we'll listen for the day's departing footsteps. The perfume of the lindens will become sickeningly sweet at the same hour that my seer's eyes grow big and black and read mysterious Signs in the air....

Later on a calm fire will be lit down there, behind the pointed mountain--a circle of glistening rose-color in the gray-blue of the night--a sort of luminous coc.o.o.n from which will burst the dazzling edge of the moon. She will sail along, cleaving the clouds.... Then, it will be time to go to rest. He'll carry me in on his shoulder and I'll sleep close to his feet, which are ever mindful of my repose.... Dawn will find me s.h.i.+vering but rejuvenated, sitting face to the sun, in a silvery halo of incense, offered me by the dew. Thus, I am a perfect picture of the G.o.d I was in the old, old days.

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