Part 13 (1/2)
KIKI-THE-DEMURE
You're right, it would.
(_A mournful silence follows_. TOBY _curls himself up like a turban and closes his eyes, because he feels like crying. His breath comes in little sobs_.)
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_absently, in a low, monotonous chant_.)
The dog ... the little dog ... the bones, the little dog ... the rabbit ... the great dane, the rabbit's hole ...the little dog, the mutton bones ...the rabbit's skin ...
TOBY-DOG, _at first endures the torture heroically; then his nerves betray him and lifting his head he howls--the long plaint of the abandoned dog_.
Wooo--oo--oooooo!
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_from the top of the console-table_)
Will you be quiet!
TOBY-DOG
Wooooooooo!!--oo--oooo--oo!
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_aside_)
That's it! That's it!
(SHE _wakes bewildered, still captive of her dreams, while the Cat listens patiently to the approaching step on the stairs, which means liberty for him and punishment for_ TOBY-DOG.)
THE FIRST FIRE
_Because it is raining and an October wind chases wet leaves through the air, She has lit the first fire of the season in the great chimney-place_. KIKI-THE-DEMURE _and_ TOBY-DOG, _in ecstasy, side by side on a corner of the warm hearth-stone, contemplate the flame with dazzled eyes and address their meditations to it_.
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_looking very like a cus.h.i.+on; no paws visible_)
Oh Fire, how splendid you are! You have come back more beautiful than my memory of you! You are hotter and nearer than the sun! The pupils of my eyes contract in your light, their lids half close, modestly hiding the joy I feel at seeing you again, and my inscrutable countenance shows but the semblance of a thought painted there in fawn color and black....
Your crackling drowns the soft sound of my purr. Don't snap too much. Be merciful, O inconstant Fire! Don't sputter sparks on my fur. Allow me to adore you without fear ...
TOBY-DOG, (_half baked; eyes blood-shot; tongue pendant_)
Fire! Divine Fire! Here you are again! I am still very young, but I remember how awe-struck I was the first time Her hand woke you in this same chimney-place. The sight of a G.o.d as mysterious as you are was most impressive to a baby-dog just out of the maternal stable. Oh Fire, I've not quite gotten over my fear! Hiii!... You spit at me, something red that smarts ... I'm afraid ... Well, it's gone now. How beautiful you are, Fire! Out from your ruddy center shoot tatters and shreds of gold, sudden spurts of blue, and smoke that twists upwards and draws queer shapes of beasts ... Oh, but I'm hot! Gently, gently, sovereign Fire, see how my truffle of a nose is drying up and cracking, and my ears--are they not ablaze? I adjure thee with suppliant paw. I groan ... ah ... I can endure it no longer!... (_He turns away_.) Nothing is ever perfect.
The east wind coming under the door nips my hind-legs. Well, it can't be helped! I'll freeze behind if I must, provided I can adore you face to face.
KIKI-THE-DEMURE
I am a Cat and therefore aware of all that you bring in your train, O Fire! I foresee winter; its coming both troubles and pleases me. I've already begun to thicken and embellish my fur-coat in its honor, the darker stripes are becoming black, my white tippet swells into a dazzling boa, and the fur on my belly surpa.s.ses in beauty anything that has ever been seen. What shall I say of my tail, broad as a club, with alternate rings of fawn-color and black, or of the sensitive, priceless aigrettes which spring from my ears? My ear-rings She calls them....
What cat could resist me! Ah! the January nights, the serenades under a frosty moon, the dignified wait on the pinnacle of a roof, the encounter with a rival cat on the narrow top of a wall!... But I feel quite sure of my superior strength. I'll swish my tail, put back my ears, sniff tragically as one does before vomiting, and then lift up my voice--its modulations are infinite. I'll make it strong enough to waken all the sleeping Two-Paws. I'll vociferate, I'll whimper, pacing up and down the garden, my body distended, my legs bent outward, feigning madness to terrify the tom-cats!
TOBY-DOG
I know something of the changes and pleasures you foretell, Fire--for I'm a Dog. Already, it is raining in the garden. I suppose it's raining on the road too, and in the woods. The falling drops are not warm, as they were in the summer storms when my truffle, gray with dust, delighted in the damp smell that came from the west. The sky is troubled and the wind has grown strong enough to blow my ears out straight, like little flags. A sharp cry, such as I make when I beg, comes under the door. You'll be s.h.i.+ning here every day, Fire; but I'll have to suffer for the right to wors.h.i.+p you. For She'll continue to wander about, her head covered with the pointed hood which changes her so, that it frightens me. She'll put on wooden shoes too, and carelessly crush the puddles, the little heaps of mud, and the weeping mosses. I'll follow her, since I've promised to do so my life long (and also because I can't help it), I'll follow her, a forlorn and piteous object, s.h.i.+ning wet, my belly covered with mud, until, through very excess of misery I'll forget, and ramble in the coppice, interested in every undulation of the gra.s.s, eager to revive the drowned scents in it.... She'll become communicative when she sees me hurrying along and we'll talk: ”Ha, Toby-Dog,” she'll say, ”ha! ha! a bird! There on the branch! Look! you b.o.o.by! Now he's gone.” She'll condole with me then, until I'm on the verge of tears. ”Oh, my little black boy, my sympathetic cylinder, my batrachian love, how cold you are, how wet, how sad, how you suffer, oooo!” And before I'm able to judge of the sincerity of her pity, the tears will overflow, my throat contract, and we'll wail in unison....