Barks and Purrs Part 3

You're very hard to please! I certainly love Him; he's good and pretends not to see my faults, so that he won't have to scold, but She's the most beautiful thing in the world to me, the dearest and--the most difficult to understand. The sound of her step enchants me, her changeful eyes dispense happiness--and trouble. She's like Destiny itself, she never hesitates. Even torture from her hands--you know how She teases me?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE Cruelly.

TOBY-DOG

No, not cruelly, but artfully. I never can tell what's coming next. This morning She bent down as if to speak to me, lifted one of my "tiny elephant's ears," as She calls them, and sent a sharp cry into it, which went to the very back of my brain.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Horrors!

TOBY-DOG

Was it right or wrong? I can't decide even now. It started waves of nervousness running madly through me. Then, She has a fancy for making me do tricks. Almost every day I must--"Do the Fish, Toby dear." She lifts me in her arms and squeezes me until I gasp. My poor dumb mouth opens as a carp's does when they're drowning it in air....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

That's _just_ like Her!

TOBY-DOG

Suddenly I find myself free--and still alive, miraculously saved by the power of her will. How beautiful life seems to me then! How fondly I lick the hand hanging at her side, the hem of her dress!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_contemptuously_)

A pretty thing to do!

TOBY-DOG

All good and all evil come to me from Her. She is my worst torment and my one sure refuge. When I run to her, my heart sick with fear, how soft her arms are and how sweet her hair, falling in my face! I'm her "black-baby," her "Toby-Dog," her "little bit o' love." She sits on the ground to rea.s.sure me, making herself little like me--lies down altogether and I go wild with delight at the sight of her face under mine, thrown back in her fragrant hair. My feelings overflow, I can't resist such a chance for a jolly good game. I rummage and fumble about, excitedly poking my nose everywhere, till I find the crispy tip of a pink ear--Her ear. I nibble it just enough to tickle her--to make her cry out: "Stop, Toby! That's awful! Help! Help! This dog's devouring me!"

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

H'm! Simple, homely, wholesome joys! ... And then, off you go to make friends with the cook.

TOBY-DOG And you,--with the cat at the farm.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_coldly_)

Enough I pray, that concerns no one but myself ... and the little cat.

TOBY-DOG

A pretty conquest! It should make you blush--a seven-months-old kitten!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_roused_)

For me she has all the charm of forbidden fruit and no one dare steal her from me. She is slim as a bean-pole....

TOBY-DOG, (_aside_)

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 shivering 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.