The sunny porch. TOBY-DOG and KIKI-THE-DEMURE sprawl on the hot stone-flags, taking their after luncheon nap. The silence of Sunday prevails, yet TOBY-DOG is not asleep: the flies and a heavy luncheon torment him. Hind-quarters flattened out frog-fashion, he drags himself on his belly up to KIKI-THE-DEMURE whose striped body is perfectly quiet.

TOBY-DOG

Are you asleep?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (purrs feebly)

TOBY-DOG

Are you even alive? You're so flat! You look like the empty skin of a cat.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (in faltering tones)

L-e-t—m-e—a-l-o-n-e....

TOBY-DOG

Not sick, are you?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No.... Let me alone. I'm asleep. I'm not even conscious of my body. What torment to live with you! I've eaten, it's two o'clock, let's sleep.

TOBY-DOG

I can't. Something's made a ball in my stomach. It means to go down I guess, but very slowly. And then,—these flies, these flies! The eyes start out of my head at the sight of one of them. I'm all jaws, bristling with terrible teeth (just hear them snap), yet the infernal things escape me. Oh! my ears! Oh! my poor, sensitive, brown belly! My feverish nose! There! ... you see? ... right on my nose! What shall I do? I squint all I can ... two of them now? ... No ... only one ... no, two! ... I toss them up like bits of sugar and it's the empty air I snap.... I'm worn out. I detest the sun, and the flies, and everything! ...

(He wails.)

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (sitting up, his eyes pale from the light and sleepiness)

Well, you've succeeded in waking me. That's all you wanted, isn't it? My dreams are gone! These flies that you're pursuing —I hardly felt their little teasing feet through my thick fur. The merest touch, like a caress, now and then thrilled along the silky sloping hairs which clothe me.... But then you never act with any discretion. Your vulgar gayety is a nuisance, and when sad you howl like a low comedian.



TOBY-DOG (bitterly)

If you woke up just to tell me that—

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (correcting)

Of course you'll remember 'twas you woke me.

TOBY-DOG

I was so uncomfortable, I wanted someone to help me, to give me a word of encouragement....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I don't know any digestive words.

(Pause.)

Fancy their giving me a bad character when ... Just examine your conscience a bit and compare us. Hunger and heat wear you out and drive you mad; cold makes your blood curdle....

TOBY-DOG (vexed)

Mine is a sensitive nature.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

A demoniacal nature, you mean!

TOBY-DOG

No, I don't mean that. You—you're a monstrous egoist.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Perhaps.... You and the Two-Paws don't understand what you're pleased to call a cat's egoism.... Our instinct of self-preservation, our dignity, our modest reserve, our attitude of weary renunciation (which comes of the hopelessness of ever being understood by them), they dub, in haphazard fashion, egoism. You're not a very discriminating dog, but at least you're free from prejudice. Will you understand me better? A cat is a guest in the house, not a plaything. Truly these are strange times we're living in! The Two-Paws, He and She, have they alone the right to be sad or joyful, to lick plates, to scold, or to go about the house indulging their capricious humors? I too have my whims, my sorrows, my irregular appetite, my hours of reverie when I wish to be alone....



TOBY-DOG (attentive and conscientious)

I'm listening, but I can hardly follow what you say. It's so complicated—a bit over my head, you know. But you astonish me! Are they in the habit of hindering you in your changeful moods? You mew, and they open the door. You lie on the paper—the sacred paper He's scratching on—He moves away, marvelous condescension!--and leaves you his soiled page. You meander up and down his scratching table, obviously in quest of mischief, your nose wrinkled up, your tail giving quick little jerks back and forth like a pendulum. She watches you laughing, while He announces "the promenade of devastation." How then, can you accuse Them—



KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (insincere)

I don't accuse Them. After all, psychological subtleties are not in your line.

TOBY-DOG

Don't speak so fast. I need time to understand. It seems to me—

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (slyly)

Pray, don't hurry! Your digestion might suffer in consequence.

TOBY-DOG (unconscious of the irony)

You're right! I've some trouble in expressing myself to-day.—Well, here goes: it seems to me that of the two of us it's you they make the most of, and yet you do all the grumbling.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

A dog's logic, that! The more one gives the more I demand.

TOBY-DOG

That's wrong. It's indiscreet.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Not at all. I have a right to everything.

TOBY-DOG

To everything? And I?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I don't imagine you lack anything, do you?

TOBY-DOG

Ah, I don't know. Sometimes in my very happiest moments, I feel like crying. My eyes grow dim, my heart seems to choke me. I would like to be sure, in such times of anguish, that everybody loves me; that there is nowhere in the world a sad dog behind a closed door, that no evil will ever come....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (jeering)

And then what dreadful thing happens?

TOBY-DOG

You know very well! Inevitably, at that moment She appears, carrying a bottle with horrible yellow stuff floating in it—Castor Oil! Wilful and unfeeling, she holds me between her strong knees, opens my jaws—

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Close them tighter!

TOBY-DOG

But I'm afraid of hurting her—and my tongue, horrified, tastes the slimy mawkish stuff. I choke and spit, my poor face is convulsed and the end of this torture is long in coming.... You've seen me afterwards dragging myself around, melancholy, my head hanging, listening to the unwholesome glouglou the oil makes in my stomach. ...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Once when I was little She tried to give me castor oil. I scratched and bit her so, she never tried again. Ha! She must have thought she held the devil between her knees. I squirmed, blew fire through my nostrils, multiplied my twenty claws by a hundred, my teeth by one thousand, and finally—disappeared as if by magic.

TOBY-DOG

I wouldn't dare do that. You see, I love her. I love her enough to forgive her even the torture of the bath.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (interested)

You do? Tell me how it feels. It makes me shiver all over, just to see her putting you in the water.

TOBY-DOG

Alas.... Listen then, and pity me. Sometimes, when She's come out of her tub with nothing on her but her skin, her soft hairless skin that I lick respectfully,—She spills out more warm water, throws in a brown brick which smells of tar, and calls, "Toby!" That's enough! The soul quits my body; my legs shake under me. Something shines on the water—the picture of a window all twisted out of shape—it dances about and blinds me. She seizes me, poor swooning thing that I am, and plunges me in.... Ye Gods! From that time on I'm lost.... My one hope is in her. My eyes fasten themselves on hers, while a close warmth sticks to me like another skin on top of mine.... The brick's all foamy now ... I smell tar ... my eyes and nostrils smart ... there are storms in my ears. She grows excited, breathes loud and fast, laughs, and scrubs me light-heartedly. At last She rescues me, fishing me out by the nape of my neck, I paw the air, begging for life; then comes the rough towel and the warm coverlet where, exhausted, I relish my convalescence....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (deeply impressed)

Calm yourself.

TOBY-DOG

Jove! The telling it alone! ... But—you old sly-boots—didn't I see her one day armed with a sponge standing over you, holding you down on the toilet table?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (quite embarrassed, lashing his tail)

An old story! The long, fluffy hairs on my legs (which give them the outline of a Zouave's) had somehow gotten dirty. She insisted upon washing me. I persuaded her that I suffered atrociously under the sponge....

TOBY-DOG

What a fibber you are! Did She believe you?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

'Um ... at first. It was my own fault tho' when She didn't. Turned over on my back, I proffered the candid belly, the terrified and forgiving eyes of a lamb about to be sacrificed. I felt a slight coolness, nothing more. A fear that my sensibilities might be destroyed, took possession of me. My rhythmical wailings increased, then subsided, then went up again like the noise of the sea (you know the strength of my voice). I imitated the calf, the whipped child, the cat in the night, the wind under the door. Little by little I grew enraptured with my own song, so that long after She had finished soiling me with cold water I continued wailing, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then She laughed tactlessly and cried out, "You're as untruthful as a woman!"

TOBY-DOG (with conviction)

That was annoying.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I was angry with her the entire afternoon.

TOBY-DOG

Oh, as to sulking, you do your share! I never can. I forget injuries.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (dryly)

You lick the hand that chastens you. Oh it's well known!

TOBY-DOG (gullible)

I lick the hand that—yes, that's it exactly.—An awfully pretty expression.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Not mine.... Dignity doesn't trouble you any! My word! I'm often ashamed for you. You love everybody. You take all sorts of rebuffs without even raising your back. You're as pleasant and as banal as a public garden.

TOBY-DOG

Don't you believe it, you ill-bred cat! You think you know everything and you don't understand simple politeness. Frankly now, would you have me snarl at His or Her friends' heels,—well-dressed people who know my name (lots of people I don't know know my name) and good-naturedly pull my ears?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I hate new faces.

TOBY-DOG

I don't love them either—whatever you say. I love—Her and Him.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

And I, Him—and Her.

TOBY-DOG

Oh, I guessed your preference long ago. There's a sort of secret understanding between you two—

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (smiling mysteriously and abandoning himself to his reverie)

An understanding, yes—secret and profound. He rarely speaks but makes a noise like a mouse, scratching his paper. It's for Him I've treasured up my little heart, my precious cat's heart, and He, without words, has given me his. This exchange makes me happy and reserved. Now and then with that pretty, wayward, ruling instinct which makes us cats rivals of women, I try my power over him. When we are alone, I point my ears forward devilishly as a sign that I'm about to spring upon his scratching paper. The tap, tap, tap of my paws straight through pens and letters and everything scattered about, is addressed to him as well as the insistent miauling when I beg for liberty. "Hymn to the Door-Knob," He laughingly calls it, or "The Plaint of the Sequestered Cat." The tender contemplation of my inspiring eyes is for him alone; they weigh on his bent head, until the look I'm calling searches and meets mine in a shock of souls, so foreseen and so sweet, that I must needs close my lids to hide the exquisite shyness I feel.

As for Her, she flutters about too much, often jostles me, holds my paws together and rocks me in the air, pets me in excited fashion, laughs aloud at me, imitates my voice too well—

TOBY-DOG (moved with indignation)

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 reassure 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 pass 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 passing, 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 Japanesy mask, with its narrow eyes.... Isn't it so?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (resolved not to hear)

The hour of the siesta is passing. 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 cocoon 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 god I was in the old, old days.