TOBY-DOG

What? You're listening to some noise?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No! _Heavens_, no! Don't mention noise. The mere sound of your voice makes the skin on my back go in waves like the sea. TOBY-DOG, (_frightened_)

Are you going to die?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I hope not. I've a sick headache. Can't you see the arteries throbbing under the almost hairless skin of my temples--the transparent, bluish skin that denotes a thoroughbred? It's atrocious! The veins on my forehead are like writhing vipers, and I don't know _what_ gnome forges in my brain! Oh, be quiet! Or at least speak so low that the coursing of my agitated blood may drown the sound of your voice....

TOBY-DOG

But it's this very silence that oppresses me. I tremble and don't know why. I long for the familiar voice of the wind in the chimney, the slamming of doors, the whispering of the garden, the poplars' ceaseless rustle--it always sounds like a trickling spring--

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

The uproar will come, soon enough.

TOBY-DOG Do you think so? I wish He'd scratch paper. It's an idle habit but an honored one. And see how listless She is, there in her wicker chair. Their silence frightens me more than anything. She seems asleep, but I can see her eyelashes move and the tips of her fingers, too. She's forgetting to play with the little b.a.l.l.s of thread and doesn't sing, or whistle. She suffers just as we do.... Do you think this can be the end of the world, Cat?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

No. It's a storm. Heavens! how uncomfortable I am! If I could only get out of my skin, cast off this fleece which is smothering me, fling myself naked as a skinned mouse into a fresher atmosphere! Oh Dog, you cannot see the sparks that make every separate hair on my body crackle, but I feel them. Don't come near! A blue flame is going to shoot out of me....

TOBY-DOG, (_shuddering_)

Things are coming to an awful pa.s.s! (_He drags himself to the porch_.) _What_ have they done to the out-of-doors? Look! the trees are all blue and the gra.s.s glistens like a sheet of water. What mournful sunlight! It shines white on the slate roofs, and the little houses over there on the hill look like brand new tombstones. A heavy odor, like bitter almond, creeps from the white bell-shaped blossoms of the daturas, and makes me feel sick and faint. Far away, some smoke, heavy as the perfume of the daturas, goes slowly up in a straight line and falls again--like a broken aigrette.... But come and see for yourself!

(KIKI-THE-DEMURE _walks falteringly to the porch_.)

TOBY-DOG

My word, _you're_ changed too, Cat! You look as if you were starving, your face is so drawn. Your fur is plastered down in some places and sticking up in others; gives you the expression of a weasel that had tumbled into oil.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Don't let that worry you! I'll regain my dignity--if ever another day dawns for us. To-day, I drag myself around unwashed, uncombed, like a woman out of love with love, and life....

TOBY-DOG

You say such distressing things. I think I'll whine and call for help.

Perhaps I'd better go to Her, and look in her face for the comfort you refuse me. But She seems asleep now, in that wicker chair, and how can I read my fate in her eyes, when their lids are down. I'll lick her hand very respectfully and ever so lightly! That will wake her and oh, may her first caress drive away the evil charm!

(_He licks the hand hanging at the side of the chair_.)

SHE, (_with a scream_) Heavens! how you frightened me! Was there ever such a ninny as this Dog? There!...

(SHE _administers a smart rap on the nose_. TOBY'S _nerves give way and he howls loud and long_.)

SHE

Quiet! Not a word I say! Out of my sight! I don't know what's the matter, but I hate you! And that Cat sitting there, looking at me, like a b.u.mp on a log!...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_bristling_)

If She dares to touch me, I'll devour her!

(_Just at this dangerous crisis a low rumbling is heard, distant and then near. Impossible to tell whether it comes from the horizon, or arises in the house itself. All three lose interest in the quarrel_.

TOBY-DOG _and_ KIKI-THE-DEMURE _slink away, as if responding to a signal, and seek shelter, one under the bookcase and the other under an armchair_. SHE _turns anxiously to the leaden-hued garden, and the great violet bank of cloud, which of a sudden is riven by a blinding streak of blue fire_.)

SHE, TOBY-DOG, KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_all together_)

Oh!

(_A sudden crash shakes the windows, and instantly a great rush of wind envelopes the house, with a noise as of flapping canvas:--all the garden prostrates itself_.)

SHE, (_in anguish_)

Heavens! the apples!

TOBY-DOG, (_invisible_)

I'll let them cut my ears into strips rather than leave this hiding-place!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_invisible_)

I can't help hearing, and it's as if I saw everything that's going on.

She hastens to close the windows. Someone is running on the stairs. Ae!

Another awful flame--and everything is falling in! Silence now.... I wonder are they all dead? I'll look through the fringes of the chair, though it's risking my life to do so. Ah, hailstones making holes in the leaves! Here comes the rain, in silvery drops, wide apart, and so heavy that the gravel wrinkles up when they fall.

SHE, (_heart-broken_)

I can hear the peaches falling, and the green nuts too!

(_All three are silent. Rain; quivering streaks of lightning; hissing in the pine-trees. The wind howls. A lull_.)

TOBY-DOG

I'm not quite so afraid as I was. The sound of the rain relaxes my tired nerves. I seem to feel its streaming warmth on my ears and the back of my neck. Now the hubbub is further off! I can hear myself breathe. The light coming under this bookcase, is brighter than it was. What is She doing? I daren't go out yet. If only the Cat would move! (_He sticks out his head, like a wary turtle. A flash of lightning makes him draw it back again_.) Ha! It's beginning all over again. Rain by the bucketfuls against the window-panes. Something in the chimney is trying to imitate that far-away rumbling. Everything's falling to pieces ... and _She_ gave me a rap on the nose!

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Drop by drop, a little brownish river is filtering under the loose window-sash. It's stretching out and out on the floor, winding its way over to me. I'm so hot and thirsty, I'd like to lap up some of it. My joints ache and my ears are tired of standing up like weather-c.o.c.ks at every crash. My jaws are still clenched with nervous fear. The seat of this chair is too low; it annoys me, rubbing against the fur on my back.

However, it's some comfort to be able to _think_ of such things--thanks to the peace that's descended on the house. The rain is falling quietly and the wind has gone down, but the memory of the din still hums in my ears. What can He be doing? The storm distresses him too. Why didn't He come forward to calm the raging elements? There She is, opening the porch door. Isn't it too soon?... No, for the hens are cackling like old maids as they hop over the puddles. We're going to have fine weather.