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, shining
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 grass, 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
booby! 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....

Ah, but what delirious joy when the capricious wooden shoes turn again
toward the house, hurrying to rejoin Him whom we've left scratching
paper! They don't go half fast enough for me then! I jump 'round her,
barking with delight to see the hill diminishing, our climb at an end,
to smell the good stable smell and that of burning wood as we near the
house. At last you shine forth, O Fire, O Sun, through the misty window
pane!... I shall hardly have crossed the threshold when an overpowering
sleepiness will dash me to the floor in front of you--you, who will
reduce the mud on my belly to fine powder and change the water of the
roads to smoky vapor.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE A delightful glow penetrates my coat to the silky
down, the impalpable colorless threads which protect my delicate skin. I
feel myself swelling like a cloud. I must quite fill the room. My
whiskers seem charged with electricity--a sign that I will sleep--but
for the time being, the contemplation of your splendor and thoughts of
the coming season keep me awake. It's raining. I shall not go out. I'll