pointed her out to me, and said: "That shall be your mousmé," there
cannot be a doubt I should have been charmed. In reality, however, no,
I am not charmed; it is only Chrysanthème, always Chrysanthème,
nothing but Chrysanthème: a mere plaything to laugh at, a little
creature of finical forms and thoughts, that the agency of M.
Kangourou has supplied me with.




XLIII.


In our house, the water used for drinking, making tea, and lesser
washing purposes, is kept in large white china tubs, decorated with
paintings representing blue fish borne along by a swift current
through distorted rushes. In order to keep them cool, the tubs are
placed out of doors on Madame Prune's roof, at a place where we can,
from the top of our projecting balcony, easily reach them by
stretching out the arm. A real godsend for all the thirsty cats in
the neighborhood on the fine summer nights is this corner of the roof
with our bedaubed tubs, and it proves a delightful trysting-place for
them, after all their caterwauling and long solitary rambles on the
top of the walls.

I had thought it my duty to warn Yves the first time he wished to
drink this water.

"Oh!" he replied, rather surprised, "cats do you say? they are not
dirty!"