Certainly I can. My nose is highly educated. It's small, regular, wide between my eyes, delicate at the chamois-skin end of my nostrils; the lightest touch of a blade of grass, the shadow of smoke tickles and makes it sneeze. It doesn't bother about distinguishing the scent of moles from that of--hares, did you say? But it delights in the trace left by a cat in a hedge ... I've a charming nose. She calls it, "his pretty little nose of cotton velvet." Since my eyes opened on this world I've not known the day that someone has not uttered a truthful flattery on the subject of my nose. Now yours--is a rough-grained truffle. What makes you move it so ridiculously? At this very moment. TOBY-DOG I'm hungry and I don't hear the plates. KIKI-THE-DEMURE ... your truffle of a nose works up and down and makes another wrinkle in your irregular mug. TOBY-DOG She always says, "his square muzzle, his wrinkled truffle," so tenderly and so lovingly! KIKI-THE-DEMURE ... And you think of nothing but eating. TOBY-DOG It's _your_ empty stomach that scolds and complains and wants to quarrel with me. KIKI-THE-DEMURE I've a charming stomach. TOBY-DOG But no, it's your nose that's charming. You just said so. KIKI-THE-DEMURE My stomach too. There's none more fastidious, more whimsical, stronger and at the same time more delicate. It digests the bones of sole, but meat that's the least bit tainted literally turns it. TOBY-DOG Literally's the word. You have _active_ indigestion. KIKI-THE-DEMURE Yes, the whole house is affected by it. From the very first qualms I'm in terrible distress; the earth gives way under me, my eyes dilate, I hurriedly swallow quantities of salty saliva; involuntary, ventriloquial cries escape me, my sides bulge out-- TOBY-DOG, (_disgusted_) I say, if it's all the same to you, tell me the rest after dinner. KIKI-THE-DEMURE I'm hungry. Where can He be? TOBY-DOG He's there, in his study, scratching paper. KIKI-THE-DEMURE He's always doing that. It's a game. Two-Paws play at the same thing for hours and hours. I've often tried to scratch paper gently, as He does, but the pleasure doesn't last long. I prefer newspapers torn into shreds that rustle and fly ... There is a little pot of dark-violet, muddy water on his table. I never sniff it without horror, since the day a rather foolish curiosity made me dip my paw into it. This very paw, so strong and aristocratic, (the tufts of useless hair you see between my toes proclaim the purity of my race) this very paw bore a bluish stain for eight days and the degrading odor of rusty steel clung to it a long time after ... TOBY-DOG What's the little pot for? KIKI-THE-DEMURE He drinks from it doubtless. (_Silence_.) TOBY-DOG She's not back yet! Heaven grant She isn't lost, as I was one day in the streets of Paris! KIKI-THE-DEMURE I'm hungry! TOBY-DOG I'm hungry! What are we going to eat this evening? KIKI-THE-DEMURE