The Countess set out on her journey, and Mother Michel, worthy of the confidence that had been shown her, now took the greatest care of Moumouth. She petted him, she patted him, and fed him so well that he grew even handsomer. All this time Lustucru was looking on, waiting for a chance to kill Moumouth when his faithful guardian should not be on the watch. One evening, when the cat was asleep before the fire, Lustucru came to Mother Michel, and begged her to go down and see one of the servants who was very ill with rheumatism. As soon as she had left the room, he seized Moumouth, who had not even time to mew, and threw him head over heels into a large bag. Then the wicked man ran swiftly across the garden, and out into the street toward the Seine, and, the river once reached, he opened the bag and tossed Moumouth into the water. He was in such haste to get home that he did not wait to see the poor cat struggling for his life in the river; nor did he see, a moment later, Moumouth crawling to a little ledge just at the foot of one of the arches of the bridge. Instead, he ran home quickly, for fear Mother Michel would have finished her visit, and come to look for Moumouth. He slipped quietly into bed, and when, in a little while, she came and knocked at his door, he pretended to have just waked up from a sound sleep. [Illustration: HE OPENED THE BAG, AND TOSSED MOUMOUTH INTO THE WATER. _Page 149._] “Moumouth lost!” he cried, pretending to be very sorry indeed. “Oh, I’ll get up immediately and help you look for him. Such a fine fellow! It would be a thousand pities if anything happened to him.” And so, at the head of all the servants of the house, Lustucru helped Mother Michel search from garret to cellar.