Fantasy fiction, English; Foxes -- Fiction; Metamorphosis -- Fiction
There came to him then a thought that was very disagreeable to him,
namely, that he dare not trust his wife alone with any bird or she would
kill it. And this was the more shocking to him to think of since it
meant that he durst not trust her as much as a dog even. For we may
trust dogs who are familiars, with all the household pets; nay more, we
can put them upon trust with anything and know they will not touch it,
not even if they be starving. But things were come to such a pass with
his vixen that he dared not in his heart trust her at all. Yet she was
still in many ways so much more woman than fox that he could talk to her
on any subject and she would understand him, better far than the
oriental women who are kept in subjection can ever understand their
masters unless they converse on the most trifling household topics.
Thus she understood excellently well the importance and duties of
religion. She would listen with approval in the evening when he said the
Lord's Prayer, and was rigid in her observance of the Sabbath. Indeed,
the next day being Sunday he, thinking no harm, proposed their usual
game of piquet, but no, she would not play. Mr. Tebrick, not
understanding at first what she meant, though he was usually very quick
with her, he proposed it to her again, which she again refused, and
this time, to show her meaning, made the sign of the cross with her paw.
This exceedingly rejoiced and comforted him in his distress. He begged
her pardon, and fervently thanked God for having so good a wife, who, in
spite of all, knew more of her duty to God than he did. But here I must
warn the reader from inferring that she was a papist because she then
made the sign of the cross. She made that sign to my thinking only on
compulsion because she could not express herself except in that way. For
she had been brought up as a true Protestant, and that she still was one
is confirmed by her objection to cards, which would have been less than
nothing to her had she been a papist. Yet that evening, taking her into
the drawing room so that he might play her some sacred music, he found
her after some time cowering away from him in the farthest corner of the
room, her ears flattened back and an expression of the greatest anguish
in her eyes. When he spoke to her she licked his hand, but remained
shivering for a long time at his feet and showed the clearest symptoms
of terror if he so much as moved towards the piano. On seeing this and
recollecting how ill the ears of a dog can bear with our music, and how
this dislike might be expected to be even greater in a fox, all of whose
senses are more acute from being a wild creature, recollecting this he
closed the piano and taking her in his arms, locked up the room and
never went into it again. He could not help marvelling though, since it
was but two days after she had herself led him there, and even picked
out for him to play and sing those pieces which were her favourites.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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