‘But surely a person of your talents must perceive that you might eat
me to the very last morsel and never know that you had swallowed
anything at all!’
‘In this world the cleverest people are always the hungriest,’ replied
the wolf.
‘Ah! how true that is; but--’
‘I can’t stop to listen to your “buts” and “yets,”’ broke in the wolf
rudely; ‘let us get to the point, and the point is that I want to eat
you and not talk to you.’
‘Have you no pity for a poor mother?’ asked the fox, putting her tail
to her eyes, but peeping slily out of them all the same.
‘I am dying of hunger,’ answered the wolf, doggedly; ‘and you know,’ he
added with a grin, ‘that charity begins at home.’
‘Quite so,’ replied the fox; ‘it would be unreasonable of me to object
to your satisfying your appetite at my expense. But if the fox resigns
herself to the sacrifice, the mother offers you one last request.’
‘Then be quick and don’t waste my time, for I can’t wait much longer.
What is it you want?’
‘You must know,’ said the fox, ‘that in this village there is a rich
man who makes in the summer enough cheeses to last him for the whole
year, and keeps them in an old well, now dry, in his courtyard. By the
well hang two buckets on a pole that were used, in former days, to draw
up water. For many nights I have crept down to the palace, and have
lowered myself in the bucket, bringing home with me enough cheese to
feed the children. All I beg of you is to come with me, and, instead
of hunting chickens and such things, I will make a good meal off cheese
before I die.’
‘But the cheeses may be all finished by now?’
‘If you were only to see the quantities of them!’ laughed the fox.
‘And even if they were finished, there would always be ME to eat.’
‘Well, I will come. Lead the way, but I warn you that if you try to
escape or play any tricks you are reckoning without your host-- that is
to say, without my legs, which are as long as yours!’
All was silent in the village, and not a light was to be seen but that
of the moon, which shone bright and clear in the sky. The wolf and the
fox crept softly along, when suddenly they stopped and looked at each
other; a savoury smell of frying bacon reached their noses, and reached
the noses of the sleeping dogs, who began to bark greedily.
‘Is it safe to go on, think you?’ asked the wolf in a whisper. And the
fox shook her head.
‘Not while the dogs are barking,’ said she; ‘someone might come out to
see if anything was the matter.’ And she signed to the wolf to curl
himself up in the shadow beside her.
In about half an hour the dogs grew tired of barking, or perhaps the
bacon was eaten up and there was no smell to excite them. Then the
wolf and the fox jumped up, and hastened to the foot of the wall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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