"Thanks, Monsieur Lustucru! I shall inform Madame, the Countess, of your care for her favorite. I have received a letter from her this very day; she sends me word that she shall return shortly; that she hopes to find Moumouth in good condition, and that she has in reserve for me a very handsome reward. You comprehend my joy, Monsieur Lustucru! My sister is left a widow with four children, to whom I hand over my little savings each year. Until now this assistance has not been much; but, thanks to the gifts of Madame, the Countess, the poor children will be able to go to school and learn a trade." In pronouncing these words the eyes of Mother Michel were moist and bright with the most sweet joy,--that which one experiences in performing or meditating good actions. The steward, however, was not affected. He had so given himself up to his evil passions that they completely mastered him, and had by degrees stifled all generous sentiments in his soul, as the tares which one lets grow choke the good grain. [Illustration: "Come, let us go!"] One would have said that Moumouth understood this man. The cat approached Mother Michel, who had seated herself to chat awhile, and looking at her with supplicating eyes, pulled at the skirt of her robe, as if to say to her:-- "Come, let us go!" "Take care!" said the good creature, "you will tear my dress." Moumouth began again. "What is it? Do you want to get out of here?" asked Mother Michel. Moumouth made several affirmative capers in the air. "Decidedly," she added, "this cat is not contented anywhere but in the parlor." She rose and withdrew, preceded by Moumouth, who bounded with joy. A quarter of an hour afterward the steward had prepared a most appetizing hash composed of the breast of chicken, the best quality of bread, and other ingredients justly esteemed by dainty eaters. After adding a large dose of the "Death to Rats," he set the hash down in an adjoining room, and, opening the parlor door, cried: "Monsieur is served!!" [Illustration: Moumouth is pleased to see the Hash.] On beholding this delicate dish, Moumouth thrilled with pleasure, for, to tell the truth, he was rather greedy. He stretched his nose over the plate, and then suddenly retreated, arching his back. A sickening and infectious odor had mounted to his nostrils. He made a tour round the plate, took another sniff, and again retreated. This animal, full of sagacity, had scented the poison. "Well, that is very extraordinary," said Mother Michel; and, having vainly offered the food to her cat, she went to find Lustucru, to inform him what had occurred. [Illustration: He sniffs with Disgust.] The traitor listened with inward rage. "What!" said he, "he has refused to eat it? It is probably because he is not hungry."