[Illustration: The Countess embraces Mother Michel.] "Your protege is wonderfully well," said Mother Michel, "he grows fatter and handsomer under our very eyes; but it may be said, without injury to the truth, that his moral qualities are even beyond his physical charms." "Poor friend, if he does not love me he will be a monster of ingratitude, for since our separation I have thought of him constantly; Heaven has taken away many beings that were dear to me, but Moumouth will be the consolation of my old age!" As soon as the Countess had given the orders which her arrival made necessary, she prayed Mother Michel to fetch Moumouth. "He will be charmed to see you again, madame," Mother Michel answered; "he is in the garden in the care of Faribole, a little young man whom your steward judged proper to admit to the house; the young rogue and the cat have become a pair of intimate friends." [Illustration: Faribole seated in the Garden.] Mother Michel went down to the garden and there found Faribole alone, seated upon a bench, and with a preoccupied air stripping the leaves from a branch of boxwood which he held in his hand. "My friend," said the good woman, "Madame, the Countess, desires you to bring Moumouth to her." "Moumouth!" stammered Faribole, starting at the name as if he had been stung by a wasp. "Yes, Moumouth; I thought he was with you." "He just quitted me; some persons passing in the street made a noise that frightened him, and he leaped into the hedge." Mother Michel, after having spent more than half an hour in scouring the garden, returned to Madame de la Grenouillere and said: "Moumouth is absent, madame; but do not be anxious; he disappeared once before, and we found him in the garret." "Let him be searched for! I do not wish to wait. I desire to see him this instant!" Alas! this desire was not likely to be gratified, if any reliance could be placed upon the words exchanged in the dark between Lustucru and his accomplice. "Well, did you do it?" "Yes, Monsieur Lustucru, I pounded until the cat ceased to move." "What have you done with the body?" "I have thrown it into the Seine." "Was he quite dead?" "He didn't stir." "Anyway, the sack was securely fastened. Justice is done!" CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH MOTHER MICHEL SEARCHES FOR HER CAT. Several days passed in painful expectation; but the cat, like General Marlborough, did not come back. The despair of Madame de la Grenouillere was sincere, profound, and silent,--all the more intense because it was suppressed. She continually pictured to herself the charming ways of Moumouth, his natural goodness, his superior intelligence. No animal had ever displayed to her so many brilliant qualities; not one of her previous favorites had ever caused her such bitter regrets.