24 lines
1.5 KiB
Text
24 lines
1.5 KiB
Text
The Fox and the Cat
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It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to
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herself, "He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in the
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world," she spoke to him in a friendly way. "Good-day, dear Mr. Fox,
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how are you? How is all with you? How are you getting through this dear
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season?" The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat
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from head to foot, and for a long time did not know whether he would
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give any answer or not. At last he said, "Oh, thou wretched
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beard-cleaner, thou piebald fool, thou hungry mouse-hunter, what canst
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thou be thinking of? Dost thou venture to ask how I am getting on? What
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hast thou learnt? How many arts dost thou understand?" "I understand
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but one," replied the cat, modestly. "What art is that?" asked the fox.
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"When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and save
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myself." "Is that all?" said the fox. "I am master of a hundred arts,
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and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. Thou makest me sorry
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for thee; come with me, I will teach thee how people get away from the
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hounds." Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly
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up a tree, and sat down on top of it, where the branches and foliage
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quite concealed her. "Open your sack, Mr. Fox, open your sack," cried
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the cat to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were holding
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him fast. "Ah, Mr. Fox," cried the cat. "You with your hundred arts are
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left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me, you would not
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have lost your life."
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