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Updated: June 27, 2025
Reassured by this reflection, Lustucru continued on his way home, re-entered by the door of the garden, climbed cautiously up to his room, and held himself in readiness to enjoy the lamentations of Mother Michel. Mother Michel was detained some time by the porter; finally, she left him, to give her cat the cup of milk and sugar with which she regaled him every night.
Lustucru had fixed the following day for the cruel execution of Moumouth, for he knew that Mother Michel on that day was to carry to the express office a package destined for her sister. All the forenoon and afternoon Faribole was plunged in the darkest despondency, and when the fatal hour sounded, he was assailed by the irresolutions of the previous day.
The steward, confounded, did not wait to be discharged; he fled, and, to escape the vengeance of Madame de la Grenouillère, embarked as cook on board of a merchant vessel bound for Oceanica. It was afterward learned that this ship had been wrecked upon the Sandwich Islands, and that the savages had eaten Lustucru.
At the moment she knocked at the door, Father Lustucru was taking from the shelf a green package which bore this label: Death to Rats. "This is the thing," he said to himself, thrusting the paper into his vest. "Death to Rats should also be Death to Cats. Our dear Moumouth shall make the trial.... What can one do to serve you, my good Mother Michel?"
Lustucru appeared last, with a cotton night-cap on his head, and, for the rest, very simply clad. "What has happened?" he demanded. "I see now," answered Mother Michel; "it is the bust of Louis XIV. that has fallen down." "Bah!" said Father Lustucru, playing astonishment. "But, in that case, your cat must have received it on his head."
It was difficult to get possession of Moumouth, of whom Mother Michel rarely lost sight; and Moumouth, too, not having the slightest confidence in the steward, was always on the defensive. Lustucru watched during several days for a favorable occasion.
"That is true," said Father Lustucru, with contrition; "but the cat is unjust, for I love him and he doesn't love me." "My sister is also unjust. Cats, perhaps, love her, and she does not love them. I respect her opinion. Respect that of Moumouth." Having pronounced these words in a firm tone, Madame de la Grenouillère addressed herself to Mother Michel.
Take off your clothes, and put on your rags, and disappear!" Having pronounced these words, Lustucru took from a closet the miserable vestments which Faribole had worn the day of his installation. The steward seized them disdainfully between his thumb and forefinger, and threw them upon the floor.
Mother Michel will get her pension of fifteen hundred livres, and I shall remain a nobody, the same as before. That rascally cat distrusts me; everything I undertake alone against him fails.... Decidedly, I must get somebody to help me!" Father Lustucru searched for an accomplice.
After ineffectual searches, Mother Michel, exhausted by emotion and fatigue, threw herself helplessly into an arm-chair. "Alas!" said she, "I left him only an instant, and it was to do a good action." "I begin to believe that your cat is really lost," replied Lustucru, in a severe tone. "It is a great misfortune for you! What will Madame de la Grenouillère say when she comes back?
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