Catmalion, Or A Cat as Inheritance

“We need boots,” a Cat said, his eyes closed.

“Eh?” Jean asked in surprise. “What d’ye need boots for?”

“Me?” the Cat opened one eye. “I have no need for boots. But YOU do. And you also need a hat and a decent coat.”

“Eh?” Jean repeated, looking down at his bare and dirty feet. He thought a bit, put his hand under his shirt, scratched his belly and added, “But I ain’t got no money.”

“Exactly!” the Cat stretched out his forepaws. “Now we come to the heart of the problem: you need means of subsistence.”

“What?” Jean asked.

The Cat sniffed, opened both eyes, sat up and began to lick his paw nervously.

“All right,” he grumbled, as he started washing his other paw. “I’ll put it in a simple language for some… ehm. You need money.”

“Yeah!” Jean willingly agreed. “But first we need money, and then buyin’ boots and stuff, and ye say…”

“I have not finished speaking,” the Cat said and lay down again. “So: Guillaume gets his income from the mill. Andre has his donkey…”

“At least his donkey doesn’t give no advices,” Jean muttered under his breath.

“Donkey’s advices are just what we need,” the Cat snapped. “Well; and what source of income can you find?”

Jean scratched his head. Then he scratched his nose. Then he examined his own toes very closely, as if searching for an answer there. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.

“You don’t know,” the Cat pointed out. “I’ll tell you: your capital is your cute physiognomy. I guess girls are chasing you in droves, don’t they?”

“What d’ye think!” Jean straightened up proudly.

The Cat sat up again and wrapped his tail around his legs. “Still,” he said, “peasant wenches are not what we need. How can you use your attractive face for profit? Think a little.”

Jean wrinkled his forehead – and suddenly his face lit with understanding: “I can marry into money!”

“Bravo!” meowed the Cat. “You are not hopeless. Exactly – marry into money. Nevertheless, to attract the attention of a rich bride, you must be well dressed. You won’t get anywhere if you are barefoot and dirty.”

Jean became somber again. “Hey, but where I gonna get clothes?”

“I’m working on it,” the Cat replied briefly. “And one more thing: you have to learn how to behave in a decent society.”

“Eh?”

“Not ‘eh’ but ‘what did you say’ or ‘what do you mean’ – that’s for the beginning. You should not pick your nose. You should not scratch your belly, nor your buttocks.”

“And if …”

“And if it itches you should bear it. You should not wipe your nose with your sleeve. You should not … all right, not all at once. But the main thing is to learn to speak like a gentleman. Say, for instance, ‘Mademoiselle, you are as beautiful as a rose in June’.”

“Madem… Mamoi… You’re mocking at me, ye scabby tail!”

The Cat hissed and flew up the fence.

***

“We’re gonna get in trouble for these partridges,” Jean sighed while licking his fingers. “As clear as day we will.”

“No, we will not,” the Cat licked his whiskers indifferently. “Hunting is forbidden to humans. Hu-mans! But who hunts partridges and rabbits? I do. Don’t you see the difference? No one has ever forbidden a cat to catch a bird in any place wherever it suits his fancy.”

“Suits what?”

“Oh my Lord … wherever he pleases. Finish eating and get to work.”

“Again?” Jean groaned; but the Cat was adamant: “Who feeds you? I do. That means you should obey me. Come on, I know what I am doing. Who sold the rabbit skins? With what money did we buy you new pants?”

“Yeah, and now ye’re sitting on ‘em.”

“Really?” The Cat stood up and looked critically at the pants lying on the bed. “But you must not leave them in inappropriate places. You had to put them back in the chest after visiting the church in the morning. Besides, I don’t shed hair, so nothing will happen to your pants. Don’t try to avoid your work.”

“What d’ye want me to do?”

“Do you remember how two gentlemen were talking in the square next to the church? I stopped you then and told you to listen to them. Recall it!”

“Eh…”

“Don’t ‘eh’ me – try to repeat at least one sentence.”

Jean groaned again and made a grimace of pain.

“Well … how is it going? … Monsieur, I … me … ah, I get it! It is a great honor for me to make the acqua … er … acquaintance of ye!”

“Not bad, not bad,” the Cat said approvingly. “Just don’t forget to say ‘you’, not ‘ye’. Anything else?”

Jean scratched his head, put his hand under his shirt, then glanced at the Cat, took his hand out and frowned.

“No, I don’t remember. But I remember how they bowed!” and Jean bowed rather awkwardly, waving a non-existent hat in front of him.

“All right, you are making progress. Now do it all together: bow and say, ‘Monsieur, it is a great honor for me …’ without any ‘er’. Come on.”

“Monsieur, it is a great honor for me …” Jean repeated obediently and bowed again.

The Cat curled up and covered his nose with his tail.

***

The Cat walked along the huge hall of the old temple, examining it with curiosity.

“Rats, Your Lordship?”

“Damn them,” Baron de Rais sighed as he took a seat in an armchair by the fireplace. “These creatures will soon bring me to my grave.”

“That sounds odd. You are a man whose name makes the whole neighborhood tremble! I beg your pardon, Your Lordship, of course I don’t believe these gossips.”

“Indeed, you must not believe them!” exclaimed the baron. “By God, you are the first reasonable man – er, reasonable person – I have met in many years! Katherine died in childbed! In childbed, I say! And Juliette died of consumption! Although I must admit that Blanche …” the baron hesitated. “Well … But I would like to see someone who could tolerate her temper! As for the accusations of sorcery, killing innocent children and even cannibalism – it is so ridiculous, so odious …”

“Let us leave this unpleasant subject, Your Lordship,” the Cat meowed. He jumped into an armchair next to the baron’s and sat there in his favorite sphinx posture. “You have mentioned the rats that bother you.”

“Rats, indeed,” the baron sighed very sadly. “I am ashamed to confess that I cannot bear these creatures since childhood. I shudder to think of them. I am a warrior, I have spent half my life on horseback, I have never turned my back on my enemies – but this is more than I can bear. Where might these vermin come from? God forbid, they may bring the plague! Upon my word, I would spare nothing for the one who would save me from these vile pests. Besides, didn’t I mention it? – His Majesty and Her Highness will be visiting my castle soon! How can I receive them properly if my castle is infested with rats?”

The Cat raised his hind paw to scratch behind his ear – and froze halfway. The king and the princess? Suddenly an idea came to him – as crazy and dangerous as it was alluring. Oh, how incredibly alluring it was!

“I can save you from the rats, Your Lordship,” he said as indifferently as he could.

“Alone?” Baron de Rais looked at the Cat incredulously. “I am afraid you don’t understand.”

The Cat looked at the baron with his special, thoroughly trained True Feline Gaze. The baron said, “Hm,” but did not avert his eyes. The Cat moved his whiskers, sat up and started washing. The baron raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his armchair. The Cat licked his paw once again, examined it critically, and lay down again.

“They are rats, Your Lordship. They are rats, while I am a Cat. And they know it. Do you understand what I mean?”

The baron said, “Hm,” again, this time with approval.

“But you won’t do it for free, will you?” he asked. “What do you want for this service?”

“Your Lordship,” the Cat tensed, ready to burst out of the hall at any moment. “Your Lordship, when you said you would spare NOTHING to save you from the rats, did you really mean it?”

The baron frowned.

“But WHAT exactly do you need?”

“A castle.” The Cat tensed even more. “A castle, a title … and your word to the king. And I swear by all that you wish that for the rest of your life you won’t see a single tiny mouse here.”

***

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, I am delighted to see you in my humble abode.”

The king nodded benevolently. Of course, Baron de Rais had a rather shady reputation. But he was extremely rich, which was the reason why His Majesty preferred to have the baron as an ally and turned a deaf ear to the most horrible rumors. Were it not for these rumors the king would have been glad even to be related to the baron, since the latter was a widower and the princess was of the marriageable age; but, alas!

“Your Majesty,” the baron continued, “allow me to introduce my distant relative, Marquis de Carabas.” He lightly pushed Jean, who was completely stunned, onto his back. Jean, dressed in one of the baron’s suits, swallowed and bowed awkwardly. “And this is his friend, Chevalier de … de Purr.” The Cat bowed in turn, much more elegantly.

The king glanced at the odd pair. He seemed to be a bit perplexed. The princess deigned to chuckle.

The baron hid his smile. “I beg Your Majesty to forgive the marquis his clumsiness,” he said. “He was brought up in a … in the provinces. Meeting a monarch is such an incredible event for him that he is shocked beyond measure. Aren’t you, Jean?”

“Inc-credible …” Jean struggled to say as he stared at the king with his eyes wide open. The baron pushed him again and Jean bowed once more and added, “A great honor… to see Your …”

“Don’t be angry with the marquis, Your Majesty,” the Cat intervened. “He is honest and good-hearted, but extremely shy. Besides, he has not yet come to his senses after the news of his inheritance.”

“Inheritance?” the king asked absent-mindedly, giving Jean a cold nod.

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty,” Baron de Rais explained. “You see, not long ago, I started pondering: much to my regret, I have no children, so who will inherit my lands and title? I am not young anymore. And it turned out that Marquis de Carabas is my only relative and therefore my only heir.”

“Really?” the king glanced at Jean with much more interest. “This young man is your heir, you say? Well … Marquis, we are pleased to meet you. You should attend our balls and participate in our tournaments. I am sure it will cure your shyness. This is my daughter, Princess Antoinette.”

Jean bowed again, and as he straightened, he saw the princess’s dark, shining eyes.

“H-highness …” he muttered. “…like a rose in June…”

The princess looked at Jean closely and smiled.

“You see,” the king said to the baron, “as I told you, shyness is curable. By the way, what is the marquis’ coat of arms?”

“A cat,” de Rais replied without hesitation.

“Puss in boots,” the Cat specified.

“How interesting! Why in boots?”

“Oh, Your Majesty, it is a long story,” the Cat meowed, making a low bow of respect.

***

The Cat was lying in an armchair by the fireplace, on a velvet cushion, gazing at the fire and purring softly. He seemed absolutely calm, only the tip of his tail twitched nervously.

“Listen, Jean,” he said cautiously. “I really feel a little uncomfortable. I had no intention of cheating on you! It was totally unexpected for me as well. But how could I argue with the king?”

Jean raised his hand to scratch his head, then lowered it and sighed.

“I see,” he said. “What could you do if the princess chose you? ‘Tis odd, it is. But on the other hand – you’re so smooth-tongued, and ye’ve got all these manners … where did you pick them up, I wonder? And I’m just a boor, though I pass for a marquis and the baron’s nephew now, sort of.”

“So you’re not offended, are you?” the Cat asked as he made himself more comfortable on the cushion.

“Well …” Jean shrugged and grinned. “I was really surprised at first. Not so much offended, I’d say, but surprised. But then I thought: what did ye promise? You promised to marry me off to a rich woman. You didn’t promise me no princesses! So no deception. Maybe ‘twas even for the best. Her Highness – she’s … well, you know. On the other hand, Nicolle, the daughter of Count-What’s-His-Name – ye know, such a red-haired chick – she smiles so nicely, and she doesn’t put on airs. Do you think if I asked her to marry me, she’d say yes?”

The Cat licked his front paw and thought a bit.

“Very likely,” he said finally. “I’ll help you if you need it – after all, I am ‘a prince now, sort of’, as you put it. Actually, the count himself looks at you rather favorably. The inheritance of Baron de Rais is no trifle. To gain it, one would agree to put up with your manners, or rather, your lack of them.”

“I’m doing my best,” Jean muttered gloomily. “D’ye … do you know how hard it is?”

“I do,” the Cat replied seriously. “I am proud of you. Honestly, I am. I didn’t even think you’d make it.”

“Then why did ye start this in the first place?”

“Well …” The Cat rolled over on his back and stretched out his paws. “If you don’t take a risk, you don’t have a chance. As you can see, everything went well. Almost everything, to be exact, but it was still quite a success. And where would we be if I had not taken a risk? So keep watching and listening, and soon you will look pretty good among all these nobles.”

“When will it be?” Jean sighed again. “But as for the princess … what kind of a king could I be? Like a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

“To tell you the truth, I think, too: what kind of a king can I be?” the Cat confessed with an equally heavy sigh. “What will the people say?”

“Come on! You’ll do well, I can see it! The whole king’s court’s crazy about you!”

“Do you really think so?”

“By God! I just wonder how you do it!”

“Well, you see,” the Cat stretched with obvious pleasure, “we Cats are very ancient creatures… Ah, I have one thing to ask of you: sorry, but you have to call me ‘Your Highness’ in public. When we are alone you may say whatever you want, I don’t mind at all. But there are etiquettes, you know. We must not confuse people.”

“I see … Your Highness,” Jean smiled. “Listen, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Jean hesitated.

The Cat sat up and pressed his ears to his head.

“What is it?”

“Well, I’m … How shall I put it,” Jean blushed and finally scratched his head. “What about an heir? Because for all that, you’re a … No offence.”

“I’m working on it,” the Cat replied briefly, and began to wash himself thoroughly.