Much flattered, she stood up and marched
around and around his legs, pushing her head between them and making
pleased remarks, to which he responded with grave politeness. "Now, what sent you here," he said--"here into the Street of the Four
Winds, and up five flights to the very door where you would be welcome? What was it that prevented your meditated flight when I turned from my
canvas to encounter your yellow eyes? Are you a Latin Quarter cat as I am
a Latin Quarter man? And why do you wear a rose-coloured flowered garter
buckled about your neck?" The cat had climbed into his lap, and now sat
purring as he passed his hand over her thin coat. "Excuse me," he continued in lazy soothing tones, harmonizing with her
purring, "if I seem indelicate, but I cannot help musing on this
rose-coloured garter, flowered so quaintly and fastened with a silver
clasp. For the clasp is silver; I can see the mint mark on the edge, as is
prescribed by the law of the French Republic. Now, why is this garter
woven of rose silk and delicately embroidered,--why is this silken garter
with its silver clasp about your famished throat? Am I indiscreet when I
inquire if its owner is your owner? Is she some aged dame living in memory
of youthful vanities, fond, doting on you, decorating you with her
intimate personal attire? The circumference of the garter would suggest
this, for your neck is thin, and the garter fits you. But then again I
notice--I notice most things--that the garter is capable of being much
enlarged. These small silver-rimmed eyelets, of which I count five, are
proof of that. And now I observe that the fifth eyelet is worn out, as
though the tongue of the clasp were accustomed to lie there. That seems to
argue a well-rounded form." The cat curled her toes in contentment. The street was very still outside. He murmured on: "Why should your mistress decorate you with an article
most necessary to her at all times? Anyway, at most times. How did she
come to slip this bit of silk and silver about your neck? Was it the
caprice of a moment,--when you, before you had lost your pristine
plumpness, marched singing into her bedroom to bid her good-morning? Of
course, and she sat up among the pillows, her coiled hair tumbling to her
shoulders, as you sprang upon the bed purring: 'Good-day, my lady.' Oh, it
is very easy to understand," he yawned, resting his head on the back of
the chair. The cat still purred, tightening and relaxing her padded claws
over his knee. "Shall I tell you all about her, cat? She is very beautiful--your
mistress," he murmured drowsily, "and her hair is heavy as burnished
gold. I could paint her,--not on canvas--for I should need shades and
tones and hues and dyes more splendid than the iris of a splendid rainbow. I could only paint her with closed eyes, for in dreams alone can such
colours as I need be found. For her eyes, I must have azure from skies
untroubled by a cloud--the skies of dreamland. For her lips, roses from
the palaces of slumberland, and for her brow, snow-drifts from mountains
which tower in fantastic pinnacles to the moons;--oh, much higher than our
moon here,--the crystal moons of dreamland. She is--very--beautiful, your
mistress." The words died on his lips and his eyelids drooped. The cat, too, was asleep, her cheek turned up upon her wasted flank, her
paws relaxed and limp. II

"It is fortunate," said Severn, sitting up and stretching, "that we have
tided over the dinner hour, for I have nothing to offer you for supper but
what may be purchased with one silver franc." The cat on his knee rose, arched her back, yawned, and looked up at him. "What shall it be? A roast chicken with salad? No? Possibly you prefer
beef? Of course,--and I shall try an egg and some white bread. Now for the
wines. Milk for you? Good. I shall take a little water, fresh from the
wood," with a motion toward the bucket in the sink. He put on his hat and left the room. The cat followed to the door, and
after he had closed it behind him, she settled down, smelling at the
cracks, and cocking one ear at every creak from the crazy old building. The door below opened and shut. The cat looked serious, for a moment
doubtful, and her ears flattened in nervous expectation. Presently she
rose with a jerk of her tail and started on a noiseless tour of the
studio. She sneezed at a pot of turpentine, hastily retreating to the
table, which she presently mounted, and having satisfied her curiosity
concerning a roll of red modelling wax, returned to the door and sat down
with her eyes on the crack over the threshold Then she lifted her voice in
a thin plaint. When Severn returned he looked grave, but the cat, joyous and
demonstrative, marched around him, rubbing her gaunt body against his
legs, driving her head enthusiastically into his hand, and purring until
her voice mounted to a squeal. He placed a bit of meat, wrapped in brown paper, upon the table, and with
a penknife cut it into shreds. The milk he took from a bottle which had
served for medicine, and poured it into the saucer on the hearth. The cat crouched before it, purring and lapping at the same time. He cooked his egg and ate it with a slice of bread, watching her busy with
the shredded meat, and when he had finished, and had filled and emptied a
cup of water from the bucket in the sink, he sat down, taking her into his
lap, where she at once curled up and began her toilet. He began to speak
again, touching her caressingly at times by way of emphasis. "Cat, I have found out where your mistress lives. It is not very far
away;--it is here, under this same leaky roof, but in the north wing which
I had supposed was uninhabited. My janitor tells me this. By chance, he is
almost sober this evening. The butcher on the rue de Seine, where I bought
your meat, knows you, and old Cabane the baker identified you with
needless sarcasm. They tell me hard tales of your mistress which I shall
not believe. They say she is idle and vain and pleasure-loving; they say
she is hare-brained and reckless. The little sculptor on the ground floor,
who was buying rolls from old Cabane, spoke to me to-night for the first
time, although we have always bowed to each other. He said she was very
good and very beautiful. He has only seen her once, and does not know her
name. I thanked him;--I don't know why I thanked him so warmly. Cabane
said, 'Into this cursed Street of the Four Winds, the four winds blow all
things evil.' The sculptor looked confused, but when he went out with his
rolls, he said to me, 'I am sure, Monsieur, that she is as good as she is
beautiful.'" The cat had finished her toilet, and now, springing softly to the floor,
went to the door and sniffed. He knelt beside her, and unclasping the
garter held it for a moment in his hands. After a while he said: "There is
a name engraved upon the silver clasp beneath the buckle. It is a pretty
name, Sylvia Elven. Sylvia is a woman's name, Elven is the name of a town.