Screaming again! Another accident?!—Let’s run!...
Heavens, what a tiresome dog! What does it matter to him, if there is an accident?
I don’t believe in it moreover. It’s the cry of a man, and men cry out for the pleasure of hearing their own voices.
TOBY-DOG, (calm again)
I’m hungry. Can’t we hope to eat soon, my mistress? I don’t know what time it is in this strange country, but it seems to me....
Come now, we’ll all have our luncheon.
(She takes the things out of the basket, crumples up some tissue paper and breaks a crisp brown roll.)
What She gave me then must have been very good indeed to seem such a tiny bit. It melted in my mouth, there’s not even the memory of it left....
Breast of chicken! Purr-rr ... Goodness me! I was purring without knowing it! That won’t do. They’ll think me resigned to this journey. I must eat slowly, grim, and undeceived, eat for the sole purpose of keeping myself alive ...
SHE, (to the dog and cat)
Allow me to have my luncheon now, if you please. I too, like cold chicken and the hearts of lettuce, dipped in salt....
What shall we do to make this cat go into his basket again?
I don’t know. We’ll see presently ...
Finished already? I could swallow three times that much. I say Cat, you’re eating rather well for a martyr.
Trouble digs a hole in one’s interior. Move away please, I want to sleep now ... if I can. Perhaps a merciful dream will take me back to the house I’ve left, to the flowered cushion He gave me.... Home! sweet home! Rugs of bright colors for the delight of my eyes, a palm with nice shoots for me to eat, deep arm-chairs, under which I hide my woolen ball as a future surprise for myself—ah, and the cork hanging by a string to the door-latch! the tables covered with bibelots! I thread my way in and out among them and occasionally it amuses me to break some brittle thing. The dining-room is a temple! The vestibule, full of mystery; there unseen, I can watch those who come and go ... Oh narrow back-stairway, where the step of the milkman rings out for me like a morning angelus—farewell! farewell! my destiny carries me on, and who knows if ever ... But this is too sad! All the pretty things I’ve been saying have really begun to make me feel badly!!
(He begins a minute and mournful toilet. The train stops. A conductor on the platform cries, “Aw-ll-a-borr-a-borr!!")