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THE CAT-<br />
coat. There, warm, safe, and unseen, poor Moquo<br />
would take courage, and softly purr his gratitude.<br />
Sometimes, however, we caught a glimpse of him,<br />
and <strong>the</strong>n, in spite of my fa<strong>the</strong>r's reproaches, we<br />
laughed and jeered at his melancholy aspect. I<br />
can still recall <strong>the</strong> shadowy creature, shrinking<br />
away, and seeming to melt into <strong>the</strong> breast of his<br />
protector, closing his eyes as he crept backward,<br />
choosing to see and hear nothing.<br />
There came a day when my fa<strong>the</strong>r left us for a<br />
long journey, and all <strong>the</strong> animals shared our grief<br />
at his departure. Time after time his dogs trotted<br />
a little way along <strong>the</strong> road he had taken to Paris,<br />
howling piteously for <strong>the</strong>ir master. The most<br />
desolate creature in <strong>the</strong> house was Moquo. He<br />
trusted no one ; but, for a while, would steal to <strong>the</strong><br />
hearth, looking wistfully and furtively at my fa-<br />
<strong>the</strong>r's vacant place. Then, losing hope, he fled<br />
to <strong>the</strong> woods, to resume <strong>the</strong> wild and wretched life<br />
of his infancy; and, though we tried, we never<br />
could entice him back to <strong>the</strong> home where he no<br />
longer had a friend.<br />
Memoires (Tune Enfant, Athanais Michelet.<br />
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