220 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



We were sailing eastward, and the ship groaned 

 and creaked as she slid into the hollow of the waves. 

 I sat writing in the semi-obscurity of my cabin, 

 which grew darker and darker as the green waters 

 rose and broke into foam over my closed port-hole. 

 Suddenly I saw a little shadow steal from under 

 my berth, very slowly, and as though with infinite 

 hesitation. There was something truly Oriental in 

 its fashion of holding one paw suspended in air, as 

 if uncertain where to place it for the next step. 

 And always it regarded me with a look of fixed and 

 plaintive interrogation. 



&quot; What can the cat want ? I said to myself. 

 She has had her dinner. She is not hungry. 

 What is it she is after ? 



&quot; In answer to my unspoken question, la Chinoise 

 crept nearer and nearer until she could touch my 

 foot. Then, sitting upright, with her tail curled 

 close about her, she uttered a gentle little cry, gaz 

 ing meanwhile straight into my eyes which seemed 

 to hold some message she could read. She under 

 stood that I was a thinking creature, capable of pity, 

 and accessible to such mute and piteous prayer ; 

 and that my eyes were the mirrors in which her 

 anxious little soul must study my good or bad in 

 tentions. It is terrifying to think how near an ani 

 mal comes to us, when it is capable of such inter 

 course as this. 



