SOME CATS OF FRANCE 203 



able inconstancy of the human heart. " Dynasties 

 of cats, as numerous as the dynasties of the Pharaohs, 

 succeeded each other under my roof," he confesses. 

 " One after another they were swept away by acci- 

 ' dent, by flight, by death. All were loved and re- 

 gretted ; but oblivion is our common fate, and the 

 memory of the cats we have lost fades like the 

 memory of men." 



Which — or rather who — of these famous pussies 

 reigned preeminent over the rest .' To whom did 

 Gautier grant his flattering preference .' We can- 

 not tell, though Madame Th^oohile, first and fairest 

 of the group, held a more distinguished, — a more 

 legitimate position I had almost said, in the poet's 

 house. He acknowledges that he gave her his 

 name to show the intimacy of their friendship, the 

 closeness of their mutual regard. Like Chateau- 

 briand's Micetto, Madame Theophile was a reddish 

 cat, with snowy breast, soft blue eyes, and the 

 pinkest of little pink noses. She slept at the foot 

 of her master's ' bed ; she sat on the arm of his 

 chair while he wrote ; she walked sedately up and 

 down the garden by his side ; she was present at 

 all his meals, and frequently intercepted a choice 

 morsel on its way from his plate to his mouth. 

 She was the heroine of the delightful adventure 

 with the parrot, which is so well known to readers, 

 but which I cannot refrain from quoting once again. 



