THE FOX AND THE CAT
It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to herself: 'He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in the world, ' she spoke to him in a friendly way. 'Good day, dear Mr Fox, how are you? How is all with you? How are you getting on in these hard times? ' The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat from head to foot, and for a long time did not know whether he would give any answer or not. At last he said: 'Oh, you wretched beard cleaner, you piebald fool, you hungry mouse hunter, what can you be thinking of? Have you the cheek to ask how I am getting on? What have you learnt? How many arts do you understand? ' 'I understand but one, ' replied the cat, modestly. 'What art is that? ' asked the fox. 'When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and save myself. ' 'Is that all? ' said the fox. 'I am master of a hundred arts, and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. You make me sorry for you; come with me, I will teach you how people get away from the hounds. ' Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a tree, and sat down at the top of it, where the branches and foliage quite concealed her. 'Open your sack, Mr Fox, open your sack, ' cried the cat to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were holding him fast. 'Ah, Mr Fox, ' cried the cat. 'You with your hundred arts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me, you would not have lost your life. '
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