<h3><SPAN name="chap75"></SPAN>75 The Fox and the Cat</h3>
<p>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 through this dear
season?” 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, thou wretched beard-cleaner, thou piebald
fool, thou hungry mouse-hunter, what canst thou be thinking of? Dost thou
venture to ask how I am getting on? What hast thou learnt? How many arts dost
thou 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. Thou makest me sorry for thee; come with
me, I will teach thee 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 on
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.”</p>
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