<h2><SPAN name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"></SPAN> THE FOX AND THE CAT </h2>
<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 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.’</p>
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