Djibi

by Felix Salten

  Bertha cried indignantly: “That is too much!” She lifted Wretchy, washed his wound carefully, and tried to console the frightened little creature.

  “I have seen it coming,” said the teacher, equally indignant.

  Tasso had risen. His angry growling sounded like low thunder.

  Djibi leaped from the settee into the teacher’s arms.

  “She knows her friend,” said Bertha, almost solemnly. “She knows that he’s coming to administer justice and will show no mercy!”

  “Be quiet, puss,” the teacher whispered reassuringly. “Nothing will happen to you.”

  “You will only get rid of a bad tyrant,” nodded Bertha.

  The Ruffian faced the big, furious dog, alone.

  He spat and hit out with his claws.

  Tasso’s wild roar resounded in the room; it expressed fury, hatred and threat. Then he snapped at the cat, caught him by the scruff of his neck and walked to the door, with the Ruffian shrieking and kicking helplessly in his iron grasp.

  Bertha quickly opened the door. “That’s right! Good dog!”

  “But, Bertha!” said the teacher disapprovingly.

  His wife ignored his remark and repeated: “That’s right! That’s right! Break the devil’s neck!”

  “How can you be like that?” complained the teacher, pressing Djibi tenderly to him. “We two, pussy, ask for nothing but peace, don’t we?”

  “I, too, want peace!” said the teacher’s wife. “That is why this quarrelsome creature must be eliminated!”

  In the meantime, Tasso had run out into the yard with his victim. The Ruffian’s shrieks stopped. His fierce resistance came to an end. He lay semiconscious in Tasso’s grip.

  Tasso shook him so hard that everyone believed the Ruffian to be dead. He flung him violently to the ground, sniffed at his inert body but seized him again at the slightest movement, gave him a renewed shaking and dropped him again.

  Bertha, who had stepped out of the door, cried: “Enough, enough, Tasso!”

  Tasso looked obliquely at the Ruffian and wagged his tail.

  The teacher came out, too; he was holding Djibi in his arms, examined the tomcat and declared, with satisfaction: “He has not killed him! He has spared his life. Good dog, good Tasso!”

  Tasso ran to him, wagging with delight, a victor, yet without pride. He received the patting of his praising master with gratitude. Bertha looked on, while Wretchy jumped about her fussily, his recent pain forgotten.

  The Ruffian seemed to have lost all his fighting spirit. He rose unsteadily and tried to sneak his way back to the house.

  But Tasso stopped him by standing in his way and barking furiously. Wretchy joined in eagerly with his thin, high-pitched yapping.

  The Ruffian turned back, intimidated, and dragged himself wearily across the yard.

  Tasso followed him with a growling bark, accompanied by the yapping puppy.

  Pursued by his enemies, the Ruffian deemed it advisable to hurry a little; he found it difficult, but succeeded, nevertheless. They chased him as far as the gate, which led to the road, and every time the Ruffian made an attempt to edge away from them toward the house, Tasso showed clear signs of his mounting rage.

  Twice the tomcat tried to turn back, and failed. Dejectedly, he realized the futility of his attempts, crossed the road and disappeared into the fields, not to be seen again.

  Tasso stood guard for a while at the gate, then he withdrew into the yard, satisfied.

  The teacher and his wife had watched the proceedings anxiously and hopefully.

  The man gave a sigh of relief: “Thank heavens, no murder and no bloodshed! Tasso has behaved grandly.”

  Bertha replied, laughingly. “Yes, I am pleased about it, too. But you must admit that it has been a true expulsion of Satan.”

  A very young tomcat sought Djibi’s favor. He was ingenious and full of fun, had white spotted fur and his gestures were attractive in their clumsy playfulness.

  Djibi received him with obvious delight; she immediately displayed her alluring coquettishness.

  “A child,” said the teacher. “A true child!”

  The young tomcat wooed Djibi charmingly, and she teased him.

  Bertha shook her head. “So young and already so much in love! Men are really wicked.”

  “Well,” said the teacher, “anyone who knows puss and who has seen the number of lovers to whom she has given herself indiscriminately cannot have a very high opinion of women, either.”

  The young tomcat stayed. He met with Tasso’s approval, who liked rolling him gently on the ground; Spots willingly entered into the spirit of the game.

  Wretchy was also delighted with him and loved him with the warm devotion of youth. Spots did not always lounge on the settee with Djibi. On the contrary, he always responded to the puppy’s invitation to play. The two then rolled about on the floor, their limbs entangled.

  Djibi did not wish to remain a lone spectator of these youthful frolics. She slipped down from the settee, took part in their jolly games and before long became their acknowledged leader.

  She was so gay and lively with them that she showed neither fear nor a desire to escape when the farmer came in.

  Only Tasso growled at the sight of the farmer, but he, too, quieted down when he saw him shake hands with the teacher.

  “Hullo!” exclaimed the farmer. “Your place sounds pretty jolly!”

  “It is,” laughed Bertha. “That’s how we like it!”

  Wretchy, who was not disturbed by evil memories, jumped friskily at the farmer’s legs and wagged his tail violently.

  The farmer stretched out his hand and said, in surprise: “You are a nice dog!” stroking him clumsily as he spoke.

  Wretchy lay on his back, with an expression of utter devotion, and then whirled like mad through the room in appreciation of the caresses he had received.

  The farmer laughed. “I must say I like the little fellow!”

  He stretched out his hand to stroke Tasso too; the dog submitted to him after having been reassured by a glance from his master, but could not suppress a low growl. The teacher whispered: “Be good, Tasso!” and the growling stopped, but Tasso did not wag his tail.

  “Be good!” repeated the farmer shyly. “The two of us will be friends again!”

  “Do you understand now what pleasure one can derive from animals?”

  “I do!” laughed the farmer. “I do, indeed! One always learns something new from you.”

  “But you learn slowly and reluctantly!” said Bertha. “You’re just a farmer . . .”

  “Of course, I’m a farmer, and a good one at that! I have no time for your highbrow stuff.”

  “Nevertheless, you have proved yourself that in your station, too, one can find time for what you call ‘highbrow stuff,’ ” Bertha contradicted him.

  “And you even realize that it does you a lot of good,” added the teacher.

  “Maybe! But I will not permit anyone to insult or ridicule the farmers!”

  The teacher came quite close to him. “Don’t ever say that again! Nobody here would dream of insulting or ridiculing the farmers. Do you understand? Nobody!”

  “All right, all right!” said the farmer, abashed. “I only meant to say . . .”

  Bertha interrupted him: “My dear fellow, when I refer to your personal stupidity it is by no means a reflection upon the farmer class as a whole. Remember that!”

  The animals were asleep.

  Bertha and the teacher sat on a bench outside their door. Tasso lay at their feet.

  The deep nocturnal sky was starlit. It was a pleasure and a relief to inhale the mild summer evening air.

  Both were silent for a long time. There was reverence in their silence. Then the teacher whispered:

  “The music of the spheres . . . can you hear it?”

  “I can feel it,” replied Bertha softly.

  Again the teacher’s whispering voice: “This music must always have been there, but men had no
ear for it . . .”

  After a short pause, Bertha asked: “What exactly do you mean?”

  “My dear, I am convinced that things must have happened that way!”

  “Which way?”

  “Well, in ancient times all men spoke a single language and understood each other, until they took it into their heads . . .”

  “Are you referring to the tower of Babel?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was a great idea . . .”

  “But a still greater impudence! They wanted to penetrate into the heavens, to see God and his legions . . .”

  “Unfortunately, they did not succeed!”

  “No, my dear! The Almighty frowned upon their audacity. And He can be very furious!”

  “Are you being blasphemous?”

  “Nothing is further from my mind than blasphemy. I am only trying to understand the Creator!”

  “You are building a tower of Babel in your thoughts!”

  “The Creator cannot possibly frown upon that. He is not only all-powerful, but also kind, and He has endowed us with the capacity for thought.”

  “And yet He can be furious! You have said so yourself.”

  “I did not say so, Bertha. The incident is related in the Holy Scriptures, which I am merely trying to interpret.”

  “Go on!”

  “Because mankind had impudently tried to intrude upon Him, and because He was seized by fury, He confused men by making them speak different tongues. They no longer understood each other. They became strangers, and then enemies. With the end of mutual understanding, mistrust, strife and war made their entrance into the world.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “Then, my dear, happened the greatest miracle of the Creation, which revealed God’s boundless benevolence and mercy. When God saw the consequences of His fury, when He realized that the harm caused by the difference of languages could not be undone, He sent His angels down to teach men a language which would be understood by all, which would penetrate into their souls, grip their hearts and purify their minds: Music!”

  “Yes, this conciliatory bond is truly divine!”

  “Isn’t it? We must listen to the harmony of Nature and hear God’s message in the voice of a solitary canary warbling merrily in his cage.”

  Djibi completely abandoned her favorite place on the settee. As before, she wandered through the yard and the fields beyond, followed by the young tomcat and accompanied by the always gay, always dancing, Wretchy.

  “I don’t like her to go so often into the fields,” worried the teacher.

  “She will come to no harm.”

  “Who knows?”

  “Would you like to keep pussy in a glass house?”

  “She would certainly be safest there.”

  “She is only out on mouse hunting. Spots and Wretchy are with her.”

  “Those two can hardly be regarded as protectors.”

  “She is no longer in need of protection. She needs company. It revives and rejuvenates her.”

  One evening Tasso arrived carrying Djibi in his teeth. She appeared completely inert.

  “Tasso!” cried the teacher, alarmed.

  The dog barked at him, then he put the cat on the floor, where she suddenly came to life and began stalking about.

  Bertha was amused. “It is her old custom. Why get alarmed? You are too nervous, my dear.”

  “Perhaps. Nervous with the constant worry and anxiety . . . How easy it is for the cat to get hurt or even killed!”

  “It is no longer necessary to watch and worry over pussy so much.”

  “You forget, Bertha, what we went through, and what pussy had to suffer. I shall always remember it.”

  “But all this is happily over now. You ought to be grateful!”

  Shortly afterward, a rat ran across the yard, big and fat.

  Wretchy was the first to see her, and began to dance around her foolishly, thereby forcing her to run in different directions all the time.

  Djibi shot out of the house, observed the confused course of the rat and ducked, ready to pounce on her prey. In that position she was wonderfully like a lioness.

  Then a well-timed leap. The rat squeaked, but before she could squeak again Djibi had seized her by the neck and bitten through her throat. She shook the dead body briefly, threw it down and turned away with obvious signs of utter disgust. As she walked away with dignified composure, her attitude seemed to indicate that she had merely administered justice.

  Wretchy trotted friskily at her side, a much impressed worshipper of victory.

  The young tomcat, too, circled round her and expressed his jolly admiration in many gay pranks.

  Djibi avoided with firm friendliness the teacher’s attempts to caress her; she jumped on a bench and began to attend to her toilet with great care.

  “Leave her alone,” smiled Bertha. “She feels impure through her contact with the rat . . . she must clean herself.”

  The teacher fetched a spade and buried the dead rat.

  In the meantime Djibi ran out into the street, followed, of course, by her attendants.

  “She mustn’t do that!” cried the teacher, and hurried anxiously to the gate. “Come back, pussy!”

  Bertha tapped him on the shoulder. “You had better come in. It is no use calling or waiting. Cats have no sense of obedience, as well you know!”

  “I demand no obedience! But out of friendship she should respond to my call!”

  “My dear, she wants to be out now! And she must have her way. But wait a minute! We can get her back.” She called “Tasso! Fetch pussy! Quickly!”

  The dog set out galloping and brought Djibi back after a short time, in his usual way. The young tomcat and Wretchy accompanied his entry.

  They had hardy all got into the yard when a lorry could be heard rattling in the road outside. The farmer was sitting at the wheel. He stopped and switched off the engine. “That’s a surprise for you, what? I got the old thing very cheap. Now I can take my harvest into town quickly, and earn more! It will have paid for itself before the year is out.”

  “Good luck!” called the teacher.

  “Thank you!” grinned the farmer. “I can always do with good luck!”

  He started the lorry again, and after some hesitation the engine decided to do its duty.

  “It saves the horses, too!” he shouted, but the din of the motor rendered his words almost inaudible. He waved and drove off.

  “A capable fellow,” said Bertha approvingly.

  “Hard-working and assiduous,” agreed the teacher.

  “I am sure he will grow rich . . .”

  “You mean he will grow richer, because he is rich already.”

  In the evening the teacher and his wife sat in front of the house, in the light of the full moon.

  Djibi, the young tomcat and Wretchy all slept together on the settee.

  Tasso lay stretched out at his master’s feet.

  “We couldn’t afford a car, could we?” said the teacher jokingly.

  “Do you need one?” asked Bertha. Her tone was disdainful.

  “Oh, no! I have no desire for one!” replied the teacher soothingly.

  “I know what you mean, my dear. You want to say that we are richer than the farmer.”

  “You are quite right, Bertha, that is what I meant!”

  “Today I can again feel Nature’s wonderful music.”

  “Moonshine music, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, a soft, lovely music . . . an enchantment, my dear . . .”

  “A comforting, moving, exalting enchantment, Bertha.”

  “I can feel it, too. The night has a message of hope, but also one of sadness.”

  “A foreboding, the certainty of death . . . isn’t it so?”

  “Perhaps . . . I don’t want to think about it. And yet it weighs heavily on my heart.”

  “Pity with ourselves . . .”

  “Maybe . . . but even more so with God’s dumb creatures. To think
they are all dumb! It always moves me, and compels me to love them.”

  “They all have their own language, my child.”

  “But not ours, my dear, and we have no access to theirs.”

  “And yet we can understand each other.”

  “But the understanding is only very, very limited.”

  “We must be satisfied with it, Bertha.”

  “But it is by no means sufficient! Do we know what pussy felt when she was ill-treated by the farmer? She may have blamed you for it! If we could only know . . .”

  “Heaven knows, Bertha, we always come up against the blank wall which separates us from our dumb brothers. It’s fate! I never feel so impotent in the impact with this blank wall as when an animal is suffering.”

  “I feel the wall most painfully when I take action against any animal. I have often asked myself whether I have not done the Ruffian an injustice . . .”

  “Don’t worry about the Ruffian, my child. Let him be your guide!” The teacher pointed down to Tasso.

  “And the rat? Why are we so hard on rats?”

  “There are animals, Bertha, which remain alien and hostile to human beings, just as there are others who serve them quietly and submissively, such as cattle, and who would even serve them better if they were treated with more kindness and consideration. I include pigs in their number. A rat may possibly be capable of forming some kind of friendship with a prisoner in his cell, but otherwise . . .”

  “How many strange possibilities . . .”

  “I will remind you of the spider, Bertha, which is repulsive to most people, because they do not know that spiders are very intelligent, and under certain circumstances, quite tame. The same applies to some serpents, of course not the poisonous ones . . . I once knew an exceptional boy who, unfortunately, died very young. One day he brought an aesculapius adder into the house. Where did he get it? asked his father. From a pet shop. Why? Because she was so lonely there! The boy kept the serpent in his room, and waited for an opportunity to let her free in the mountains. On one occasion the family had a guest for dinner, and the conversation turned to the serpent. The guest was curious to see her, and the boy brought her out and put her on the dining table after it had been cleared. She remained still for a while and then began to creep about as if in search of something. The guest stretched out his hand. She shot at it, hissed and turned resolutely away. She also turned away from the father’s hand, but immediately recognized the boy’s and crawled over his arm right up to the shoulder. She then crawled back and remained lying contentedly with her beautiful head resting in the palm of his hand.”