What is She
doing? I daren't go out yet. If only the Cat would move! (_He sticks
out his head, like a wary turtle. A flash of lightning makes him draw it
back again_.) Ha! It's beginning all over again. Rain by the bucketfuls
against the window-panes. Something in the chimney is trying to imitate
that far-away rumbling. Everything's falling to pieces ... and _She_
gave me a rap on the nose!
KIKI-THE-DEMURE
Drop by drop, a little brownish river is filtering under the loose
window-sash. It's stretching out and out on the floor, winding its way
over to me. I'm so hot and thirsty, I'd like to lap up some of it. My
joints ache and my ears are tired of standing up like weather-cocks at
every crash. My jaws are still clenched with nervous fear. The seat of
this chair is too low; it annoys me, rubbing against the fur on my back.
However, it's some comfort to be able to _think_ of such things--thanks
to the peace that's descended on the house. The rain is falling quietly
and the wind has gone down, but the memory of the din still hums in my
ears. What can He be doing? The storm distresses him too. Why didn't He
come forward to calm the raging elements? There She is, opening the
porch door.
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