in former times there lived an old woman in a state of extreme debility. she possessed a cot more narrow than the heart of the ignorant and darker than the miser's grave; and a cat was her companion, which had never seen, even in the mirror of imagination, the face of a loaf, nor had heard from friend or stranger the name of meat. it was content if occasionally it smelt the odour of a mouse from its hole, or saw the print of the foot of one on the surface of a board, and if, on some rare occasion, by the aid of good fortune one fell into its claws, it subsisted a whole week, more or less, on that amount of food.
and, inasmuch as the house of the old woman was the famine-year of that cat, it was always miserable and thin, and from a distance appeared like an idea.
one day, through excessive weakness, it had, with the utmost difficulty, mounted on the top of the roof; thence it beheld a cat which walked proudly on the wall of a neighbouring house, and after the fashion of a destroying lion advanced with measured steps, and from excessive fat lifted its feet slowly. when the cat of the old woman saw this, it was astonished and cried out, saying: "thou, whose state is thus pleasant, whence art thou? and since it appears that thou comest from the banquet-chamber of the khan of khata, whence is this sleekness of thine, and from what cause this thy grandeur and strength?"
the neighbour-cat replied: "i am the crumb-eater of the tray of the sultan. every morning i attend on the court of the king, and when they spread the tray of invitation, i display boldness and daring, and in general i snatch off some morsels of fat meats, and of loaves made of the finest flour; and thus i pass my time happy and satisfied till the next day."
the cat of the old woman inquired: "what sort of a thing may fat meat be? and what kind of relish has bread, made of fine flour? i, during my whole life, have never seen nor tasted aught save the old woman's broths, and mouse's flesh."
the neighbour-cat laughed, and said: "therefore it is that one cannot distinguish thee from a spider, and this form and appearance that thou hast is a reproach to our whole race. if thou shouldst see the court of the sultan and smell the odour of those delicious viands, thou wouldst acquire a fresh form."
the cat of the old woman, said, most beseechingly, "o brother! thou art bound to me by neighbourship and kinship; why not this time, when thou goest, take me with thee? perchance, by thy good fortune, i may obtain food."
the heart of the neighbour-cat melted at the speaker's lamentable position, and he resolved that he would not attend the feast without him. the cat of the old woman felt new life at these tidings, and descending from the roof stated the case to his mistress. the old dame began to advise the cat, saying: "o kind companion, be not deceived by the words of worldly people and abandon not the corner of content, for the vessel of covetousness is not filled save with the dust of the grave." but the cat had taken into its head such a longing for the delicacies of the sultan's table that the medicine of advice was not profitable to it.
in short, the next day, along with its neighbour, the old woman's cat, with tottering steps conveyed itself to court, but before it could arrive there ill-fortune had poured the water of disappointment on the fire of its wish, and the reason was as follows:
the day before, the cats had made a general onslaught on the table, and raised an uproar beyond bounds, and annoyed, to the last degree, the guests and their host. wherefore, on this day, the sultan had commanded that a band of archers, standing in ambush, should watch, so that for every cat who, holding before its face the buckler of impudence should enter the plain of audacity, the very first morsel that it ate should be a liver-piercing shaft.
the old woman's cat, ignorant of this circumstance, as soon as it smelt the odour of the viands, turned its face like a falcon to the hunting-ground of the table, and the scale of the balance of appetite had not yet been weighted by heavy mouthfuls, when the heart-piercing arrow quivered in its breast.
dear friend! the honey pays not for the sting,
content with syrup is a better thing.
