His secret is out, and it looks like his last little bit of enjoyment he took in his pets is gone...
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Sredni Vashtar - Part Four
By Saki
It was
a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the
furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen
beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself.
He saw
the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch
and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his
god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience.
And
Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time.
But he
knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come
out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that
in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no
longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch.
And he
knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he
would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior
wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor
would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to
chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:
Sredni
Vashtar went forth,
His
thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His
enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni
Vashtar the Beautiful.
The
door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were
slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He
watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he
counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door.
A
sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and
waited and watched.
Hope
had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in
his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath,
with a furtive exultation, he began once again the pæan of
victory and devastation.
And
presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low,
yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet
stains around the fur of jaws and throat.
Conradin
dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small
brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little
plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of
Sredni Vashtar.
"Tea
is ready," said the sour-faced maid; "where is the mistress?"
"She
went down to the shed some time ago," said Conradin.
And
while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a
toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a
piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much
butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and
silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door.
The
loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering
ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried
embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the
shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.
"Whoever
will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!" exclaimed
a shrill voice.
And
while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another
piece of toast.
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