must not fear
To put to death his foes so drear.
Then this little hash we will gently mix,
And put an end to Moumouth's little tricks.
Hush! ah, hush! lest Michel hear.
Hark! ah, hark! Doth a step draw near?
Then softly tread, then softly tread,
And we will gently mix
A sweet little hash, a sweet little hash,
And put an end to Moumouth's little tricks.
Then boldly rouse, and lead the way!
Then boldly rouse, and lead the way!
Oh!

Apothecary (tragically). And now, Lustucru, mix it well.

Lustucru (mixing hash in plate gloomily). Hand me yonder phial, and quickly too.

Apothecary (handing bottle). 'Tis done.

Lustucru (holding up plate). 'Tis done. Revenge is mine!

[Both return to duo as before.]

Hush! ah, hush! a step draws near.
Hush! ah, hush! lest Michel hear, etc., etc.

[At end Apothecary goes out mysteriously.]

Lustucru. At last, dear Moumouth, I have you. Thou wast never known to refuse so sweet a hash. Why, 'tis charming. [Sniffing it sarcastically.] But yesterday that old fool Michel didst say thou hadst lost appetite. Blessed words! holy inspiration! from them I obtained the idea.

[Michel heard without: "Moumouth! Moumouth!"]

Michel (entering). Ah! Lustucru, what shall I do? Moumouth will not eat his breakfast. All appetite is fled. He is breaking his heart for the Countess. Alas! what shall I do?

Lustucru. I heard your complaint last night, dear Mother Michel, and I have mixed a most appetizing hash. It is for our charming Moumouth.

Michel (gratefully). Lustucru, you are a miracle of goodness. I have it in my heart to embrace you. I shall bless you always.

Lustucru. Thanks for your prayers, Michel: prayers are what I most delight in.

Michel. But the hash, Lustucru? Let me hasten to my pining Moumouth, my poor sufferer.

Lustucru (presenting the poisoned dish). Here, Michel, and bless you! And bless Moumouth too, although he hates me. Thank Heaven, I have a forgiving nature.

Michel (transported). Lustucru, you are an angel. Adieu; Moumouth awaits me. I fly, but I bless you. Lustucru, I love you.

[Exit Michel with hash.]

Lustucru (sneeringly). Love me, do you? Ah! Lustucru's an angel, a miracle of goodness! But what is this? Michel returns. [Enter Michel.] Ah! Michel, can you not find Moumouth?

Michel (sobbing). What shall I do—oh, what shall I do?

Lustucru. What is the matter?

Michel. Oh dear! oh dear!

Lustucru. What has happened? Is—is Moumouth— [Eagerly.]

Michel. My poor Moumouth!

Lustucru. What! is Moumouth—dead?

Michel (unheedingly). He just looked up at me once, and waved his dear tail, then looked once more at me, and—[sobs]—and—[sobs]

Lustucru (eagerly). And died?

Michel. No, no (sobbing); he would not eat the hash.

Lustucru (beside himself). Oh! hey diddle dee! get out!

Michel (still weeping). I see you feel sad too. My Moumouth will die of starvation.

Lustucru (pacing the room angrily). Humph!

Michel. And I have just received a letter from the Countess saying she will return soon, and she hopes to find Moumouth well, and that she has reserved for me a handsome reward.

Lustucru (still pacing the room). Ho!

Michel. But since Moumouth refuses your hash, Father Lustucru, I think I shall taste it, to set Moumouth an example. It looks very nice.

Lustucru (alarmed). Don't touch it, I beg of you.

Michel. Why not? Is there anything wrong in the hash?

Lustucru. No, certainly not; but what is prepared for a cat should not serve for a Christian. It is necessary to guard propriety, and not trifle with the dignity of human nature.

Michel. Very well; Moumouth may suit himself. But I can not believe your hash is so very nice, or Moumouth would not have refused it.

Lustucru. Do not reflect on my hash, madame, because your Cat objects to it. Moumouth never had good taste.

Michel. Humph! I suppose that is because he never took a fancy to you. I think he has very good taste; he adores me.

Lustucru. Vanity! vanity!

Michel (fiercely). Egotism! egotism!

Lustucru. Mother Michel, beware!

Michel. Father Lustucru, take heed!

Lustucru. B-e-w-a-r-e, woman!

Michel. Man, take heed!

[They burst into duo, same as Act II. Tune—"Dairy-maid am I." Curtain falls on them highly irate.]

ACT IV.

Scene.—Garden belonging to the Countess. Lustucru enters with a large bag and heavy cane.

Lustucru (meditatively). At length my decision is made. Moumouth, the charming cat, shall go into this bag, and I, Lustucru, shall beat him to death. Ah! he shall not escape me again. Michel goes for a walk; I seize Moumouth; I tie him in this bag; and then—oh, then he shall die. I could fly for joy when I think of it. Michel will not have her five hundred francs, and perhaps she will be discharged. Dearest Moumouth, how grateful I ought to be to you for bringing me such joy!

Solo.—Lustucru.

Tune—"Then you'll remember me." Bohemian Girl. Balfe.

When other cats and other pets
Around me sweetly rove,
When other objects dear to me,
Appeal unto my love,
At such times then will my heart,
In joyful throbbing be,
Turned thankfully to Moumouth dead:
Oh! I'll remember thee—
Oh! I'll remember, I'll remember thee!

[Exit Lustucru. Enter almost immediately Michel attired for a walk.]

Michel. I thought I heard Lustucru here? Well, I was mistaken. I was going to leave Moumouth in his care—but no matter. Moumouth rests peacefully under yon lilac bush. Dear Cat, how sweet is his repose! I will sing softly as I go; so perchance in his dreams he may hear my song.

Solo.—Michel.

Tune—"Serenade to Ida." Weingand.

Softly