HINZE.

If we had not, in our intercourse with human beings, got a certain contempt for speech, we could all speak.

GOTTLIEB.

Well, I’ll own that!  But why don’t you give any one an opportunity to discover you?

HINZE.

That’s to avoid responsibility, for if once the power of speech were inflicted on us so-called animals, there wouldn’t be any joy left in the world.  What isn’t the dog compelled to do and learn!  The horse!  They are foolish animals to show their intelligence, they must give way entirely to their vanity; we cats still continue to be the freest race because, with all our skill, we can act so clumsily that human beings quite give up the idea of training us.

GOTTLIEB.

But why do you disclose all this to me?

HINZE.

Because you are a good, a noble man, one of the few who take no delight in servility and slavery; see, that is why I disclose myself to you completely and fully.

GOTTLIEB (gives him his hand).

Good friend!

HINZE.

Human beings labor under the delusion that the only remarkable thing about us is that instinctive purring which arises from a certain feeling of comfort; for that reason they often stroke us awkwardly and then we usually purr to secure ourselves against blows.  But if they knew how to manage us in the right way, believe me, they would accustom our good nature to everything, and Michel, your neighbor’s tom-cat, would even at times be pleased to jump through a hoop for the king.

GOTTLIEB.

You’re right in that.

HINZE.

I love you, Master Gottlieb, very much.  You have never stroked me the wrong way, you have let me sleep when I felt like it, you have objected whenever your brothers wanted to take me up, to go with me into the dark, and see the so-called electrical sparks—­for all this I now want to show my gratitude.

GOTTLIEB.

Noble-hearted Hinze!  Ah, how unjustly do they speak ill of you and scornfully, doubting your loyalty and devotion!  My eyes are being opened—­how my knowledge of human nature is increasing and so unexpectedly!

FISCHER.

Friends, where has our hope for a picture of family life gone to?

LEUTNER.

Why it is almost too nonsensical.

SCHLOSS.

I feel as though I were in a dream.

HINZE.

You are a good man, Master Gottlieb; but, do not take it ill of me, you are somewhat narrow, confined—­to speak out freely, not one of the best heads.

GOTTLIEB.

Alas, no!

HINZE.

You don’t know now, for example, what you want to do.

GOTTLIEB.

You read my thoughts perfectly.

HINZE.

If you had a muff made out of my fur—­

GOTTLIEB.

Do not take it amiss, comrade, that this idea just passed through my mind.