Grimm's Household Tales

It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and because she thought to herself, “He is clever and full of experience and much esteemed in the world,” she spoke to him in a friendly way. “Good day, dear Mr. Fox. How are you? How is everything with you? How are you getting through this hard season?” The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat from head to foot and for a long time did not know whether he would give any answer or not. At last he said, “Oh, you wretched beard-cleaner, you piebald fool, you hungry mouse-hunter, what can you be thinking of? Do you dare to ask how I am getting on? What have you learned? How many arts do you understand?” “I understand only one,” replied the cat modestly. “What art is that?” asked the fox. “When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and save myself.” “Is that all?” said the fox. “I am master of a hundred arts and have a sackful of cunning besides. You make me sorry for you. Come with me, and I will teach you how people get away from the hounds.” Just then a hunter came with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a tree and sat down on top of it, where the branches and foliage quite concealed her. “Open your sack, Mr. Fox, open your sack,” the cat cried to him, but the dogs had already seized him and were holding him fast. “Ah, Mr. Fox,” cried the cat. “You with your hundred arts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb as I can, you would not have lost your life.”