Miranda the Great Read Online Free PDF Page B

think, counting my new four."
    "Uh-huh-huh." Zag sighed. Painfully, limping quite a great deal—her feet were very sore and one had been bleeding—she stood up weakly and followed Miranda into the arcade to the little room where all the kittens were. This little room was where tickets used to be given out. It was a sweet, warm, very private little apartment, just right for Miranda, Punka, thirty-seven kittens, three visiting cats who had come to stay, and one dog, Zag.
    The great and awful lizard cat from Barcelona, father of Punka and her brothers and sisters, looked in once and asked to stay. But Miranda said, "No," he must stay on the other side of the arena. Sometimes you could see his eyes over there, sometimes not. He was rather like a sentinel on the outpost. "I'll nickname him 'Splendorio,' if he does a good job," Miranda mused.
    Once settled on the old toga, Zag relaxed a little. Miranda went to get her a piece of meat, hoping that the lizard cat, who had discovered the supply, had not eaten it all up. He hadn't, and Miranda came back with a nice big chunk, the kind that in the old days Zag would have swallowed in a glad gulp.
    But Zag did not eat the meat. She shook her head and pretended to sleep. However, when in the distance footsteps echoed from outside the Colosseum, she would sit up and listen intently. Then she would lie down and sigh, for the footsteps did not belong to Marcus.

    Some people had begun to return to the city. The barbarians had left; the fires were mostly out. Miranda kissed Zag again. "Woe-woe," she said. "Marcus will find you. I will take care of you. Go to sleep now." Then Miranda sang a little lullaby to the kittens, and with her little ones beside her she purred. "Purr-purr," answered the little ones. Like the gentle lapping of small waves along the beach, the kittens purred.

    But Zag could not help but sob. Even in her sleep she sometimes sobbed. You would think to hear her, she was saying the name Marcus.

9. Reunion

    Now it was seven days later. Smoke still hung heavily over some parts of the city, and sometimes in the nighttime the cats could see an old fire smoldering. But the worst was over, and for more and more people life was beginning to resume its old pattern. This was not so for the cats or for Zag. The cats had explored most of the Colosseum. Some of it was in rubble, and many of its mighty columns had fallen. But the cats liked this and thought it a splendid place to live. Zag did not think so.
    Often Zag lay at the entrance to their arcade, facing the square outside, and sometimes she moaned. She rarely ate anything and merely moistened her mouth from time to time at the fountain near the gate. Miranda sometimes joined Zag, crouched beside her, and silently tried to comfort the grieving dog. Sometimes Miranda's eyes grew sad, too, as she recalled the life they once had led, gone she was sure forever. When any man came walking along, Zag would stand up, give a hopeful wag, smell the man's heels, then lie down again and heave a deep sigh.
    Few of the cats remembered much about their old life, although occasionally one would wander away, perhaps trying to find its real right home again. But most would come back in the nighttime and sing. Hearing the singing, more and more cats asked to join the chorus and take up residence. Nice cats were allowed to. Sometimes, before she had begun to feel so badly, Zag would join in the nighttime singing. She would sound a bugle-like howl at exactly the right moment, and many thought it sounded excellent.
    But for some days Zag had not joined in, and Miranda was worried about her. Right now Zag was lying beside Miranda in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. All Rome looked golden, and Miranda, who was still quite sooty, had a look of antique gold. Miranda, squinting in the sunshine, watched Zag with narrowed eyes.
    "The Colosseum is no place for Zag," thought Miranda. "See how thin she is getting. Her bones are beginning to stick