The Fox and Her Friends

4.8

Moscow is very beautiful at night. Everybody is already at home, and only few people are hurrying along the streets, people who must work at night because of their profession: doctors, conductors, militiamen, and so on.

There is not much traffic at night in Moscow, the streets are clean and it is very still everywhere. Houses look black in the sky, there are no lights in the windows, everybody is sleeping. But in the center of the city it is as light as in the day-time: the bright lights of the large shop windows turn on and off. The traffic lights do not sleep either—all the time they change from red to yellow and green and again back to red.

Dmitri Lazarevich Kara-Dmitriev, who worked at one of the Moscow theaters liked Moscow at night. During the day he had no time for a walk—you know how it is with theater workers —so he left home when other people went to bed. When the conversation turned to his night walks he usually said to his friends, “You do not know how beautiful Moscow is at night. It’s a pity I cannot paint! There is nothing like Moscow at night!”

Dmitri Lazarevich's usual walk was from his house, then along one of the streets in the center, up to the post-office and back home. Sometimes on his way home he sat for some minutes on a bench in a small garden near a square.

That night when Dmitri Lazarevich turned to the right where his bench was he saw a militiaman on duty. There was something strange about the militiaman standing behind a bench and looking at the trees.

“Excuse me, but what are you doing?” he asked the militiaman.

“Hush! I am watching a fox,” answered the militiaman on duty.

“What! Watching a fox?” repeated Kara-Dmitriev. “You don’t say so! A fox in the very center of the city?”

“Yes, a fox,” answered the militiaman, “a real red-haired fox.”

“How strange!” said Dmitri Lazarevich, “Tell me everything about your fox,” he asked. “I love animals very much.”

“She is not my fox,” corrected the militiaman. “Well,” he began his story, “I saw a fox for the first time two months ago. Sitting here on a bench I suddenly saw an animal under a tree. At first I thought that it was a dog, but soon I understood that it was a fox. The fox stood still for some minutes looking at me, then turned round and quickly ran away. After that I saw the fox many times here.”

“And how do you think the fox got here?”

“I think it lived somewhere not far from here and then ran away,” said the militiaman.

“And what does it get to eat?” asked Dmitri Lazarevich.

“I am sure it can always get a mouse or sometimes even a bird for dinner.”

“The most interesting thing is,” he went on, “that when I told my friends about the fox, they told me not to sleep when on duty.”

The two men laughed and soon went away because there was no fox in the square that night.

Dmitri Lazarevich met the fox for the first time in some days. The night was as beautiful as usual. Everybody and everything slept: the square, white with snow, the buildings round the square, the people who lived in them and a new modern car near a high house. The moon was high in the sky and Dmitri Lazarevich saw the fox in the moonlight. Yes, it was a fox and there was no mistake about it! It was a wonderful animal, red with small ears and a long beautiful tail. A fox just like the foxes that live in woods or those you can see in children’s books. Dmitri Lazarevich had some nice things with him for the fox to eat. He took some pieces of bread, meat and sugar out of his pockets.

“Foxie, my dear foxie, come out, don’t be afraid, foxie,” he began to call the fox.

The beautiful animal did not run away, but did not come up to the man either. It stood there listening to the man’s words, then began to pick up pieces of meat and sugar.

Soon the fox and the man were great friends and the animal even began to eat out of the man’s hand. Dmitri Lazarevich learned what his four-legged friend liked and what it did not like. Best of all the fox liked hens’ and fishes’ heads, it ate sugar and meat with pleasure, but had no appetite for bread, porridge and vegetables. It even began to drink milk out of a pot which Dmitri Lazarevich brought with him.

The man liked to sit on a bench after a long day’s work at the theater and have a talk with his friend.

Usually a man of few words, Dmitri Lazarevich liked to talk to his new friend, who listened to him so attentively. “You think I am a great talker, don’t you?” he asked the fox. “Well, I am not,” he went on speaking. “Only during the day I am too busy to talk, I’m up to my eyes in work.”

Olga Nikolayevna, the wife of Kara-Dmitriev, wanted to meet the fox too and one day they went to the square together.

“Foxie, foxie, come here!” Dmitri Lazarevich began to call his four-legged friend. The fox heard him and jumped out of the dark. But she saw Olga Nikolayevna and at once ran away.

“I don’t think she will stay away long,” Dmitri Lazarevich said to his wife. And really in a few minutes the fox came back and began her usual supper. It took a piece of meat and began to eat. Olga Nikolayevna stood by her husband’s side and watched the fox attentively.

“Oh, Mitya! Look at this!” she cried out and pointed to the fox’s neck. “A collar! Don’t you see a collar round its neck!”

Only a quick woman’s eye could see a thin collar in the fox’s thick red coat. The husband and the wife began to watch the way the fox ate. It ate only very small pieces of bread and meat. The collar was too small for it! On their way home the Kara-Dmitrievs spoke very little but thought hard. They turned to the street where another friend of the fox, the militiaman, stood on duty.

“Too bad, too bad!” said the militiaman when they told him about the collar.

“If we don’t help the poor animal she will, of course, die. And there are no two ways about it,” he said. “I’ll give you a hand with this, I’m always ready to help. If you want me for anything I’ll be on duty the day after tomorrow.”

Turning all this over in their heads, the husband and the wife, hand in hand, slowly walked home. Their friend, the fox, was in a great trouble.

“First of all, we must learn where the fox lived,” said Olga Nikolayevna. “We know neither the name nor the address of the man to whom the fox belonged, but we’ll do it, shan’t we, Mitya?”

The husband and the wife had a very bad night. They turned from side to side and thought of the poor animal. Early in the morning they hurried to that section of the city where the fox walked at night. They stopped children, housewives, young people and pensioners and asked them about the fox. When people heard the strange question they sometimes laughed and hurried away, but many of them listened to the story attentively and wanted to help the poor animal. But that day the Kara-Dmitrievs did not learn anything.

One more day passed but they did not get anywhere. In the evening they went to see the fox and to give it something to eat. When the fox was very near him Dmitri Lazarevich wanted to take it by the collar but it was too quick for him and ran away. After that it was all eyes and did not come very near to him.

“Oh, it is a fool to run away, it does not know that we want to help it. What a pity!” said Dmitri Lazarevich.

On the third day an old woman gave them an address and said, “I think this is the place where your fox lived.”

And she was right. The people living in that flat really had a fox some months ago. But one day it ran away and now they knew nothing of it. Yes, it had a collar round its neck.

So now there were more people who wanted to help the fox. Some more days passed and one evening when Dmitri Lazarevich began his usual walk the militiaman came hurrying to him and said happily, “I am glad to tell you that the fox is already at home. And just in time to take off that collar. You may go and see it if you wish.”

“Yes, we all have had a lot of trouble with it,” said Dmitri Lazarevich. “But all is well that ends well.”

The husband and the wife often went to see their friend the fox. The fox was always glad to see them and it ate the good things they brought it with a great appetite.