The Clock (prose version)

The Chinese tell the time in the eyes of cats. One day a missionary,
walking in the suburbs of Nanking, noticed that he had forgotten his
watch, and asked a little boy what time it was.

The youngster of the heavenly Empire hesitated at first; then, carried
away by his thought he answered: "I'll tell you." A few moments later
he reappeared, bearing in his arms an immense cat, and looking, as they
say, into the whites of its eyes, he announced without hesitation:
"It's not quite noon." Which was the fact.

As for me, if I turn toward the fair feline, to her so aptly named,
who is at once the honor of her sex, the pride of my heart and the
fragrance of my mind, be it by night or by day, in the full light or in
the opaque shadows, in the depths of her adorable eyes I always tell
the time distinctly, always the same, a vast, a solemn hour, large as
space, without division of minutes or of seconds,--an immovable hour
which is not marked on the clocks, yet is slight as a sigh, is rapid as
the lifting of a lash.

And if some intruder comes to disturb me while my glance rests upon
that charming dial, if some rude and intolerant genie, some demon of
the evil hour, comes to ask: "What are you looking at so carefully?
What are you hunting for in the eyes of that being? Do you see the time
there, mortal squanderer and do-nothing?" I shall answer, unhesitant:
"Yes, I see the time, it is Eternity!"

Is not this, madame, a really worth-while madrigal, just as affected
as yourself? Indeed, I have had so much pleasure in embroidering this
pretentious gallantry, that I shall ask you for nothing in exchange.