Aristobulus the Cat, then a very young creature of uncommon grace, steps softly amidst a profusion of golden daisies, his little nose turned to their bloom as though to ponder their fragrance. Upon his brow lies a curious constellation of grey markings, a celestial diadem resting on his snow-white head, lending him the quiet aspect of a young prince. In the sun-dappled garden, he moves as if by ancient right, sovereign of all he surveys.