lked of marrying the devil.

At this point M. Kangourou suddenly calls to mind one Mademoiselle
Jasmin. Heavens! how was it he had not thought of her at once? She is
absolutely and exactly what I want; he will go to-morrow, or this very
evening, to make the necessary overtures to the parents of this young
person, who live a long way off, on the opposite hill, in the suburb
of Diou-djen-dji. She is a very pretty girl of about fifteen. She can
probably be engaged for about eighteen or twenty dollars a month, on
condition of presenting her with a few costumes of the best fashion, and
of lodging her in a pleasant and well-situated house--all of which a man
of gallantry like myself could not fail to do.

Well, let us fix upon Mademoiselle Jasmin, then--and now we must part;
time presses. M. Kangourou will come on board to-morrow to communicate
to me the result of his first proceedings and to arrange with me for the
interview. For the present he refuses to accept any remuneration; but I
am to give him my washing, and to procure him the custom of my brother
officers of the 'Triomphante.' It is all settled. Profound bows--they
put on my boots again at the door. My djin, profiting by the interpreter
kind fortune has placed in his way, begs to be recommended to me for
future custom; his stand is on the quay; his number is 415, inscribed in
French characters on the lantern of his vehicle (we have a number 415
on board, one Le Goelec, gunner, who serves the left of one of my
guns; happy thought! I shall remember this); his price is sixpence the
journey, or five-pence an hour, for his customers. Capital! he
shall have my custom, that is promised. And now, let us be off. The
waiting-maids, who have escorted me to the door, fall on all fours as
a final salute, and remain prostrate on the threshold as long as I am
still in sight down the dark pathway, where the rain trickles off the
great overarching bracken upon my head.

CHAPTER IV. CHOOSING A BRIDE

Three days have passed. Night is closing, in an apartment which has been
mine since yesterday. Yves and I, on the first floor, move restlessly
over the white mats, striding to and fro in the great bare room, of
which the thin, dry flooring cracks beneath our footsteps; we are both
rather irritated by prolonged expectation. Yves, whose impatience shows
itself more freely, from time to time looks out of the window. As for
myself, a chill suddenly seizes me, at the idea that I have