husband, to make him wait patiently, and to while away the
time in the ante-room, immediately offered to paint him some storks in
a variety of attitudes.

And this is how, in Nagasaki, all the Japanese gentlemen of a certain
age, have in their collections two or three of these little pictures,
for which they are indebted to the delicate and original talent of M.
Sucre.

XXXIV.

_Sunday, August 25th_.

At about six o'clock, while I was on duty, the _Triomphante_ left her
prison walls between the mountains and came out of dock. After a great
uproar of maneuvering we took up our old moorings in the roadstead, at
the foot of the Diou-djen-dji hills. The weather was again calm and
cloudless, the sky presenting a peculiar clearness as though it had
been swept clean by the cyclone, an exceeding transparency bringing
out the minutest details of the far distance till then unseen; as if
the terrible blast had blown away every vestige of the floating mists
and left behind it nothing but void and boundless space. The coloring
of woods and mountains stood out again in the resplendent verdancy of
spring after the torrents of rain, like the wet colors of some freshly
washed painting. The sampans and junks, which for the last three days
had been lying under shelter, had now put out to sea, and the bay was
covered with their white sails, which looked like an immense flight of
seabirds.

At eight o'clock, at nightfall, our maneuver being at an end, I
embarked with Yves on board a sampan; this time it is he who is
carrying me off and taking me back to my home.

On land, a delicious perfume of new-mown hay greets us, and the road
across the mountains lies bathed in glorious moonlight. We go straight
up to Diou-djen-dji to join Chrysantheme; I feel almost remorseful,
although I hardly show it, for my neglect of her.

Looking up, I recognize from afar my little house, perched on high. It
is wide open and lit up; I even hear the sound of guitar. Then I
perceive the gilt head of my Buddha between: the little bright flames
of its two hanging night lamps. Now Chrysantheme appears on the
verandah, looking out as if she expected us; and with her wonderful
bows of hair and long falling sleeves, her silhouette is thoroughly
Niponese.

As I enter, she comes forward to kiss me, in a graceful, though rather
hesitating manner, while Oyouki, more demonstrative, throws her arms
around me.

It is with a certain pleasure that I see once