figures of some mystic quadrille.

But for all that, let the sanctuary be ever so immense and imposing in
its somber gloom, the idols ever so superb, all seems in Japan but a
mere semblance of grandeur. A hopeless pettiness, an irresistible
feeling of the ludicrous, lies at the bottom of all things.

And then the congregation is not conducive to thoughtful
contemplation, for among it we generally discover some acquaintance:
my mother-in-law, or a cousin, or the woman from the china-shop who
sold us a vase only yesterday. Charming little mousmes,
monkeyish-looking old ladies enter with their smoking-boxes, their
gayly-daubed parasols, their curtsies, their little cries and
exclamations; prattling, complimenting each other, full of restless
movement, and having the greatest difficulty in maintaining a serious
demeanor.

XLI.

_September 3rd_.

Chrysantheme, for the first time, paid me a visit on board ship
to-day, chaperoned by Madame Prune, and followed by my youngest
sister-in-law, Mdlle. La Neige. These ladies had the tranquil manners
of the highest gentility.

In my cabin is a great Buddha on his throne, and before him a lacquer
tray, on which my faithful sailor servant places any small change he
may find lying loose in the pockets of my clothes. Madame Prune, whose
mind is much swayed by mysticism, at once supposed herself before a
regular altar; in the gravest manner possible she addressed a brief
prayer to the god; then, drawing out her purse (which, according to
custom, was attached to her sash behind her back, along with her
little pipe and tobacco-pouch), placed a pious offering in the tray,
while executing a low curtsey.

They remained on their best behavior all through the visit. But when
the moment of departure came, Chrysantheme, who would not go away
without seeing Yves, asked for him with a thinly-veiled persistency
which was remarkable. Yves, for whom I then sent, made himself
particularly charming to her, so much so, that this time I felt a
shade of more serious annoyance; I even asked myself whether the
laughably pitiable ending, which I had hitherto vaguely foreseen,
might not, after all, soon break upon us.

XLII.

_September 4th_.

I met yesterday, in an old and ruined quarter of the town, a perfectly
exquisite mousme, charmingly dressed; a fresh note of color against
the dark background of decayed buildings.

It was quite at the farthest end of Nagasaki, in the mos