That's
just it, she is your wife." If she were not, well then he could not
answer for what might happen,--notwithstanding any remorse he might
have in the depths of his heart, since he is no longer a bachelor and
free as air, as in former days. But he considers her my wife, and she
is sacred. I have the fullest faith in his word, and I experience a
positive relief, a real joy, at finding my staunch Yves of bygone
days. How could I have so succumbed to the demeaning influence of my
surroundings as to suspect him even, and invent for myself such a
mean, petty anxiety?

We will never even mention that doll again.

We remain up there very late, talking of other things, gazing the
while at the immense depths below our feet, at the valleys and
mountains as they become one by one indistinct and lost in the
deepening darkness. Placed as we are at an enormous height, in the
wide free atmosphere, we seem already to have quitted this miniature
country, already to be freed from the impression of littleness which
it has given us, and from the little links by which it was beginning
to bind us to itself.

Seen from such heights as these, all the countries of the globe bear a
strong resemblance to each other; they lose the imprint made upon them
by man, and by races; by all the atoms swarming on the surface.

As of old, in the Breton marshes, in the woods of Toulven, or at sea
in the night-watches, we talk of all those things to which thoughts
naturally revert in darkness; of ghosts, of spirits, of eternity, of
the great hereafter, of chaos--and we entirely forget little
Chrysantheme!

When we arrive at Diou-djen-dji in the starry night, it is the music
of her _chamecen_, heard from afar, which recalls to us her existence;
she is studying some vocal duet with Mdlle. Oyouki, her pupil.

I feel myself in very good humor this evening, and, relieved from any
absurd suspicions about my poor Yves, am quite disposed to enjoy
without reserve my last days in Japan, and derive therefrom all the
amusement possible.

Let us then stretch ourselves out on the dazzling white mats, and
listen to the singular duet sung by these two mousmes: a strange
musical medley, slow and mournful, beginning with two or three high
notes, and descending at each couplet, in almost an imperceptible
manner, into actual solemnity. The song keeps its dragging slowness;
but the accompaniment becoming more and more accentuated, is like the
impetuous sound of a far