ft mountain breeze rustles gently through it.

That same evening we had intended to give a tea-party, and by my orders
flowers had already been placed in every nook and corner of the house.
There were lotus in our vases, beautifully colored lotus, the last of the
season, I verily believe. They must have been ordered from a special
gardener, out yonder near the Great Temple, and they will cost me dear.

With a few gentle taps of a fan I awake my surprised mousme; and, curious
to catch her first impressions, I announce my departure. She starts up,
rubs her eyelids with the backs of her little hands, looks at me, and
hangs her head: something like an expression of sadness passes in her
eyes.

This little sinking at the heart is for Yves, no doubt!

The news spreads through the house.

Mademoiselle Oyouki dashes upstairs, with half a tear in each of her
babyish eyes; kisses me with her full red lips, which always leave a wet
ring on my cheek; then quickly draws from her wide sleeve a square of
tissue-paper, wipes away her stealthy tears, blows her little nose, rolls
the bit of paper in a ball, and throws it into the street on the parasol
of a passer-by.

Then Madame Prune makes her appearance; in an agitated and discomposed
manner she successively adopts every attitude expressive of dismay. What
on earth is the matter with the old lady, and why does she keep getting
closer and closer to me, till she is almost in my way?

It is wonderful to think of all that I still have to do this last day,
and the endless drives I have to make to the old curiosity-shops, to my
tradespeople, and to the packers.

Nevertheless, before my rooms are dismantled, I intend making a sketch of
them, as I did formerly at Stamboul. It really seems to me as if all I do
here is a bitter parody of all I did over there.

This time, however, it is not that I care for this dwelling; it is only
because it is pretty and uncommon, and the sketch will be an interesting
souvenir.

I fetch, therefore, a leaf out of my album, and begin at once, seated on
the floor and leaning on my desk, ornamented with grasshoppers in relief,
while behind me, very, very close to me, the three women follow the
movements of my pencil with astonished attention. Japanese art being
entirely conventional, they have never before seen any one draw from
nature, and my style delights them. I may not perhaps possess the steady
and nimble touch of M. Sucre, as he groups his charmi