amazing what a quantity of these paper lanterns we consume. They
are invariably decorated in the same way, with painted nightmoths or
bats; fastened to the ceiling at the farther end of the shop, they hang
in enormous clusters, and the old woman, seeing us arrive, gets upon
a table to take them down. Gray or red are our usual choice; Madame
Tres-Propre knows our preferences and leaves the green or blue lanterns
aside. But it is always hard work to unhook one, on account of the
little short sticks by which they are held, and the strings with which
they are tied getting entangled together. In an exaggerated pantomime,
Madame Tres-Propre expresses her despair at wasting so much of our
valuable time: oh! if it only depended on her personal efforts! but ah!
the natural perversity of inanimate things which have no consideration
for human dignity! With monkeyish antics, she even deems it her duty to
threaten the lanterns and shake her fist at these inextricably tangled
strings which have the presumption to delay us.

It is all very well, but we know this manoeuvre by heart; and if the
old lady loses patience, so do we. Chrysantheme, who is half asleep, is
seized with a fit of kitten-like yawning which she does not even trouble
to hide behind her hand, and which appears to be endless. She pulls
a very long face at the thought of the steep hill we must struggle up
tonight through the pelting rain.

I have the same feeling, and am thoroughly annoyed. To what purpose do
I clamber up every evening to that suburb, when it offers me no
attractions whatever?

The rain increases; what are we to do? Outside, djins pass rapidly,
calling out: "Take care!" splashing the foot-passengers and casting
through the shower streams of light from their many-colored lanterns.
Mousmes and elderly ladies pass, tucked up, muddy, laughing nevertheless
under their paper umbrellas, exchanging greetings, clacking their wooden
pattens on the stone pavement. The whole street is filled with the noise
of the pattering feet and pattering rain.

As good luck will have it, at the same moment passes Number 415, our
poor relative, who, seeing our distress, stops and promises to help
us out of our difficulty; as soon as he has deposited on the quay an
Englishman he is conveying, he will come to our aid and bring all that
is necessary to relieve us from our lamentable situation.

At last our lantern is unhooked, lighted, and paid for. There is
another shop oppo