amine the
place by the light of our red balloons, carefully held out at arm's
length for fear of this dead man; it is only the marksman, he who on
the 14th of July chose such magnificent arrows for Chrysantheme; and
he sleeps, good man, with his chignon somewhat dishevelled, a sound
sleep, which it would be cruel to disturb.

Let us go to the end of the terrace, contemplate the roadstead at our
feet, and then return home. To-night the harbor looks only like a dark
and sinister rent, which the moonbeams cannot fathom,--a yawning
crevasse opening into the very bowels of the earth, at the bottom of
which lie faint and small glimmers, an assembly of glow-worms in a
ditch--the lights of the different vessels lying at anchor.

XLVII.

It is the middle of the night, somewhere about two in the morning. Our
night-lamps are burning still, a little dimly, in front of our
peaceful idols. Chrysantheme wakes me suddenly, and I turn to look at
her: she has raised herself on one arm, and her face expresses the
most intense terror; she makes me a sign, without daring to speak,
that someone is near, or something, creeping up to us. What ill-timed
visit is this? A feeling of fear gains possession of me also. I have a
rapid impression of some immense unknown danger, in this isolated
spot, in this strange country of which I do not even yet comprehend
the inhabitants and the mysteries. It must be something very
frightful, to hold her there, rooted to the spot, half dead with
fright, she who _does_ comprehend all these things.

It would seem to be outside: it is coming from the garden; with
trembling hand she indicates to me that it will come through the
verandah, over Madame Prune's roof. Certainly, I can hear faint
noises, and they do approach nearer.

I suggest to her:

"_Neko-San?_" ("It is Messrs. the cats?")

"No!" she replies, still terrified and in an alarming tone.

"_Bakemono-Sama?_" ("Is it my lords the ghosts?") I have already the
Japanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politeness.

'No!!" _"Dorobo!!"_("Thieves!!") Thieves! Ah this is better; I much
prefer this to a visit such as I have just been, dreading in the
sudden awakening from sleep: from ghosts or spirits of the dead;
thieves, that is to say, worthy fellows very much alive, and having
undoubtedly, in as much as they are Japanese thieves, faces of the
most meritorious oddity. I am not in the least frightened, now that I
know precisely what to