ing
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 utter
dismay. What on earth is the matter with the old lady, and why will
she keep getting closer and closer to me, till she is almost in my
way?

It is wonderful all 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 an astonished attention.
Japanese art being entirely conventional, they have never before seen
anyone 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
charming storks, but I am master of a few notions of perspective which
are wanting in him; and I have been taught to draw things as I see
them, without giving them ingeniously distorted and grimacing
attitudes; and the three Japanese are amazed at the air of _reality_
thrown in my sketch.

With little shrieks of admiration, they point out to each other the
different things, as little by little their shape and form are
outlined in black on my paper. Chrysantheme gazes at me with a new
kind of interest: "_Anata itchi-ban_!" she says (literally "Thou
first!" meaning: "You are really quite a swell!") Mdlle. Oyouki is
carried away by her admiration and exclaims in a burst of enthusiasm:

_"Anata bakari!"_ ("Thou alone!" that is to say: "There is no one like
you in the world, all the rest are mere rubbish!")

Madame Prune says nothing, but I can see that she does not think the
less; her languishing attitudes, her hand that at each moment gently