[Footnote H: In Japanese: _Tsouki-San_.]

Little Bambou is four years old,--a yellow baby, fat and round all
over, with fine bright eyes; coaxing and jolly, sleeping whenever he
is not laughing. Of all my Niponese family, Bambou is the one I love
the most.




XXXVI.

_Tuesday, August 27th_.


We have spent the day,--Yves, Chrysanthème, Oyouki and
myself,--wandering through dark and dusty nooks, dragged hither and
thither by four quick-footed djins, in search of antiquities in the
bric-à-brac shops.

Towards sunset, Chrysanthème, who has wearied me more than ever since
the morning, and who doubtless has perceived it, pulls a very long
face, declares herself ill, and begs leave to spend the night at her
mother's, Madame Renoncule.

I agree to this with the best grace in the world; let her go, tiresome
little mousmé! Oyouki will carry a message to her parents, who will
shut up our rooms; we shall spend the evening, Yves and I, in roaming
about as fancy takes us, without any mousmé dragging at our heels, and
shall afterwards regain our own quarters on board the _Triomphante_,