Once his back dried, they all together, the three mousmés and himself,
play at Japanese "_pigeon vole_." Really I could not wish for anything
more innocent, or more correct in every respect.

Charles N---- and Madame Jonquille his wife, arrived unexpectedly at
about ten o'clock. (They were wandering about in the dark shrubberies
in our neighborhood, and, seeing our lights, came up to us.)

They intend to finish the evening at the tea-house "of the Toads," and
they try to induce us to go and drink some iced sherbets with them. It
is at least an hour's walk from here, on the other side of the town,
half way up the hill, in the gardens of the large pagoda dedicated to
Osueva; but they stick to their idea, pretending that in this clear
night and bright moonlight, we shall have a lovely view from the
terrace of the temple.

Lovely, I have no doubt, but we had intended going to bed. However,
be it so, let us go with them.

We hire five djins and five cars down below, in the principal street,
in front of Madame Très-Propre's shop, who, for this late expedition,
chooses for us her largest round lanterns,--big, red balloons,
decorated with star-fish, seaweed, and green sharks.

It is nearly eleven o'clock when we make our start. In the central
quarters the virtuous Niponese are already closing their little
booths, putting out their lamps, shutting the wooden framework,
drawing their paper panels.

Further on, in the old-fashioned suburban streets, all is shut up long