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. Chrysanthème 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
touches mine, confirm the suspicions that her look of dismay a few
moments ago awoke within me: evidently my physical charms speak to her
imagination, which in spite of years has remained full of romance! I
shall leave with the regret of having understood her too late!!