dwarf shrubs and the deformed flowers seem, like the rest of the
household, plunged in warm somnolence.

At the outer gate I stop for the last adieu: the little sad pout has
reappeared, more accentuated than ever on Chrysanthème's face; it is
the right thing, it is correct, and I should feel offended now were it
absent.

Well, little mousmé, let us part good friends; one last kiss even, if
you like. I took you to amuse me; you have not perhaps succeeded very
well, but after all you have done what you could: given me your little
face, your little curtseys, your little music; in short, you have
been pleasant enough in your Japanese way. And who knows, perchance I
may yet think of you sometimes when I recall this glorious summer,
these pretty quaint gardens, and the ceaseless concert of the cicales.

She prostrates herself on the threshold of the door, her forehead
against the ground, and remains in this attitude of superlatively
polite salute as long as I am in sight, while I go down the pathway by
which I am to disappear for ever.

As the distance between us increases, I turn once or twice to look at
her again; but it is a mere civility, and meant to return as it
deserves her grand final salutation.




LIII.