curtsies. One offers me the spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, another
preserved fruits in delightful little plates, the third, absolutely
indefinable objects upon gems of little trays. And they grovel before
me on the floor, placing all this plaything of a meal at my feet.

At this moment, my impressions of Japan are charming enough; I feel
myself fairly launched upon this tiny, artificial, fictitious world,
which I felt I knew already from the paintings of lacquer and
porcelains. It is so exact a representation! The three little
squatting women, graceful and dainty, with their narrow slits of eyes,
their magnificent chignons in huge bows, smooth and shining as
boot-polish, and the little tea-service on the floor, the landscape
seen through the verandah, the pagoda perched among the clouds; and
over all the same affectation everywhere, in every detail. Even the
woman's melancholy voice, still to be heard behind the paper
partition, was so evidently the way they should sing, these musicians
I had so often seen painted in amazing colors on rice-paper, half
closing their dreamy eyes in the midst of impossibly large flowers.
Long before I came to it, I had perfectly pictured this Japan to
myself. Nevertheless in the reality it almost seems to be smaller,
more finicking than I had imagined it, and also much more mournful, no
doubt by reason of that great pall of black clouds hanging over us and
this incessant rain.

* * * * *

While awaiting M. Kangourou (who is dressing himself it appears, and
will be here shortly), it may be as well to begin lunch.

In the daintiest bowl imaginable, adorned with flights of storks, is