It is extremely funny, when some unexpected grasshopper, some free-and-
easy beetle presents itself without invitation or excuse, scampering over
our white mats, to see the manner in which Chrysantheme indicates it to
my righteous vengeance--merely pointing her finger at it, without another
word than "Hou!" said with bent head, a particular pout, and a
scandalised air.

There is a fan kept expressly for the purpose of blowing them out of
doors again.




CHAPTER XVI

SLEEPING JAPAN

Here I must own that my story must appear to the reader to drag a little.

Lacking exciting intrigues and tragic adventures, I wish I knew how to
infuse into it a little of the sweet perfumes of the gardens which
surround me, something of the gentle warmth of the sunshine, of the shade
of these graceful trees. Love being wanting, I should like it to breathe
of the restful tranquillity of this faraway spot. Then, too, I should
like it to reecho the sound of Chrysantheme's guitar, in which I begin to
find a certain charm, for want of something better, in the silence of the
lovely summer evenings.

All through these moonlit nights of July, the weather has been calm,