Madame La Duchesse,
Allow me to crave your acceptance of the following
work, as a respectful tribute of my attachment.
I felt some hesitation in offering it, for its
main incident cannot be deemed altogether proper;
but I have striven that in its expression at least,
it should not sin against good taste, and I trust that
my endeavours have been successful.
It is the diary of a summer of my life, in which
I have changed nothing, not even the dates, thinking
as I do, that in our efforts to arrange matters
we often only succeed in disarranging them. Although
the most important role may appear to devolve on Madame
Chrysantheme, it is very certain that the three principal
personages are myself, Japan, and the effect
produced on me by that country.
Do you remember a certain photograph—rather
ridiculous I must admit—representing
that big fellow Yves, a Japanese girl and myself,
grouped closely together as we were placed side by
side by a Nagasaki artist? You smiled when I
assured you that the carefully combed little creature
placed between us two, had been one of our neighbours.
Kindly welcome my book with the same indulgent smile,
without seeking therein a meaning either good or bad,
in the same spirit that you would receive some quaint
bit of pottery, some grotesquely carved ivory idol,
or some preposterous trifle brought back for you from
this singular fatherland of all preposterousness.
Believe me with the deepest respect, Madame la
Duchesse,
Your affectionate
PIERRE LOTI.
At sea, about two o’clock in the morning, on
a clear night, under a star-lit sky.
Yves stood near me on the bridge, and we were talking
of the country, so utterly unknown to us both, to
which the chances of our destiny were now wafting
us. As we were to cast anchor the following day,
we enjoyed the state of expectation, and formed a
thousand plans.
“As for me,” I said, “I shall at
once marry.”
“Ah!” returned Yves, with the indifferent
air of a man whom nothing can surprise.
“Yes—I shall choose a little yellow-skinned
woman with black hair and cat’s eyes. She
must be pretty. Not much bigger than a doll.
You shall have a room in our house. A little
paper house, in the midst of green gardens, prettily
shaded. We shall live among flowers, everything
around us shall blossom, and each morning our dwelling
shall be filled with nosegays, nosegays such as you
have never dreamt of.”
Yves now began to take an interest in these plans
for my future household; indeed, he would have listened
with as much confidence, if I had manifested the intention
of taking temporary vows in some monastery of this
new country, or of marrying some island queen and
shutting myself up with her in a house built of jade,
in the middle of an enchanted lake.
