My mother-in-law seems to be really a very nice woman,
and were it not for the insurmountable feeling of
spleen the sight of her garden produces on me, I would
often go and see her. She has nothing in common
with the mammas of Jonquille, Campanule or Touki:
she is vastly their superior; and then I can see that
she has been very good-looking and stylish. Her
past life puzzles me; but in my position as a son-in-law,
good manners prevent my making further inquiries.
Some assert that she was formerly a celebrated guecha
in Yeddo, who lost public favor by her folly in becoming
a mother. This would account for her daughter’s
talent on the guitar; she had probably herself taught
her the touch and style of the Conservatory.
Since the birth of Chrysantheme (her eldest child
and first cause of this loss of favor), my mother-in-law,
an expansive although distinguished nature, has fallen
seven times into the same fatal error, and I have
two little sisters-in-law: Mdlle. La Neige,[G]
and Mdlle. La Lune,[H] as well as five little
brothers-in-law: Cerisier, Pigeon, Liseron, Or,
and Bambou.
[Footnote G: In Japanese: Oyouki-San
(like Madame Prune’s daughter).]
[Footnote H: In Japanese: Tsouki-San.]
Little Bambou is four years old,—a yellow
baby, fat and round all over, with fine bright eyes;
coaxing and jolly, sleeping whenever he is not laughing.
Of all my Niponese family, Bambou is the one I love
the most.
We have spent the day,—Yves, Chrysantheme,
Oyouki and myself,—wandering through dark
and dusty nooks, dragged hither and thither by four
quick-footed djins, in search of antiquities in the
bric-a-brac shops.
Towards sunset, Chrysantheme, who has wearied me more
than ever since the morning, and who doubtless has
perceived it, pulls a very long face, declares herself
ill, and begs leave to spend the night at her mother’s,
Madame Renoncule.
I agree to this with the best grace in the world;
let her go, tiresome little mousme! Oyouki will
carry a message to her parents, who will shut up our
rooms; we shall spend the evening, Yves and I, in roaming
about as fancy takes us, without any mousme dragging
at our heels, and shall afterwards regain our own
quarters on board the Triomphante, without
having the trouble of climbing up that hill.
First of all, we make an attempt to dine together
in some fashionable tea-house. Impossible, there
is not a place to be had; all the absurd paper rooms,
all the compartments contrived by so many ingenious
dodges of slipping and sliding panels, all the nooks
and corners in the little gardens are filled with
Japanese men and women eating impossible and incredible
little dishes! numberless young dandies are dining
tete-a-tete with the lady of their choice, and
sounds of dancing girls and music issue from the private
rooms.
