_July 12th_.
Yves comes up to us whenever he is free, in the evening at five
o'clock, after his work on board.
He is our only European visitor, and with the exception of a few
civilities and cups of tea, exchanged with our neighbors, we lead a
very retired life. Only in the evenings, winding our way through the
precipitous little streets and carrying our lanterns at the end of
short sticks, we go down to Nagasaki in search of amusement at the
theaters, at the "tea-houses," or in the bazaars.
Yves treats this wife of mine as if she were a plaything, and
continually assures me that she is charming.
Myself, I find her as exasperating as the cicalas on my roof; and when
I am alone at home, side by side with this little creature twanging
the strings of her long-necked guitar, in front of this marvelous
panorama of pagodas and mountains,--I am overcome by a sadness full of
tears.