_September 3rd_.
Chrysanthème, for the first time, paid me a visit on board ship
to-day, chaperoned by Madame Prune, and followed by my youngest
sister-in-law, Mdlle. La Neige. These ladies had the tranquil manners
of the highest gentility.
In my cabin is a great Buddha on his throne, and before him a lacquer
tray, on which my faithful sailor servant places any small change he
may find lying loose in the pockets of my clothes. Madame Prune, whose
mind is much swayed by mysticism, at once supposed herself before a
regular altar; in the gravest manner possible she addressed a brief
prayer to the god; then, drawing out her purse (which, according to
custom, was attached to her sash behind her back, along with her
little pipe and tobacco-pouch), placed a pious offering in the tray,
while executing a low curtsey.
They remained on their best behavior all through the visit. But when
the moment of departure came, Chrysanthème, who would not go away
without seeing Yves, asked for him with a thinly-veiled persistency
which was remarkable. Yves, for whom I then sent, made himself
particularly charming to her, so much so, that this time I felt a
shade of more serious annoyance; I even asked myself whether the
laughably pitiable ending, which I had hitherto vaguely foreseen,
might not, after all, soon break upon us.