FIAM’S SILVER ARMOUR
After this to protect Fiam whenever we went out in bad or threatening
weather, I covered him with a magnificent waterproof made from the
tin-foil I had taken off of some chocolate. I wrapped him up well, and
I can’t tell you how proud he was to see himself clad in silver like an
ancient prince in armour. I put a cap made of the same material on his
head, which was exactly like a microscopic medieval helmet.
In this outfit Fiam was a little clumsy at first, but soon he could
move with ease, and at last he was able to walk. He was never ready to
take off the brilliant suit, and even when the sun shone gloriously he
would say:
“Put on my waterproof; the weather is threatening.”
“It doesn’t seem so to me.”
“Yes, yes. I feel the dampness in my joints.”
I indulged his little vanity and made him happy. But he glistened so
brightly that a Japanese officer once asked politely:
“What is that you wear in the band of your hat?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied evasively; “a little pencil.”
Also I noticed that the general who commanded the troop looked at me
curiously, but said nothing, because he was afraid it was beneath his
dignity.
It was the first time I had been with the general. It was the day
before a battle, and he had invited me to breakfast in a tent as large
as a house, where all the superior officers ate, and where a military
band played all the time as loud as it could.
During the whole meal I could feel Fiam moving around.
“Is he crazy?” I thought. “He will surely be seen.”
Several hours later when I was alone again I stood him on a piece of
paper, and he began to caper and jump, so that he made holes in the
paper.
“Look out!” I exclaimed. “Has the smell of the saki gone to your head?”
“Oh, but something beside saki!” he shouted, standing still. “I am the
happiest being in the world! I have seen him again! I have found him,
his own self.”
“Who?”
“The prince Funato.”
“The one you shielded from his enemies in the wood?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“But you said he was dead.”
“Well then, precisely, so I did. He died ever and ever so many years
ago.”
“What then?”
“And then—oh, it is too beautiful—he has come back to life!”
“Fiam, you are laughing at me.”
“Indeed I’m not.” And he began to shout, ecstatically happy: “I have
seen him again, himself, his very self!”
[Illustration: A Singular Encounter]