Well, little mousmé, let us part good friends; one last kiss even, if
you like. I took you to amuse me; you have not perhaps succeeded very
well, but after all you have done what you could: given me your little
face, your little curtseys, your little music; in short, you have
been pleasant enough in your Japanese way. And who knows, perchance I
may yet think of you sometimes when I recall this glorious summer,
these pretty quaint gardens, and the ceaseless concert of the cicales.
She prostrates herself on the threshold of the door, her forehead
against the ground, and remains in this attitude of superlatively
polite salute as long as I am in sight, while I go down the pathway by
which I am to disappear for ever.
As the distance between us increases, I turn once or twice to look at
her again; but it is a mere civility, and meant to return as it
deserves her grand final salutation.
LIII.
On entering the town, at the turn of the principal street, I have the
good luck to meet No. 415, my poor relation. I was just at that moment
in want of a speedy djin, and I at once get into his vehicle; besides,
it will be an alleviation to my feelings, in this hour of departure,
to take my last drive in company with a member of my family.
Unaccustomed as I was to be out of doors during the hours of siesta,
I had never yet seen the streets of the town thus overwhelmed by the
sunshine, thus deserted in the silence and solitary brilliancy
peculiar to all hot countries.
In front of all the shops hang white shades, adorned here and there
with slight designs in black, in the quaintness of which lurks I know
not what,--something mysterious: dragons, emblems, symbolical figures
The sky is too glaring; the light crude, implacable; never has this
old town of Nagasaki appeared to me so old, so worm-eaten, so bald,
notwithstanding all its veneer of new papers and gaudy paintings.
These little wooden houses, of such marvelous cleanly whiteness
inside, are black outside, time-worn, disjointed and _grimacing_. When
one looks closely, this grimace is to be found everywhere: in the
hideous masks laughing in the shop fronts of the innumerable
curio-shops; in the grotesque figures, the playthings, the idols,
cruel, suspicious mad;--it is even found in the buildings: in the
friezes of the religious porticos, in the roofs of the thousand
pagodas; of which the angles and gable-ends writhe and twist like the
yet dangerous remains of ancient and malignant beasts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account