Consular residences, custom-house offices, manufactories; a dry dock
in which a Russian frigate was lying; on the heights the large
European concession, sprinkled with villas, and on the quays, American
bars for the sailors. Further off, it is true, further off, far away
behind these common-place objects, in the very depths of the immense
green valley, peered thousands upon thousands of tiny black houses, a
tangled mass of curious appearance, from which here and there emerged
some higher, dark red, painted roofs, probably the true old Japanese
Nagasaki which still exists. And in those quarters, who knows, there
may be, lurking behind a paper screen, some affected cat's-eyed little
woman, whom perhaps in two or three days (having no time to lose) I
shall marry!! But no, the picture painted by my fancy has faded. I can
no longer see this little creature in my mind's eye; the sellers of
the white mice have blurred her image; I fear now, lest she should be
like them.
At nightfall, the decks were suddenly cleared as by enchantment; in a
second, they had all shut up their boxes, folded their sliding
screens, their trick fans, and, humbly bowing to each of us, the
little men and little women disappeared.
Slowly, as the shades of night closed around us mingling all things in
the bluish darkness, this Japan surrounding us, became once more, by
degrees, little by little, a fairy-like and enchanted country. The
great mountains, now all black, were mirrored and doubled in the still
water at their feet on which we floated, reflecting therein their
sharply reversed outlines, and presenting the mirage of fearful
precipices, over which we hung:--- the stars also were reversed in
their order, making, in the depths of the imaginary abyss, a
sprinkling of tiny phosphorescent lights.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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