Nevertheless, in the reality it almost seems to be smaller, more finicking than I had imagined it, and also much more mournful, no doubt by reason of that great pall of black clouds hanging over us, and this incessant rain.
While awaiting M.Kangourou (who is dressing himself, it appears, and will be here shortly), it may be as well to begin luncheon.
In the daintiest bowl imaginable, adorned with flights of storks, is the most wildly impossible soup made of seaweed.

After which there are little fish dried in sugar, crabs in sugar, beans in sugar, and fruits in vinegar and pepper.

All this is atrocious, but above all unexpected and unimaginable.

The little women make me eat, laughing much, with that perpetual, irritating laugh which is peculiar to Japan--they make me eat, according to their fashion, with dainty chop-sticks, fingered with affected grace.

I am becoming accustomed to their faces.