CHAPTER XXXIII
THE “LA FRANCE”
The fair that had been going on all day in the street leading to the Bund was still in full swing. A lurid sight the street presented, lit by lanterns of all colors, and flare lamps near the booths.
Leslie was glad of the noise and bustle around him; one cannot think much when pressing one’s way through a Japanese fair, colored lamps dancing, Mousmés laughing, and showmen shouting, rikshas passing at a trot, or attempting so to do, children blowing trumpets, babies whirling rattles, men-of-war’s men from the ships in harbor walking four abreast and arm in arm, singing “Jean Francis de Nantes,” or “We won’t go Home till Morning.” Chamécens and moon fiddles buzzing and tinkling, dogs barking, and gakunin wailing.
It was ten when he reached the hotel. In the entrance-hall, where the orange trees in tubs reflected the lamp-light from their glossy leaves, a Chinese hall porter in a blue silk blouse sat on guard. From the half-open door of the salle à manger, where a party of Russian officers were at dinner, came the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.
As he entered the hotel the whole world around him changed. Campanula vanished from his mind. He was no longer in Japan. He was in the same house with Jane, and in a few more hours she would be his.
The Chinaman rose from his seat when he saw Leslie enter and led him down a corridor to the door of the private sitting-room where he had dined with Du Telles. He had promised Jane to wait for her there till the morning.
The sphinx-like Celestial closed the door, and Leslie found himself alone.