My mother-in-law seems to be really a very nice woman, and were it not for the insurmountable feeling of spleen the sight of her garden produces on me, I would often go and see her. She has nothing in common with the mammas of Jonquille, Campanule or Touki: she is vastly their superior; and then I can see that she has been very good-looking and stylish. Her past life puzzles me; but in my position as a son-in-law, good manners prevent my making further inquiries.
Some assert that she was formerly a celebrated guécha in Yeddo, who lost public favor by her folly in becoming a mother. This would account for her daughter's talent on the guitar; she had probably herself taught her the touch and style of the Conservatory.
Since the birth of Chrysanthème (her eldest child and first cause of this loss of favor), my mother-in-law, an expansive although distinguished nature, has fallen seven times into the same fatal error, and I have two little sisters-in-law: Mdlle. La Neige, [G] and Mdlle. La
Lune, [H] as well as five little brothers-in-law: Cerisier, Pigeon, Liseron, Or, and Bambou.
[G] In Japanese: Oyouki-San (like Madame Prune's daughter).
[H] ] In Japanese: Tsouki-San.
Little Bambou is four years old,—a yellow baby, fat and round all over, with fine bright eyes; coaxing and jolly, sleeping whenever he is not laughing. Of all my Niponese family, Bambou is the one I love the most.
Tuesday, August 27th.