Even though I hope to be home soon after this letter I will send you a ‘Bon jour’—I'm smoking my after-breakfast cigarette. This morning I am going to find my way to the Bassin National in preparation for to-morrow. Cook's could not explain exactly; they advised me, however, to take a cab (!); it is about half an hour's drive. Très, très bien. But the man here says I can go by train from the Vieux Port all the way. This I'll find out by page 67 trying to do it this morning. Bogey—I had a funny night. All my fever came back. I shivered and my blood buzzed as though bees swarmed in my heart—and the lilies came out and bowed. Also it was rather late before I went to bed after locking the door, fastening the bolt, etc., and to my Horror just as I began to fall asleep I heard Someone turning the handle. Then the door was gently rattled. Then came a Knock. This is all true. I called out ‘Qui est là?’ No reply. So I leapt out of bed, threw my kimono on and, arming myself with a pair of scissors, I opened the door. There stood a horrid creature in his night-shirt who, began mumbling something about the wrong door—but he leered. Oh, I slammed the door in his face, and walked up and down my room—furious—I was not at all frightened.

To-day it is very warm (so far) and sunny. The trams roll up and down, and clatters and squeaks fly up. Now I have had a scrumptious, cat-like bath and washed my ears beyond words. I feel we are about 15 to-day—just children: you and I don't live like grown up people, you know. I keep seeing in my mind's eye, your back view as you go down to the cave for wood—and then your front view as you come up with your arms full….