rsity of California 
 ithern Regional 
 brary Facility
 
 rade vice wht 
 tl0n 
 
 Japanese man' yp ' CaI e *Pression
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 Mrs. Edwin W. Meise 
 
 donor
 
 KIMONO
 
 KIMONO 
 
 by 
 JOHN PARIS 
 
 BONI AND LIVERIGHT 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 KIMONO 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
 
 BONI & LlVERIGHT, INC. 
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 TO MY WIFE 
 WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE u 
 
 II HONEYMOON 27 
 
 III EASTWARDS 39 
 
 IV NAGASAKI 51 
 
 V CHONKINA 61 
 
 VI ACROSS JAPAN 69 
 
 VII THE EMBASSY 83 
 
 VIII THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 93 
 
 IX ITO SAN 108 
 
 X THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 117 
 
 XI A GEISHA DINNER 129 
 
 XII FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 143 
 
 XIII THE FAMILY ALTAR 158 
 
 XIV THE DWARF TREES 175 
 
 XV EURASIA 184 
 
 XVI THE GREAT BUDDHA 194 
 
 XVII THE RAINY SEASON 208 
 
 XVIII AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 216 
 
 XIX YAE SMITH 229 
 
 vii
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XX THE KIMONO 238 
 
 XXI SAYONARA (GOOD-BYE) 248 
 
 XXII FUJINAMI ASAKO 259 
 
 XXIII THE REAL SHINTO x 269 
 
 XXIV THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 279 
 
 XXV JAPANESE COURTSHIP 289 
 
 XXVI ALONE IN TOKYO 300 
 
 XXVII LADY BRANDAN. . 3 '4
 
 Utsutsu wo mo Since I am convinced 
 
 Utsutsu to sara ni That Reality is in no way 
 
 Omowaneba, Real, 
 
 Yume wo mo yutnt to How am I to admit 
 
 Nani ka omowamu? That dreams are dreams? 
 
 Thf verses and translation above are taken from A. Waley's 
 "JAPANESE POETKY : THE UTA" (Clarendon Press), as are 
 many of the classical poems placed at the head of the chapters.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 
 
 Shibukaro ka Whether the fruit be bitter 
 
 Shiranedo kaki no Or whether it be sweet, 
 
 Hatsu-chigiri. The first bite tells. 
 
 THE marriage of Captain the Honourable Geoffrey 
 Harrington and Miss Asako Fujinami was an outstanding 
 event in the season of 1913. It was bizarre, it was pic- 
 turesque, it was charming, it was socially and politic- 
 ally important, it was everything that could appeal to 
 the taste of London society, which, as the season ad- 
 vances, is apt to become jaded by the monotonous pro- 
 cess of Hymen in High Life and by the continued de- 
 mand for costly wedding presents. 
 
 Once again Society paid for its seat at St. George's 
 and for its glass of champagne and crumb of cake with 
 gifts. of gold and silver and precious stones enough to 
 smother the tiny bride ; but for once in a way it paid 
 with a good heart, not merely in obedience to conven- 
 tion, but for the sake of participating in a unique and 
 delightful scene, a touching ceremony, the plighting of 
 East and West. 
 
 Would the Japanese heiress be married in a kimono 
 with flowers and fans fixed in an elaborate coiffure? 
 Thus the ladies were wondering as they craned their 
 necks to catch a glimpse of fhe bride's procession up the 
 aisle ; but, though some even stood on hassocks and pew 
 seats, few were able to distinguish for certain. She was 
 so very tiny. At any rate, her six tall bridesmaids were 
 
 11
 
 12 KIMONO 
 
 arrayed in Japanese dress, lovely white creations em- 
 broidered with birds and foliage. 
 
 It is hard to distinguish anything in the perennial 
 twilight of St. George's ; a twilight symbolic of the new 
 lives which emerge from its Corinthian portico into that 
 married world about which so much has been guessed 
 and so little is known. 
 
 One thing, however, was visible to all as the pair 
 moved together up to the altar rails, and that was the 
 size of the bridegroom as contrasted with the smallness 
 of his bride. He looked like a great rough bear and she 
 like a silver fairy. There was something intensely pa- 
 thetic in the curve of his broad shoulders as he bent 
 over the little hand to place in its proud position the 
 diminutive golden circlet which was to unite their two 
 lives. 
 
 As they left the church, the organ was playing Kimi- 
 ga-ya, the Japanese national hymn. Nobody recognized 
 it, except the few Japanese who were present ; but Lady 
 Everington, with that exaggeration of the suitable 
 which is so typical of her, had insisted on its choice as a 
 voluntary. Those who had heard the tune before and 
 half remembered it decided that it must come from the 
 "Mikado"; and one stern dowager went so far as to pro- 
 test to the rector for permitting such a tune to dese- 
 crate the sacred edifice. 
 
 Outside the church stood the bridegroom's brother 
 officers. Through the gleaming passage of sword- 
 blades, smiling and happy, the strangely assorted couple 
 entered upon the way of wedlock, as Mr. and Mrs. 
 Geoffrey Barrington the shoot of the Fujinami grafted 
 on to one of the oldest of our noble families. 
 
 "Are her parents here?" one lady was asking her 
 neighbour. 
 
 "Oh, no ; they are both dead, I believe." 
 
 "What kind of people are they, do you know? Do 
 Japs have an aristocracy and society and all that kind 
 of thing?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know. I shouldn't think so. They 
 don't look real enough."
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 13 
 
 "She is very rich, anyhow," a third lady intervened, 
 "I've heard they are big landowners in Tokyo, and 
 cousins of Admiral Togo's." 
 
 The opportunity for closer inspection of this curiosity 
 was afforded by the reception given at Lady Ever- 
 ington's mansion in Carlton House Terrace. Of course, 
 everybody was there. The great ballroom was draped 
 with hangings of red and white, the national colours of 
 Japan. Favours of the same bright hues were distri- 
 buted among the guests. Trophies of .Union Jacks and 
 Rising Suns were grouped in corners and festooned 
 above windows and doorways. 
 
 Lady Everington was bent upon giving an international 
 Importance to her protegee's marriage. Her original 
 plan had been to invite the whole Japanese community 
 in London, and so to promote the popularity of the 
 Anglo-Japanese Alliance by making the most of this op- 
 portunity for social fraternising. But where was the 
 Japanese community in London? Nobody knew. Per- 
 haps there was none. There was the Embassy, of course, 
 which arrived smiling, fluent, and almost too well-man- 
 nered. But Lady Everington had been unable to push 
 very far her programme for international amenities. 
 There were strange little yellow men from the City, 
 who had charge of ships and banking interests ; there 
 were strange little yellow men from beyond the West 
 End, who studied the Fine Arts, and lived, it appeared, 
 on nothing. But the hostess could find no ladies at 
 all, except Countess Saito and the Embassy dames. 
 
 Monsieur and Madame Murata from Paris, the bride's 
 guardians, were also present. But the Orient was sub- 
 merged beneath the flood of our rank and fashion, which, 
 as one lady put it, had to take care how it stepped for 
 fear of crushing the little creatures. 
 
 "Why did you let him do it?" said Mrs. Markham to 
 her sister. 
 
 "It was a mistake, my dear," whispered Lady Ever- 
 ington, "I meant her for somebody quite different."
 
 14 KIMONO 
 
 "And you're sorry now?" 
 
 "No, I have no time to be sorry ever," replied that 
 eternally graceful and youthful Egeria, who is one of 
 London's most powerful social influences. "It will be 
 interesting to see what becomes of them." 
 
 Lady Everington has been criticised for stony-hearted- 
 ness, for opportunism, and for selfish abuse of her 
 husband's vast wealth. She has been likened to an 
 experimental chemist, who mixes discordant elements 
 together in order to watch the results, chilling them in 
 ice or heating them over the fire, until the lives burst 
 in fragments or the colour slowly fades out of them. 
 She has been called an artist in mesalliances, a mismatch- 
 maker of dangerous cunning, a dangler of picturesque 
 beggar-maids before romantic-eyed Cophetuas, a daring 
 promoter of ambitious American girls and a champion 
 of musical comedy peeresses. Her house has been named 
 the Junior Bachelors Club. The charming young men 
 who seem to be bound to its hospitable board by in- 
 visible chains are the material for her dashing improvisa- 
 tions and the dramatis persona of the scores of little 
 domestic comedies which she likes to keep floating around 
 her in different stages of development. 
 
 Geoffrey Barrington had been the secretary of this 
 club, and a favourite with the divinity who presided 
 over it. We had all supposed that he would remain a 
 bachelor ; and the advent of Asako Fujinami into London 
 society gave us at first no reason to change our opinion. 
 But she was certainly attractive. 
 
 She ought to have been married in a kimono. There 
 was no doubt about it now, when there was more liberty 
 to inspect her, as she stood there shaking hands with 
 hundreds of guests and murmuring her "Thank you very 
 much" to the reiterated congratulations. 
 
 The white gown was perfectly cut and of a shade to 
 give its full value to her complexion, a waxen complexion 
 like old ivory or like a magnolia petal, in which the 
 Mongolian yellow was ever so faintly discernible- It
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 15 
 
 was a sweet little face, oval and smooth ; but it might 
 have been called expressionless if it had not been for a 
 dimple which peeped and vanished around a corner of 
 the small compressed mouth, and for the great deep 
 brown eyes, like the eyes of deer or like pools of forest 
 water, eyes full of warmth and affection. This was the 
 feature which struck most of us as we took the oppor- 
 tunity to watch her in European dress with the glamour 
 of her kimono stripped from her. They were the eyes 
 of the Oriental girl, a creature closer to the animals than 
 we are, lit by instinct more often than by reason, and 
 hiding a soul in its infancy, a repressed, timorous, un- 
 certain thing, spasmodically violent and habitually 
 secretive and aloof. 
 
 Sir Ralph Cairns, the famous diplomat, was talking 
 on this subject to Professor Ironside. 
 
 "The Japanese are extraordinarily quick," he was say- 
 ing, "the most adaptable people since the ancient Greeks, 
 whom they resemble in some ways. But they are more 
 superficial. The intellect races on ahead, but the heart 
 lingers in the Dark Ages." 
 
 "Perhaps intermarriage is the solution of the great 
 racial problem," suggested the Professor. 
 
 "Never," said the old administrator. "Keep the breed 
 pure, be it white, black, or yellow. Bastard races can- 
 not flourish. They are waste of Nature." 
 
 The Professor glanced towards the bridal pair. 
 
 "And these also?" he asked. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Sir Ralph, "but in her case her educa- 
 tion has been so entirely European." 
 
 Hereupon, Lady Everington approaching, Sir Ralph 
 turned to her and said, 
 
 "Dear lady, let me congratulate you: this is your 
 masterpiece." 
 
 "Sir Ralph," said the hostess, already looking to see 
 which of her guests she would next pounce upon, "You 
 know the East so well. Give me one little piece of advice 
 to hand over to the children before they start on their 
 honeymoon." 
 
 Sir Ralph smiled benignly.
 
 16 KIMONO 
 
 "Where are they going?" he asked. 
 
 "Everywhere," replied Lady Everington, ."they are 
 going to travel." 
 
 "Then let them travel all over the world," he answered, 
 "only not to Japan. That is their Bluebeard's cupboard; 
 and into that they must not look." 
 
 There was more discussion of bridegroom and bride 
 than is usual at society weddings, which are apt to be- 
 come mere reunions of fashionable people, only vaguely 
 conscious of the identity of those in whose honour they 
 have been gathered together. 
 
 "Geoffrey Barrington is such a healthy barbarian," said 
 a pale young man with a monocle ; "if it had been a high- 
 browed child of culture like you, Reggie, with a taste 
 for exotic sensations, I should hardly have been sur- 
 prised." 
 
 "And if it had been you, Arthur," replied Reggie 
 Forsyth of the Foreign Office, who was Barrington's best 
 man, "I should have known at once that it was the 
 twenty thousand a year which was the supreme attrac- 
 tion." 
 
 There was a certain amount of Anglo-Indian senti- 
 ment afloat among the company, which condemned the 
 marriage entirely as an outrage on decency. 
 
 "What was Brandan dreaming of," snorted General 
 Haslam, "to allow his son to marry a yellow native?" 
 
 "Dreaming of the mortgage on the Brandan property, 
 I expect, General," answered Lady Rushworth. 
 
 "It's scandalous," foamed the General, "a fine young 
 fellow, a fine officer, too! His career ruined for an 
 undersized geisha !" 
 
 "But think of the millions of yens or sens or whatever 
 they are, with which she is going to re-gild the Brandan 
 coronet !" 
 
 "That wouldn't console me for a yellow baby with 
 slit eyes," continued the General, his voice rising in 
 debate as his custom was at the Senior. 
 
 "Hush, General!" said his interlocutor, "we don't dis- 
 cuss such possibilities."
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 17 
 
 "But everybody here must be thinking of them, except 
 that unfortunate young man." 
 
 "We never say what we are thinking, General; it 
 would be too upsetting." 
 
 "And we are to have a Japanese Lord Brandan, sitting 
 in the House of Lords?" the General went on. 
 
 "Yes, among the Jews, Turks, and Armenians, who 
 are there already," Lady Rushworth answered, "an extra 
 Oriental will never be noticed. It will only be another 
 instance of the course of Empire taking its way East- 
 ward." 
 
 In the Everington dining-room the wedding presents 
 were displayed. It looked more like the interior of a 
 Bond Street shop where every kind of article de luxe, 
 useful and useless, was heaped in plenty. 
 
 Perhaps the only gift which had cost less than twenty 
 pounds was Lady Everington's own offering, a photo- 
 graph of herself in a plain silver frame, her customary 
 present when one of her protegees was married under 
 her immediate auspices. 
 
 "My dear," she would say, "I have enriched you by 
 several thousands of pounds. I have introduced you to 
 the right people for present-giving at precisely the right 
 moment previous to your wedding, when they know you 
 neither too little nor too much. By long experience I 
 have learnt to fix it to a day. But I am not going to 
 compete with this undistinguished lavishness. I give you 
 my picture to stand in your drawing-room as an artist 
 puts his signature to a completed masterpiece, so that 
 when you look around upon the furniture, the silver, the 
 cut glass, the clocks, the engagement tablets, and the 
 tantalus stands, the offerings of the rich whose names 
 you have long ago forgotten, then you will confess to 
 yourself in a burst of thankfulness to your fairy god- 
 mother that all this would never have been yours if it 
 had not been for her !" 
 
 In a corner of the room and apart from the more
 
 18 KIMONO 
 
 ostentatious homage, stood on a small table a large 
 market-basket, in which was lying a huge red fish, a 
 roguish, rollicking mullet with a roving eye, all made 
 out of a soft crinkly silk. In the basket beneath it were 
 rolls and rolls of plain silk, red and white. This was an 
 offering from the Japanese community in London, the 
 conventional wedding present of every Japanese home 
 from the richest to the poorest, varying only in size and 
 splendour. On another small table lay a bundle of brown 
 objects like prehistoric axe heads, bound round with red 
 and white string, and vaguely odorous of bloater-paste. 
 These were dried flesh of the fish called katsuobushi by 
 the Japanese, whose absence also would have brought 
 misfortune to the newly married. Behind them, on a 
 little tray, stood a miniature landscape representing an 
 aged pine-tree by the sea-shore and a little cottage with 
 a couple of old, old people standing at its door, two 
 exquisite little dolls dressed in rough, poor kimonos, 
 brown and white. The old man holds a rake, and the old 
 woman holds a broom. They have very kindly faces 
 and white silken hair. Any Japanese would recognise 
 them at once as the Old People of Takasago, the personi- 
 fication of the Perfect Marriage. They are staring with 
 wonder and alarm at the Brandan sapphires, a monu- 
 mental parure designed for the massive state of some 
 Early-Victorian Lady Brandan. 
 
 Asako Fujinami had spent days rejoicing over the 
 arrival of her presents, little interested in the identity 
 of the givers but fascinated by the things themselves- 
 She had taken hours to arrange them in harmonious 
 groups. Then a new gift would arrive which would upset 
 the balance, and she would have to begin all over again. 
 
 Besides this treasury in the dining-room, there were 
 all her clothes, packed now for the honeymoon, a whole 
 wardrobe of fairy-like disguises, wonderful gowns of all 
 colours and shapes and materials. These, it is true, she 
 had bought herself. She had always been surrounded 
 by money ; but it was only since she had lived with Lady 
 Everington that she had begun to learn something about
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 19 
 
 the thousand different ways of spending it, and all the 
 lovely things for which it can be exchanged. So all her 
 new things, whatever their source, seemed to her like 
 presents, like unexpected enrichments. She had basked 
 among her new acquisitions, silent as was her wont when 
 she was happy, sunning herself in the warmth of her 
 prosperity. Best of all, she never need wear kimonos 
 again in public. Her fiance had acceded to this, her most 
 immediate wish. She could dress now like the girls 
 around her. She would no longer be stared at like a 
 curio in a shop window. Inquisitive fingers would no 
 longer clutch at the long sleeves of, crinkled silk, or try 
 to probe the secret of the huge butterfly bow on her 
 back. She could step out fearlessly now like , English 
 women. She could give up the mincing walk and the 
 timid manner which she felt was somehow inseparable 
 from her native dress. 
 
 When she told her protectress that Geoffrey had con- 
 sented to its abandonment, Lady Everington had heaved 
 a sigh. 
 
 "Poor Kimono !" she said, "it has served you well. But 
 I suppose a soldier is glad to put his uniform away when 
 the fighting is over. Only, never forget the mysterious 
 power of the uniform over the other sex." 
 
 Another day when her Ladyship had been in a bad 
 mood, she had snapped, 
 
 "Put those things away, child, and keep to your kimono. 
 It is your natural plumage. In those borrowed plumes 
 you look undistinguished and underfed." 
 
 The Japanese Ambassador to the , Court of St. James 
 proposed the health of the bride and bridegroom. Count 
 Saito was a small, wise man, whom long sojourn in 
 European countries had to some extent de-orientalised. 
 His hair was grizzled, his face was seamed, and he had a 
 peering way of gazing through his gold-rimmed spec- 
 tacles with head thrust forward like a man half blind, 
 which he certainly was not.
 
 20 KIMONO 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "it is a great pleasure 
 for, me to be present on this occasion, for I think this 
 wedding is a personal compliment to myself and to my 
 work in this splendid country. Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey 
 Harrington are the living symbols of the Anglo-Japanese 
 Alliance ; and I hope they will always remember the 
 responsibility resting on their shoulders. The bride 
 and bridegroom of to-day must feel that the relations 
 of Great Britain and Japan depend upon the perfect 
 harmony of their married life. Ladies and gentlemen, 
 let us drink long life and happiness to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Geoffrey Harrington, to the Union Jack and to the Rising 
 Sun!" 
 
 The toast, was drunk and three cheers were given, with 
 an extra cheer for Mrs. Geoffrey. The husband, who was 
 no hand at speechmaking, replied and his good-natured 
 voice was quite thick with emotion that it was, awfully 
 good of them all to give his wife and himself such a 
 ripping send-off, and awfully good of Sir George and 
 Lady Everington especially, and awfully good of Count 
 Saito; and that he was the happiest man in the world 
 and the luckiest, and that his wife had told him to tell 
 them all that she was the happiest woman, though he 
 really did not see why she should be. Anyhow, he 
 would do his best to give her a jolly good time. He 
 thanked his friends for their good wishes and for their 
 beautiful presents. They had had jolly good times to- 
 gether, and, in return for all their kindness, he and his 
 wife wanted to wish them all a jolly good time. 
 
 So spoke Geoffrey Harrington ; and at that moment 
 many .people present must have felt a pang of regret 
 that this fine specimen of England's young manhood 
 should marry an oriental. He was over six feet high. 
 His broad shoulders seemed to stoop a little with the 
 lazy strength of a good-tempered carnivore, of Una's 
 lion, and his face, which was almost round, was set ,off 
 by a mane of the real lion colour. He wore his moustache 
 rather longer than was the fashion. It was a face which 
 seemed ready to laugh at any moment or else to yawn.
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 21 
 
 For there was about the man's character and appearance 
 something indolent and half-awakened and much of the 
 schoolboy. Yet he was over thirty. But there is always 
 a tendency for Army life to be merely a continuation of 
 public-school existence. Eton merges into Sandhurst, and 
 Sandhurst merges into the regiment. One's companions 
 are all the time men of the same class and of the same 
 ideas. The discipline is the same, the conventionality 
 and the presiding fetish of Good and Bad Form. So 
 many .generals are perennial school boys. They lose 
 their freshness, that is all. 
 
 But Geoffrey Barrington had not lost his freshness. 
 This was his great charm, for he certainly was not quick 
 or witty- Lady Everington said that she kept him as a 
 disinfectant to purify the atmosphere. 
 
 "This house," she declared, "sometimes gets over- 
 scented with tuberoses. Then I open the window and 
 let Geoffrey Barrington in !" 
 
 He was the only son of Lord Brandan and heir to 
 that ancient but impoverished title. He had been brought 
 up to the idea that he must marry a rich wife. He 
 neither jibbed foolishly at the proposal, nor did he sur- 
 render lightly to any of the willing heiresses who threw 
 themselves at his head. He accepted his destiny with 
 the fatalism which every soldier must carry in his knap- 
 sack, and took up his post as Mars in attendance in Lady 
 Everington's drawing-room, recognising that there lay 
 the strategic point for achieving his purpose. He was 
 not without hope, too, that besides obtaining the money- 
 bags he might be so fortunate as to fall in love with the 
 possessor of them. 
 
 Asako Fujinami, whom he had first met at dinner, at 
 Lady Everington's, had crossed his mind just like an 
 exquisite bar of melody. He made no comments at the 
 time, but he could not forget her. The haunting tune 
 came back to him again and again. By, the fime that 
 she had floated in his arms through three or four dances, 
 the spell had worked. La belle dame sans tnerci, the 
 enchantress who lurks in every woman, had him in thrall.
 
 22 KIMONO 
 
 Her simplest observations seemed to him to be pearls 
 of .wisdom, her every movement a triumph of grace. 
 
 "Reggie," he said to his friend Forsyth, "what do you 
 think of that little Japanese girl?" 
 
 Reggie, who was a diplomat by profession and a mu- 
 sician by the grace of God, and whose intuition was 
 almost feminine especially where Geoffrey was con- 
 cerned, answered, , 
 
 "Why, Geoffrey, are you thinking of marrying her?" 
 
 "By Jove !" exclaimed his friend, starting at the 
 thought as at a discovery ; "but I, don't think she'd have 
 me. I'm not her sort." 
 
 "You never can tell," suggested Reggie mischievously ; 
 "She is quite unspoilt, and she has twenty thousand a 
 year. She is unique. You could not possibly get her 
 confused with somebody else's wife, as so many people 
 seem to do when they get married- Why not try?" 
 
 Reggie thought that such a mating was impossible, but 
 it amused him to play with the idea. As for Lady 
 Everington, who knew every one so well, and who 
 thought that she knew them perfectly, she never guessed. 
 
 "I think, Geoffrey, that you like to be seen with 
 Asako," she said, "just to point the contrast." 
 
 Her confession to her sister, Mrs. Markham, was the 
 truth. She had made a mistake ; she had destined Asako 
 for somebody quite different. It was the girl herself who 
 had been the first to enlighten her. She came to her 
 hostess's boudoir one evening before the labours ,of the 
 night began. 
 
 "Lady Georgie," she had said Lady Everington is 
 Lady Georgie to all who know her even a little. "77 faut 
 que je vous dise quelque chose." The girl's face glanced 
 downward and sideways, as her habit was when embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 When Asako spoke in French it meant that something 
 grave was afoot. She was afraid that her unsteady 
 English might muddle what she intended to say. Lady 
 Everington knew that it must be another proposal ; she 
 had already dealt with three.
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 23 
 
 "Eh blen, cctte fois qui cst-il?" she asked. 
 
 "Le capitaine Geoffroi," answered Asako- Then her 
 friend knew that it was serious. 
 
 "What did you say to him?" she demanded. 
 
 "I tell him he must ask you." 
 
 "But why drag me into it ? It's your own affair." 
 
 "In France and in Japan," said Asako, "a girl do not 
 say Yes and No herself. It is her father and her mother 
 who decide. I have no father or mother ; so I think he 
 must ask you." 
 
 "And what, do you want me to say ?" 
 
 For answer Asako gently squeezed the elder woman's 
 hand, but Lady Georgie was in no mood to return the 
 pressure. The girl at once felt the absence of the re- 
 sponse, and said, 
 
 "What, you do not like the capitaine Geoff roil" 
 
 But her fairy godmother answered bitterly, 
 
 "On the contrary, I have a considerable affection for 
 Geoffrey." 
 
 "Then," cried Asako, starting up, "you think I am not 
 good enough for him. It's because I'm not English." 
 
 She began to cry. In spite of her superficial hardness, 
 Lady Everington has a very tender heart. She took the 
 girl in her arms. 
 
 "Dearest child," she said, raising the little, moist face 
 to hers, "don't cry. Jn England we answer this great 
 question ourselves. Our fathers and mothers and fairy 
 godmothers have to concur. If Geoffrey Barrington 
 has asked you to marry him, it is because he loves you- 
 He does not scatter proposals like calling-cards, as some 
 young men do. In fact, I have never heard of him pro- 
 posing to anyone before. He does not want you to 
 say 'No,' of course. But "are you quite ready to say 
 'Yes'? Very well, wait a fortnight, and don't see more 
 of him than you can help in the meantime. Now, .let 
 them send for my masseuse. There is nothing so exhaust- 
 ing to the aged as the emotions of young people." 
 
 That evening, when Lady Everington met Geoffrey 
 at the theatre, she took him severely to task for treach-
 
 24 KIMONO 
 
 ery, secrecy and decadence. He. was very humble and 
 admitted all his faults except the last, pleading as his 
 excuse that he could not get Asako out of his head. , 
 
 "Yes, that is a symptom," said her Ladyship; "you are 
 clearly stricken. So I fear I am too late to effect a 
 rescue. All I can do is to congratulate you both. But, 
 remember, a wife is not nearly so fugitive as a melody, 
 unless she is the wrong kind of wife." 
 
 It was a wrench for the little lady to part with the 
 oldest of her friendships, and to give up her Geoffrey 
 to the care of this decorative stranger whose qualities 
 were unknown .and undeveloped. But she knew what 
 the answer would be at the end of the fortnight. So 
 she steeled her nerves to laugh at her friends' com- 
 miserations and to make . the marriage of her god- 
 children one of the season's successes. It would certainly 
 be an interesting addition to her museum of domestic 
 dramas. 
 
 There was one person whom Lady Everington was 
 determined to pump for information on that wedding- 
 day, and had drawn into the .net of her invitations for 
 this very purpose. It was Count Saito, the Japanese 
 Ambassador. 
 
 She cornered him as he was admiring the presents, 
 and whisked him away to the silence and twilight of her 
 husband's study. 
 
 "I am so. glad you were able to come, Count Saito," 
 she began. "I suppose you know the Fujinamis, Asako's 
 relatives in Tokyo?" 
 
 "No, I do not know them," His Excellency answered, 
 but his tone conveyed to the lady's instinct that he per- 
 sonally would not wish to know them. 
 
 "But you know the name, do you not?" 
 
 "Yes, I have heard the name ; there are many families 
 called Fujinami in Japan." 
 
 "Are they very rich?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe there are some who are very rich," 
 said the little diplomat, who clearly was ill at ease.
 
 AN ANGLO-JAPANESE MARRIAGE 25 
 
 "Where does their money come from?" his inquisitor 
 went on remorselessly. "You are keeping something 
 from me, Count Saito. Please be frank, if there is any 
 mystery." 
 
 "Oh no, Lady Everington, there is no mystery, I am 
 sure. There is one family of Fujinami who. have many 
 houses and lands in Tokyo and other towns. I will be 
 quite open with you. They are rather .what you in 
 England call nouvcaux riches." 
 
 "Really !" Her Ladyship was taken aback for a moment. 
 "But you would never notice it with Asako, would you? 
 I mean, she does not drop her Japanese aitches, and 
 that sort of thing, does she?" 
 
 "Oh no," Count Saito reassured her, "I do not think 
 Mademoiselle Asako talks Japanese language, so she 
 cannot drop her aitches." 
 
 "I never thought of that," his hostess continued, "I 
 thought that if a Japanese had money, he must be a 
 dainiyo, or something." 
 
 The Ambassador smiled. 
 
 "English people," he said, "do not know very well the 
 true condition of Japan. Of course we have our rich 
 new families and our poor old families just as you have 
 in England. In some aspects our society is just the 
 same as yours. In others, it is so different, that you 
 would lose your way at once in a maze of ideas which 
 would seem to you quite upside down." 
 
 Lady Everington interrupted his reflections in a des- 
 perate attempt to get something out of him by a surprise 
 attack. 
 
 "How interesting," she said, "it will be for Geoffrey 
 Barrington and his wife to visit Japan and find out all 
 about it." 
 
 The Ambassador's manner changed. 
 
 "No, I do not think," he said, "I do not think that is a 
 good thing at all. They must not do that. You must 
 not let them." 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 "I say to all Japanese men and women who live a long
 
 26 KIMONO 
 
 time in foreign countries or who marry foreign people, 
 'Do not go back to Japan.' Japan is like a little pot 
 and the foreign world is like a big garden. If you plant 
 a tree from the pot into the garden and let it grow, you 
 cannot put it back into the pot again." 
 
 "But, in this case, that is not the only reason," ob- 
 jected Lady Everington. 
 
 "No, there are many other reasons too," the Ambas- 
 sador admitted ; and he rose from his sofa, indicating 
 that the interview was at an end. 
 
 The bridal pair left in a motor-car for Folkestone under 
 a hailstorm of rice, and with the propitious white slipper 
 dangling from the number-plate behind. 
 
 When all her guests were gone, Lady Everington fled 
 to her boudoir and collapsed in a little heap of sobbing 
 finery on the broad divan. She was overtired, no doubt ; 
 but the sense of her mistake lay heavy upon her, and 
 the feeling that she had sacrificed to it her best friend, 
 the most humanly valuable of all the people who resorted 
 to her house. An evil cloud of mystery hung over the 
 young marriage, one of those sinister unfamiliar forces 
 which travellers bring home from the East, the curse 
 of a god or a secret poison or a hideous disease. 
 
 It would be so natural for those two to want to visit 
 Japan and to know their second home- Yet both Sir 
 Ralph Cairns and Count Saito. the only two men that day 
 who knew anything about the real conditions, had in- 
 sisted that such a visit would be fatal. And who were 
 these Fuiinamis whom Count Saito knew, but did not 
 know? Why had she, who was so socially careful, taken 
 so much for granted just because Asako was a Japanese?
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HONEYMOON 
 
 Asa ne kami (My) morning sleep hair 
 
 Ware wa kecuraji; I will not comb; 
 
 Utsukushiki For it has been in contact 
 
 A'l'wi ga ta-makura with 
 
 Fureteshi mono wo. The pillowing hand of 
 
 My beautiful Lord 1 
 
 THE Harringtons left England for a prolonged honey- 
 moon, for Geoffrey was now free to realise his favourite 
 project of travelling abroad. So they became numbered 
 among that shoal of English people out of England, 
 who move restless leisure between Paris and the Nile. 
 
 Geoffrey had resigned his commission in the army. 
 His friends thought that this was a mistake. For the 
 loss of a man's career, even when it is uncongenial to 
 him, is a serious amputation, and entails a lesion of 
 spiritual blood. He had refused his father's suggestion 
 of settling down in a house on the Brandan estate, for 
 Lord Brandan was an unpleasing old gentleman, a fre- 
 quenter of country bars and country barmaids. His son 
 wished to keep his young bride as far away as possible 
 from a spectacle of which he was heartily ashamed. 
 
 First of all they went to Paris, which Asako adored ; 
 for was it not her home? But this time she made the 
 acquaintance of a Paris unknown to her, save by rumour, 
 in the convent days or within the discreet precincts of 
 Monsieur Murata's villa. She was enchanted by the 
 theatres, the shops, the restaurants, the music, and the 
 life which danced around her. She wanted to rent an 
 appartemcnt, and to live there for the rest of her exis- 
 tence. 
 
 "But the season is almost over," said her husband ; 
 "everybody will be leaving." 
 
 Unaccustomed as yet to his freedom, he still felt con- 
 strained to do the same as Everybody. 
 
 27
 
 28 KIMONO 
 
 Before leaving Paris, they paid a visit to the Auteuil 
 villa, which had been Asako's home for so many years. 
 
 Murata was the manager of a big Japanese firm in 
 Paris. He had spent almost all his life abroad and the 
 last twenty years of it in the French capital, so that even 
 in appearance, except for his short stature and his tilted 
 eyes, he had come to look like a Frenchman with his 
 beard d I'imperiale, and his quick birdlike gestures. His 
 wife was a Japanese, but she too had lost almost all 
 traces of her native mannerisms. 
 
 Asako Fujinami had been brought to Paris by her 
 father, who had died there while still a young man- He 
 had entrusted his only child to the care of the Muratas 
 with instructions that she should be educated in European 
 ways and ideas, that she should hold no communication 
 with her relatives in Japan, and that eventually a white 
 husband should be provided for her. He had left his 
 whole fortune in trust for her, and the interest was 
 forwarded regularly to M. Murata by a Tokyo lawyer, 
 to be used for her benefit as her guardian might deem 
 best. This money was to be the only tie between Asako 
 and her native land. 
 
 To cut off a child from its family, of which by virtue 
 of vested interests it must still be an important member, 
 was a proceeding so revolutionary to all respectable 
 Japanese ideas that even the enlightened Murata de- 
 murred. In Japan the individual counts for so little, the 
 family for so much. But Fujinami had insisted, and 
 disobedience to a man's dying wish brings the curse 
 of a "rough ghost" upon the recalcitrant, and all kinds 
 of evil consequences. 
 
 So the Muratas took Asako and cherished her as much 
 as their hearts, withered by exile and by unnatural living, 
 were capable of cherishing anything. She became a 
 daughter of the well-to-do French bourgeoisie, strictly 
 but affectionately disciplined with the proper restraints 
 on the natural growth of her brain and individuality. 
 
 Geoffrey Barrington was not very favourably im- 
 pressed by the Murata household. He wondered how
 
 HONEYMOON 29 
 
 so bright a little flower as Asako could have been reared 
 in such gloomy surroundings. The spirits dominant in 
 the villa were respectable economy and slavish imitation 
 of the tastes and habits of Parisian friends. The living- 
 rooms were as impersonal as the rooms of a boarding- 
 house. Neutral tints abounded, ugly browns and night- 
 mare vegetable patterns on carpets, furniture and wall- 
 papers. There was a marked tendency towards covers, 
 covers for the chairs and sofas, tablecloths and covers 
 for the tablecloths, covers for cushion-covers, anti- 
 macassars, lamp-stands, vase-stands and every kind ot 
 decorative duster. Everywhere the thick smell of con- 
 cealed grime told of insufficient servants and ineffective 
 sweeping. There was not one ornament or picture which 
 recalled Japan, or gave a clue to the personal tastes of 
 the owners. 
 
 Geoffrey had expected to be the nervous witness of an 
 affecting scene between his wife and her adopted 
 parents- But no, the greetings were polite and formal. 
 Asako's frock and jewellery were admired, but without 
 that note of angry envy which often brightens the dullest 
 talk between ladies in England. Then, they sat down 
 to an atrocious lunch eaten in complete silence. 
 
 When the meal was over, Murata drew Geoffrey aside 
 into his shingly garden. 
 
 "I think that you will be content with our Asa San," 
 he said; "the character is still plastic. In England it 
 is different ; but in France and in Japan we say it is the 
 husband who must make the character of his wife. She 
 is the plain white paper ; let him take his brush and write 
 on it what he will. Asa San is a very sweet girl. She is 
 very easy to manage. She has a beautiful disposition. 
 She does not tell lies without reason. She does not wish 
 to make strange friends. I do not think you will have 
 trouble with her." 
 
 "He talks about her rather as if she were a horse," 
 thought Geoffrey. Murata went on, 
 
 "The Japanese woman is the ivy which clings to the 
 tree. She does not wish to disobey."
 
 30 KIMONO 
 
 "You think Asako is still very Japanese, then?" asked 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 "Not her manners, or her looks, or even her thoughts," 
 replied Murata, "but nothing can change the heart." 
 
 "Then do you think she is homesick sometimes for 
 Japan?" said her husband. 
 
 "Oh no," smiled Murata. The little wizened man was 
 full of smiles. "She left Japan when she was not two 
 years old. She remembers nothing at all." 
 
 "I think one day we shall go to Japan," said Geoffrey, 
 "when we get tired of Europe, you know. It is a wonder- 
 ful country, I am told ; and it does not seem right that 
 Asako should know nothing about it. Besides, I should 
 like to look into her affairs and find out about her in- 
 vestments." 
 
 Murata was staring at his yellow boots with an em- 
 barrassed air- It suddenly struck the Englishman that 
 he, Geoffrey Barrington, was related to people who 
 looked like that, and who now had the right to call him 
 cousin. He shivered. 
 
 "You can trust her lawyers," said the Japanese, "Mr. 
 Ito is an old friend of mine. You may be quite certain 
 that Asako's money is safe." 
 
 "Oh yes, of course," assented Geoffrey, "but what 
 exactly are her investments? I think I ought to know." 
 
 Murata began to laugh nervously, as all Japanese do 
 when embarrassed. 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, "but I do not know myself. 
 The money has been paid regularly for nearly twenty 
 years ; and I know the Fujinami are very rich. Indeed, 
 Captain Barrington, I do not think Asako would like 
 Japan. It was her father's last wish that she should 
 never return there." 
 
 "But why?" asked Geoffrey. He felt that Murata 
 was keeping something from him. The little man 
 answered, 
 
 "He thought that for a woman the life is more happy 
 in Europe ; he wished Asako to forget altogether that 
 she was Japanese."
 
 HONEYMOON 31 
 
 "Yes, but now she is married and her future is fixed. 
 She is not going back permanently to Japan, but just 
 to see the country. I think we would both of us like to. 
 People say it is a magnificent country." 
 
 "You are very kind," said Murata, "to speak so of 
 my country. But the foreign people who marry Japanese 
 are happy if they stay in their own country, and Japanese 
 who marry foreigners are happy if they go away from 
 Japan. But if they stay in Japan they are not happy. 
 The national atmosphere in Japan is too strong for those 
 people who are not Japanese or are only half Japanese. 
 They fade. Besides life in Japan is very poor and rough. 
 I do not like it myself." 
 
 Somehow Geoffrey could not accept these as being 
 the real reasons. He had never had a long talk with a 
 Japanese man before ; but he felt that if they were all 
 like that, so formal, so unnatural, so secretive, then he 
 had better keep out of the range of Asako's relatives. 
 
 He wondered what his wife really thought of the 
 Muratas, and during the return to their hotel, he asked, 
 
 "Well, little girl, do you want to go back again and 
 live at Auteuil?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "But it is nice to think you have always got an extra 
 home in Paris, isn't it ?" he went on, fishing for an avowal 
 that home was in his arms only, a kind of conversation 
 which was the wine of life to him at that period. 
 
 "No," she answered with a little shudder, "I don't call 
 that home." 
 
 Geoffrey's conventionality was a little bit shocked at 
 this lack of affection ; he was also disappointed at not 
 getting exactly the expected answer. 
 
 "Why, what was wrong with it?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, it was not pretty or comfortable," she said, "they 
 were so afraid to spend money. When I wash my hands, 
 they say, 'Do not use too much soap ; it is waste.' " 
 
 Asako was like a little prisoner released into the sun-
 
 32 KIMONO 
 
 light. She dreaded the idea of being thrust back into 
 darkness again. 
 
 In this new life of hers anything would have made her 
 happy, that is to say, anything new, anything given to 
 her, anything good to eat or drink, anything soft and 
 shimmery to wear, anything so long as her big husband 
 was with her. He was the most fascinating of all her 
 novelties. He was much nicer than Lady Everington; 
 for he was not always saying, "Don't," or making clever 
 remarks, which she could not understand. He gave her 
 absolutely her own way, and everything that she admired. 
 He reminded her of an old Newfoundland dog who had 
 been her slave when she was a little girl. 
 
 He used to play with her as he would have played 
 with a child, watching her as she tried on her finery, 
 hiding things for her to find, holding them over her 
 head and making her jump for them like a puppy, arrang- 
 ing her ornaments for her in those continual private 
 exhibitions which took up so much of her time. Then 
 she would ring the bell and summon all the chambermaids 
 within call to come and admire ; and Geoffrey would 
 stand among all these womenfolk, listening to the chorus 
 of "Mon Dieu!" and "Ah, que c'est beau!" and "Ah, 
 qu'ellc est gentille!" like some Hector who had strayed 
 into the gynceceum of Priam's palace. He felt a little 
 foolish, perhaps, but very happy, happy in his wife's 
 naive happiness and affection, which did not require any 
 mental effort to understand, nor that panting pursuit 
 on which he had embarked more than once in order to 
 keep up with the witty flirtatiousness of some of the 
 beauties of Lady Everington's salon. 
 
 Happiness shone out of Asako like light. But would 
 she always be happy? There were the possibilities of the 
 future to be reckoned with, sickness, childbirth, and the 
 rearing of children, the hidden development of the char- 
 acter which so often grows away from what it once 
 cherished, the baleful currents of outside influences, the 
 attraction and repulsion of so-called friends and enemies 
 all of which complicate the primitive simplicity of mar-
 
 HONEYMOON 33 
 
 ried life and forfeit the honeymoon Eden. Adam and 
 Eve in the garden of the Creation can hear the voice of 
 God whispering in the evening breeze; they can live with- 
 out jars and ambitions, without suspicion and without 
 reproaches. They have no parents, no parents-in-law, 
 no brothers, sisters, aunts, or guardians, no friends to 
 lay the train of scandal or to be continually pulling them 
 from each other's arms. But the first influence which 
 crosses the walls of their paradise, the first being to 
 whom they speak, which possesses the semblance of a 
 human voice, is most certainly Satan and that Old Serpent, 
 who was a liar and a slanderer from the beginning, and 
 whose counsels will lead inevitably to the withdrawal of 
 God's presence and to the doom of a life of pain and 
 labor. 
 
 There was one cloud in the heaven of their happiness. 
 Geoffrey was inclined to tease Asako about her native 
 country. His ideas about Japan were gleaned chiefly 
 from musical comedies. He would call his wife Yum 
 Yum and Pitti Sing. He would fix the end of one of her 
 black veils under his hat, and would ask her whether 
 she liked him better with a pigtail. 
 
 "Captain Geoffrey," she would complain, "it is the 
 Chinese who wear the pigtail ; they are a very savage 
 people." 
 
 Then he would call her his little geisha, and this she 
 resented ; for she knew from the Muratas that geisha 
 were bad women who took husbands away from their 
 wives, and that was no joking matter. 
 
 "What nonsense !" exclaimed Geoffrey, taken aback by 
 this sudden reproof: "they are dear little things like 
 you, darling, and they bring you tea and wave fans be- 
 hind your head, and I would like to have twenty of them 
 to wait upon you !" 
 
 He would tease her about a supposed fondness for 
 rice, for chopsticks, for paper umbrellas and jiujitsu. 
 She liked him to tease her, just as a child likes to be 
 teased, while all the time on the verge of tears. With 
 Asako, tears and laughter were never far apart.
 
 34 KIMONO 
 
 "Why do you tease me because I am Japanese?" she 
 would sob; "besides, I'm not really. I can't help it. I 
 can't help it!" 
 
 "But, sweetheart," her Captain Geoffrey would say, 
 suddenly ashamed of his elephantine humour, "there's 
 nothing to cry about. I would be proud to be a Japanese. 
 They are jolly brave people. They gave the Russians a 
 jolly good hiding." 
 
 It made her feel well to hear him praise her people, 
 but she would say : 
 
 "No, no, they're not. I don't want to be a Jap. I 
 don't like them. They're ugly and spiteful. Why can't 
 we choose what we are? I would be an English girl 
 or perhaps French," she added, thinking of the Rue de la 
 Paix. 
 
 They left Paris and went to Deauville ; and here it 
 was that the serpent first crawled into Eden, whisper- 
 ing of forbidden fruit. These serpents were charming 
 people, amusing men and smart women, all anxious to 
 make the acquaintance of the latest sensation, the Jap- 
 anese millionairess and her good-looking husband 
 
 Asako lunched with them and dined with them and sat 
 with them near the sea in wonderful bathing costumes 
 which it would be a shame to wet. Conscious of the 
 shortcomings of her figure as compared with those of 
 the lissom mermaids who surrounded her, Asako re- 
 turned to kimonos, much to her husband's surprise ; and 
 the mermaids had to confess themselves beaten. 
 
 She listened to their talk and learned a hundred 
 things, but another hundred at least remained hidden 
 from her. 
 
 Geoffrey left his wife to amuse herself in the cosmo- 
 politan society of the French watering-place. He wanted 
 this- All the wives whom he had ever known seemed 
 to enjoy themselves best when away from their hus- 
 bands' company. He did not quite trust the spirit of mu- 
 tual adoration, which the gods had given to him and his 
 bride. Perhaps it was an unhealthy symptom. Worse
 
 HONEYMOON 35 
 
 still, it might be Bad Form. He wanted Asako to be 
 natural and to enjoy herself, and not to make their love 
 into a prison house. 
 
 But he felt a bit lonely when he was away from her. 
 Occupation did not seem to come easily to him as it did 
 when she was there to suggest it. Sometimes he would 
 loaf up and down on the esplanade ; and sometimes he 
 would take strenuous swims in the sea. He became the 
 prey of the bores who haunt every seaside place at home 
 and abroad, lurking for lonely and polite people upon 
 whom they may unload their conversation. 
 
 All these people seemed either to have been in Japan 
 themselves or to have friends and relations who knew 
 the country thoroughly. 
 
 A wonderful land, they assured him. The nation of the 
 future, the Garden of the East, but of course Captain 
 Barrington knew Japan well. No, he had never been 
 there? Ah, but Mrs. Barrington must have described 
 it all to him. Impossible! Really? Not since she was a 
 baby ? How very extraordinary ! A charming country, so 
 quaint, so original, so picturesque, such a place to relax 
 in; and then the Japanese girls, the little mmismes, in 
 their bright kimonos, who came fluttering round like 
 little butterflies, who were so gentle and soft and grate- 
 ful ; but there ! Captain Barrington was a married man, 
 that was no affair of his. Ha! Ha! 
 
 The elderly roues, who buzzed like February flies in 
 the sunshine of Deauville, seemed to have particularly 
 fruity memories of tea-house sprees and oriental phil- 
 anderings under the cherry-blossoms of Yokohama. Evi- 
 dently, Japan was just like the musical comedies. 
 
 Geoffrey began to be ashamed of his ignorance con- 
 cerning his wife's native country- Somebody had asked 
 him, what exactly bushido was. He had answered at 
 random that it was made of rice and curry powder. By 
 the hilarious reception given to this explanation he knew 
 that he must have made a gaffe. So he asked one of the 
 more erudite bores to give him the names of the best 
 books about Japan. He would "mug it up," and get
 
 36 KIMONO 
 
 some answers off pat to the leading questions. The 
 erudite one promptly lent him some volumes by Lafcadio 
 Hearn and Pierre Loti's Madame Chrysantheme. He 
 read the novel first of all. Rather spicy, wasn't it? 
 
 Asako found the book. It was an illustrated edition; 
 and the little drawings of Japanese scenes pleased her 
 immensely, so that she began to read the letter press. 
 
 "It is the story of a bad man and a bad woman," she 
 said ; "Geoffrey, why do you read bad things ? They 
 bring bad conditions." 
 
 Geoffrey smiled. He was wondering whether the com- 
 pany of the fictitious Chrysantheme was more demoral- 
 izing than that of the actual Mme. Laroche Meyerbeer, 
 with whom his wife had been that day for a picnic lunch. 
 
 "Besides, it isn't fair," his wife continued. "People 
 read that book and then they think that all Japanese 
 girls are bad like that." 
 
 "Why, darling, I didn't think you had read it," Geof- 
 frey expostulated, "who has been telling you about it?" 
 
 "The Vicomte de Brie," Asako answered. "He called 
 me Chrysantheme and I asked him why." 
 
 "Oh, did he?" said Geoffrey. Really it was time to 
 put an end to lunch picnics and mermaidism. But Asako 
 was so happy and so shiningly innocent. 
 
 She returned to her circle of admirers, and Geoffrey 
 to his studies of the Far East. He read the Lafcadio 
 Hearn books, and did not perceive that he was taking 
 opium. The wonderful sentences of that master of prose 
 poetry rise before the eyes in whorls of narcotic smoke. 
 They lull the brain as in a dream, and form themselves 
 gradually into visions of a land more beautiful than any 
 land that has ever existed anywhere, a country of vivid rice 
 plains and sudden hills, of gracious forests and red tem- 
 ple gateways, of wise priests and folklore imagery, of a 
 simple-hearted smiling people with children bright as 
 flowers laughing and playing in unfailing sunlight, a coun- 
 try where everything is kind, gentle, small, neat, artistic, 
 and spotlessly clean, where men become gods not by 
 sudden apotheosis but by the easy processes of nature, a
 
 HONEYMOON 37 
 
 country, in short, which is the reverse of our own poor 
 vexed contintent where the monstrous and the hideous 
 multiply daily. 
 
 One afternoon Geoffrey was lounging on the terrace of 
 the hotel reading Kokoro, when his attention was at- 
 tracted by the arrival of Mme. Laroche Meyerbeer's 
 motor-car with Asako, her hostess and another woman 
 embedded in its depths. Asako was the first to leap out. 
 She went up to her apartment without looking to right 
 or left, and before her husband had time to reach her. 
 Mme. Meyerbeer watched this arrow flight and shrugged 
 her shoulders before lazily alighting. 
 
 "Is all well?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "No serious damage," smiled the lady, who is known 
 in Deauville as Madame Cythtrc, "but you had better 
 go and console her. I think she has seen the devil for 
 the first time." 
 
 He opened the door of their sunny bedroom, and 
 found Asako packing feverishly, and sobbing in spasms. 
 
 "My poor little darling," he said, lifting her in his 
 arms, "whatever is the matter?" 
 
 He laid her on the sofa, took off her hat, and loosened 
 her dress, until gradually she became coherent- 
 
 "He tried to kiss me," she sobbed. 
 
 "Who did?" her husband asked. 
 
 "The Vicomte de Brie." 
 
 "Damned little monkey," cried Geoffrey, "I'll break 
 every miserable bone in his pretence of a body." 
 
 "Oh, no, no," protested Asako, "let us go away from 
 here at once. Let us go to Switzerland, anywhere." 
 
 The serpent had got into the garden, but he had not 
 been a very adroit reptile. He had shown his fangs ; 
 and the woman had promptly bruised his head and had 
 given him an eye like an Impressionist sunset, which for 
 several days he had to hide from the ridicule of his 
 friends. 
 
 But Asako too had been grievously injured in the in- 
 nocence of her heart ; and it took all the snow winds of 
 the Engadine to blow away from her face the hot
 
 38 KIMONO 
 
 defilement of the man's breath. She clung closely to 
 her husband's protection. She, who had hitherto 
 abandoned herself to excessive amiability, barbed the 
 walls of their violated paradise with the broken 
 glass of bare civility. Every man became suspect, 
 the German professors culling Alpine plants, the 
 mountain maniacs with their eyes fixed on peaks to con- 
 quer. She had no word for any of them. Even the man- 
 like womenfolk, who golfed and rowed and clambered, 
 were to her indignant eyes dangerous panders to the lusts 
 of men, disguised allies of Madame Cythcre. 
 
 "Are they all bad?" she asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "No, little girl, I don't suppose so. They look too 
 dismal to be bad." 
 
 Geoffrey was grateful for the turn of events which 
 had delivered up his wife again into his sole company. 
 He had missed her society more than he dared confess ; 
 for uxoriousness is a pitiful attitude. In fact, it is Bad 
 Form. 
 
 At this period he wanted her as a kind of mirror for 
 his own mind and for his own person. She saw to it that 
 his clothes were spotless and that his tie was straight. 
 O" course, he always dressed for dinner even when they 
 dined in their room. She too would dress herself up in 
 her new finery for his eyes alone. She would listen to 
 him laying down the law on subjects which he would 
 not dare broach were he talking to any one else. She 
 flattered him in that silent way which is so soothing 
 to a man of his character. Her mind seemed to absorb 
 his thoughts with the readiness of blotting paper ; and 
 he did not pause to observe whether the impression had 
 come out backwards or forwards. He who had been 
 so mute among Lady Everington's geniuses fell all of a 
 sudden into a loquaciousness which was merely the re- 
 action of his love for his wife, the instinct which makes 
 the male bird sing. He just went on talking; and every 
 day he became in his own estimation and in that of 
 Asako, a more intelligent, a more original and a more 
 eloquent man.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 EASTWARDS 
 
 Nagaki yo no From the deep sleep 
 
 To no nemuri no Of a long night 
 
 Miname-zame, Waking, 
 
 Nami nori fune no Sweet is the sound 
 
 Oto no yoki kana. Of the ship as it rides the waves. 
 
 WHEN August snow fell upon St. Moritz, the Harringtons 
 descended to Milan, Florence, Venice and Rome. To- 
 wards Christmas they found their way to the Riviera, 
 where they met Lady Everington at Monte Carlo, very 
 indignant, or pretending to be so, at the neglect with 
 which she had been treated. 
 
 "Fairy godmothers are important people," she said, 
 "and very easily offended- Then, they turn you into 
 wild animals, or send you to sleep for a hundred years. 
 V'hy didn't you write to me, child?" 
 
 They were sitting on the terrace with the Casino be- 
 hind them, overlooking the blue Mediterranean. A few 
 yards farther on, a tall, young Englishman was chatting 
 and laughing with a couple of girls too elaborately beau- 
 tiful and too dazzlingly gowned for any world but the 
 half-world. Suddenly he turned, and noticed Lady Ever- 
 ington. With a courteous farewell to his companions, 
 he advanced to greet her. 
 
 "Aubrey Laking," she exclaimed, "you never an- 
 swered the letter I wrote to you at Tokyo." 
 
 "Dear Lady Georgie, I left Tokyo ages ago. It fol- 
 lowed me back to England ; and I am now second secre- 
 tary at Christiania. That is why I am in Monte Carlo!" 
 
 "Then let me introduce you to Asako Fujinami, who 
 is now Mrs. Harrington. You must tell her all about 
 Tokyo. It is her native city ; but she has not seen it since 
 she was in long clothes, if Japanese babies wear such 
 things." 
 
 39
 
 40 KIMONO 
 
 Aubrey Laking and Harrington had been at Eton 
 together. They were old friends, and were delighted 
 to meet once more. Harrington, especially, was pleased 
 to have this opportunity to hear about Japan from one 
 who had but lately left the country, and who was more- 
 over a fluent and agreeable talker. Laking had not 
 resided in Japan long enough to get tired of orientalism. 
 He described the quaint, the picturesque, the amusing 
 side of life in the East. He was full of enthusiasm for 
 the land of soft voices and smiling faces, where countless 
 little shops spread their wares under the light of the 
 evening lanterns,, where the twang of the samiscn and the 
 geisha's song are heard coming from the lighted tea-house, 
 and the shadow of her helmet-like coiffure is seen appear- 
 ing and disappearing in silhouette against the paper shoji. 
 
 The East was drawing the Harringtons towards its 
 perilous coasts. Laking's position at the Tokyo Embassy 
 had been taken by Reggie Forsyth, one of Geoffrey's 
 oldest friends, his best man at his wedding and a light 
 of Lady Everington's circle. Already, Geoffrey had sent 
 him a post-card, saying, "Warm up the sake bottle," 
 (Geoffrey was becoming quite learned in things Japan- 
 ese), "and expect friends shortly." 
 
 However, when the Harringtons did at last tear them- 
 selves from the Riviera, they announced rather disingenu- 
 ously that they were going to Egypt. 
 
 "They are too happy," Lady Everington said to Laking 
 a few days later, "and they know nothing. I am afraid 
 there will be trouble." 
 
 "Oh, Lady Georgie," he replied, "I have never known 
 you to be a prophetess of gloom. I would have thought 
 the auspices were most fortunate." 
 
 "They ought to quarrel more than they do," Lady 
 Everington complained. "She ought to contradict him 
 more than she does. There must be a volcanic element 
 in marriage. It is a sign of trouble coming when the 
 fires are quiet." 
 
 "But they have got plenty of money," expostulated
 
 EASTWARDS 41 
 
 Aubrey, whose troubles were invariably connected with 
 his banking account, "and they are very fond of each 
 other. Where is the trouble to come from?" 
 
 "Trouble is on the lookout for all of us, Aubrey," said 
 his companion, "it is no good flying from it, even. The 
 only thing to do is to look it in the face and laugh at it ; 
 then it gets annoyed sometimes, and goes away. But 
 those two poor dears are sailing into the middle of it, 
 and they don't even know how to laugh yet." 
 
 "You think that Egypt is hopelessly demoralising. 
 Thousands of people go there and come safely home, 
 almost all, in fact, except Robert Hichens's heroines." 
 
 "Oh no, not in Egypt," said Lady Everington ; "Egypt 
 is only a stepping-stone. They are going to Japan." 
 
 "Well, certainly Japan is harmless enough. There is 
 nobody there worth flirting with except us at the 
 Embassies, and we generally have our hands full. As 
 for the visitors, they are always under the influence of 
 Cook's tickets and Japanese guides." 
 
 "Aubrey dear, you think that trouble can only come 
 from flirting or money." 
 
 "I know that those two preoccupations are an abundant 
 source of trouble." 
 
 "What do you think of Mrs. Harrington?" asked her 
 Ladyship, appearing to change the subject. 
 
 "Oh, a very sweet little thing." 
 
 "Like your lady friends in Tokyo, the Japanese ones, 
 I mean?" 
 
 "Not in the least. Japanese ladies look very pictur- 
 esque, but they are as dull as dolls. They sidle along in 
 the wake of their husbands, and don't expect to be 
 spoken to." 
 
 "And have you no more intimate experience?" asked 
 Lady Everington. "Really, Aubrey, you have not been 
 living up to your reputation." 
 
 "Well, Lady Georgie," the young man proceeded, gaz- 
 ing at his polished boots with a well-assumed air of em- 
 barrassment, "since I know that you are one of the 
 enlightened ones, I will confess to you that I did keep
 
 42 KIMONO 
 
 a little establishment a la Pierre Loti. My Japanese 
 teacher thought it would be a good way of improving my 
 knowledge of the local idiom ; and this knowledge meant 
 an extra hundred pounds to me for interpreter's allow- 
 ance, as it is called. I thought, too, that it would be a 
 relief after diplomatic dinner parties to be able to swear 
 for an hour or so, big round oaths in the company of a 
 dear belcved one who would not understand me. So 
 my teacher undertook to provide me with a suitable 
 female companion. He did. In fact, he introduced me 
 to his sister ; and the suitability was based on the fact 
 that she held the same position under my predecessor, 
 a man whom I dislike exceedingly. But this I only found 
 out later on. She was dull, deadly dull. I couldn't even 
 make her jealous. She was as dull as my Japanese 
 grammar; and when I had passed my examination and 
 burnt my books, I dismissed her." 
 
 "Aubrey, what a very wicked story !" 
 
 "No, Lady Georgie, it was not even wicked. She was 
 not real enough to sin with- The affair had not even 
 the excitement of badness to keep it going." 
 
 "Do you know the Japanese well?" Lady Everington 
 returned to the highroad of her inquiry. 
 
 "No, nobody does ; they are a most secretive people." 
 
 "Do you think that, if the Barringtons go to Japan, 
 there is any danger of Asako being drawn back into the 
 bosom of her family?" 
 
 "No, I shouldn't think so," Laking replied, "Japanese 
 life is so very uncomfortable, you know, even to the 
 Japs themselves, when once they have got used to living 
 in Europe or America. They sleep on the floor, their 
 clothes are inconvenient, and their food is nasty, even in 
 the houses of the rich ones." 
 
 "Yes, it must be a peculiar country. What do you 
 think is the greatest shock for the average traveller who 
 goes there?" 
 
 "Lady Georgie, you are asking me very searching 
 questions to-day. I don't think I will answer any more." 
 
 "Just this one," she pleaded.
 
 EASTWARDS 43 
 
 He considered his boots again for a moment, and then, 
 raising his face to hers with that humorous challenging 
 look which he assumes when on the verge of some indis- 
 cretion, he replied, 
 
 "The Yoshiwara." 
 
 "Yes," said her Ladyship, "I have heard of such a place. 
 It is a kind of Vanity Fair, isn't it, for all the cocottes 
 of Tokyo?" 
 
 "It's more than that," Laking answered ; "it is a market 
 of human flesh, with nothing to disguise the crude fact 
 except the picturesqueness of the place. It is a square 
 enclosure as large as a small town. In this enclosure 
 are shops, and in the shop windows women are displayed 
 just like goods, or like animals in cages ; for the windows 
 have wooden bars. Some of the girls sit there stolidly 
 like stuffed images, some of them come to the bars and 
 try to catch hold of the passers-by, just like monkeys, 
 and joke with them and shout after them. But I could 
 not understand what they said fortunately, perhaps. 
 The girls, there must be several thousands are all 
 dressed up in bright kimonos. It really is a very pretty 
 sight, until one begins to think. They have their price 
 tickets hung up in the shop windows, one shilling up to 
 one pound. That is the greatest shock which Japan has 
 in store for the ordinary tourist." 
 
 Lady Everington was silent for a moment ; her flippant 
 companion had become quite serious. 
 
 "After all," she said, "is it any worse than Piccadilly 
 Circus at night?" 
 
 "It is not a question of better or worse," argued Lak- 
 ing. "Such a purely mercenary system is a terrible 
 offence to our most cherished belief. We may be hypo- 
 crites, but our hypocrisy itself is an admission of guilt 
 and an act of worship. To us, even to the readiest sinners 
 among us, woman is always something divine. The 
 lowest assignation of the streets has at least a disguise 
 of romance. It symbolises the words and the ways of 
 Love, even if it parodies them. But to the Japanese,
 
 44 KIMONO 
 
 woman must be merely animal. You buy a girl as you 
 buy a cow." 
 
 Lady Everington shivered, but she tried to live up to 
 her reputation of being shocked by nothing. 
 
 "Well, that is true, after all, whether in Piccadilly or 
 in the Yoshiwara. All prostitution is just a commercial 
 transaction." 
 
 "Perhaps," said the young diplomat, "but what about 
 the Ideal at the back of our minds? Passion is often a 
 grotesque incarnation of the Ideal, like a savage's rude 
 image of his god. A glimpse of the ideal is possible in 
 Piccadilly, and impossible in the Yoshiwara. The divine 
 something was visible in Marguerite Gautier ; little Hugh 
 saw it even in Nana. For one thing, here in London, in 
 the dirtiest of sordid dramas, it is still the woman who 
 gives, but in Japan it is always the man who takes." 
 
 "Aubrey," said his friend, "I had no idea that you were 
 a poet, or in other words that you ever talked nonsense 
 without laughing. You think such a shock is strong 
 enough to upset the Barrington menage?" 
 
 "It will give furiously to think," he answered, "to poor 
 old Geoffrey, who is a very straight, clean and honest 
 fellow, not overused to furious thinking. I suppose if 
 one married a monkey, one might persuade oneself of 
 her humanity, until one saw her kindred in cages." 
 
 "Poor little Asako, my latest god-daughter!" cried 
 Lady Everington. "Really, Aubrey, you are very rude !" 
 
 "I did not mean to be," said Laking penitently. "She 
 is a most ingratiating little creature, like a lazy kitten ; 
 but I think it is unwise for him to take her to Japan. 
 All kinds of latent orientalisms may develop." 
 
 The spring was at hand, the season of impulse, when 
 we obey most readily the sudden stirrings of our hearts. 
 Even in the torrid climate of Egypt, squalls of rain passed 
 over like stray birds of passage. Asako Barrington felt 
 the fresh influence and the desire to do new things in new 
 places. Hitherto she had evinced very little inclination to
 
 EASTWARDS 45 
 
 revisit the home of her ancestors. But on their return 
 from the temples of Luxor, she said quite unexpectedly 
 to Geoffrey, 
 
 "If we go to Japan now, we shall be in time to see the 
 cherry-blossoms." 
 
 "Why, little Yum Yum," cried her husband, delighted, 
 "are you tired of Pharaohs?" 
 
 "Egypt is very interesting," said Asako, correctly ; "it 
 is wonderful to think of these great places standing here 
 for thousands and thousands of years. But it makes 
 one sad, don't you think? Everybody here seems to 
 have died long, long ago. It would be nice to see green 
 fields again, wouldn't it, Geoffrey dearest?" 
 
 The voice of the Spring was speaking clearly. 
 
 "And you really want to go to Japan, sweetheart ? It's 
 the first time I've heard you say you want to go." 
 
 "Uncle and Aunt Murata in Paris used always to say 
 about now, 'If we go back to Japan we shall be in time 
 to see the cherry-blossoms.' " 
 
 "Why," asked Geoffrey, "do the Japanese make such 
 a fuss about their cherry-blossoms?" 
 
 "They must be very pretty," answered his wife, "like 
 great clouds of snow. Besides, the cherry-flowers are 
 supposed to be like the Japanese spirit." 
 
 "So you are my little cherry-blossom is that right?" 
 
 "Oh no, not the women," she replied, "the men are the 
 cherry-blossoms." 
 
 Geoffrey laughed. It seemed absurd to him to com- 
 pare a man to the frail and transient beauty of a flower. 
 
 "Then what about the Japanese ladies," he asked, "if 
 the men are blossoms?" 
 
 Asako did not think they had any special flower to 
 symbolise their charms. She suggested, 
 
 "The bamboo, they say, because the wives have to 
 bend under the storms when their husbands are angry. 
 But, Geoffrey, you are never angry. You do not give 
 me a chance to be like the bamboo." 
 
 Next day, he boldly booked their tickets for Tokyo.
 
 46 KIMONO 
 
 The long sea voyage was a pleasant experience, broken 
 by fleeting visits to startled friends in Ceylon and at 
 Singapore, and enlivened by the close ephemeral intima- 
 cies of life on board ship. 
 
 There was a motley company on board S. S. Sumatra; 
 a company whose most obvious elements, the noisy 
 and bibulous pests in the smoking-room and the ladies 
 of mysterious destination with whom they dallied, were 
 dismissed by Geoffrey at once as being terrible bounders. 
 Beneath this scum more congenial spirits came to light, 
 officers and Government officials returning to their posts, 
 and a few globe-trotters of leisure. Everybody seemed 
 anxious to pay attention to the charming Japanese lady ; 
 and from such incessant attention it is difficult to escape 
 within the narrow bounds of ship life. The only way to 
 keep off the impossibles was to form a bodyguard of the 
 possibles. The seclusion of the honeymoon paradise had 
 to be opened up for once in a way. 
 
 Of course, there was much talk about the East ; but 
 it was a different point of view, from that of the enthusi- 
 asts of Deauville and the Riviera. These men and women 
 had many of them lived in India, the Malay States, Japan, 
 or the open ports of China, lived there to earn their 
 bread and butter, not to dream about the Magic of the 
 Orient. For such as these the romance had faded. The 
 pages of their busy lives were written within a mourning 
 border of discontent, of longing for that home land, to 
 which on the occasion of their rare holidays they re- 
 turned so readily, and which seemed to have no particular 
 place or use for them when they did return. They were 
 members of the British Dispersion; but their Zion was 
 of more comfort to them as a sweet memory than as an 
 actual home. 
 
 "Yes," they would say about the land of their exile, 
 "it is very picturesque." 
 
 But their faces, lined or pale, their bitterness and their 
 reticence, told of years of strain, laboriously money-earn- 
 ing, in lands where relaxations are few and forced, where 
 climatic conditions are adverse, where fevers lurk, and
 
 EASTWARDS 47 
 
 where the white minority are posted like soldiers in a 
 lonely fort, ever suspicious, ever on the watch. 
 
 The most faithful of Asako's bodyguard was a country- 
 man of her own, Viscount Kamimura, the son of a cele- 
 brated Japanese statesman and diplomat, who, after com- 
 pleting his course at Cambridge, was returning to his 
 own country for the first time after many years. 
 
 He was a shy gentle youth, very quiet and refined, a 
 little effeminate, even, in his exaggerated gracefulness 
 and in his meticulous care for his clothes and his person. 
 He avoided all company except that of the Harringtons, 
 probably because a similarity in circumstances formed 
 a bond between him and his country-woman. 
 
 He had a high, intellectual forehead, the beautiful deep 
 brown eyes of Asako, curling, sarcastic lips, a nose almost 
 aquiline but starting a fraction of an inch too low be- 
 tween his eyes. He had read everything, he remembered 
 everything, and he had played lawn tennis for his uni- 
 versity. 
 
 He was returning to Japan to be married. When 
 Geoffrey asked him who his fiancee was, he replied that 
 he did not know yet, but that his relatives would tell 
 him as soon as ever he arrived in Japan. 
 
 "Haven't you got any say in the matter?" asked the 
 Englishman. 
 
 "Oh yes," he answered, "If I actually dislike her, I 
 need not marry her; but, of course, the choice is limited, 
 so I must try not to be too hard to please." 
 
 Geoffrey thought that it must be because of his extreme 
 aristocracy that so few maidens in Japan were worthy 
 of his hand. But Asako asked the question, 
 
 "Why is the choice so small?" 
 
 "You see," he said, "there are not many girls in Japan 
 who can speak both English and French, and as I am 
 going into the Diplomatic Service and shall leave Japan 
 again shortly, that is an absolute necessity ; besides, she 
 must have a very good degree from her school."
 
 48 KIMONO 
 
 Geoffrey could hardly restrain himself from laughing. 
 This idea of choosing a wife like a governess for her 
 linguistic accomplishments seemed to him exceedingly 
 comic. 
 
 "You don't mind trusting other people," he said, "to 
 arrange your marriage for you?" 
 
 "Certainly not," said the young Japanese, "they are 
 my own relatives, and they will do their best for me. They 
 are all older than I am, and they have had the experience 
 of their own marriages." 
 
 "But," said Geoffrey, "when you saw your friends in 
 England choosing for themselves, and falling in love and 
 marrying for love's sake ?" 
 
 "Some of them chose for themselves and married bar- 
 maids and divorced persons, just for the reason that 
 they were in love and uncontrolled. So they brought 
 shame on their families, and are probably now very 
 unhappy. I think they would have done better if they 
 had let their relatives choose for them." 
 
 "Yes; but the others who marry girls of their own 
 set?" 
 
 "I think their choice is not really free at all. I do not 
 think it is so much the girl who attracts them. It is the 
 plans and intentions of those around them which urge 
 them on. It is a kind of mesmerism. The parents of 
 the young man and the parents of the young girl make 
 the marriage by force of will. That also is a good way. 
 It is not so very different from our system in Japan." 
 
 "Don't you think that people in England marry because 
 they love each other?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Perhaps so," replied Kamimura, "but in our Japanese 
 language we have no word which is quite the same as 
 your word Love. So they say we do not know what this 
 Love is. It may be so, perhaps. Anyhow Mr. Barring- 
 ton will not wish to learn Japanese, I think." 
 
 Geoffrey liked the young man. He was a good athlete, 
 he was unassuming and well-bred, he clearly knew the 
 difference between Good and Bad Form. Geoffrey's 
 chief misgiving with regard to Japan had been a doubt as
 
 EASTWARDS 49 
 
 to the wisdom of making the acquaintance of his wife's 
 kindred. How dreadful if they turned out to be a collec- 
 tion of oriental curios with whom he would not have one 
 idea in common ! 
 
 The company of this young aristocrat, in no way dis- 
 tinguishable from an Englishman except for a certain 
 grace and maturity, reassured him. No doubt his wife 
 would have cousins like this; clean, manly fellows who 
 would take him shooting and with whom he could enjoy 
 a game of golf. He thought that Kamimura must be 
 typical of the young Japanese of the upper classes. He 
 did not realize that he was an official product, chosen by 
 his Government and carefully moulded and polished, not 
 to be a Japanese at home, but to be a Japanese abroad, 
 the qualified representative of a First Class Power. 
 
 Kamimura left the boat with them at Colombo and 
 joined them in their visit to some tea-planting relatives. 
 He was ready to do the same at Singapore, but he re- 
 ceived an urgent cable from Japan recalling him at once. 
 
 "I must not be too late for my own wedding," he said, 
 during their last lunch together at Raffles's Hotel. "It 
 would be a terrible sin against the laws of Filial Piety." 
 
 "Whatever is that?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Barrington, are you a daughter of Japan, 
 and have never heard of the Twenty-four Children?" 
 
 "No; who are they?" 
 
 "They are model children, the paragons of goodness, 
 celebrated because of their love for their fathers and 
 mothers. One of them walked miles and miles every day 
 to get water from a certain spring for his sick mother ; 
 another, when a tiger was going to eat his father, rushed 
 to the animal and cried, 'No, eat me instead !' Little boys 
 and girls in Japan are always being told to be like the 
 Twenty-four Children." 
 
 "Oh, how I'd hate them !" cried Asako. 
 
 "That is because you are a rebellious, individualistic 
 Englishwoman. You have lost that sense of family 
 union, which makes good Japanese, brothers and cousins
 
 50 KIMONO 
 
 and uncles and aunts, all love each other publicly, how- 
 ever much they may hate each other in private." 
 
 "That is very hypocritical !" 
 
 "It is the social law," replied Kamimura. "In Japan 
 the family is the important thing. You and I are noth- 
 ing. If you want to get on in the world you must always 
 be subject to your family. Then you are sure to get on 
 however stupid you may be. In England you seem to 
 use your families chiefly to quarrel with." 
 
 "I think our relatives ought to be just our best friends," 
 said Asako. 
 
 "They are that too in a way," the young man an- 
 swered. "In Japan it would be better to be born without 
 hands and feet than to be born without relatives."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 NAGASAKI 
 
 Hono-bono to My thoughts are with a boat 
 
 Akashi no ura no Which travels island-hid 
 
 Asa-yiri ni In the morning-mist 
 
 Shima-kakure-yuku Of the shore of Akashi 
 
 Fune wo shi zo otnou. Dim, dim 1 
 
 AFTER Hongkong, they let the zone of eternal summer 
 behind them. The crossing from Shanghai to Japan was 
 rough, and the wind bitter. But on the first morning in 
 Japanese waters Geoffrey was on deck betimes to enjoy 
 to the full the excitement of arrival. They were ap- 
 proaching Nagasaki. It was a misty dawn. The sky was 
 like mother-of-pearl, and the sea like mica. Abrupt grey 
 islands appeared and disappeared, phantasmal, like guar- 
 dian spirits of Japan, representatives of those myriads of 
 Shinto deities who have the Empire in their keeping. 
 
 Then, suddenly from behind the cliff of one of the 
 islands a fishing boat came gliding with the silent state- 
 liness of a swan. The body of the boat was low and 
 slender, built of some white, shining wood ; from the 
 middle rose the high sail like a silver tower. It looked 
 like the soul of that sleeping island setting out upon a 
 dream journey. 
 
 The mist was dissolving, slowly revealing more islands 
 and more boats. Some of them passed quite close to the 
 steamer ; and Geoffrey could see the fishermen, dwarfish 
 figures straining at the oar or squatting at the bottom 
 of the boat, looking like Nibelungen on the quest for the 
 Rhinegold. He could hear their strange cries to each 
 other and to the steamer, harsh like the voice of sea-gulls. 
 
 Asako came on deck to join her husband. The thrill 
 of returning to Japan had scattered her partiality for 
 late sleeping. She was dressed in a tailor-made coat and 
 
 51
 
 52 KIMONO 
 
 skirt of navy-blue serge. Her shoulders were wrapped 
 in a broad stole of sable. Her head was bare. Perhaps 
 it was the inherited instinct of generations of Japanese 
 women, who never cover their heads, which made her 
 dislike hats and avoid wearing them if possible. 
 
 The sun was still covered, but the view was clear as 
 far as the high mountains on the horizon towards which 
 the ship was ploughing her way. 
 
 "Look, Asako, Japan !" 
 
 She was not looking at the distance. Her eyes were 
 fixed on an emerald islet half a mile or less from the 
 steamer's course, a jewel of the seas. It rose to the 
 height of two hundred feet or so, a conical knoll, densely 
 wooded. On the summit appeared a scar of rock like a 
 ruined castle, and, rising from the rock's crest, a single 
 pine-tree. Its trunk was twisted by all the winds of 
 Heaven. Its long, lean branches groped the air like the 
 arms of a blinded demon. It seemed to have an almost 
 human personality an expression of fruitless striving, 
 pathetic yet somehow sinister a Prometheus among 
 trees. Geoffrey followed his wife's gaze to the base of 
 the island where a shoal of brown rocks trailed out to 
 seawards. In a miniature bay he saw a tiny beach of 
 golden sand, and, planted in the sand, a red gateway, 
 two uprights and two lintels, the lower one held between 
 the posts, the upper one laid across them and protruding 
 on either side. It is the simplest of architectural de- 
 signs, but strangely suggestive. It transformed that 
 wooded island into a dwelling-place. It cast an enchant- 
 ment over it, and seemed to explain the meaning of the 
 pine-tree. The place was holy, an abode of spirits. 
 
 Geoffrey had read enough by now to recognize the gate- 
 way as a "torii" ; a religious symbol in Japan which al- 
 ways announces the neighbourhood of a shrine. It is a 
 common feature of the country-side, as familiar as the 
 crucifix in Catholic lands. 
 
 But Asako, seeing the beauty of her country for the 
 first time, and unaware of the dimming cloud of archaeo- 
 logical explanations, clapped her hands together three
 
 NAGASAKI 53 
 
 times in sheer delight ; or was it in unconscious obedience 
 to the custom of her race which in this way calls upon 
 its gods? Then with a movement entirely occidental 
 she threw her arms round her husband's neck, kissing 
 him with all the devotion of her being. 
 
 "Dear old Geoffrey, I love you so," she murmured. 
 Her brown eyes were full of tears. 
 
 The steamer passed into a narrow channel, a kind of 
 fiord, with wooded hills on both sides. The forests were 
 green with spring foliage. Never had Geoffrey seen 
 such a variety or such density of verdure. Every tree 
 seemed to be different from its neighbour ; and the hill- 
 sides were packed with trees like a crowded audience. 
 Here and there a spray of mountain cherry-blossom rose 
 among the green like a jet of snow. 
 
 At the foot of the woods, by the edge of the calm 
 water, the villages nestled. Only roofs could be seen, 
 high, brown, thatched roofs with a line of sword-leaved 
 irises growing along the roof-ridge like a crown. These 
 native cottages looked like timid animals, cowering in 
 their forms under the protecting trees. One felt that at 
 any time an indiscreet hoot of the steamer might send 
 them scuttering back to the forest depths. There were no 
 signs of life in these submerged villages, where the fight 
 between the forester's axe and primal vegetation seemed 
 still undecided. Life was there ; but it was hidden under 
 the luxuriance of the overgrowth, hidden to casual pass- 
 ers-by like the life of insects. Only by the seaside, 
 where the houses were clustered together above a sea- 
 wall of cyclopean stones, and on the beach, where the 
 long narrow boats, sharp-prowed and piratical, were 
 drawn up to the shore, the same gnome-like little men, 
 with a generous display of naked brown limbs, were 
 sawing and hammering and mending their nets. 
 
 The steamer glided up the fiord towards a cloud of 
 black smoke ahead. Unknown to Geoffrey, it passed the 
 grey Italianate Catholic cathedral, the shrine of the old 
 Christian faith of Japan planted there by Saint Francis
 
 54 KIMONO 
 
 Xavier four hundred years ago. Anchor was cast off the 
 island of Deshima, now moored to the mainland, where 
 during the locked centuries the Dutch merchants had 
 been permitted to remain in profitable servitude. De- 
 shima has now been swallowed up by the Japanese town, 
 and its significance has shifted across the bay to where 
 the smoke and din of the Mitsubishi Dockyard prepare 
 romantic visitors for the modern industrial life of the 
 new Japan. Night and day, the furnace fires are roar- 
 ing; and ten thousand workmen are busy building ships 
 of war and ships of peace for the Britain of the Pacific. 
 
 The quarantine officers came on board, little, brown 
 men in uniform, absurdly self-important. Then the ship 
 was besieged by a swarm of those narrow, primitive 
 boats called sampan, which Loti has described as a kind 
 of barbaric gondola, all jostling each other to bring mer- 
 chants of local wares, damascene, tortoise-shell, pottery 
 and picture post cards aboard the vessel, and to take 
 visitors ashore. 
 
 Geoffrey and Asako were among the first to land. The 
 moment of arrival on Japanese soil brought a pang of 
 disappointment. The sea-front at Nagasaki seemed very 
 like a street in any starveling European town. It pre- 
 sented a line of offices and consulates built in Western 
 style, without distinction and without charm. Customs' 
 officers and policemen squinted suspiciously at the 
 strangers. A few women, in charge of children or mar- 
 ket-baskets, stared blankly. 
 
 "Why, they are wearing kimonos !" exclaimed Asako, 
 "but how dirty and dusty they are. They look as though 
 they had been sleeping in them !" 
 
 The Japanese women, indeed, cling to their national 
 dress. But to the Barringtons, landing at Nagasaki, they 
 seemed ugly, shapeless and dingy. Their hair was greasy 
 arid unkempt. Their faces were stupid and staring. 
 Their figures were hidden in the muffle of their dirty 
 garments. Geoffrey had been told they have baths at least 
 once a day, but he was inclined to doubt it. Or else, it 
 was because they all bathed in the same bath and their
 
 NAGASAKI 55 
 
 ablutions were merely an exchange of grime. But where 
 were those butterfly girls, who dance with fan and bat- 
 tledore on our cups and saucers? 
 
 The rickshaws were a pleasant experience, the one- 
 man perambulators ; and the costume of the rickshaw- 
 runners was delightful, and their gnarled, indefatigable 
 legs. With their tight trunk-hose of a coarse dark-blue 
 material and short coat to match like an Eton jacket and 
 with their large, round mushroom hats, they were like 
 figures from the crowd of a Flemish Crucifixion. 
 
 Behind the Barrington's sampan, a large lighter came 
 alongside the wharf. It was black with coal-dust, and 
 in one corner was heaped a pile of shallow baskets, such 
 as are used in coaling vessels at Japanese ports, being 
 slipped from hand to hand in unbroken chain up the 
 ship's side and down again to the coal barge. The work 
 was finished. The lighter was empty except for a crowd 
 of coal-stained coolies which it was bringing back to 
 Nagasaki. These were dressed like the rickshaw-men. 
 They wore tight trousers, short jackets and straw san- 
 dals. They were sitting, wearied, on the sides of the 
 barge, wiping black faces with black towels. Their hair 
 was long, lank and matted. Their hands were bruised 
 and shapeless with the rough toil. 
 
 "Poor men," sighed Asako, "they've had hard work !" 
 
 The crowd of them passed, peering at the English peo- 
 ple and chattering in high voices. Geoffrey had never 
 seen such queer-looking fellows, with their long hair, 
 clean-shaven faces, and stumpy bow-legs. One more dis- 
 heveled than the others was standing near him with 
 tunic half-open. It exposed a woman's breast, black, 
 loose and hard like leather. 
 
 "They are women !" he exclaimed, "what an extraordi- 
 nary thing!" 
 
 But the children of Nagasaki surely there could be no 
 such disillusionment. They are laughing, happy, many- 
 coloured and ubiquitous. They roll under the rickshaw 
 wheels. They peep from behind the goods piled on the 
 floors of the shops, a perpetual menace to shopkeepers,
 
 56 KIMONO 
 
 especially in the china stores, where their bird-like pres- 
 ence is more dangerous than that of the dreaded bull. 
 They are blown up and down the temple-steps like 
 fallen petals. They gather like humming-birds round the 
 itinerant venders of the streets, the old men who balance 
 on their bare shoulders their whole stock in trade of 
 sweetmeats, syrups, toys or singing grasshoppers. They 
 are the dolls of our own childhood, endowed with discon- 
 certing life. Around their little bodies flames the love 
 of colour of an oriental people, whose adult taste has been 
 disciplined to sombre browns and greys. Wonderful 
 motley kimonos they make for their children with flower 
 patterns, butterfly patterns, toy and fairy-story patterns, 
 printed on flannelette or on silk for the little plutocrats 
 in all colors, among which reds, oranges, yellows, 
 mauves, blues and greens predominate. 
 
 They invaded the depressing atmosphere of the Euro- 
 pean-style hotel, where Geoffrey and Asako were trying 
 to enjoy a tasteless lunch their grubby, bare feet pat- 
 tering on the worn lino. 
 
 It pleased him to watch them, playing their game of 
 Jonkenpan with much show of pudgy fingers, and with 
 restrained and fitful scamperings. He even made a ten- 
 tative bid for popularity by throwing copper coins. There 
 was no scramble for this largesse. Gravely and in turn 
 each child pocketed his penny ; but they all regarded 
 Geoffrey with a wary and suspicious eye. He, too, on 
 closer inspection found them less angelic than at first 
 sight. The slimy horror of unwiped noses distressed him, 
 and the significant prevalence of scabby scalps. 
 
 After their dull lunch in this drab hotel, Geoffrey and 
 his wife started once more on their voyage of discovery. 
 Nagasaki is a hidden city ; it flows through its narrow 
 valleys like water, and follows their serpentine meander- 
 ings far inland. 
 
 They soon left behind the foreign settlement and its 
 nondescript ugliness to plunge into the labyrinth of little 
 native streets, wayward and wandering like sheep-tracks,
 
 NAGASAKI 57 
 
 with sudden abrupt hills and flights of steps which 
 checked the rickshaws' progress. Here, the nouses of 
 the rich people were closely fenced and cunningly hid- 
 den ; but the life of poverty and the shopkeepers' domes- 
 ticity were flowing over into the street out of the too 
 narrow confines of the boxes which they called their 
 homes. 
 
 With an extra man to push behind, the rickshaws had 
 brought them up a zigzag hill to a cautious wooden gate- 
 way half open in a close fence of bamboo. 
 
 "Tea-house !" said the rickshaw man, stopping and 
 grinning. It was clearly expected of the foreigners that 
 they should descend and enter. 
 
 "Shall we get out and explore, sweetheart?" suggested 
 Geoffrey. They passed under the low gate, up a peb- 
 bled pathway through the sweetest fairy garden to the 
 entrance of the tea-house, a stage of brown boards highly 
 polished and never defiled by the contamination of muddy 
 boots. On the steps of approach a collection of geta 
 (native wooden clogs) and abominable side-spring shoes 
 told that guests had already arrived. 
 
 Within the dark corridors of the house there was an 
 immediate fluttering as of pigeons. Four or five little 
 women prostrated themselves before the visitors with a 
 hissing murmur of "Irasshai! (Condescend to come!)." 
 
 The Harringtons removed their boots and followed one 
 of these ladies down a gleaming corridor with another 
 miniature garden in an enclosed courtyard on one side, 
 and paper shoji and peeping faces on the other, out across 
 a further garden by a kind of oriental Bridge of Sighs 
 to a small separate pavilion, which floated on a lake of 
 green shrubs and pure air, as though moored by the 
 wooden gangway to the main block of the building. 
 
 This summer-house contained a single small room like 
 a very clean box with wooden frame, opaque paper walls, 
 and pale golden matting. The only wall which seemed 
 at all substantial presented the appearance of an alcove. 
 In this niche there hung a long picture of cherry-blos- 
 soms on a mountain side, below which, on a stand of dark
 
 58 KIMONO 
 
 sandalwood, squatted a bronze monkey holding a crystal 
 ball. This was the only ornament in the room. 
 
 Geoffrey and his wife sat down or sprawled on square 
 silk cushions called sabuton. Then the shoji were thrown 
 open ; and they looked down upon Nagasaki. 
 
 It was a scene of sheer enchantment. The tea-house 
 was perched on a cliff which overhung the city. The light 
 pavilion seemed like the car of some pullman aeroplane 
 hovering over the bay. It was the brief half-hour of 
 evening, the time of day when the magic of Japan is at 
 its most powerful. All that was cheap and sordid was 
 shut out by the bamboo fence and wrapped away in the 
 twilight mists. It was a half-hour of luminous grey- 
 ness. The skies were grey and the waters of the bay 
 and the roofs of the houses. A grey vapour rose from the 
 town ; and a black-grey trail of smoke drifted from the 
 dockyards and from the steamers in the harbour. The 
 cries and activities of the city below rose clear and dis- 
 tinct but infinitely remote, as sound of the world might 
 reach the Gods in Heaven. It was a half-hour of fairy- 
 land when anything might happen. 
 
 Two little maids brought tea and sugary cakes, green 
 tea like bitter hot water, insipid and unsatisfying. It 
 was a shock to see the girls' faces as they raised the tiny 
 china teacups. Under the glaze of their powder they 
 were old and wise. 
 
 They observed Asako's nationality, and began to speak 
 to her in Japanese. 
 
 "Their politeness is put on to order," thought Geoffrey, 
 "they seem forward and inquisitive minxes." 
 
 But Asako only knew a few set phrases of her native 
 tongue. This baffled the ladies, one of whom after a 
 whispered consultation and some giggling behind sleeves, 
 went off to find a friend who would solve the mystery. 
 
 "Nesan, Nesan (elder sister)" she called across the 
 garden. 
 
 Strange little dishes were produced on trays of red 
 lacquer, fish and vegetables of different kinds artistically 
 arranged, but most unpalatable.
 
 NAGASAKI 59 
 
 A third nesan appeared. She could speak some English. 
 
 "Is Okusama (lady) Japanese?" she began, after she 
 had placed the tiny square table before Geoffrey, and 
 had performed a prostration. 
 
 Geoffrey assented. 
 
 Renewed prostration before okusama, and murmured 
 greetings in Japanese. 
 
 "But I can't speak Japanese," said Asako laughing. 
 This perplexed the girl, but her curiosity prompted her. 
 
 "Danna San (master) Ingiris'?" she asked, looking at 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 "Yes," said Asako. "Do many Englishmen have Jap- 
 anese wives?" 
 
 "Yes, very many," was the unexpected answer. "O 
 Fuji San," she continued, indicating one of the other 
 maids, "have Ingiris' danna San very many years ago; 
 very kind danna son; give O Fuji plenty nice kimono; he 
 say, O Fuji very good girl, go to Ingiris' wit him; O Fuji 
 say, No, cannot go, mother very sick; so danna son go 
 away. Give O Fuji San very nice finger ring." 
 
 She lapsed into vernacular. The other girl showed with 
 feigned embarrassment a little ring set with glassy sap- 
 phires. 
 
 "Oh !" said Asako, dimly comprehending. 
 
 "All Ingiris' danna son come Nagasaki," the talkative 
 maid went on, "want Japanese girl. Ingiris' danna san 
 kind man, but too plenty drink. Japanese danna san 
 not kind, not good. Ingiris' danna san plenty money, 
 plenty. Nagasaki girl very many foreign danna san. 
 Rashamen wa Nagasaki meibutsu (foreigners' mistresses 
 famous product of Nagasaki). Ingiris' danna san go 
 away all the time. One year, two year then go away 
 to Ingiris' country." 
 
 "Then what does the Japanese girl do?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Other danna san come," was the laconic reply. "Ingiris' 
 danna san live in Japan, Japanese girl very nice. Ingiris' 
 danna san go away, no want Japanese girl. Japanese 
 girl no want go away Japan. Japanese girl go to other 
 country, she feel very sick ; heart very lonely, very sad !"
 
 60 KIMONO 
 
 A weird, unpleasant feeling had stolen into the little 
 room, the presence of unfamiliar thoughts and of foreign 
 moralities, birds of unhealth. 
 
 The two other girls who could not speak English 
 were posing for Geoffrey's benefit ; one of them reclining 
 against the framework of the open window with her long 
 kimono sleeves crossed in front of her like wings, her 
 painted oval face fixed on him in spite of the semblance 
 of downcast eyes ; the other squatting on her heels in a 
 corner of the room with the same demure expression and 
 with her hands folded in her lap. Despite the quietness 
 of the poses they were as challenging in their way as 
 the swinging hips of Piccadilly. It is as true to-day as it 
 was in Kaempffer's time, the old Dutch traveler of two 
 hundred and fifty years ago, that every hotel in Japan 
 is a brothel, and every tea-house and restaurant a house 
 of assignation. 
 
 From a wing of the building near by came the twang- 
 ing of a string, like a banjo string being tuned in fantastic 
 quarter tones. A few sharp notes were struck, at random 
 it seemed, followed by a few bars of a quavering song 
 and then a burst of clownish laughter. Young bloods of 
 Nagasaki had called in geisha to amuse them at their meal. 
 
 "Japanese geisha," said the tea-house girl, "if danna son 
 wish to see geisha dance ?" 
 
 "No thank you," said Geoffrey, hurriedly, "Asako 
 darling, it is time we went home : we want our dinners."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 CHONKINA 
 
 Modashi-ite To sit silent 
 
 Sakashira suru wo And look wise 
 
 Sake nomitc Is not to be compared with 
 
 Yei-naki suru ni Drinking sake 
 
 Nao shikazu kcri. And making a riotous 
 
 shouting. 
 
 As soon as the meal was over, Asako went to bed. She 
 was tired out by an orgy of sight-seeing and new impres- 
 sions. Geoffrey said that he would have a short walk 
 and a smoke before turning in. He took the road which 
 led towards the harbour of Nagasaki. 
 
 Chonkina, Clwnkina, Chon, Chon, Kina, Kina, 
 Yokohama, Nagasaki, Hakodate Hoi! 
 The refrain of an old song was awakened in his mind by 
 the melodious name of the place. 
 
 He descended the hill from the hotel, and crossed a 
 bridge over a narrow river. The town was full of beauty. 
 The warm light in the little wooden houses, the creamy 
 light of the paper walls, illuminated from within, with 
 the black silhouettes of the home groups traced upon 
 them, the lanterns dancing on the boats in the harbour, 
 the lights on the larger vessels in stiff patterns like 
 propositions of Euclid, the lanterns on carts and rick- 
 shaws, lanterns like fruit, red. golden and glowing, and 
 round bubble lamps over each house entrance with 
 Chinese characters written upon them giving the name 
 of the occupant. 
 
 Chonkina f Chonkina ! 
 
 As though in answer to his incantation. Geoffrey 
 suddenly came upon Wigram. Wigram had been a 
 fellow-passenger on board the steamer. He was an old 
 Etonian ; and this was really the only bond between the 
 
 61
 
 62 KIMONO 
 
 two men. For Wigram was short, fat and flabby, dull- 
 eyed and pasty-faced. He spoke with a drawl; he had 
 literary pretensions and he was travelling for pleasure. 
 
 "Hello, Barrington," he said, "you all alone?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Geoffrey, "my wife is a bit overtired ; 
 she has turned in." 
 
 "So you are making the mosf of your opportunity, 
 studying night-life, eh, naughty boy?" 
 
 "Not much about, is there?" said Geoffrey, who con- 
 sidered that a "pi fellow" was Bad Form, and would not 
 be regarded as such even by a creature whose point 
 of view was as contemptible as that of Wigram. 
 
 "Doesn't walk the streets, old man; but it's there all 
 the same. The men at the club here tell me that Naga- 
 saki is one of the hottest spots on the face of the globe." 
 
 "Seems sleepy enough," answered Geoffrey. 
 
 "Oh, here ! these are just English warehouses and 
 consulates. They're always asleep. But you come with 
 me and see them dance the Chonkina,." 
 
 Geoffrey started at this echo of his own thoughts, but 
 he said, 
 
 "I must be getting back; my wife will be anxious." 
 
 "Not yet, not yet. It will be all over in half an hour, 
 and it's worth seeing. I am just going to the club to 
 find a fellow who said he'd show me the ropes." 
 
 Geoffrey allowed himself to be persuaded. After all 
 he was not expected home so immediately. It was many 
 years since he had visited low and disreputable places. 
 They were Bad Form, and had no appeal for him. But 
 the strangeness of the place attracted him, and a longing 
 for the first glimpse behind the scenes in this inexplicable 
 new country. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 
 Why shouldn't he go ? 
 
 He was introduced to Wigram's friend, Mr. Patterson, 
 a Scotch merchant of Nagasaki, who lurched out of the
 
 CHONKINA 63 
 
 club in his habitual Saturday evening state of mellow 
 inebriation. 
 
 They called for three rickshaws, whose runners seemed 
 to know without instructions whither they had to go. 
 
 "Is it far from here?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "It is not so far," said the Scotchman; "it is most 
 conveniently situated." 
 
 Noiselessly they sped down narrow twisting streets 
 with the same unfamiliar lights and shadows, the glowing 
 paper walls, and the luminous globes of the gate lamps. 
 
 From the distance came the beat of a drum. 
 
 Geoffrey had heard a drum sounded like that before 
 in the Somali village at Aden, a savage primitive sound 
 with a kind of marching rhythm, suggestive of the swing 
 of hundreds of black bodies moving to some obscene 
 festival. 
 
 But here, in Japan, such music sounded remote from 
 the civilisation of the country, from the old as from the 
 new. 
 
 "Chonkina, Chonkina," it seemed to be beating. 
 
 The rickshaws turned into a broader street with 
 houses taller and more commanding than any seen hither- 
 to. They were built of brown wood like big Swiss 
 chalets, and were hung with red paper lanterns like huge 
 ripe cherries. 
 
 Another stage-like entrance, more fluttering of women 
 and low prostrations, a procession along shining corri- 
 dors and up steep stairways like companion-ladders, 
 everywhere a heavy smell of cheap scent and powder, 
 the reek of the brothel. 
 
 The three guests were installed, squatting or lounging 
 around a low table with beer and cakes. There was a 
 chorus of tittering and squeaking voices in the corridor. 
 The partition slid open, and six little women came 
 running into the room. 
 
 "Patasan San! Patasan San!" they cried, clapping 
 their hands. 
 
 Here at last were the butterfly women of the traveller's 
 imagination. They wore bright kimonos, red and blue,
 
 64 KIMONO 
 
 embroidered with gold thread. Their faces were pale 
 like porcelain with the enamelling effect of the liquid 
 powder which they use. Their black shiny hair, like 
 liquorice, was arranged in fantastic volutes, which were 
 adorned with silver bell-like ornaments and paper flowers. 
 Choking down Geoffrey's admiration, a cloud of heavy 
 perfume hung around them. 
 
 "Good day to you," they squeaked in comical English, 
 "How do you do? I love you. Please kiss me. Dam! 
 dam !" 
 
 Patterson introduced them by name as O Hana fan 
 (Miss Flower), O Yuki San (Miss Snow), O En San 
 (Miss Affinity), O Toshi San (Miss Year), O Taka San 
 (Miss Tall) and O Koma San (Miss Pony). 
 
 One of them, Miss Pony, put her arm around Geoffrey's 
 neck the little fingers felt like the touch of insects 
 and said, 
 
 "My darling, you love me?" 
 
 The big Englishman disengaged himself gently. It is 
 Bad Form to be rough to women, even to Japanese 
 courtesans. He began to be sorry that he had come. 
 
 "I have brought two very dear friends of mine," said 
 Patterson to all the world, "for pleasure artistic rather 
 than carnal; though perhaps I can safely prophesy that 
 the pleasure of the senses is the end of all true art. We 
 have come to see the national dance of Japan, the Naga- 
 saki reel, the famous Chonkina. I myself am familiar 
 with the dance. On two or three occasions I have per- 
 formed with credit in these very halls. But these two 
 gentlemen have come all the way from England on 
 purpose to see the dance. I therefore request that you 
 will dance it to-night with care and attention, with force 
 of imagination, with a sense of pleasurable anticipation, 
 and with humble respect to the naked truth." 
 
 He spoke with the precise eloquence of intoxication, 
 and as he flopped to the ground again Wigram clapped 
 him on the shoulder with a "Bravo, old man !" 
 
 Geoffrey felt very silent and rather sick.
 
 CHONKINA 65 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 
 The little women made a show of modesty, hiding 
 their faces behind their long kimono sleeves. 
 
 A servant girl pushed open the walls which communi- 
 cated with the next room, an exact replica of the one in 
 which they were sitting. An elderly woman in a sea-grey 
 kimono was squatting there silent, rigid and dignified. 
 For a moment Geoffrey thought that a mistake had been 
 made, that this was another guest disturbed in quiet 
 reflection and about to be justly indignant. 
 
 But no, this Roman matron held in her lap the white 
 disc of a satnisen, the native banjo, upon which she 
 strummed with a flat white bone. She was the evening's 
 orchestra, an old geisha. 
 
 The six little butterflies lined up in front of her and 
 began to dance, not our Western dance of free limbs, 
 but an Oriental dance from the hips with posturings of 
 hands and feet. They sang a harsh faltering song with- 
 out any apparent relation to the accompaniment played 
 by that austere dame. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 The six little figures swayed to and fro. 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! Hoi! 
 
 With a sharp cry the song and dance stopped abruptly. 
 The six dancers stood rigid with hands held out in 
 different attitudes. One of them had lost the first round 
 and must pay forfeit. Off came the broad embroidered 
 sash. It was thrown aside, and the raucous singing 
 began afresh. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! Hoi! 
 
 The same girl lost again; and amid shrill titterings 
 the gorgeous scarlet kimono fell to the ground. She was
 
 66 KIMONO 
 
 left standing in a pretty blue under-kimono of light silk 
 with a pale pink design of cherry-blossoms starred all 
 over it. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 
 Round after round the game was played; and first 
 one girl lost and then another. Two of them were stand- 
 ing now with the upper part of their bodies bare. One 
 of them was wearing a kind of white lace petticoat, 
 stained and sour-looking, wrapped about her hips ; the 
 other wore short flannel drawers, like a man's bathing- 
 pants, coloured in a Union Jack pattern, some sailor's 
 offering to his inamorata. They were both of them 
 young girls. Their breasts were flat and shapeless. 
 The yellow skin ended abruptly at the throat and neck 
 with the powder line. For the neck and face were a 
 glaze of white. The effect of this break was to make 
 the body look as if it had lost its real head under the 
 guillotine, and had received an ill-matched substitute 
 from the surgeon's hands. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 
 Patterson had drawn nearer to the performers. His 
 red face and his grim smile were tokens of what he 
 would have described as pleasurable anticipation. Wig- 
 ram, too, his flabby visage paler than ever, his large eyes 
 bulging, and his mouth hanging open, gazed as in a 
 trance. He had whispered to Geoffrey, 
 
 "I've seen the danse du venire at Algiers, but this beats 
 anything." 
 
 Geoffrey from behind the fumes of the pipe-smoke 
 watched the unreal phantasmagoria as he might have 
 watched a dream. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! 
 The dance was more expressive now, not of art but
 
 CHONKINA 67 
 
 of mere animalism. The bodies shook and squirmed. 
 The faces were screwed up to express an ecstacy of 
 sensual delight. The little fingers twitched into im- 
 modest gestures. 
 
 Chonkina! Chonkina! Hoi! 
 
 Geoffrey had never gazed on a naked woman except 
 idealised in marble or on canvas. The secret of Venus 
 had been for him, as for many men, an inviolate Mecca 
 towards which he worshipped. Glimpses he had seen, 
 visions of soft curves, mica glistenings of creamy skin, 
 but never the crude anatomical fact. 
 
 An overgrown embryo she seemed, a gawkish ill- 
 moulded thing. 
 
 Woman, thought Geoffrey, should be supple and pliant, 
 with a suggestion of swiftness galvanising the delicacy of 
 the lines. Atalanta was his ideal woman. 
 
 But this creature had apparently no bones or sinews. 
 She looked like a sawdust dummy. She seemed to have 
 been poured into a bag of brown tissue. There was no 
 waist line. The chest appeared to fit down upon the 
 thighs like a lid. The legs hung from the hips like trou- 
 ser-legs, and seemed to fit into the feet like poles into 
 their sockets. The turned-in toes were ridiculous and 
 exasperating. There was no shaping of breasts, stomach, 
 knees and ankles. There was nothing in this image 
 of clay to show the loving caress of the Creator's hand. 
 It had been modelled by a wretched bungler in a mo- 
 ment of inattention. 
 
 Yet it stood there, erect and challenging, this miser- 
 able human tadpole, usurping the throne of Lais and 
 crowned with the worship of such devotees as Patterson 
 and Wigram. 
 
 Are all women ugly? The query flashed through 
 Geoffrey's brain. Is the vision of Aphrodite Anadyomene 
 an artist's lie? Then he thought of Asako. Stripped of 
 her gauzy nightdresses, was she like this? A shame 
 on such imagining!
 
 68 KIMONO 
 
 Patterson was hugging a girl on his knee. Wigram 
 had caught hold of another. Geoffrey said but no- 
 body heard him, 
 
 "It's getting too hot for me here. I'm going." 
 
 So he went. 
 
 His little wife was awake, and disposed to be tearful. 
 
 "Where have you been?" she asked, "You said you 
 would only be half an hour." 
 
 "I met Wigram," said Geoffrey, "and I went with 
 him to see some geisha dancing." 
 
 "You might have taken me. Was it very pretty?" 
 
 "No, it was very ugly; you would not have cared for 
 it at all." 
 
 He had a hot bath, before he lay down by her side.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 
 
 Momo-shiki no Though the people of the 
 
 Omiya-bito wa Great City 
 
 Okaredo With its hundred towers 
 
 Kokoro ni norite Be many, 
 
 Omoyuru into! Riding on my heart 
 
 (Only) my beloved Sister 1 
 
 THE traveller in Japan is restricted to a hard-worn road, 
 dictated to him by Messrs. Thos. Cook and Son, and by 
 the Tourists' Information Bureau. This via sacra is 
 marked by European-style hotels of varying quality, by 
 insidious curio-shops, and by native guides, serious and 
 profane, who classify foreigners under the two headings 
 of Temples and Tea-houses. The lonely men-travellers 
 are naturally supposed to have a penchant for the spurious 
 geisha, who haunt the native restaurants; the married 
 couples are taken to the temples, and to those merchants 
 of antiquities, who offer the highest commission to the 
 guides. There is always an air of petty conspiracy in the 
 wake of every foreigner who visits the country. If 
 he is a Japan enthusiast, he is amused by the naive ways, 
 and accepts the conventional smile as the reflection of 
 the heart of "the happy, little Japs." If he hates the 
 country, he takes it for granted that extortion and vil- 
 lainy will accompany his steps. 
 
 Geoffrey and Asako enjoyed immensely their intro- 
 duction to Japan. The unpleasant experiences of Naga- 
 saki were soon forgotten after their arrival at Kyoto, the 
 ancient capital of the Mikado, where the charm of old 
 Japan still lingers. They were happy, innocent people, 
 devoted to each other, easily pleased, and having heaps 
 of money to spend. They were amused with everything, 
 with the people, with the houses, with the shops, with 
 being stared at, with being cheated, with being dragged 
 
 69
 
 70 KIMONO 
 
 to the ends of the vast city only to see flowerless gardens 
 and temples in decay. 
 
 Asako especially was entranced. The feel of the 
 Japanese silk and the sight of bright colours and pretty 
 patterns awoke in her a kind of ancestral memory, the 
 craving of generations of Japanese women. She bought 
 kimonos by the dozen, and spent hours trying them on 
 amid a chorus of admiring chambermaids and waitresses, 
 a chorus specially trained by the hotel management in 
 the difficult art of admiring foreigners' purchases. 
 
 Then to the curio-shops ! The antique shops of Kyoto 
 give to the simple foreigner the impression that he is 
 being received in a private home by a Japanese gentle- 
 man of leisure whose hobby is collecting. The unsus- 
 pecting prey is welcomed with cigarettes and specially 
 honourable tea, the thick green kind like pea-soup. An 
 autograph book is produced in which are written the 
 names of rich and distinguished people who have visited 
 the collection. You are asked to add your own insignif- 
 icant signature. A few glazed earthenware pots appear, 
 Tibetan temple pottery of the Han Period. They are 
 on their way to the Winckler collection in New York, a 
 trifle of a hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 Having pulverised the will-power of his guest, the 
 merchant of antiquities hands him over to his myrmidons 
 who conduct him round the shop for it is only a shop 
 after all. Taking accurate measurement of his purse 
 and tastes, they force him to buy what pleases them, just 
 as a conjurer can force a card upon his audience. 
 
 The Harringtons' rooms at the Miyako Hotel soon 
 became like an annex to the show-rooms in Messrs. 
 Yamanaka's store. Brocades arid kimonos were draped 
 over chairs and bedsteads. Tables were crowded with 
 porcelain, cloisonne and statues of gods. Lanterns hung 
 irom the roof ; and in a corner of the room stood an 
 enormous T)owl-shaped bell as big as a bath, resting on 
 a tripod of red lacquer. When struck with a thick leather 
 baton like a drum-stick it uttered a deep sob, a wonderful, 
 round, perfect sound, full of the melancholy of the wind
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 71 
 
 and the pine-forests, of the austere dignity of a vanishing 
 civilisation, and the loneliness of the Buddhist Law. 
 
 There was a temple on the hill behind the hotel whence 
 such a note reached the visitors at dawn and again at 
 sunset. The spirit of everything lovely in the country 
 sang in its tones ; and Asako and Geoffrey had agreed, 
 that, whatever else they might buy or not buy, they must 
 take an echo of that imprisoned music home with them 
 to England. 
 
 So they bought the cyclopean voice, engraved with 
 cabalistic writing, which might be, as it professed to be, 
 a temple bell of Yamato over five hundred years old, 
 or else the last year's product of an Osaka foundry for 
 antique brass ware. Geoffrey called it "Big Ben." 
 
 "What are you going to do with all these things?" he 
 asked his wife. 
 
 "Oh, for our home in London," she answered, clapping 
 her hands and gazing with ecstatic pride at all her 
 treasures. "It will be wonderful. Oh, Geoffrey, Geoffrey, 
 you are so good to give all this to me !" 
 
 "But it is your own money, little sweetheart!" 
 
 Never did Asako seem further from her parents' race 
 than during the first weeks of her sojourn in her native 
 country. She was so unconscious of her relationship 
 that she liked to play at imitating native life, as some- 
 thing utterly peculiar and absurd. Meals in Japanese 
 eating-houses amused her immensely. The squatting 
 on bare floors, the exaggerated obeisance of the waiting- 
 girls, the queer food, the clumsy use of chop-sticks, the 
 numbness of her feet after being sat upon for half an 
 hour, all would set her off in peals of unchecked laughter, 
 so as to astonish her compatriots who naturally enough 
 mistook her for one of themselves. 
 
 Once, with the aid of the girls of the hotel, she arrayed 
 herself in the garments of a Japanese lady of position 
 with her hair dressed in the shiny black helmet-shape, 
 and her waist encased in the broad, tight obi or sash,
 
 72 KIMONO 
 
 which after all was no more uncomfortable than a corset. 
 Thus attired she came down to dinner one evening, 
 trotting behind her husband as a well-trained Japanese 
 wife should do. In foreign dress she appeared petite and 
 exotic, but one would have hesitated to name the land of 
 her birth. It was a shock to Geoffrey to see her again 
 in her native costume. In Europe, it had been a dis- 
 tinction, but here, in Japan, it was like a sudden fading 
 into the landscape. He had never realised quite how 
 entirely his wife was one of these people. The short 
 stature and the shuffling gait, the tiny delicate hands, 
 the grooved slit of the eyelids, and the oval of the face 
 were pure Japanese. The only incongruous elements 
 were the white ivory skin which, however, is a beauty 
 not unknown among home-reared Japanese women also, 
 and, above all, the expression which looked out of the 
 dancing eyes and the red mouth ripe for kisses, an ex- 
 pression of freedom, happiness, and natural high spirits, 
 which is not to be seen in a land where the women are 
 hardly free, never natural, and seldom happy. The Jap- 
 anese woman's face develops a compressed look which 
 leaves the features a mere mask, and acquires very often 
 a furtive glance, as of a sharp-fanged animal half-tamed 
 by fear, something weasel-like or vixenish. 
 
 Flaunting her native costume, Asako came down to 
 dinner at the Miyako Hotel, laughing, chattering, and 
 imitating the mincing steps of her country-women and 
 their exaggerated politeness. Geoffrey tried to play his 
 part in the little comedy ; but his good spirits were forced 
 and gradually silence fell between them, the silence which 
 falls on masqueraders in fancy dress, who have tried to 
 play up to the spirit of their costume, but whose imagina- 
 tion flags. Had Geoffrey been able to think a little more 
 deeply he would have realized that this play-acting was 
 a very visible sign of the gulf which yawned between his 
 wife and the yellow women of Japan. She was acting as 
 a white woman might have done, certain of the impossi- 
 bility of confusion. But Geoffrey for the first time felt 
 his wife's exoticism, not from the romantic and charm-
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 73 
 
 ing side, but from the ugly, sinister, and horrible word 
 inferior side of it. Had he married a coloured woman? 
 Was he a squaw's man? A sickening vision of chonkina 
 at Nagasaki rose before his imagination. 
 
 When dinner was over, and after Asako had received 
 the congratulations of the other guests, she retired up- 
 stairs to put on her neglige. Geoffrey liked a cigar 
 after dinner, but Asako objected to the heavy aroma 
 hanging about her bedroom. They therefore parted gen- 
 erally for this brief half hour; and afterwards they would 
 read and talk together in their sitting-room. Like other 
 people, they soon got into the habit of going to bed early 
 in a country where there were no theatres playing in a 
 comprehensible tongue, and no supper restaurants to turn 
 night into day. 
 
 Geoffrey lit his cigar and made his way to the smok- 
 ing-room. Two elderly men, merchants from Kobe, were 
 already sitting there over whiskies and sodas, discussing 
 a mutual acquaintance. 
 
 "No, I don't see much of him," one of them, an Ameri- 
 can, was saying, "nobody does nowadays. But take my 
 word, when he came out here as a young man he was 
 one of the smartest young fellows in the East." 
 
 "Yes, I can quite believe you," said the other, a stolid 
 Englishman with a briar pipe, "he struck me as an ex- 
 ceptionally well-educated man." 
 
 "He was more than that, I tell you. He was a financial 
 genius. He was a man with a great future." 
 
 "Poor fellow !" said the other. "Well, he has only got 
 himself to thank." 
 
 Geoffrey was not an eavesdropper by nature, but he 
 found himself getting interested in the fate of this 
 anonymous failure, and wondered if he was going to hear 
 the cause of the man's downfall. 
 
 "When these Japanese women get hold of a man," the 
 American went on, "they seem to drain the brightness 
 out of him. Why, you have only got to stroll around to 
 the Kobe Club and look at the faces. You can tell the 
 ones that have Japanese wives or housekeepers right
 
 n KIMONO 
 
 away. Something seems to have gone right out of their 
 expression." 
 
 "It's worry," said the Englishman. "A fellow marries 
 a Japanese girl, and he finds he has to keep all her lazy 
 relatives as well ; and then a crowd of half-caste brats 
 come along, and he ^doesn't know whether they are his 
 own or not." 
 
 "It is more than that," was the emphatic answer. 
 "Men with white wives have worry enough; and a man 
 can go gay in the tea-houses, and none the worse. But 
 when once they marry them it is like signing a bond with 
 the devil. That man's damned." 
 
 Geoffrey rose and left the room. He thought <on the 
 whole it was better to withdraw than to hit that harsh- 
 voiced Yankee hard in the eye. He feltithat his wife had 
 been insulted. But the speaker could not have known 
 by whom he had been overheard. He had merely ex- 
 pressed an opinion which, as a sudden instinct told Geof- 
 frey, must be generally prevalent among the white peo- 
 ple living in this yellow country. Now that he came to 
 think of it, he remembered curious glances cast at him 
 and Asako by foreigners and also, strange to say, by 
 Japanese, glances half contemptuous. Had he acquired it 
 already, that expression which marked the faces of the 
 unfortunates at the Kobe Club? He remembered also 
 tactless remarks on board ship, such as, "Mrs. Barrington 
 has lived all her life in England; of course, that makes 
 all the difference." 
 
 Geoffrey looked at his reflection in the long mirror in 
 the hall. There were no signs as yet of premature 
 damnation on the honest, healthy British face. There 
 were signs, perhaps, of ripened thought and experience, 
 of less superficial appreciation. The eyes seemed to have 
 withdrawn deeper into their sockets, like the figurines 
 in toy barometers when they feel wet weather coming. 
 
 He was beginning to appreciate the force of the advice 
 which had urged him to beware of Japan. Here, in the 
 hotbed of race prejudice, evil spirits were abroad. It 
 was so different in broad-hearted tolerant London.
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 73 
 
 Asako was charming and rich. She was received every- 
 where. To marry her was no more strange than to 
 marry a French girl or a Russian. They could have 
 lived peaceably in Europe ; and her distant fatherland 
 would have added a pathetic charm to her personality. 
 But here in Japan, where between the handful of whites 
 and the myriads of yellow men stretches a No Man's 
 Land, serrated and desolate, marked with bloody fights, 
 with suspicions and treacheries, Asako's position as the 
 wife of a white man and Geoffrey's position as the hus- 
 band of a yellow wife were entirely different. The 
 stranger's phrases had summed up the situation. They 
 were no good, these white men who had pawned their 
 lives to yellow girls. They were the failures, the rates. 
 Geoffrey had heard of promising young officers in India 
 who had married native women and who had had to leave 
 the service. He had done the same. Better go gay in the 
 tea-houses with Wigram. He was the husband of a 
 coloured woman. 
 
 And then the crowd of half-caste brats? In England 
 one hardly ever thinks of the progeny of mixed races. 
 That bitter word "half-caste" is a distant echo of sen- 
 sational novels. Geoffrey had not as yet noticed the pale 
 handsome children of Eurasia, Nature's latest and most 
 half-hearted experiment, whose seed, they say, is lost in 
 the third generation. But he had heard the tone of scorn 
 which flung out the term ; and it suddenly occurred to 
 him that his own children would be half-castes. 
 
 He was walking on the garden terrace overlooking the 
 starry city. He was thinking with an intensity un- 
 familiar to him and terrifying, like a machine which 
 is developing its fullest power, and is shaking a frame- 
 work unused to such a strain. He wanted a friend's 
 presence, a desultory chat with an old pal about people 
 and things which they shared in common. Thank God, 
 Reggie Forsyth was in Tokyo. He would leave to- 
 morrow. He must see Reggie, laugh at his queer clever 
 talk again, relax himself, and feel sane. 
 
 He was nervous of meeting his wife, lest her instinct
 
 76 KIMONO 
 
 might guess his thoughts. Yet he must not leave her 
 any longer or his absence would make her anxious. 
 Not that his love for Asako had been damaged ; but he 
 felt that they were traveling along a narrow path over 
 a bottomless gulf in an unexplored country. 
 
 He returned to the rooms and found her lying discon- 
 solate on a sofa, wrapped in a flimsy champagne-coloured 
 dressing-gown, one of the spoils of Paris. Her hair had 
 been rapidly combed out of its formal native arrange- 
 ment. It looked draggled and hard as though she had 
 been bathing. Titine, the French maid, was removing 
 the rejected debris of kimono and sash. 
 
 "Sweetheart, you've been crying," said Geoffrey, kiss- 
 ing her. 
 
 "You didn't like me as a Jap, and you've been thinking 
 terrible things about me. Look at me, and tell me what 
 you have been thinking." 
 
 "Little Yum Yum talks great nonsense sometimes. As 
 a matter of fact, I was thinking of going on to Tokyo 
 to-morrow. I think we've seen about all there is to be 
 seen here, don't you?" 
 
 "Geoffrey, you want to see Reggie Forsyth. You're 
 getting bored and homesick already." 
 
 "No, I'm not. I think it is a ripping country ; in fact, 
 I want to see more of it. What I am wondering is 
 whether we should take Tanaka." 
 
 This made Asako laugh. Any mention of Tanaka's 
 name acted as a talisman of mirth. Tanaka was the 
 Japanese guide who had fixed himself on to their com- 
 pany remora-like, with a fine flair for docile and profit- 
 able travelers. 
 
 He was a very small man, small even for a Japanese, 
 but plump withal. His back view looked like that of a 
 little boy, an illusion accentuated by the shortness of his 
 coat and his small straw boater with its colored ribbon. 
 Even when he turned the illusion was not quite dispelled ; 
 for his was a round, ruddy, chubby face with dimples, a
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 77 
 
 face with big cheeks ripe for smacking, and little sunken 
 pig-like eyes. 
 
 He had stalked the Barringtons during their first ex- 
 cursion on foot through the ancient city, knowing that 
 sooner or later they would lose their way. When the 
 opportunity offered itself and he saw them gazing 
 vaguely round at cross-roads, he bore down upon them, 
 raising his hat and saying: 
 
 "Can I assist you, sir?" 
 
 "Yes ; would you kindly tell me the way to the Miyako 
 Hotel?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "I am myself en route" answered Tanaka. "Indeed 
 we meet very a propos" 
 
 On the way he had discoursed about all there was 
 to be seen in Kyoto. Only, visitors must know their 
 way about, or must have the service of an experienced 
 guide who was au fait and who knew the "open sesames." 
 He pronounced this phrase "open sessums," and it was 
 not until late that night that its meaning dawned upon 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 Tanaka had a rich collection of foreign and idiomatic 
 phrases, which he must have learned by heart from a 
 book and with which he adorned his conversation. 
 
 On his own initiative he had appeared next morning 
 to conduct the two visitors to the Emperor's palace, 
 which he gave them to understand was open for that 
 day only, and as a special privilege due to Tanaka's influ- 
 ence. While expatiating on the wonders to be seen, he 
 brushed Geoffrey's clothes and arranged them with the 
 care of a trained valet. In the evening, when they re- 
 turned to the hotel and Asako complained of pains in her 
 shoulder, Tanaka showed himself to be an adept at 
 massage. 
 
 Next morning he was again at his post ; and Geoffrey 
 realized that another member had been added to his 
 household. He acted as their cicerone or "siseroan," as 
 he pronounced it, to temple treasuries and old palace 
 gardens, to curio-shops and to little native eating-houses. 
 The Barringtons submitted, not because they liked
 
 78 KIMONO 
 
 Tanaka, but because they were good-natured, and rather 
 lost in this new country. Besides, Tanaka clung like a 
 leech and was useful in many ways. 
 
 Only on Sunday morning it was the hotel boy who 
 brought their early morning tea. Tanaka was absent. 
 When he made his appearance he wore a grave expres- 
 sion which hardly suited his round face ; and he carried 
 a large black prayer-book. He explained that he had 
 been to church. He was a Christian, Greek Orthodox. 
 At least so he said, but afterwards Geoffrey was inclined 
 to think that this was only one of his mystifications to 
 gain the sympathy of his victims and to create a bond 
 between him and them. 
 
 His method was one of observation, imitation and con- 
 cealed interrogation. The long visits to the Harringtons' 
 rooms, the time spent in clothes-brushing and in massage, 
 were so much opportunity gained for inspecting the room 
 and its inhabitants, for gauging their habits and their 
 income, and for scheming out how to derive the greatest 
 possible advantage for himself. 
 
 The first results of this process were almost uncon- 
 scious. The wide collar, in which his face had wobbled 
 Micawber-like, disappeared; and a small double collar, 
 like the kind Geoffrey wore, took its place. The garish 
 neck-tie and hatband were replaced by discreet black. 
 He acquired the attitudes and gestures of his employer 
 in a few days. 
 
 As for the cross-examination, it took place in the even- 
 ing, when Geoffrey was tired, and Tanaka was taking off 
 his boots. 
 
 "Previous to the fiancee," Tanaka began, "did Lady 
 Barrington live long time in Japan?" 
 
 He was lavish with titles, considering that money and 
 nobility in such people must be inseparable ; besides, ex- 
 perience had taught him that the use of such honorifics 
 never came amiss. 
 
 "No ; she left when she was quite a little baby." 
 
 "Ladyship has Japanese name?" 
 
 "Asako Fujinami. Do you know the name, Tanaka?"
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 79 
 
 The Japanese set his head on one side to indicate an 
 attitude of reflection. 
 
 "Tokyo?" he suggested. 
 
 "Yes, from Tokyo." 
 
 "Does Lordship pay his devoir to relatives of Lady- 
 ship?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so, when we go to Tokyo." 
 
 "Ladyship's relatives have noble residence?" asked 
 Tanaka ; it was his way of inquiring if they were rich. 
 
 "I really don't know at all," answered Geoffrey. 
 
 "Then I will detect for Lordship. It will be better. 
 A man can do great foolishness if he does not detect." 
 
 After this Geoffrey discouraged Tanaka. But Asako 
 thought him a huge joke. He made himself very useful 
 and agreeable, fetching and carrying for her, and amus- 
 ing her with his wonderful English. He almost suc- 
 ceeded in dislodging Titine from her cares for her mis- 
 tress's person. Geoffrey had once objected, on being ex- 
 pelled from his wife's bedroom during a change of rai- 
 ment: 
 
 "But Tanaka was there. You don't mind him seeing 
 you apparently." 
 
 Asako had burst out laughing. 
 
 "Oh, he isn't a man. He isn't real at all. He says 
 that I am like a flower, and that I am very beautiful in 
 'deshabeel.'" 
 
 "That sounds real enough," grunted Geoffrey, "and 
 very like a man." 
 
 Perhaps, innocent as she was, Asako enjoyed playing 
 off Tanaka against her husband, just as it certainly 
 amused her to watch the jealousy between Titine and 
 the Japanese. It gave her a pleasant sense of power to 
 see her big husband look so indignant. 
 
 "How old do you think Tanaka is?" he asked her one 
 day. 
 
 "Oh, about eighteen or nineteen," she answered. She 
 was not yet used to the deceptiveness of Japanese ap- 
 pearances. 
 
 "He does not look more sometimes," said her hus-
 
 80 KIMONO 
 
 band ; "but he has the ways and the experience of a very 
 old hand. I wouldn't mind betting you that he is thirty." 
 
 "All right," said Asako, "give me the jade Buddha if 
 you are wrong." 
 
 "And what will you give me if I am right?" said 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 "Kisses," replied his wife. 
 
 Geoffrey went out to look for Tanaka. In a quarter 
 of an hour he came back, triumphant. 
 
 "My kisses, sweetheart," he demanded. 
 
 "Wait," said Asako; "how old is he?" 
 
 "I went out of the front door and there was Master 
 Tanaka, telling the rickshaw-men the latest gossip about 
 us. I said to him, 'Tanaka, are you married?' 'Yes, 
 Lordship/ he answered, 'I am widower.' 'Any children?' 
 I asked again. 'I have two progenies,' he said ; 'they are 
 soldiers of His Majesty the Emperor.' 'Why, how old 
 are you?' I asked. 'Forty-three years,' he answered. 
 'You are very well preserved for a man of your age,' 
 I said, and I have come back for my kisses." 
 
 After this monstrous deception Geoffrey had declared 
 that he would dismiss Tanaka. 
 
 "A man who goes about like that," he said, "is a living 
 lie." 
 
 Two days later, early in the morning, they left Kyoto 
 by the great metal high road of Japan, which has re- 
 placed the famous way known as the Tokaido, sacred in 
 history, legend and art. Every stone has its message for 
 Japanese eyes, every tree its association with poetry or 
 romance. Even among Western connoisseurs of Japan- 
 ese wood engraving, its fifty-two resting places are as 
 familiar as the Stations of the Cross. Such is the 
 Takaido, the road between the two capitals of Kyoto and 
 Tokyo, still haunted by the ghosts of the Emperor's ox- 
 drawn wagons, the Shoguns' lacquered palanquins, by feu- 
 dal warriors in their death-like armour, and by the swing- 
 ing strides of the samurai.
 
 ACROSS JAPAN 81 
 
 "Look, look, Fujiyama !" 
 
 There was a movement in the observation-car, where 
 Geoffrey and his wife were watching the unfolding of 
 their new country. The sea was away to the right be- 
 yond the tea-fields and the pine-woods. To the left was 
 the base of a mountain. Its summit was wrapped in 
 cloud. From the fragment visible, it was possible to 
 appreciate the architecture of the whole ex pede Hercu- 
 lem. It took the train quite one hour to travel over that 
 arc of the circuit of Fuji, which it must pass on its way 
 to Tokyo. During this time, the curtained presence of 
 the great mountain dominated the landscape. Every- 
 thing seemed to lead up to that mantle of cloud. The 
 terraced rice fields rose towards it, the trees slanted 
 towards it, the moorland seemed to be pulled upwards, 
 and the skin of the earth was stretched taut over some 
 giant limb which had pushed itself up from below, the 
 calm sea was waiting for its reflection, and even the 
 microscopic train seemed to swing in its orbit round the 
 mountain like an unwilling satellite. 
 
 "It's a pity we can't see it," said Geoffrey. 
 
 "Yes ; it's the only big thing in the whole darned coun- 
 try," said a saturnine American, sitting opposite ; "and 
 then, when you get on to it, it's just a heap of cinders." 
 
 Asako was not worrying about the landscape. Her 
 thoughts were directed to a family of well-to-do Jap- 
 anese, first-class passengers, who had settled in the ob- 
 servation car for half an hour or so, and had then with- 
 drawn. There was a father, his wife and two daughters, 
 wax-like figures who did not utter a word but glided 
 shadow-like in and out of the compartment. Were they 
 relations of hers? 
 
 Then, when she and her husband passed down the cor- 
 ridor train to lunch, and through the swarming second- 
 class carriages, she wondered once more, as she saw 
 male Japan sprawling its length over the seats in the 
 ugliest attitudes of repose, and female Japan squatting 
 monkey-like and cleaning ears and nostrils with scraps of 
 paper or wiping stolid babies. The carriages swarmed
 
 82 KIMONO 
 
 with children, with luggage and litter. The floors were a 
 mess of spilled tea, broken earthenware cups and splin- 
 tered wooden boxes. Cheap baggage was piled up 
 everywhere, with wicker baskets, paper parcels, bundles 
 of drab-coloured wraps, and cases of imitation leather. 
 Among this debris children were playing unchecked, 
 smearing their faces with rice cakes, and squashing the 
 flies on the window pane. 
 
 Were any of these her relatives? Asako shuddered. 
 How much did she actually know about these far-away 
 cousins? She could just remember her father. She could 
 recall great brown shining eyes, and a thin face wasted 
 by the consumption which killed him, and a tenderness 
 of voice and manner quite apart from anything which 
 she had ever experienced since. This soon came to an 
 end. After that she had known only the conscientiously 
 chilly care of the Muratas. They had told her that her 
 mother had died when she was born, and that her father 
 was so unhappy that he had left Japan forever. Her 
 father was a very clever man. He had read all the Eng- 
 lish and French and German books. He had left special 
 word when he was dying that Asako was not to go 
 back to Japan, that Japanese men were bad to women, 
 that she was to be brought up among French girls and 
 was to marry a European or an American. But the 
 Muratas could not tell her any intimate details about 
 her father, whom they had not known very well. Again, 
 although they were aware that she had rich cousins liv- 
 ing in Tokyo, they did not know them personally and 
 could tell her nothing. 
 
 Her father had left no papers, only his photograph, 
 the picture of a delicate, good-looking, sad-faced man in 
 black cloak and kimono, and a little French book called 
 Pensees de Pascal, at the end of which was written the 
 address of Mr. Ito, the lawyer in Tokyo through whom 
 the dividends were paid, and that of "my cousin Fujinami 
 Gentaro."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE EMBASSY 
 
 Tsuyu no yo no While this dewdrop world 
 
 Tsuyu no yo nagara Is but a dewdrop world t 
 
 Sari nagara! Yet all the same! 
 
 THE fabric of our lives is like a piece of knitting, ter- 
 ribly botched and bungled in most cases. There are 
 stitches which are dropped, sometimes to be swallowed 
 up and forgotten in the superstructure, sometimes to be 
 picked up again after a lapse of years. These stitches 
 are old friendships. 
 
 The first stitch from Geoffrey's bachelor days to be 
 worked back into the scheme of his married life was his 
 friendship for Reggie Forsyth, who had been best man 
 at his wedding and who had since then been appointed 
 Secretary to the Embassy at Tokyo. 
 
 Reggie had received a telegram saying that Geoffrey 
 was coming. He was very pleased. He had reached 
 that stage in the progress of exile where one is inordi- 
 nately happy to see any old friend. In fact, he was be- 
 ginning to be "fed up" with Japan, with its very limited 
 distractions, and with the monotony of his diplomatic 
 colleagues. 
 
 Instead of going to the tennis court, which was his 
 usual afternoon occupation, he had spent the time in 
 arranging his rooms, shifting the furniture, rehanging 
 the pictures, paying especial care to the disposition of 
 his Oriental curios, his recent purchases, his last enthusi- 
 asms in this land of languor. Reggie collected Buddhas, 
 Chinese snuff-bottles and lacquered medicine cases 
 called inro in Japanese. 
 
 "Caviare to the general!" murmured Reggie, as he 
 gloated over a chaste design of fishes in mother-of-pearl, 
 a pseudo-Korin. "Poor old Geoffrey! He's only a bar- 
 
 83
 
 84 KIMONO 
 
 barian; but perhaps she will be interested. Here, To!" 
 he called out to an impassive Japanese man-servant, 
 "have the flowers come yet, and the little trees?" 
 
 To produced from the back regions of the house a 
 quantity of dwarf trees, planted as miniature landscapes 
 in shallow porcelain dishes, and big fronds of budding 
 cherry blossom. 
 
 Reggie arranged the blossom in a triumphal arch over 
 the corner table, where stood the silent company of the 
 Buddhas. From among the trees he chose his favourite, 
 a kind of dwarf cedar, to place between the window, 
 opening on to a sunny veranda, and an old gold screen, 
 across whose tender glory wound the variegated comic- 
 ality of an Emperor's traveling procession, painted by a 
 Kano artist of three centuries ago. 
 
 He removed the books which were lying about the 
 room grim Japanese grammars, and forbidding works 
 on International Law ; and in their place he left volumes 
 of poetry and memoirs, and English picture-papers 
 strewn about in artistic disorder. Then he gave the sil- 
 ver frames of his photographs to To to be polished, the 
 photographs of fair women signed with Christian names, 
 of diplomats in grand uniforms, and of handsome for- 
 eigners. 
 
 Having reduced the serious atmosphere of his study 
 so as to give an impression of amiable indolence, Reggie 
 Forsyth lit a cigarette and strolled out into the garden, 
 amused at his own impatience. In London he would 
 never have bestirred himself for old Geoffrey Barring- 
 ton, who was only a Philistine, after all, with no sense 
 of the inwardness of things. 
 
 Reggie was a slim and graceful young man, with thin 
 fair hair brushed flat back from his forehead. A certain 
 projection of bones under the face gave him an almost 
 haggard look; and his dancing blue eyes seemed to be 
 never still. He wore a suit of navy serge fitting close 
 to his figure, black tie, and grey spats. In fact, he was 
 as immaculate as a young diplomat should always be. 
 
 Outside his broad veranda was a gravel path, and be-
 
 THE EMBASSY 85 
 
 yond that a Japanese garden, the hobby of one of his pre- 
 decessors, a miniature domain of hillocks and shrubs, 
 with the inevitable pebbly water course, in which a 
 bronze crane was perpetually fishing. Over the red- 
 brick wall which encircles the Embassy compound the 
 reddish buds of a cherry avenue were bursting in white 
 stars. 
 
 The compound of the Embassy is a fragment of 
 British soil. The British flag floats over it ; and the 
 Japanese authorities have no power within its walls. Its 
 large population of Japanese servants, about one hundred 
 and fifty in all, are free from the burden of Japanese 
 taxes; and, since the police may not enter, gambling, 
 forbidden throughout the Empire, flourishes there ; and 
 the rambling servants' quarters behind the Ambassador's 
 house are the Monte Carlo of the Tokyo betto (coach- 
 man) and kuriimaya (rickshaw runner). However, since 
 the alarming discovery that a professional burglar had, 
 Diogenes-like, been occupying an old tub in a corner of 
 the wide grounds, a policeman has been allowed to patrol 
 the garden ; but he has to drop that omnipotent swagger 
 which marks his presence outside the walls. 
 
 Except for Reggie Forsyth's exotic shrubbery, there 
 is nothing Japanese within the solid red walls. The Em- 
 bassy itself is the house of a prosperous city gentleman 
 and might be transplanted to Bromley or Wimbledon. 
 The smaller houses of the secretaries and the interpreters 
 also wear a smug, suburban appearance, with their red 
 brick and their black-and-white gabling. Only the broad 
 verandas betray the intrusion of a warmer sun than ours. 
 
 The lawns were laid out as a miniature golf-links, the 
 thick masses of Japanese shrubs forming deadly bunkers, 
 and Reggie was trying some mashie shots when one of 
 the rare Tokyo taxi-cabs, carrying Geoffrey Barrington 
 inside it, came slowly round a corner of the drive, as 
 though it were feeling its way for its destination among 
 such a cluster of houses. 
 
 Geoffrey was alone. 
 
 "Hello, old chap !" cried Reggie, running up and shak-
 
 86 KIMONO 
 
 ing his friend's big paw in his small nervous grip, "I'm 
 so awfully glad to see you; but where's Mrs. Barring- 
 ton?" 
 
 Geoffrey had not brought his wife. He explained that 
 they had been to pay their first call on Japanese relations, 
 and that they had been honourably out ; but even so the 
 strain had been a severe one, and Asako had retired to 
 rest at the hotel. 
 
 "But why not come and stay here with me?" suggested 
 Reggie. "I have got plenty of spare rooms ; and there 
 is such a gulf fixed between people who inhabit hotels 
 and people with houses of their own. They see life from 
 an entirely different point of view; their spirits hardly 
 ever meet." 
 
 "Have you room for eight large boxes of dresses and 
 kimonos, several cases of curios, a French maid, a Jap- 
 anese guide, two Japanese dogs and a monkey from 
 Singapore?" 
 
 Reggie whistled. 
 
 "No really, is it as bad as all that? I was thinking 
 that marriage meant just one extra person. It would 
 have been fun having you both here, and this is the only 
 place in Tokyo fit to live in." 
 
 "It looks a comfortable little place," agreed Geoffrey. 
 They had reached the secretary's house, and the new- 
 comer was admiring its artistic arrangement. 
 
 "Just like your rooms in London!" 
 
 Reggie prided himself on the exclusively oriental char- 
 acter of his habitation, and its distinction from any other 
 dwelling place which he had ever possessed. But then 
 Geoffrey was only a Philistine, after all. 
 
 "I suppose it's the photographs which look like old 
 times," Geoffrey went on. "How's little Veronique?" 
 
 "Veronica married an Argentine beef magnate, a Ger- 
 man J^w, the nastiest person I have ever avoided meet- 
 ing."' 
 
 "Poor old Reggie ! Was that why you came to Japan?" 
 
 "Partly ; and partly because I had a chief in the For- 
 eign Office who dared to say that I was lacking in prac-
 
 THE EMBASSY 87 
 
 tical experience of diplomacy. He sent me to this comic 
 country to find it." 
 
 "And you have found it right enough," said Geoffrey, 
 inspecting a photograph of a Japanese girl in her dark 
 silk kimono with a dainty flower pattern round the skirts 
 and at the fall of the long sleeves. She was not unlike 
 Asako; only there was a fraction of an inch more of 
 bridge to her nose, and in that fraction lay the secret 
 of her birth. 
 
 "That is my latest inspiration," said Reggie. "Listen !" 
 
 He sat down at the piano and played a plaintive little 
 air, small and sweet and shivering. 
 
 "Japonaiserie d'hiver," he explained. 
 
 Then he changed the burden of his song into a melody 
 rapid and winding, with curious tricklings among the 
 bass notes. 
 
 "Lamia," said Reggie, "or Lilith." 
 
 "There's no tune in that last one ; you can't whistle it," 
 said Geoffrey, who exaggerated his Philistinism to throw 
 Reggie's artistic nature into stronger relief. "But what 
 has that got to do with the lady?" 
 
 "Her name is Smith," said Reggie. "I know it is almost 
 impossible and terribly sad; but her other name is Yae. 
 Rather wild and savage isn't it? Like the cry of a 
 bird in the night-time, or of a cannibal tribe on the 
 warpath." 
 
 "And is this your oriental version of Veronique?'? 
 asked his friend. 
 
 "No," said Reggie, "it is a different chapter of expe- 
 rience altogether. Perhaps old Hardwick was right. I 
 still have much to learn, thank God. Veronique was per- 
 sonal ; Yae is symbolic. She is my model, just like a 
 painter's model, only more platonic. She is the East 
 to me ; for I cannot understand the East pure and undi- 
 luted. She is a country-woman of mine on her father's 
 side, and therefore easier to understand. Impersonality 
 and fatalism, the Eastern Proteus, in the grip of self- 
 insistence and idealism, the British Hercules. A but- 
 terfly body with this cosmic war shaking it inces-
 
 88 KIMONO 
 
 santly. Poor child ! no wonder she seems always tired." 
 "She is a half-caste?" asked Geoffrey. 
 "Bad word, bad word. She isn't half-anything ; and 
 caste suggests India and suttees. She is a Eurasian, a 
 denizen of a dream country which has a melodious name 
 and no geographical existence. Have you ever heard 
 anybody ask where Eurasia was? I have. A traveling 
 Member of Parliament's wife at the Embassy here only 
 a few months ago. I said that it was a large undiscov- 
 ered country lying between the Equator and Tierra del 
 Fuego. She seemed quite satisfied, and wondered 
 whether it was very hot there ; she remembered having 
 heard a missionary once complain that the Eurasians 
 wore so very few clothes ! But to return to Yae, you 
 must meet her. This evening? No? To-morrow then. 
 You will like her because, she looks something like 
 Asako; and she will adore you because you are utterly 
 unlike me. She comes here to inspire me once or twice 
 a week. She says she likes me because everything in 
 my house smells so sweet. That is the beginning of 
 love, I sometimes think. Love enters the soul through 
 the nostrils. If you doubt me, observe the animals. But 
 foreign houses in Japan are haunted by a smell of dust 
 and mildew. You cannot love in them. She likes to lie 
 on my sofa, and smoke cigarettes, and do nothing, and 
 listen to my playing tunes about her." 
 
 "You are very impressionable," said his friend. "If it 
 were anybody else I should say you were in love with 
 this girl." 
 
 "I am still the same, Geoffrey ; always in love and 
 never." 
 
 "But what about the other people here?" Barrington 
 asked. 
 
 "There are none, none who count. I am not impres- 
 sionable. I am just short-sighted. I have to focus my 
 weak vision on one person and neglect the rest." 
 
 A rickshaw was waiting to take Geoffrey back to the 
 hotel. Under the saffron light of an uncanny sunset,
 
 THE EMBASSY 89' 
 
 which barred the western heavens with three broad 
 streaks of orange and inky-blue like a gypsy girl's ker- 
 chief, the odd little vehicle rolled down the hill ; of 
 Miyakezaka which overhangs the moat of the Imperial 
 Palace. 
 
 The latent soul of Tokyo, the mystery of Japan, lies 
 within the confines of that moat, which is the only great 
 majestic thing in an untidy rambling village of more than 
 two million living beings. 
 
 The Palace of the Mikado a title by the way which 
 is never used among Japanese is hidden from sight. 
 That is the first remarkable thing about it. The gesture 
 of Versailles, the challenge of "L'Etat c'est moi/' the 
 majestic vulgarity which the millionaire of the moment 
 can mimic with a vulgarity less majestic, are here en- 
 tirely absent ; and one cannot mimic the invisible. 
 
 Hardly, on bare winter days, when the sheltering 
 groves are stripped, and the saddened heart is in need 
 of reassurance, appears a green lustre of copper roofs. 
 
 The Gosho at Tokyo is not a sovereign's palace; it is 
 the abode of a God. 
 
 The surrounding woods and gardens occupy a space 
 larger than Hyde Park in the very centre of the city. 
 One well-groomed road crosses an extreme corner of this 
 estate. Elsewhere only privileged feet may tread. This 
 is a vast encumbrance in a modern commercial metropo- 
 lis, but a striking tribute to the unseen. 
 
 The most noticeable feature of the Palace is its moats. 
 These lie in three or four concentric circles, the defences 
 of ancient Yedo, whose outer lines have now been filled 
 up by modern progress and an electric railway. They 
 are broad sheets of water as wide as the Thames at 
 Oxford, where ducks are floating and fishing. Beyond 
 is a glacis of vivid grass, a hundred feet high at some 
 points, topped by vast iron-grey walls of cyclopean boul- 
 der-work, with the sudden angles of a Vauban fortress. 
 Above these walls the weird pine-trees of Japan extend 
 their lean tormented boughs. Within is the Emperor's 
 domain.
 
 90 KIMONO 
 
 Geoffrey was hurrying homeward along the banks of 
 the moat. The stagnant, viscous water was yellow under 
 the sunset, and a yellow light hung over the green slopes, 
 the grey walls and the dark tree tops. An echelon of 
 geese passed high overhead in the region of the pale 
 moon. Within the mysterious enclave of the "Son of 
 Heaven" the crows were uttering their harsh sarcastic 
 croak. 
 
 Witchery is abroad in Tokyo during this brief sunset 
 hour. The mongrel nature of the city is less evident. 
 The pretentious Government buildings of the New Japan 
 assume dignity with the deep shadows and the heighten- 
 ing effect of the darkness. The untidy network of tan- 
 gled wires fades into the coming obscurity. The rickety 
 trams, packed to overflowing with the city crowds re- 
 turning homeward, become creeping caterpillars of light. 
 Lights spring up along the banks of the moat. More 
 lights are reflected from its depth. Dark shadows gather 
 like a frown round the Gate of the Cherry Field, where 
 li Kamon no Kami's blood stained the winter snow-drifts 
 some sixty years ago, because he dared to open the 
 Country of the Gods to the contemptible foreigners ; and 
 in the cry of the fo/w-seller echoes the voice of old 
 Japan, a long-drawn wail, drowned at last by the grind- 
 ing of the tram wheels and the lash and crackle of the 
 connecting-rods against the overhead lines. 
 
 Geoffrey, sitting back in his rickshaw, turned up his 
 coat-collar, and watched the gathering pall of cloud ex- 
 tinguishing the sunset. 
 
 "Looks like snow," he said to himself ; "but it is im- 
 possible !" 
 
 At the entrance to the Imperial Hotel a Government 
 institution, as almost everything in Japan ultimately 
 turns out to be Tanaka was standing in his character- 
 istic attitude of a dog who waits for his master's return. 
 Characteristically also, he was talking to a man, a Jap- 
 anese, a showy person with spectacles and oily buffalo- 
 horn moustaches, dressed in a vivid pea-green suit. How- 
 ever, at Geoffrey's approach, this individual raised his
 
 THE EMBASSY 91 
 
 bowler-hat, bobbed and vanished; and Tanaka assisted 
 his patron to descend from his rickshaw. 
 
 As he approached the door of his suite, a little cloud 
 of hotel boys scattered like sparrows. This phenomenon 
 did not as yet mean anything to Geoffrey. The native 
 servants were not very real to him. But he was soon to 
 realize that the boy son Mister Boy, as his dignity now 
 insists on being called is more than an amusing con- 
 tribution to the local atmosphere. When his smiles, his 
 bows, and his peculiar English begin to pall, he reveals 
 himself in his true light as a constant annoyance and a 
 possible danger. Hell knows no fury like the untipped 
 "boy san." He refuses to answer the bell. He suddenly 
 understands no English at all. He bangs all the doors. 
 He spends his spare moments in devising all kinds of 
 petty annoyances, damp and dirty sheets, accidental dam- 
 age to property, surreptitious draughts. And to vex one 
 boy san is to antagonize the whole caste ; it is a boycott. 
 At last the tip is given. Sudden sunshine, obsequious 
 manners, attention of all kinds for ever dwindling 
 periods, until at last the boy san attains his end, a fat 
 retaining fee, extorted at regular intervals. 
 
 But even more exasperating, since no largesse can 
 cure it, is his national bent towards espionage. What 
 does he do with his spare time, of which he has so much? 
 He spends it in watching and listening to the hotel 
 guests. He has heard legends of large sums paid for 
 silence or for speech. There may be money in it, there- 
 fore, and there is always amusement. So the only house- 
 work which the boy san does really willingly, is to dust 
 the door, polish the handle, wipe the threshold; any- 
 thing in fact which brings him into the propinquity of 
 the keyhole. What he observes or overhears, he ex- 
 changes with another boy san; and the hall porter or the 
 head waiter generally serves as Chief Intelligence Bu- 
 reau, and is always in touch with the Police. 
 
 The arrival of guests so remarkable as the Barring- 
 tons became, therefore, at once a focus for the curiosity 
 and the ambition of the boy sans. And a rickshaw-man
 
 92 KIMONO 
 
 had told the loagekeeper, whose wife told the wife of one 
 of the cooks, who told the head waiter, that there was 
 some connection between these visitors and the rich Fu- 
 jinami. All the boy sans knew what the Fujinami meant ; 
 so here was a cornucopia of unwholesome secrets. It 
 was the most likely game which had arrived at the Im- 
 perial Hotel for years, ever since the American million- 
 aire's wife who ran away with a San Francisco China- 
 man. 
 
 But to Geoffrey, when he broke up the gathering, the 
 boy sans were just a lot of queer little Japs. 
 
 Asako was lying on her sofa, reading. Titine was 
 brushing her hair. Asako, when she read, which was not 
 often, preferred literature of the sentimental school, 
 books like The Rosary, with stained glass in them, and 
 tragedy overcome by nobleness of character. 
 
 "I've been lonely without you and nervous," she said, 
 "and I've had a visitor already." 
 
 She pointed to a card lying on a small round table, a 
 flimsy card printed not engraved on cream-coloured 
 pasteboard. Geoffrey picked it up with a smile. 
 
 "Curio dealers?" he asked. 
 
 Japanese letters were printed on one side and English 
 on the other. 
 
 S. ITO 
 
 Attorney of Law 
 
 "Ito, that's the lawyer fellow, who pays the dividends. 
 Did you see him," 
 
 "Oh, no, I was much too weary. But he has only just 
 gone. You probably passed him on the stairs." 
 
 Geoffrey could only think of the vivid gentleman, who 
 had been talking with Tanaka. The guide was sent for 
 and questioned, but he knew nothing. The gentleman 
 in green had merely stopped to ask him the time.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 
 
 Tomarite mo Little butterfly 1 
 
 Tsubaso wa ugoku Even when it settles 
 
 Kocho kana! Its wings are moving. 
 
 NEXT morning it was snowing and bitterly cold. Snow 
 in Japan, snow in April, snow upon the cherry trees, 
 what hospitality was this? 
 
 The snow fell all day, muffling the silent city. Silence 
 is at all times one of Tokyo's characteristics. For so 
 large and important a metropolis it is strangely silent 
 always. The only continuous street noise is the grating 
 and crackling of the trams. The lumbering of horse 
 vehicles and the pulsation of motor traffic are absent ; for 
 as beasts of burden horses are more costly than men, 
 and in 1914 motor cars were still a novelty. Since the 
 war boom, of course, every narikin (noiivcau richc) has 
 rushed to buy his car ; but even so, the state of the roads, 
 which alternate between boulders and slush, do not en- 
 courage the motorist, and are impassable for heavy lor- 
 ries. So incredible weights and bundles are moved on 
 hand-barrows ; and bales of goods and stacks of produce 
 are punted down the dark waterways which give to parts 
 of Tokyo a Venetian picturesqueness. Passengers, too 
 proud to walk, flit past noiselessly in rubber-tyred rick- 
 shaws which are not, as many believe, an ancient and 
 typical Oriental conveyance, but the modern invention 
 of an English missionary called Robinson. The hum of 
 the city is dominated by the screech of the tramcars in 
 the principal streets and by the patter of the wooden 
 clogs, an incessant, irritating sound like rain. But these 
 were now hushed by the snow. 
 
 Neither the snow nor the other of Nature's discourage- 
 ments can keep the Japanese for long indoors. Perhaps 
 
 93
 
 94 KIMONO 
 
 it is because their own houses are so draughty and un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 This day they were out in their thousands, men and 
 women, drifting aimlessly along the pavements, as is 
 their wont, wrapped in grey ulsters, their necks protected 
 by ragged furs, pathetic spoils of domestic tabbie_s, and 
 their heads sheltered under those wide oil-paper um- 
 brellas, which have become a symbol of Japan in foreign 
 eyes, the gigantic sunflowers of rainy weather, huge 
 blooms of dark blue or black or orange, inscribed with 
 the name and address of the owner in cursive Japanese 
 script. 
 
 Most of these people are wearing ashida, high wooden 
 clogs perilous to the balance, which raise them as on 
 stilts above the street level and add to the fantastical 
 appearance of these silent shuffling multitudes. 
 
 The snow falls, covering the city's meannesses, its 
 vulgar apings of Americanisms, its crude advertise- 
 ments. On the other hand, the true native architecture 
 asserts itself, and becomes more than ever attractive. 
 The white purity seems to gather all this miniature per- 
 fection, these irregular roofs, these chalet balconies, 
 these broad walls and studies in rock and tree under a 
 close-fitting cape, its natural winter garment. 
 
 The first chill of the rough weather kept Geoffrey and 
 Asako by their fireside. But the indoor amenities of 
 Japanese hotel life are few. There is a staleness in the 
 public rooms and an angular discord in the private sit- 
 ting-rooms, which condemn the idea of a comfortable 
 day of reading, or of writing to friends at home about 
 the Spirit of the East. So at the end of the first half of 
 a desolate afternoon, a visit to the Embassy suggested 
 itself. 
 
 They left the hotel, ushered on their way by bowing 
 boy sans; and in a few minutes an unsteady motor-car, 
 careless of obstacles and side-slips, had whirled them 
 through the slushy streets into the British compound,
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 95 
 
 which only wanted a robin to look like the conventional 
 Christmas card. 
 
 It was a pleasant shock, after long traveling through 
 countries modernized in a hurry, to be received by an 
 English butler against a background of thick Turkey 
 carpet, mahogany hall table and Buhl clock. It was like 
 a bar of music long-forgotten to see the fall of snowy 
 white cards accumulating in their silver bowl. 
 
 Lady Cynthia Cairns's drawing-room was not an artis- 
 tic apartment ; it was too comfortable for that. There 
 were too many chairs and sofas ; and they were designed 
 on broad lines for the stolid, permanent sitting of stout, 
 comfortable bodies. There were too many photographs 
 on view of persons distinguished for their solidity rather 
 than for their good looks, the portraits of the guests 
 whom one would expect to find installed in those chairs. 
 A grand piano was there ; but the absence of any music 
 in its neighbourhood indicated that its purpose was chiefly 
 to symbolize harmony in the home life, and to provide 
 a spacious crush-room for the knick-knacks overflowing 
 from many tables. These were dominated by a large 
 signed photograph of Queen Victoria. In front of an 
 open fireplace, where bright logs were crackling, slept 
 an enormous black cat on a leopard's skin hearthrug. 
 
 Out of this sea of easy circumstances rose Lady Cyn- 
 thia. A daughter of the famous Earl o Cheviot, hers 
 was a short but not unmajestic figure, encased in black 
 silks which rustled and showed flashes of beads and jet 
 in the dancing light of the fire. She had the firm pose 
 of a man, and a face entirely masculine with strong lips 
 and chin and humourous grey eyes, the face of a judge. 
 
 Miss Gwendolen Cairns, who had apparently been 
 reading to her mother when the visitors arrived, was a 
 tall girl with fair cendre hair. The simplicity of the cut 
 of her dress and its pale green color showed artistic sym- 
 pathies of the old aesthetic kind. The maintained amia- 
 bility of her expression and manner indicated her life's 
 task of smoothing down feelings ruffled by her mother's 
 asperities, and of oiling the track of her father's career.
 
 96 KIMONO 
 
 "How are you, my dears?" Lady Cynthia was saying. 
 "I'm so glad you've come in spite of the tempest. Gwen- 
 dolen was just reading me to sleep. Do you ever read to 
 your husband, Mrs. Harrington ? It is a good idea, if only 
 your voice is sufficiently monotonous." 
 
 "I hope we haven't interrupted you," murmured Asako, 
 who was rather alarmed at the great lady's manner. 
 
 "It was a shock when I heard the bell ring. I cried 
 out in my sleep didn't I, Gwendolen? and said, 'It's 
 the Beebees !' ' 
 
 "I'm glad it wasn't as bad as all that," said Geoffrey, 
 coming to his wife's rescue; "would that have been the 
 worst that could possibly happen?" 
 
 "The very worst," Lady Cynthia answered. "Profes- 
 sor Beebee teaches something or other to the Japanese, 
 and he and Mrs. Beebee have lived in Japan for the last 
 forty years. They remind me of that old tortoise at the 
 Zoo, who has lived at the bottom of the sea for so many 
 centuries that he is quite covered with seaweed and 
 barnacles. But they are very sorry for me, because I 
 only came here yesterday. They arrive almost every 
 day to instruct me in the path in which I should go, and 
 to eat my cakes by the dozen. They don't have any din- 
 ner the days they come here for tea. Mrs. Beebee is the 
 Queen of the Goonies." 
 
 "Who are the Goonies?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "The rest of the old tortoises. They are missionaries 
 and professors and their wives and daughters. The sons, 
 of course, run away and go to the bad. There are quite 
 a lot of the Goonies, and I see much more of them than 
 I do of the geishas and the samurais and the harakiris 
 and all the Eastern things, which Gwendolen will talk 
 about when she gets home. She is going to write a book, 
 poor girl. There's nothing else to do in this country 
 except to write about what is not here. It's very easy, 
 you know. You copy it all out of some one else's book, 
 only you illustrate it with your own snapshots. The 
 publishers say that there is a small but steady demand, 
 chiefly for circulating libraries in America. You see, I
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 97 
 
 have been approached already on the subject, and I have 
 not been here many months. So you've seen Reggie 
 Forsyth already, he tells me. What do you think of 
 him?" 
 
 "Much the same as usual; he seemed rather bored." 
 
 Lady Cynthia had led her guest away from the fireside, 
 where Gwendolen Cairns was burbling to Asako. 
 
 Geoffrey could feel the searchlight of her judicial eye 
 upon him, and a sensation like the pause when a great 
 man enters a room. Something essential was going to 
 invade the commonplace talk. 
 
 "Captain Barrington, your coming here just now is 
 most providential. Reggie Forsyth is not bored at all, 
 far from it." 
 
 "I thought he would like the country," said Geoffrey 
 guardedly. 
 
 "He doesn't like the country. Why should he ? But he 
 likes somebody in the country. Now do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "Yes," agreed Geoffrey, "he showed me the photo- 
 graph of a half Japanese girl. He said that she was his 
 inspiration for local colour." 
 
 "Exactly, and she's turning his brain yellow," snapped 
 Lady Cynthia, forgetting, as everybody else did, in- 
 cluding Geoffrey himself, that the same criticism might 
 apply to Asako. However, Geoffrey was becoming more 
 sensitive of late. He blushed a little and fidgeted, but he 
 answered, 
 
 "Reggie has always been easily inflam'mable." 
 
 "Oh, in England, perhaps, it's good for a boy's educa- 
 tion ; but out here, Captain Barrington, it is different. 
 I have lived for a long time East of Suez; and I know 
 the danger of these love episodes in countries where 
 there is nothing else to do, nothing else to talk about. 
 I am a gossip myself; so I know the harm gossip can 
 do." 
 
 "But is it so serious, Lady Cynthia? Reggie rather 
 laughed about it to me. He said, 'I am in love always 
 and never !' "
 
 98 KIMONO 
 
 "She is a dangerous young lady," said the Ambassa- 
 dress. "Two years ago a young business man out here 
 was engaged to be married to her. In the autumn his 
 body was washed ashore near Yokohama. He had been 
 bathing imprudently, and yet he was a good swimmer. 
 Last year two officers attached to the Embassy fought 
 a duel, and one was badly wounded. It was turned into 
 an accident of course; but they were both admirers of 
 hers. This year it is Reggie's turn. And Reggie is a 
 man with a great future. It would be a shame to lose 
 him." 
 
 "Lady Cynthia, aren't you being rather pessimistic? 
 Besides, what can I do?" 
 
 "Anything, everything! Eat with him, drink with 
 him, play cards with him, go to the dogs with him no, 
 what a pity you are married! But, even so, it's better 
 than nothing. Play tennis with him ; take him to the 
 top of Fujiyama. I can do nothing with him. He flouts 
 me publicly. The old man can give him an official scold- 
 ing; and Reginald will just mimic him for the benefit of 
 the Chancery. I can hear them laughing all the way 
 from here when Reggie is doing what he calls one of his 
 'stunts'. But you why, he can see in your face the 
 whole of London, the London which he respects and ap- 
 preciates in spite of his cosmopolitan airs. He can see 
 himself introducing Miss Yae Smith in Lady Evering- 
 ton's drawing-room as Mrs. Forsyth." 
 
 "Is there a great objection?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "It is impossible," said Lady Cynthia. 
 
 A sudden weariness came over Geoffrey. Did that 
 ruthless "Impossible" apply to his case also? Would 
 Lady Everington's door be closed to him on his return? 
 Was he guilty of that worst offence against Good Form, 
 a mesalliance"? Or was Asako saved by her money? 
 Something unfair was impending. He looked at the two 
 girls seated by the fireside, sipping their tea and laugh- 
 ing together. He must have shown signs of his em- 
 barrassment, for Lady Cynthia said, 
 
 "Don't be absurd, Captain Barrington. The case is
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 99 
 
 entirely different. A lady is always a lady, whether she 
 is born in England or Japan. Miss Smith is not a lady; 
 still worse, she is a half-caste, the daughter of an adven- 
 turer journalist and a tea-house woman. What can one 
 expect ? It is bad blood." 
 
 After taking leave of the Cairns, Geoffrey and Asako 
 crossed the garden compound, white and Christmas-like 
 under its covering of snow. They found their way down 
 the by-path which led to the discreet seclusion of Reggie 
 Forsyte's domain. The leaping of fire shadows against 
 the lowered blinds gave a warm and welcoming impres- 
 sion of shelter and comfort; and still more welcoming 
 were the sounds of the piano. It was a pleasure for the 
 travellers to hear, for they had long been unaccustomed 
 to the sound of music. Music should be the voice of the 
 soul of the house ; in the discord of hotels it is lost and 
 scattered, but the home which is without music is dumb 
 and imperfect. * 
 
 Reggie must have heard them coming, for he changed 
 the dreamy melody which he was playing into the chorus 
 of a popular song which had been rife in London a year 
 ago. Geoffrey laughed. "Father's home again ! Father's 
 home again !" he hummed, fitting the words to the tune, 
 as he waited for the door to open. 
 
 They were greeted in the passage by Reggie. He was 
 dressed in all respects like a Japanese gentleman, in black 
 silk haori (cloak), brown wadded kimono and fluted 
 hakama (skirt). He wore white tabi (socks) and straw 
 sori (slippers). It is a becoming and sensible dress for 
 any man. 
 
 "I thought it must be you," he laughed, "so I played 
 the watchword. Fancy you're being so homesick already. 
 Please come in, Mrs. Harrington. I have often longed 
 to see you in Japan, but I never thought you would come ; 
 and let me take your coat off. You will find it quite 
 warm indoors." 
 
 It was warm indeed. There was the heat of a green-
 
 100 KIMONO 
 
 house in Reggie's artistically ordered room. It was 
 larger too than on the occasion of Geoffrey's visit; for 
 the folding doors which led into a further apartment 
 were thrown open. Two big fires were blazing ; and old 
 gold screens, glittering like Midas's treasury, warded off 
 the draught from the windows. The air was heavy with 
 fumes of incense still rising from a huge brass brazier, 
 full of glowing charcoal and grey sand, placed in the 
 middle of the floor. In one corner stood the Buddha 
 table twinkling in the firelight. The miniature trees 
 were disposed along the inner wall. There was no other 
 furniture except an enormous black cushion lying be- 
 tween the brazier and the fireplace ; and in the middle of 
 the cushion a little Japanese girl. 
 
 She was squatting on her white-gloved toes in native 
 fashion. Her kimono was sapphire blue, and it was fas- 
 tened by a huge silver sash with a blue and green pea- 
 cock embroidered on the fold of the bow, which looked 
 like great wings and was almost as big as the rest of the 
 little person put together. Her back was turned to the 
 guests ; and she was gazing into the flames in an attitude 
 of reverie. She seemed unconscious of everything, as 
 though still listening to the echo of the silent music. 
 Reggie in his haste to greet his visitors had not noticed 
 the hurried solicitude to arrange the set of the kimono 
 to a nicety in order to indicate exactly the right pose. 
 
 She looked like a jeweled butterfly on a great black 
 leaf. 
 
 "Yae Miss Smith," said Reggie, "these are my old 
 friends whom I was telling you about." 
 
 The small creature rose slowly with a dreamy grace, 
 and stepped off her cushion as a fairy might alight from 
 her walnut-shell carriage. 
 
 "I am very pleased to meet you," she purred. 
 
 It was the stock American phrase which has crossed 
 the Pacific westwards ; but the citizen's brusqueness was 
 replaced by the condescension of a queen. 
 
 Her face was a delicate oval of the same creamy 
 smoothness as Asako's. But the chin, which in Asako's
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 101 
 
 case receded a trifle in obedience to Japanese canons of 
 beauty, was thrust vigorously forward ; and the curved 
 lips in their Cupid's bow seemed moulded for kissing by 
 generations of European passions, whereas about Japan- 
 ese mouths there is always something sullen and pinched 
 and colourless. The bridge of her nose and her eyes of 
 deep olive green, the eyes of a wildcat, gave the lie to 
 her mother's race. 
 
 Reggie's artistry could not help watching the two 
 women together with appreciative satisfaction. Yae was 
 even smaller and finer-fingered than the pure-bred Jap- 
 anese. Ever since he had first met Yae Smith he had 
 compared and contrasted her in his mind with Asako 
 Harrington. He had used both as models for his dainty 
 music. His harmonies, he was wont to explain, came to 
 him in woman's shape. To express Japan he must see a 
 Japanese woman. Not that he had any interest in Jap- 
 anese women, physically. They are too different from 
 our women, he used to think ; and the difference repelled 
 and fascinated him. It is so wide that it can only be 
 crossed by frank sensuality or by blind imagination. But 
 the artist needs his flesh-and-blood interpreter if he is to 
 get even as far as a misunderstanding. So in figuring to 
 himself the East, Reggie had at first made use of his 
 memory of Asako, with her European education built up 
 over the inheritance of Japan. Later he met Yae Smith, 
 through the paper walls of whose Japanese existence the 
 instincts of her Scottish forefathers kept forcing their 
 unruly way. 
 
 Geoffrey could not define his thoughts so precisely; 
 but something unruly stirred in his consciousness, when 
 he saw the ghost of his days of courtship rise before him 
 in the deep blue kimono. His wife had certainly made a 
 great abdication when she abandoned her native dress 
 for plain blue serges. Of course he could not have Asako 
 looking like a doll ; but still had he fallen in love with a 
 few yards of silk? 
 
 Yae Smith seemed most anxious to please in spite of the 
 affectation of her poses, which perhaps were necessary to
 
 102 KIMONO 
 
 her, lest, looking so much like a plaything, she might be 
 greeted as such. She always wanted to be liked by people. 
 This was her leading characteristic. It was at the root 
 of her frailties a soil overfertilized from which weeds 
 spring apace. 
 
 She was voluble in a gentle catlike way, praising the 
 rings on Asako's fingers, and the cut and material of her 
 dress. But her eyes were forever glancing towards 
 Geoffrey. He was so very tall and broad, standing in 
 the framework of the folding doors beside the slim figure 
 of Reggie, more girlish than ever in the skirts of his 
 kimono. 
 
 Captain Barrington, the son of a lord! How fine he 
 must look in uniform, in that cavalry uniform, with the 
 silver cuirass and the plumed helmet like the English 
 soldiers in her father's books at home ! 
 
 "Your husband is very big," she said to Asako. 
 
 "Yes, he is," said Asako ; "much too big for Japan." 
 
 "Oh, I should like that," said the little Eurasian, "it 
 must be nice." 
 
 There was a warmth, a sincerity in the tone which 
 made Asako stare at her companion. But the childish 
 face was innocent and smiling. The languid curve of the 
 smile and the opalescence of the green eyes betrayed 
 none of their secrets to Asako's inexperience. 
 
 Reggie sat down at the piano, and, still watching the 
 two women, he began to play. 
 
 "This is the Yae Sonata," he explained to Geoffrey. 
 
 It began with some bars from an old Scottish song: 
 
 "Had we never loved so sadly, 
 Had we never loved so madly, 
 Never loved and never parted, 
 We had ne'er been broken-hearted." 
 
 Insensibly the pathetic melody faded away into the 
 staccato beat of a geisha's song, with more rhythm than 
 tune, which doubled and redoubled its pace, stumbling 
 and leaping up again over strange syncopations.
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 103 
 
 All of a sudden the musician stopped. 
 
 "I can't describe your wife, now that I see her," he 
 said. "I don't know any dignified old Japanese music, 
 something like the gavottes of Couperin only in a setting 
 of Kyoto and gold screens ; and then there must be a dash 
 of something very English which she has acquired from 
 you 'Home, Sweet Home' or 'Sally in our Alley.' " 
 
 "Never mind, old chap !" said Geoffrey ; "play 'Father's 
 home again !' " 
 
 Reggie shook himself ; and then struck up the rolling 
 chorus ; but, as he interpreted it, his mood turned pensive 
 again. The tone was hushed, the time slower. The 
 vulgar tune expressed itself suddenly in deep melancholy. 
 It brought back to the two young men more forcibly 
 than the most inspired concerto, the memory of England, 
 the sparkle of the theatres, the street din of London, 
 and the warmth of good company all that had seemed 
 sweet to them in a time which was distant now. 
 
 Reggie ceased playing. The two girls were sitting 
 together now on the big black cushion in front of the 
 fire. They were looking at a portfolio of Japanese prints, 
 Reggie's embryo collection. 
 
 The young diplomat said to his friend : 
 
 "Geoffrey, you've not been in the East long enough to 
 be exasperated by it. I have. So our ideas will not be 
 in sympathy." 
 
 "It's not what I thought it was going to be, I must 
 admit. Everything is so much of a muchness. If you've 
 seen one temple you've seen the lot, and the same with 
 everything here." 
 
 "That is the first stage, Disappointment. We have 
 heard so much of the East and its splendours, the gorge- 
 ous East and the rest of it. The reality is small and 
 sordid, and like so much that is ugly in our own country." 
 
 "Yes, they wear shocking bad clothes, don't they, 
 directly they get out of kimonos; and even the kimonos 
 look dingy and dirty." 
 
 "They are." said Reggie. "Yours would be, if you had
 
 104 KIMONO 
 
 to keep a wife and eight children on thirty shillings a 
 month." 
 
 Then he added: 
 
 "The second stage in the observer's progress is Dis- 
 covery. Have you read Lafcadio Hearn's books about 
 Japan?" 
 
 "Yes. some of them," answered Geoffrey. "It strikes 
 me that he was a thorough-paced liar." 
 
 "No, he was a poet, a poet ; and he jumped over the first 
 stage to dwell for some time in the second, probably 
 because he was by nature short-sighted. That is a great 
 advantage for discoverers." 
 
 "But what do you mean by the second stage?" 
 
 "The stage of Discovery ! Have you ever walked 
 about a Japanese city in the twilight when the evening 
 bell sounds from a hidden temple? Have you turned 
 into the by-streets and watched the men returning to 
 their wise little houses and the family groups assembled 
 to meet them and help them change into their kimonos? 
 Have you heard the splashing and the chatter of the 
 bath-houses which are the evening clubs of the common 
 people and the great clearing-houses of gossip? Have 
 you heard the broken samisen music tracking you down 
 a street of geisha houses ? Have you seen the geisha her- 
 self in her blue cloak sitting rigid and expressionless in 
 the rickshaw which is carrying her off to meet her lover? 
 Have you heard the drums of Priapus beating from the 
 gay quarters? Have you watched the crowds which 
 gather round a temple festival, buying queer little plants 
 for their homes and farthing toys for their children, 
 crowding to the fortune-teller's booth for news of good 
 luck and bad luck, throwing their penny to the god and 
 clapping their hands to attract his attention? Have 
 you seen anything of this without a feeling of deep 
 pleasure and a wonder as to how these people live and 
 think, what we have got in common with them, and 
 what we have got to learn from them?" 
 
 "I think I know what you mean," said Geoffrey. "It's
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 105 
 
 all very picturesque, but they always seem to be hiding 
 something." 
 
 "Exactly," said his friend, "and every man of intelli- 
 gence who has to live in this country thinks that he need 
 only learn their language and use their customs, and then 
 he will find out what is hidden. That is what Lafcadio 
 Hearn did ; and that is why I wear a kimono. But what 
 did he find out? A lot of pretty stories, echoes of old 
 civilization and folk-lore ; but of the mind and heart of 
 the Japanese people the only coloured people, after all, 
 who have held their heads up against the white races 
 little or nothing until he reached the third stage, Disillu- 
 sionment. Then he wrote Japan, an Interpretation, which 
 is his best book." 
 
 "I haven't read it." 
 
 "You ought to. His other things are mere melodies, 
 the kind of stuff I can play to you by the hour. This is 
 a serious book of history and political science." 
 
 "Sounds a bit dry for me." laughed Geoffrey. 
 
 "It is a disillusioned man's explanation of the country 
 into which he had tried to sink, but which had rejected 
 him. He explains the present by the past. That is rea- 
 sonable. The dead are the real rulers of Japan, he says. 
 Underneath the surface changing, the nation is deeply 
 conservative, suspicious of all interference and unconven- 
 tionality, sullenly self-satisfied; and above all, still as 
 much locked in its primitive family system as it was a 
 thousand years ago. You cannot be friends with a Jap- 
 anese unless you are friends with his family ; and you 
 cannot be friends with his family unless you belong to it. 
 This is the deadlock; and this is why we never get any 
 forwarder." 
 
 "Then I've got a chance since I've got a Japanese 
 family." 
 
 "I don't know of course," said Reggie ; "but I shouldn't 
 think they would have much use for you. They will 
 receive you most politely ; but they will look upon you 
 as an interloper and they will try to steer you out of 
 the country."
 
 106 KIMONO 
 
 "But my wife?" said Geoffrey, "she is their own flesh 
 and blood, after all." 
 
 "Well, of course, I don't know. But if they are ex- 
 tremely friendly I should look out, if I were you. The 
 Japanese are conventionally hospitable, but they are not 
 cordial to strangers unless they have a very strong 
 motive." 
 
 Geoffrey Barrington looked in the direction where his 
 wife was seated on a corner of the big cushion, turning 
 over one by one a portfolio full of parti-colored wood- 
 prints on their broad white mounts. The firelight flick- 
 ered round her like a crowd of importunate thoughts. 
 She felt that he was looking at her, and glanced across 
 at him. 
 
 "Can you see in there, Mrs. Barrington, or shall I turn 
 the lights on?" asked her host. 
 
 "Oh, no," answered the little lady, "that would spoil it. 
 The pictures look quite alive in the firelight. What a 
 lovely collection you've got !" 
 
 "There's nothing very valuable there," said Reggie, 
 "but they are very effective, I think, even the cheap 
 ones." 
 
 Asako was holding up a pied engraving of a sinuous 
 Japanese woman, an Utamaro from an old block recut, in 
 dazzling raiment, with her sash tied in front of her and 
 her head bristling with amber pins like a porcupine. 
 
 "Geoffrey, will you please take me to see the Yoshi- 
 wara?" she asked. 
 
 The request dismayed Geoffrey. He knew well enough 
 what was to be seen at the Yoshiwara. He would have 
 been interested to visit the licensed quarter of the demi- 
 monde himself in the company of say Reggie Forsyth. 
 But this was a branch of inquiry which to his mind 
 should be reserved for men alone. Nice women never 
 think of such things. That his own wife should wish 
 to see the place and, worse still, should express that wish 
 in public was a blatant offence against Good Form, which 
 could only be excused by her innocent ignorance. 
 
 But Reggie, who was used to the curiosity of every
 
 THE HALF-CASTE GIRL 107 
 
 tourist, male and female, about the night-life of Tokyo, 
 answered readily: 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Harrington. It's well worth seeing. We 
 must arrange to go down there." 
 
 "Miss Smith tells me," said Asako, "that all these 
 lovely gay creatures are Yoshiwara girls; and that you 
 can see them there now." 
 
 "Not that identical lady of course," said Reggie, who 
 had joined the group by the fireside, "she died a hun- 
 dred years ago; but her professional great-granddaugh- 
 ters are still there." 
 
 "And I can see them!" Asako clapped her hands. 
 "Ladies are allowed to go and look? It does not mat- 
 ter? It is not improper?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Yae Smith, "my brothers have taken 
 me. Would you like to go?" 
 
 "Yes, I would," said Asako, glancing at her husband, 
 who, however, snowed no signs of approval.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 ITO SAN 
 
 A ma no hara Can even the God of Thunder 
 
 Fumi-todorokashi Whose footfall resounds 
 
 Naru-kami mo In the plains of the sky 
 
 Omou-naka wo ba Put asunder 
 
 Sakur* mono ka waf Those whom love joins? 
 
 GEOFFREY'S conscience was disturbed. His face was 
 lined and worried with thought, such as had left him 
 untroubled since the effervescences of his early youth. 
 Like many young men of his caste, he had soon sub- 
 mitted all the baffling riddles of conduct to the thumb 
 rule of Good Form. This Yoshiwara question was to 
 him something more than a moral conundrum. It was a 
 subtle attack by the wife of his bosom, aided and abetted 
 by his old friend Reggie Forsyth and by the mysterious 
 forces of this unfamiliar land as typified by Yae Smith, 
 against the citadel of Good Form, against the stronghold 
 of his principles. 
 
 Geoffrey himself wished to see the Yoshiwara. His 
 project had been that one evening, when Asako had been 
 invited to dinner by friends, he and Reggie would go 
 and look at the place. This much was sanctioned by 
 Good Form. 
 
 For him to take his wife there, and for people to know 
 that he had done so, would be the worst of Bad Form, 
 the conduct of a rank outsider. Unfortunately, it was 
 also Bad Formi for him to discuss the matter with 
 Asako. 
 
 A terrible dilemma. 
 
 Was it possible that the laws of Good and Bad Form 
 were only locally binding, and that here in Japan they 
 were no longer valid? 
 
 Reggie was different. He was so awfully clever. He 
 could extemporize on Good Form as he could extem- 
 
 108
 
 ITO SAN 109 
 
 porize on the piano. Besides, he was a victim to the 
 artistic temperament, which cannot control itself. But 
 Reggie had not been improved by his sojourn in this 
 queer country, or he would never have so far forgotten 
 himself as to speak in such a way in the presence of 
 ladies. 
 
 Geoffrey would give him a good beating at tennis ; 
 and then, having reduced him to a fit state of humility, 
 he would have it out with him. For Barrington was not 
 a man to nurse displeasure against his friends. 
 
 The tennis courts at Tokyo which stand in a magnifi- 
 cent central position one day to be occupied by the Jap- 
 anese Houses of Parliament are every afternoon the 
 meeting place for youth in exile with a sprinkling of 
 Japanese, some of whom have acquired great skill at the 
 game. Towards tea-time the ladies arrive to watch the 
 evening efforts of their husbands and admirers, and to 
 escort them home when the light begins to fail. So the 
 tennis courts have become a little social oasis in the vast 
 desert of oriental life. Brilliant it is not. Sparkle there is 
 none. But there is a certain chirpmess, the forced gaiety 
 of caged birds. 
 
 The day was warm and bright. The snow had van- 
 ished as though by supernatural command. Geoffrey 
 enjoyed his game thoroughly, although he was beaten, 
 being out of practice and unused to gravel courts. But 
 the exercise made him, in his own language, "sweat like 
 a pig," and he felt better. He thought he would shelve 
 the unpleasant subject for the time being; but it was 
 Reggie himself who revived it. 
 
 "About the Yoshiwara," he said, seating himself on 
 one of the benches placed round the courts. "They are 
 having a special show down there to-morrow. It will 
 probably be worth seeing." 
 
 "Look here," said Geoffrey, "is it the thing for ladies- 
 English ladies to go to a place like that ?" 
 
 "Of course," answered his friend, "it is one of the 
 sights of Tokyo. Why, I went with Lady Cynthia not so 
 long ago. She was quite fascinated."
 
 110 KIMONO 
 
 "By Jove !" Geoffrey ejaculated. "But for a young 
 girl ? Did Miss Cairns go too?" 
 
 "Not on that occasion; but I have no doubt she has 
 been." 
 
 "But isn't it much the same as taking a lady to a 
 public brothel?" 
 
 "Not in the least," was Reggie's answer, "it is like 
 along Piccadilly after nightfall, looking in at the Empire, 
 and returning via Regent Street ; and in Paris, like a 
 visit to the Rat Mort and the Bal Tabarin. It is the local 
 version of an old theme." 
 
 "But is that a nice sight for a lady?" 
 
 "It is what every lady wants to see." 
 
 "Reggie, what rot ! Any clean-minded girl " 
 
 "Geoffrey, old man, would you like to see the place?" 
 
 "Yes, but for a man it's different." 
 
 "Why do you want to see it ? You're not going there 
 for business, I presume?" 
 
 "Why? for curiosity, I suppose. One hears such a lot 
 of people talk about the Yoshiwara " 
 
 "For curiosity, that's right: and do you really think 
 that women, even clean-minded women, have less curi- 
 osity than men?" 
 
 Geoffrey Barrington started to laugh at his own dis- 
 comfiture. 
 
 "Reggie, you were always a devil for arguing !" he said. 
 "At home one would never talk about things like that." 
 
 "There must be a slight difference then between Home 
 and Abroad. Certain bonds are relaxed. Abroad, one is 
 a sight-seer. One is out to watch the appearance and 
 habits of the natives in a semi-scientific mood, just as 
 one looks at animals in the Zoo. Besides, nobody knows 
 or cares who one is. One has no awkward responsibili- 
 ties towards one's neighbours ; and there is little or no 
 danger of finding an intimate acquaintance in an embar- 
 rassing position. In London one lives in constant dread 
 of finding people out." 
 
 "But my wife," Geoffrey continued, troubled once 
 more, "I can't imagine "
 
 ITO SAN 111 
 
 "Mrs. Harrington may be an exception; but take my 
 word for it, every woman, however good and holy, is 
 intensely interested in the lives of her fallen sisters. They 
 know less about them than we do. They are therefore 
 more mysterious and interesting to them. And yet they 
 are much nearer to them by the whole difference of sex. 
 There is always a personal query arising, 'I, too, might 
 have chosen that life what would it have brought me?' 
 There is a certain compassion, too ; and above all there 
 is the intense interest of rivalry. Who is not interested 
 in his arch-enemy? and what woman does not want to 
 know by what unholy magic her unfair competitor holds 
 her power over men?" 
 
 The tennis courts were filling with youths released 
 from offices. In the court facing them, two young fellows 
 had begun a single. One of them was a Japanese ; the 
 other, though his hair and eyes were of the native breed, 
 was too fair of skin and too tall of stature. He was a 
 Eurasian. They both played exceedingly well. The 
 rallies were long sustained, the drives beautifully timed 
 and taken. The few unemployed about the courts soon 
 made this game the object of their special attention. 
 
 "Who are they?" asked Geoffrey, glad to change the 
 conversation. 
 
 "That's Aubrey Smith, Yae's brother, one of the best 
 players here, and Viscount Kamimura, who ought to be 
 quite the best ; but he has just married, and his wife will 
 not let him play often enough." 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Geoffrey, "he was on the ship with 
 us coming out." 
 
 He had not recognised the good-looking young Japan- 
 ese. He had not expected to meet him somehow in such 
 a European milieu. Kamimura had noticed his fellow- 
 traveller, however ; and when the set was over and the 
 players had changed sides, he came up and greeted him 
 most cordially. 
 
 "I hear you are already married," said Geoffrey. "Our 
 best congratulations !"
 
 112 KIMONO 
 
 "ThanK you," replied Kamimura, blushing. Japanese 
 blush readily in spite of their complexion. 
 
 "We Japanese must not boast about our wives. It 
 is what you call Bad Form. But I would like her to 
 meet Mrs. Barrington. She speaks English not so badly." 
 
 "Yes," said Geoffrey, "I hope you will come and dine 
 with us one evening at the Imperial." 
 
 "Thank you very much," answered the young Vis- 
 count. "How long are you staying in Japan?" 
 
 "Oh, for some months." 
 
 "Then we shall meet often, I hope," he said, and re- 
 turned to his game. 
 
 "A very decent fellow; quite human," Reggie com- 
 mented. 
 
 "Yes, isn't he?" said Geoffrey; and then he asked 
 suddenly, 
 
 "Do you think he would take his wife to see the 
 Yoshiwara?" 
 
 "Probably not; but then they are Japanese people 
 living in Japan. That alters everything." 
 
 "I don't think so," said Geoffrey ; and he was conscious 
 of having scored off his friend for once. 
 
 Miss Yae Smith had arrived on her daily visit to the 
 courts. She was already surrounded by a little retinue 
 of young men, who, however, scattered at Reggie's ap- 
 proach. 
 
 Miss Yae smiled graciously on the two new-comers 
 and inquired after Mrs. Barrington. 
 
 "It was so nice to talk with her the other day ; it was 
 like being in England again." 
 
 Yes, Miss Yae had been in England and in America 
 too. She preferred those countries very much to Japan. 
 It was so much more amusing. There was so little to 
 do here. Besides, in Japan it was such a small world; 
 and everybody was so disagreeable ; especially the 
 women, always saying untrue, unkind things. 
 
 She looked so immaterial and sprite-like in her blue 
 kimono, her strange eyes downcast as her habit was when 
 talking about herself and her own doings, that Geoffrey
 
 ITO SAN 113 
 
 could think no evil of her, nor could he wonder at 
 Reggie's gaze of intense admiration which beat upon her 
 like sunlight on a picture. 
 
 However, Asako must be waiting for him. He took 
 his leave, and returned to his hotel. 
 
 Asako had been entertaining a visitor. She had gone 
 out shopping for an hour, not altogether pleased to find 
 herself alone. On her return, a Japanese gentleman in 
 a vivid green suit had risen from a seat in the lounge of 
 the hotel, and had introduced himself. 
 
 "I am Ito, your attorney-of-law." 
 
 He was a small, podgy person with a round oily face 
 and heavy voluted moustaches. The expression of his 
 eyes was hidden behind gold-rimmed spectacles. It 
 would have been impossible for a European to guess his 
 age, anything between twenty-five and fifty. His thick, 
 plum-coloured hair was brushed up on his forehead in 
 a butcher-boy's curl. His teeth glittered with dentist's 
 gold. He wore a tweed suit of bright pea-soup colour, 
 a rainbow tie and yellow boots. Over the bulge of an 
 egg-shaped stomach hung a massive gold watch-chain 
 blossoming into a semi-heraldic charm, which might be 
 a masonic emblem or a cycling club badge. His breast- 
 pocket appeared to hold a quiverful of fountain-pens. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Harrington? I am pleased to 
 meet you." 
 
 The voice was high and squeaky, like a boy's voice 
 when it is breaking. The extended hand was soft and 
 greasy in spite of its attempt at a firm grip. With elab- 
 orate politeness he ushered Mrs. Barrington into her 
 chair. He took his place close beside her, crossed his 
 fat legs, and stuck his thumbs into his arm-holes. 
 
 "I am your friend Ito," he began, "your father's friend, 
 and I am sure to be your friend, too." 
 
 But for the reference to her father she would have 
 snubbed him. She decided to give him tea in the lounge, 
 and not to invite him to her private rooms. A growing
 
 114 KIMONO 
 
 distrust of her countrymen, arising largely from observa- 
 tion of the ways of Tanaka, was making little Asako less 
 confiding than of yore. She was still ready to be amused 
 by them, but she was becoming less credulous of the 
 Japanese pose of simplicity and the conventional smile. 
 However, she was soon melted by Mr. Ito's kindliness of 
 manner. He patted her hand, and called her "little girl." 
 
 "I am your old lawyer," he kept on saying, "your 
 father's friend, and your best friend too. Anything you 
 want, just ring me and you have it. There's my number. 
 Don't forget now. Shiba 1326. What do you think of 
 Japan, now? Beautiful country, I think. And you have 
 not yet seen Miyanoshita, or Kamakura, or Nikko 
 temples. You have not yet got automobile, I think. 
 Indeed, I am sorry for you. That is a very wrong thing ! 
 I shall at once order for you a very splendid automobile, 
 and we must make a grand trip. Every rich and noble 
 person possesses splendid automobile." 
 
 "Oh, that would be nice !" Asako clapped her hands. 
 "Japan is so pretty. I do want to see more of it. But 
 I must ask my husband about buying the motor." 
 
 Ito laughed a fat, oily laugh. 
 
 "Indeed, that is Japanese style, little girl. Japanese 
 wife say, 'I ask my husband.' American style wife very 
 different. She say, 'My husband do this, do that' like 
 coolie. I have travelled much abroad. I know American 
 custom very well." 
 
 "My husband gives me all I want, and a great deal 
 more," said Asako. 
 
 "He is very kind man," grinned the lawyer, "because 
 the money is all yours not his at all. Ha, ha !" 
 
 Then, seeing that his officiousness was overstepping 
 the mark, he added, 
 
 "I know American ladies very well. They don't give 
 money to their husbands. They tell their husbands, 
 'You give money to me.' They just do everything them- 
 selves, writing cheques all the time !" 
 
 "Really?" said Asako; "but my husband is the kindest 
 and best man in the world!"
 
 ITO SAN 115 
 
 "Quite right, quite right. Love your husband like a 
 good little girl. But don't forget your old lawyer, Ito. 
 I was your father's friend. We were at school together 
 here in Tokyo." 
 
 This interested Asako immensely. She tried to make 
 the lawyer talk further, but he said that it was a very 
 long story, and he must tell her some other time. Then 
 she asked him about her cousin, Mr. Fujinami Gentaro. 
 
 "He is away from town just now. When he returns, 
 I think he will invite you to splendid feast." 
 
 With that he took his leave. 
 
 "What do you think of him?" Asako asked Tanaka, 
 who had been watching the interview with an attendant 
 chorus of boy sans. 
 
 "He is haikara gentleman," was the reply. 
 
 Now, haikara, is a native corruption of the words 
 "high collar," and denoted at first a variety of Japanese 
 "nut," who aped the European and the American in his 
 habits, manners and dress of which pose the high collar 
 was the most visible symbol. The word was presumably 
 contemptuous in its origin. It has since, however, 
 changed its character as so to mean anything smart and 
 fashionable. You can live in a haikara house, you can 
 read haikara books, you can wear a haikara hat. It has 
 become indeed practically a Japanese equivalent for that 
 untranslatable expression "chic." 
 
 Asako Barrington, like all simple people, had little 
 familiarity save with the superficial stratum of her intel- 
 ligence. She lived in the gladness of her eyes like a 
 happy young animal. Nothing, not even her marriage, 
 had touched her very profoundly. Even the sudden shock 
 of de Erie's love-making had not shaken anything deeper 
 than her natural pride and her ignorance of mankind. 
 
 But in this strange, still land, whose expression looks 
 inwards and whose face is a mask, a change was operat- 
 ing. Ito left her, as he had intended, with a growing 
 sense of her own importance as distinct from her hus-
 
 116 KIMONO 
 
 band. "I was your father's friend: we were at school 
 together here in Tokyo." Why, Geoffrey did not even 
 know her father's name. 
 
 Asako did not think as closely as this. She could not. 
 But she must have looked very thoughful ; for when 
 Geoffrey came in, he saw her still sitting in the lounge, 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 "Why, my little Yum Yum, how serious we are! We 
 look as if we were at our own funeral. Couldn't you get 
 the things you wanted?" 
 
 "Oh yes," said Asako, trying to brighten up, "and I've 
 had a visitor. Guess !" 
 
 "Relations?" 
 
 "No and yes. It was Mr. Ito, the lawyer." 
 
 "Oh, that little blighter. That reminds me. I must go 
 and see him to-morrow, and find out what he is doing 
 with our money." 
 
 "My money," laughed Asako, "Tanaka never lets me 
 forget that." 
 
 "Of course, little one," said Geoffrey, "I'd be in the 
 workhouse if it wasn't for you." 
 
 "Geoffrey darling," said his wife hesitating, "will you 
 give me something?" 
 
 "Yes, of course, my sweetheart, what do you want?" 
 
 "I want a motor-car, yes please ; and I'd like to have a 
 cheque-book of my own. Sometimes when I am out by 
 myself I would like ' 
 
 "Why, of course," said Geoffrey, "you ought to have 
 had one long ago. But it was your own idea ; you didn't 
 want to be bothered with money." 
 
 "Oh Geoffrey, you angel, you are so good to me." 
 
 She clung to his neck ; and he, seeing the hotel deserted 
 and nobody about, raised her in his arms and carried her 
 bodily upstairs to the interest and amusement of the 
 chorus of boy sans, who had just been discussing why 
 danna son had left okusan for so many hours that after- 
 noon, and who and what was the Japanese gentleman 
 who had been talking to oknsan in the hall.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 
 
 Kyushu dai-ichi no ume The finest plum-blossom of 
 
 Kon-ya kimi go tame ni hiraku. Kyushu 
 
 Hana no skingi wo shiran This night is opening for thee. 
 
 to hosseba, If thou wishest to know the 
 
 San-ko tsuki wo funde kitare. true character of this flower, 
 
 Come at the third hour sing- 
 ing in the moonlight. 
 Yoshiwara Popular Song. 
 
 As the result of an affecting scene with his wife, Geof- 
 frey's opposition to the Yoshiwara project collapsed. 
 If everybody went to see the place, then it could not be 
 such very Bad Form to do so. 
 
 Asako rang up Reggie ; and on the next afternoon the 
 young diplomat called for the Harringtons in a motor- 
 car, where Miss Yae Smith was already installed. They 
 drove through Tokyo. It was like crossing London for 
 the space of distance covered; an immense city yet 
 is it a city, or merely a village preposterously over- 
 grown ? 
 
 There is no dignity in the Japanese capital, nothing 
 secular or permanent, except that mysterious forest- 
 land in the midst of the moats and the grey walls, where 
 dwell the Emperor and the Spirit of the Race. It is a 
 mongrel city, a vast congeries of native wooden huts, 
 hastily equipped with a few modern conveniences. 
 Drunken poles stagger down the streets, waving their 
 cobwebs of electric wires. Rickety trams jolt past, 
 crowded to overflowing, so crowded that humanity clings 
 to the steps and platforms in clots, like flies clinging to 
 some sweet surface. Thousands of little shops glitter, 
 wink or frown at the passer-by. Many of them have 
 western plate-glass windows and stucco fronts, hiding 
 their savagery, like a native woman tricked out in ridic- 
 
 117
 
 118 KIMONO 
 
 ulous pomp. Some, still grimly conservative, receive the 
 customer in their cavernous interior, and cheat his eyes 
 in their perpetual twilight. Many of these little shops 
 are so small that their stock-in-trade flows over on to the 
 pavement. The toy shops, the china shops, the cake 
 shops, the shops for women's ribbons and hairpins seem 
 to be trying to turn themselves inside out Others are 
 so reticent that nothing appears save a stretch of clean 
 straw mats, where sulky clerks sit smoking round the 
 hibachi (fireboxes). Then, when the eye gets accustomed 
 to the darkness, one can see behind them the ranks of 
 the tea-jars of Uji, or layers of dark kimono stuff. 
 
 The character of the shops changed as *he Harringtons 
 and their party approached their destination. The native 
 element predominated more and more. The wares be- 
 came more and more inexplicable. There were shops in 
 which gold Buddhas shone and brass Jamps for temple 
 use, shops displaying queer utensils and mysterious little 
 bits of things, whose secret was hidden in the cabalistic 
 signs of Chinese script. There were stalls of curios, 
 and second-hand goods spread out on the pavement, 
 under the custody of wizened, inattentive old men, who 
 squatted and smoked. 
 
 Red-faced maids stared at the foreigners from the 
 balconies of lofty inns and eating-houses near Uyeno 
 station. Further on, they passed the silence of old temple 
 walls, the spaciousness of pigeon-haunted cloisters, and 
 the huge high-pitched roofs of the shrines, with their 
 twisted horn-like points. Then, down a narrow alley 
 appeared the garish banners of the Asakusa theatres and 
 cinema palaces. They heard the yelling of the door-touts, 
 and the bray of discordant muf ic. They caught a glimpse 
 of hideous placards whose crude illustrations showed 
 the quality of the performance to be seen within, girls 
 falling from aeroplanes, demon ghosts with bloody dag- 
 gers, melodrama unleashed. 
 
 Everywhere the same crowds loitered along the pave- 
 ments. No hustle, no appearance of business save where 
 a messenger-boy threaded the maze on a break-neck
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 119 
 
 bicycle, or where a dull-faced coolie pulled at an over- 
 loaded barrow. Grey and brown, the crowd clattered 
 by on their wooden shoes. Grey and black, passed the 
 haikara young men with their yellow side-spring shoes. 
 Black and sabre-dragging, the policeman went to and 
 fro, invisibly moored to his wooden sentry-box. 
 
 The only bright notes among all these drab multitudes 
 were the little girls in their variegated kimonos, who 
 fluttered in and out of the entrances, and who played 
 unscolded on the footpaths. These too were the only 
 notes of happiness ; for their grown-up relatives, especi- 
 ally the women, carried an air, if not an actual expression, 
 of animal melancholy, the melancholy of driven sheep or 
 of cows ruminant. 
 
 The crowds were growing denser. Their faces were 
 all set in one direction. At last the whole roadway was 
 filled with the slow-moving tide. The Barringtons and 
 their friends had to alight from their car and continue 
 the rest of the way on foot. 
 
 "They are all going to see the show," Reggie explained 
 to his party, and he pointed to a line of high nouses, 
 which stood out above the low native huts. It was a 
 square block of building some hundreds of yards long, 
 quite foreign in character, having the appearance of 
 factory buildings, or of a barracks or workhouse. 
 
 "What a dismal-looking place !" said Asako. 
 
 "Yes," agreed Reggie, "but at night it is much brighter. 
 It is all lit up from top to bottom. It is called the Night- 
 less City." 
 
 "What bad faces these people have !" said Asako, who 
 was romantically set on seeing evil everywhere, "Is it 
 quite safe?" 
 
 "Oh yes," said their guide, "Japanese crowds are very 
 orderly." 
 
 Indeed they suffered no inconvenience from the crowd 
 beyond much staring, an ordeal which awaits the 
 foreigner in all corners of Tokyo. 
 
 They had reached a very narrow street, where raffish 
 beer-shops were doing a roaring trade. They caught a
 
 120 KIMONO 
 
 glimpse of dirty table-cloths and powdered waitresses 
 wearing skirts, aprons and lumpy shoes all very 
 haikara. On the right hand they passed a little temple 
 from whose exiguous courtyard two stone foxes grinned 
 maliciously, the temple of the god Inari, who brings 
 rich lovers to the girls who pray to him. 
 
 They passed through iron gates, like the gates of a 
 park, where two policemen were posted to regulate the 
 traffic. Beyond was a single line of cherry-trees in full 
 bloom, a single wave of pinkish spray, a hanging curtain 
 of vapourous beauty, the subject of a thousand poems, 
 of a thousand allusions, licentious, delicate and trite, 
 the cherry-blossoms of the Yoshiwara. 
 
 At a street corner stood a high white building plastered 
 with golden letters in Japanese and English "Asahi 
 Beer Hall." 
 
 "That is the place," said Yae, "let us get out of this 
 crowd." 
 
 They found refuge among more dirty table-cloths, 
 Europeanised wousmes, and gaping guests. When Yae 
 spoke to the girls in Japanese, there was much bowing 
 and hissing of the breath; and they were invited upstairs 
 on to the first floor where was another beer-hall, slightly 
 more exclusive-looking than the downstair Gambrinus. 
 Here a table and chairs were set for them in the embra- 
 sure of a bow-window, which, protruding over the cross- 
 roads, commanded an admirable view of the converging 
 streets. 
 
 "The procession won't be here for two hours more," 
 said Yae, pouting her displeasure. 
 
 "One always has to wait in Japan," said Reggie. "No- 
 body ever knows exactly when anything is going to 
 happen; and so the Japanese just wait and wait. They 
 seem to like it rather. Anyhow they don't get impatient. 
 Life is so uneventful here that I think they must like 
 prolonging an incident as much as possible, like sucking 
 a sweet slowly." 
 
 Meanwhile there was plenty to look at. Asako could
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 121 
 
 not get over her shock at the sea of wicked faces which 
 surged below. 
 
 "What class of people are these?" Geoffrey asked. 
 
 "Oh, shop-people, I think, most of them," said Yae, 
 "and people who work in factories." 
 
 "Good class Japanese don't come here, then?" Geoffrey 
 asked again. 
 
 "Oh no, only low class people and students. Japanese 
 people say it is a shameful thing to go to the Yoshiwara. 
 And, if they go, they go very secretly." 
 
 "Do you know any one who goes?" asked Reggie, with 
 a directness which shocked his friend's sense of Good 
 Form. 
 
 "Oh, my brothers," said Yae, "but they go everywhere ; 
 or they say they do." 
 
 It certainly was an ill-favoured crowd. The Japanese 
 are not an ugly race. The young aristocrat who has 
 grown up with fresh air and healthy exercise is often 
 good-looking, and sometimes distinguished and refined. 
 But the lower classes, those who keep company with 
 poverty, dirt and pawnshops, with the pleasures of the 
 sake barrel and the Yoshiwara, are the ugliest beings 
 that were ever created in the image of their misshapen 
 gods. Their small stature and ape-like attitudes, the 
 colour and discolour of their skin, the flat Mongolian 
 nose, their gaping mouths and bad teeth, the coarse 
 fibre of their lustreless black hair, give them an elvish and 
 a goblin look, as though this country were a nursery for 
 fairy changelings, a land of the Nibelungen, where bad 
 thoughts have found their incarnation. Yet the faces 
 have not got that character for good and evil as we find 
 them among the Aryan peoples, the deep lines and the 
 firm profiles. 
 
 "It is the absence of something rather than its presence 
 which appals and depresses us," Reggie Forsyth ob- 
 served, "an absence of happiness perhaps, or of a promise 
 of happiness.**
 
 122 KIMONO 
 
 The crowd which filled the four roads with its slow 
 grey tide was peaceable enough ; and it was strangely 
 silent. The drag and clatter of the clogs made more 
 sound than the human voices. The great majority were 
 men, though there were women among them, quiet and 
 demure. If ever a voice was lifted, one could see by the 
 rolling walk and the fatuous smile that its owner had 
 been drinking. Such a person would be removed out of 
 sight by his friends. The Japanese generally go sight- 
 seeing and merry-making in friendships and companies ; 
 and the Verein, which in Japan is called the Kwai, flour- 
 ishes here as in Germany. 
 
 Two coolies started quarreling under the Harringtons' 
 window. They too had been drinking. They did not hit 
 out at each other like Englishmen, but started an inter- 
 change of abuse in gruff monosj'llables and indistinguish- 
 able grunts and snorts. 
 
 "Bakal Chikiishome! Kuso! (Fool! Beast! Dung!)" 
 
 These amenities exasperating their ill humour, they 
 began to pull at each other's coats and to jostle each 
 other like quarrelsome curs. This was a sign that affairs 
 were growing serious ; and the police intervened. Again 
 each combatant was pushed away by his companions into 
 opposite byways. 
 
 With these exceptions, all tramplings, squeezings, push- 
 ings and pokings were received with conventional grins 
 or apathetic staring. Yet in the paper next day it was 
 said that so great had been the crowd that six deaths 
 had occurred, and numerous persons had fainted. 
 
 "But where is the Yoshiwara?" Geoffrey asked at last. 
 "Where are these wretched women kept?" 
 
 Reggie waved his hand in the direction of the three 
 roads facing them. 
 
 "Inside the iron gates, that is all the Yoshiwara, and 
 those high houses and the low ones too. That is where 
 the girls are. There are two or three thousand of them 
 within sight, as it were, from here. But, of course, the 
 night time is the time to see them." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Geoffrey vaguely.
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 123 
 
 "They sit in shop windows, one might say," Reggie 
 went on, "only with bars in front like cages in the Zoo. 
 And they wear gorgeous kimonos, red and gold and blue, 
 and embroidered with flowers and dragons. It is like 
 nothing I can think of, except aviaries full of wonderful 
 parrakeets and humming-birds." 
 
 "Are they pretty?" Asako asked. 
 
 "No, I can't say they are pretty ; and they all seem 
 very much alike to the mere Westerner. I can't imagine 
 any body picking out one of them and saying, 'I love her' 
 'she is the loveliest.' There is a fat, impassive type like 
 Buddha. There is a foxy animated type which exchanges 
 badinage with the young nuts through the bars of her 
 cage ; and there is a merely ugly lumpy type, a kind 
 of cloddish country-girl who exists in all countries. But 
 the more exclusive houses don't display their women. 
 One can only see a row of photographs. No doubt they 
 are very flattering to their originals." 
 
 Asako was staring at the buildings now, at the high 
 square prison houses, and at the low native roofs. These 
 had each its little platform, its monohoshi, where much 
 white washing was drying in the sun. 
 
 At the farther end of one street a large stucco build- 
 ing, with a Grecian portico, stood athwart the thorough- 
 fare. 
 
 "What is that?" said Asako; "it looks like a church." 
 
 "That is the hospital," answered Reggie. 
 
 "But why is there a hospital here?" she asked again. 
 
 Yae Smith smiled ever so little at her new friend's 
 ignorance of the wages of sin. But nobody answered 
 the question. 
 
 There was a movement in the crowd, a pushing back 
 from some unseen locality, like the jolting of railway 
 trucks. At the same time there was a craning of necks 
 and a murmur of interest.
 
 124 KIMONO 
 
 In the street opposite, the crowd was opening down 
 the centre. The police, who had sprung up everywhere 
 like the crop of the dragons' teeth, were dividing the 
 people. And then, down the path so formed, came the 
 strangest procession which Geoffrey Harrington had ever 
 seen on or off the stage. 
 
 High above the heads of the crowd appeared what 
 seemed to be a life-size automaton, a moving waxwork 
 magnificently garbed in white brocade with red and gold 
 embroidery of phenixes, and a .huge red sash tied in a 
 bow in front. The hem of the skirt, turned up with red 
 and thickly wadded, revealed a series of these garments 
 fitting beneath each other, like the leaves of an arti- 
 choke. Under a monumental edifice of hair, bristling like 
 a hedgehog with amber-coloured pins and with silver 
 spangles and rosettes, a blank, impassive little face was 
 staring straight in front of it, utterly expressionless, 
 utterly unnatural, hidden beneath the glaze of enamel 
 the china face of a doll. 
 
 It parted the grey multitude like a pillar of light. It 
 tottered forward slowly, for it was lifted above the crowd 
 on a pair of black-lacquered clogs as high as stilts, 
 dangerous and difficult to manipulate. On each side were 
 two little figures, similarly painted, similarly bedizened, 
 similarly expressionless, children of nine or ten years 
 only, the komuro, the little waiting-women. They served 
 to support the reigning beauty and at the same time 
 to display her long embroidered sleeves, outstretched 
 on either side like wings. 
 
 The brilliant figure and her two attendants moved 
 forward under the shade of a huge ceremonial umbrella 
 of yellow oiled paper, which looked like a membrane or 
 like old vellum, and upon which were written in Chinese 
 characters the personal name of the lady chosen for the 
 honour and the name of the house in which she was 
 an inmate. The shaft of this umbrella, some eight or 
 nine feet long, was carried by a sinister being, clothed in 
 the blue livery of the Japanese artisan, a kind of tabard
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 125 
 
 with close-fitting trousers. He kept twisting the umbrel- 
 la-shaft all the time with a gyrating movement to and 
 fro, which imparted to the disc of the umbrella the hesita- 
 tion of a wave. He followed the Queen with a strange 
 slow stride. For long seconds he would pause with one 
 foot held aloft in the attitude of a high-stepping horse, 
 which, distorted his dwarfish body into a diabloic convul- 
 sion, like Diirer's angel of horror. He seemed a familiar 
 spirit, a mocking devil, the wicked Spielmann of the 
 "Miracle" play, whose harsh laughter echoes through 
 the empty room when the last cup is emptied, the 
 last shilling gone, and the dreamer awakes from his 
 dream. 
 
 Behind him followed five or six men carrying large 
 oval lanterns, also inscribed with the name of the house; 
 and after them came a representative collection of the 
 officials of the proud establishment, a few foxy old 
 women and a crowd of swaggering men, spotty and 
 vicious-looking. The Orian (Chief Courtesan) reached 
 the cross-roads. There, as if moved by machinery or 
 magnetism, she slowly turned to the left. She made 
 her way towards one of a row of small, old-fashioned 
 native houses, on the road down which the Barringtons 
 had come. Here the umbrella was lowered. The beauty 
 bowed her monumental head to pass under the low door- 
 way, and settled herself on a pile of cushions prepared 
 to receive her. 
 
 Almost at once the popular interest was diverted to 
 the appearance of another procession, precisely similar, 
 which was debouching from the opposite road. The new 
 Orian garbed in blue, with a sash of gold and a design 
 of cherry-blossom, supported by her two little atten- 
 dants, wobbled towards another of the little houses. 
 On her disappearing a third procession came into 
 sight. 
 
 "Ah!" sighed Asako, "what lovely kimonos! Where 
 do they get them from?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Ya6, "some of them are quite
 
 126 KIMONO 
 
 old. They come out fresh year after year for a different 
 girl." 
 
 Yae, with her distorted little soul, was thinking that 
 it must be worth the years of slavery and the humilia- 
 tion of disease to have that one day of complete triumph, 
 to be the representative of Beauty upon earth, to feel 
 the admiration and the desire of that vast concourse of 
 men rising round one's body like a warm flood. 
 
 Geoffrey stared fascinated, wondering to see the fact 
 of prostitution advertised so unblushingly as a public 
 spectacle, his hatred and contempt breaking over the 
 heads of the swine-faced men who followed the harlot, 
 and picked their livelihood out of her shame. 
 
 Reggie was wondering what might be the thoughts 
 of those little creatures muffled in such splendour that 
 their personality, like that of infant queens, was en- 
 tirely hidden by the significance of what they symbol- 
 ized. Not a smile, not a glance of recognition passed 
 over the unnatural whiteness of their faces. Yet they 
 could not be, as they appeared to be, sleep-walkers. Were 
 they proud to wear such finery? Were they happy to be 
 so acclaimed? Did their heart beat for one man, or did 
 their vanity drink in the homage of all? Did their mind 
 turn back to the mortgaged farm and the work in the 
 paddy-fields, to the thriftless shop and the chatter of the 
 little town, to the sake-sodden father who had sold them 
 in the days of their innocence, to the first numbing 
 shock of that new life? Perhaps; or perhaps they were 
 too taken up with maintaining their equilibrium on their 
 high shoes, or perhaps they thought of nothing at all. 
 Reggie, who had a poor opinion of the intellectual bright- 
 ness of uneducated Japanese women, thought that the 
 last alternative was highly probable. 
 
 "I wonder what those little houses are where they 
 pay their visits," Reggie said. 
 
 "Oh, those are the hikite chaya," said Yae glibly, "the 
 Yoshiwara tea-houses." 
 
 "Do they live there?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Oh, no ; rich men who come to the Yoshiwara do not
 
 THE YOSHIWARA WOMEN 127 
 
 go to the big houses where the oiran live. They go to 
 the tea-houses ; and they order food and geisha to sing, 
 and the oiran to be brought from the big house. It is 
 more private. So the tea-houses are called hikite chaya, 
 'tea-houses which lead by the hand.' " 
 
 "Yae," said Reggie, "you know a lot about it." 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Smith, "my brothers have told me. 
 They tell me lots of things." 
 
 After a stay of about half an hour, the oiran left their 
 tea-houses. The processions reformed; and they slowly 
 tottered back to the places whence 'they had come. 
 Across their path the cherry petals were already falling 
 like snowflakes ; for the cherry-blossom is the Japanese 
 symbol of the impermanence of earthly beauty, and of 
 all sweet things and pleasant. 
 
 "By Jove !" said Geoffrey Harrington to the world in 
 general, "that was an extraordinary sight. East is East 
 and West is West, eh? I never felt that so strongly 
 before. How often does this performance take place?" 
 
 "This performance," said Reggie, "has taken place for 
 three days every Spring for the last three hundred years. 
 But it is more than doubtful whether it will ever happen 
 again. It is called Oiran Dochu, the procession of the 
 courtesans. Geoffrey, what you have seen to-day is 
 nothing more or less than the Passing of Old Japan !" 
 
 "But whom do these women belong to?" asked Geof- 
 frey. "And who is making money out of all this filth?" 
 
 "Various people and companies, I suppose, who own 
 the different houses," answered Reggie. "A fellow once 
 offered to sell me his whole establishment, bedding and 
 six girls for 50 down. But he must have been having 
 a run of bad luck. In most countries it is a most profit- 
 able form of investment. Do you remember 'Mrs. War- 
 ren's Profession'? Thirty-five per cent I think was the 
 exact figure. I don't suppose Japan is any exception." 
 
 "By Jove !" said Geoffrey. "The women, poor wretches, 
 they can't help themselves ; and the men who buy what 
 they sell, one can't blame them either. But the creatures 
 who make fortunes out of all this beastliness and cruelty,
 
 128 KIMONO 
 
 I say, they ought to be flogged round the place with a 
 cat-o'-nine-tails till the life is beaten out of them. Let's 
 get away from here!" 
 
 As they left the beer-house a small round Japanese 
 man bobbed up from the crowd, raised his hat, bowed 
 and smiled. It was Tanaka. Geoffrey had left him be- 
 hind on purpose, that his servants, at least, might not 
 know where he was going. 
 
 "I think I meet Ladyship here," said the little man, 
 "but for long time I do not spy her. I am very sorry." 
 
 "Is anything wrong? Why did you come?" asked 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 "Good samurai never leave Lordship's side. Of course, 
 I come," was the reply. 
 
 "Well, hurry up and get back," said his master, "or we 
 shall be home before you." 
 
 With renewed bowings he disappeared. 
 
 Asako was laughing. 
 
 "We can never get rid of Tanaka," she said, "can we? 
 He follows us like a detective." 
 
 "Sometimes I think he is deliberately spying on us," 
 said her husband. 
 
 "Cheer up," said Reggie, "they all do that." 
 
 The party dispersed at the Imperial Hotel. Asako was 
 laughing and happy. She had enjoyed herself immensely 
 as usual ; and her innocence had realized little or nothing 
 of the grim significance of what she had seen. 
 
 But Geoffrey was gloomy and distrait. He had taken 
 it much to heart. That night he had a horrible dream. 
 The procession of the oiran was passing once more before 
 his eyes ; but he could not see the face of the gorgeous 
 doll whom all these crowds had come out to admire. He 
 felt strangely apprehensive, however. Then at a corner 
 of the street the figure turned and faced him. It was 
 Asako, his wife. He struggled to reach her and save her. 
 But the crowds of Japanese closed in upon him ; he 
 struggled in vain.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 
 
 Inishi toshi The young plum tree 
 
 Ne-kojite uyesM Of my house 
 
 Waga ypdo no Which in bygone years 
 
 Wakaki no ume wa I dug up by the roots and 
 
 Hana saki ni keri. transplanted 
 
 Has at last bloomed with 
 flowers. 
 
 NEXT morning Geoffrey rose earlier than was his wont; 
 and arrayed in one of his many kimonos, entered his 
 sitting-room. There he found Tanaka, wrapped in con- 
 templation of a letter. He was scrutinizing it with an 
 attention which seemed to pierce the envelope. 
 
 "Who is it from, Tanaka?" asked Geoffrey; he had 
 become mildly ironical in his dealings with the inquisitive 
 guide. 
 
 "I think perhaps invitation to pleasure party from 
 Ladyship's noble relatives," Tanaka replied, unabashed. 
 
 Geoffrey took the note to his wife, and she read aloud : 
 
 "DEAR MR. AND MRS. BARRINGTON It is now the bright 
 Spring weather. I hope you to enjoy good health. I 
 have been rude thus to absent myself during your polite 
 visit. Much pressing business has hampered me, also 
 stomach trouble, but indeed there is no excuse. Please 
 not to be angry. This time I hope you to attend a poor 
 feast, Maple Club Hotel, next Tuesday, six p.m. Hbping 
 to esteemed favor and even friend, 
 
 Yours obedient, 
 
 G. FUJINAMI." 
 
 "What exactly does he mean?" 
 
 "As Tanaka says, it is an invitation to a pleasure party 
 at the beginning of next week." 
 
 129
 
 130 KIMONO 
 
 "Answer it, sweetheart," said Geoffrey ; "tell them that 
 we are not angry, and that we shall be delighted to 
 accept." 
 
 Tanaka explained that the Maple Club Restaurant or 
 Koyokwan, which more strictly should be translated 
 Hall of the Red Leaf, is the largest and most famous of 
 Tokyo "tea-houses" to use a comprehensive term which 
 applies equally to a shack by the roadside, and to a dainty 
 pleasure resort where entertainments run easily into four 
 or five pounds per head. There are restaurants more se- 
 cretive and more elite, where the aesthetic gourmet may 
 feel more at ease and where the bohemian spirit can 
 loose its wit. But for public functions of all kinds, for 
 anything on a really big scale, the Maple Club stands 
 alone. It is the "Princes" of Tokyo with a flavour of the 
 Guildhall steaming richly through its corridors. Here 
 the great municipal dinners take place, the great political 
 entertainments. Here famous foreigners are officially 
 introduced to the mysteries of Japanese cuisine and the 
 charms of Japanese geisha. Here hangs a picture of 
 Lord Kitchener himself, scrambled over by laughing 
 mousmes, who seem to be peeping out of his pockets and 
 buttonholes, a Gulliver in Lilliput. 
 
 Both Geoffrey and Asako had treated the invitation as 
 a joke ; but at the last moment, while they were thread- 
 ing the mysterious streets of the still unfamiliar city, 
 they both confessed to a certain nervousness. They 
 were on the brink of a plunge into depths unknown. 
 They knew nothing whatever about the customs, tastes 
 and prejudices of the people with whom they were to 
 mix not even their names and their language. 
 
 "Well, we're in for it," said Geoffrey, "we must see it 
 through now." 
 
 They drove up a steep gravel drive and stopped before 
 a broad Japanese entrance, three wide steps like altar 
 stairs leading up to a dark cavernous hall full of bowing 
 women and men in black clothes, similar, silent and 
 ghostlike. The first impression was lugubrious, like a 
 feast of mutes.
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 131 
 
 Boots off! Geoffrey knew at least this rule number 
 one in Japanese etiquette. But who were these flutter- 
 ing women, so attentive in removing their cloaks and 
 hats? Were they relatives or waitresses? And the silent 
 groups beyond? Were they Fujinami or waiters? The 
 two guests had friendly smiles for all; but they gazed 
 helplessly for a familiar face. 
 
 An apparition in evening dress with a long frock coat 
 and a purple tie emerged from that grim chorus of spec- 
 tators. It was Ito, the lawyer. The free and easy 
 American manner was checked by the responsibility of 
 those flapping coat-tails. He looked and behaved just 
 like a shop-walker. After a stiff bow and handshake he 
 said: 
 
 "Very pleased to see you, Sir, and Mrs. Barrington, 
 also. The Fujinami family is proud to make your enter- 
 tainment." 
 
 Geoffrey expected further introductions ; but the time 
 had not yet come. With a wave of the arm Mr. Ito 
 added : 
 
 "Please step this way, Sir and Lady." 
 
 The Barringtons with Ito led the procession; and the 
 mutes closed in behind them. Down endless polished 
 corridors they passed with noiseless steps over the spot- 
 less boards. The only sound was the rustling of silk 
 garments. To closed eyes they might have seemed like 
 the arrival of a company of dowagers. The women, who 
 had at first received them, were still fluttering around 
 them like humming-birds escorting a flight of crows. To 
 one of them Geoffrey owed his preservation. He would 
 have struck his forehead against a low doorway in the 
 darkness ; but she touched the lintel with her finger and 
 then laid her tiny hand on Barrington's tall shoulder, 
 laughing and saying in infantile English: 
 
 "English danna son very high!" 
 
 They came to a sudden opening between paper walls. 
 In a little room behind a table stood a middle-aged Jap- 
 anese couple as stiff as waxworks. For an instant Geof-
 
 132 KIMONO 
 
 frey thought they must be the cloakroom attendants. 
 Then, to his surprise, Ito announced: 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro, the head of the 
 Fujinami family. Please walk in and shake hands." 
 
 Geoffrey and his wife did as they were directed. Three 
 mutual bowings took place in absolute silence, followed 
 by a handshake. Then Ito said: 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro wish to say they are 
 very pleased you both come to-night. It is very poor 
 food and very poor feast, they say. Japanese food is 
 very simple sort of thing. But they ask you please ex- 
 cuse them, for what they have done they have done 
 from a good heart." 
 
 Geoffrey was mumbling incoherently, and wondering 
 whether he was expected to reply to this oration, when 
 Ito again exclaimed, "Please step this way." 
 
 They passed into a large room like a concert hall with 
 a stage at one end. There were several men squatting 
 on the floor round hibachi smoking and drinking beer. 
 They looked like black sheep browsing. 
 
 These were joined by the mutes who followed the Bar- 
 ringtons. All of these people were dressed exactly alike. 
 They wore white socks, a dark kimono almost hidden by 
 the black cloak upon which the family crest a wreath 
 of wisteria (fuji) foliage shone like a star on sleeves 
 and neck, and by the fluted yellowish skirt of heavy 
 rustling silk. This dress, though gloomy and sacerdotal, 
 was dignified and becoming ; but the similarity was 
 absurd. It looked like a studied effect at a fancy dress 
 ball. It was particularly exasperating to the guests of 
 honour who were anxious to distinguish their relatives 
 and to know them apart ; but Ito alone, with his Euro- 
 pean clothes and his purple tie, was conspicuous and un- 
 mistakable. 
 
 "He is like Mrs. Jarley," thought Geoffrey, "he ex- 
 plains the waxworks." 
 
 In the middle of the room was a little group of chairs 
 of the weary beast of burden type, which are requisi- 
 tioned for public meetings. Two of them were dignified
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 133 
 
 by cushions of crimson plush. These were for Geoffrey 
 and Asako. 
 
 Among the black sheep there was no movement beyond 
 the steady staring of some thirty pairs of eyes. When 
 the Harringtons had been enthroned, the host and hostess 
 approached them with silent dragging steps and down- 
 cast faces. They might have been the bearers of evil 
 tidings. A tall girl followed behind her parents. 
 
 Mrs. Fujinami Shidzuye and her daughter, Sadako, 
 were the only women present. This was a compromise, 
 and a consideration for Asako's feelings. Mr. Ito had 
 proposed that since a lady was the chief guest of honour, 
 therefore all the Fujinami ladies ought to be invited to 
 meet her. To Mr. Fujinami's strict conservative mind 
 such an idea was anathema. What! Wives at a ban- 
 quet ! In a public restaurant ! With geisha present ! Ab- 
 surd and disgusting! O temporal O mores! 
 
 Then, argued the lawyer, Asako must not be invited. 
 But Asako was the clou of the evening; and besides, an 
 English gentleman would be insulted if his wife were not 
 invited too. And as Mr. Ito went on to urge any 
 woman, Japanese or foreign, would be ill-at-ease in a 
 company composed entirely of men. Besides Sadako 
 could speak English so well ; it was so convenient that 
 she should come ; and under her mother's care her morals 
 would not be contaminated by the propinquity of geisha. 
 So Mr. Fujinami gave in so far as concerned his own 
 wife and daughter. 
 
 Shidzuye San, as befitted a matron of sober years, 
 wore a plain black kimono; but Sadako's dress was of 
 pale mauve color, with a bronze sash tied in an enormous 
 bow. Her hair was parted on one side and caught up in 
 a bun behind the latest haikara fashion and a tribute 
 to the foreign guests. Hers was a graceful figure ; but 
 her expression was spoiled by the blue-tinted spectacles 
 which completely hid her features. 
 
 "Miss Sadako Fujinami, daughter of Mr. Fujinami 
 Gentaro," said Ito. "She has been University under- 
 graduate, and she speaks English quite well."
 
 134 KIMONO 
 
 Miss Sadako bowed three times. Then she said, "How 
 do you do" in a high unnatural voice. 
 
 The room was filling up with the little humming-bird 
 women who had been present at the entrance. They 
 were handing cigarettes and tea cups to the guests. They 
 looked bright and pleasant ; and they interested Geoffrey. 
 
 "Are these ladies relatives of the Fujinami family?" 
 he asked Ito. 
 
 "Oh, no, not at all," the lawyer gasped; "you have 
 made great mistake, Mr. Barrington. Japanese ladies all 
 left at home, never go to restaurant. These girls are no 
 ladies, they're geisha girls. Geisfia girls very famous to 
 foreign persons." 
 
 Geoffrey knew that he had made his first faux pas. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Ito, "please step this way; we go 
 upstairs to the feast room." 
 
 The dining-room seemed larger still than the reception 
 room. Down each side of it were aranged two rows of 
 red lacquer tables, each about eighteen inches high and 
 eighteen inches square. Mysterious little dishes were 
 placed on each side of these tables ; the most conspicu- 
 ous was a flat reddish fish with a large eye, artistically 
 served in a rollicking attitude, which in itself was an 
 invitation to eat. 
 
 The English guests were escorted to two seats at the 
 extreme end of the room, where two tables were laid 
 in isolated glory. They were to sit there like king and 
 queen, with two rows of their subjects in long aisles to 
 the right and to the left of them. 
 
 The seats were cushions merely; but those placed for 
 Geoffrey and Asako were raised on low hassocks. After 
 them the files of the Fujinami streamed in and took up 
 their appointed positions along the sides of the room. 
 They were followed by the geisha, each girl carrying a 
 little white china bottle shaped like a vegetable marrow, 
 and a tiny cup like the bath which hygienic old maids 
 provide for their canary birds. 
 
 "Japanese sake" said Sadako to her cousin, "you do 
 not like?"
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 135 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do," replied Asako, who was intent on en- 
 joying everything. But on this occasion she had chosen 
 the wrong answer ; for real ladies in Japan are not sup- 
 posed to drink the warm rice wine. 
 
 The geisha certainly looked most charming as they 
 slowly advanced in a kind of ritualistic procession. Their 
 feet like little white mice, the dragging skirts of their 
 spotless kimonos, their exaggerated care and precision, 
 and their stiff conventional attitudes presented a picture 
 from a Satsuma vase. Their dresses were of all shades, 
 black, blue, purple, grey and mauve. The corner of the 
 skirt folded back above the instep revealed a glimpse of 
 gaudy underwear provoking to men's eyes, and displayed 
 the intricate stenciled flower patterns, which in the case 
 of the younger women seemed to be catching hold of the 
 long sleeves and straying upwards. Little dancing girls, 
 thirteen and fourteen years old the so-called hangyoku 
 or half jewels accompanied their elder sisters of the 
 profession. They wore very bright dresses just like the 
 dolls ; and their massive coiffure was bedizened with sil- 
 ver spangles and elaborately artificial flowers. 
 
 "Oh!" gasped the admiring Asako, "I must get one of 
 those geisha girls to show me how to wear my kimonos 
 properly; they do look smart." 
 
 "I do not think," answered Sadako. "These are vulgar 
 women, bad style ; I will teach you the noble way." 
 
 But all the geisha had a grave and dignified look, quite 
 different from the sprightly butterflies of musical comedy 
 from whom Geoffrey had accepted his knowledge of 
 Japan. 
 
 They knelt down before the guests and poured a little 
 of the sake into the shallow saucer held out for their min- 
 istrations. Then they folded their hands in their laps 
 and appeared to slumber. 
 
 A sucking sound ran round the room as the first cup 
 was drained. Then a complete silence fell, broken only 
 by the shuffle of the girls' feet on the matting as they 
 went to fetch more bottles. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro spoke to the guests assembled,
 
 136 KIMONO 
 
 bidding them commence their meal, and not to stand 
 upon ceremony. 
 
 "It is like the one two three go! at a race," 
 thought Geoffrey. 
 
 All the guests were manipulating their chopsticks. 
 Geoffrey raised his own pair. The two slender rods of 
 wood were unparted at one end to show that they had 
 never been used. It was therefore necessary to pull 
 them in two. As he did so a tiny splinter of wood like a 
 match fell from between them. 
 
 Asako laughed. 
 
 "That is the toothpick," cousin Sadako explained. "We 
 call such chopsticks komochi-hashi, chopstick with baby, 
 because the toothpick inside the chopstick like the baby 
 inside the mother. Very funny, I think." 
 
 There were two kinds of soup excellent ; there was 
 cooked fish and raw fish in red and white slices, chastely 
 served with ice ; there were vegetables known and un- 
 known, such as sweet potatoes, French beans, lotus stems 
 and bamboo shoots. These had to be eaten with the aid 
 of the chopsticks a difficult task when it came to cut- 
 ting up the wing of a chicken or balancing a soft poached 
 
 egg- 
 
 The guests did not eat with gusto. They toyed with 
 the food, sipping wine all the time, smoking cigarettes 
 and picking their teeth. 
 
 Geoffrey, according to his own description, was just 
 getting his eye in, when Mr. Fujinami Gentaro rose from 
 his humble place at the far end of the room. In a speech 
 full of poetical quotations, which must have cost his 
 tame students considerable trouble in the composition, 
 he welcomed Asako Harrington, who, he said, had been 
 restored to Japan like a family jewel which has been lost 
 and is found. He compared her visit to the sudden flow- 
 ering of an ancient tree. This did not seem very compli- 
 mentary ; however, it referred not to the lady's age but 
 to the elder branch of the family which she represented. 
 After many apologies for the tastelessness of the food 
 and the stupidity of the entertainment, he proposed the
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 137 
 
 health of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, which was drunk by 
 the whole company standing. 
 
 Ito produced from his pocket a translation of this 
 oration. 
 
 "Now please say a few words in reply," he directed. 
 
 Geoffrey, feeling acutely ridiculous, scrambled to his 
 feet and thanked everybody for giving his wife and him- 
 self such a jolly good time. Ito translated. 
 
 "Now please command to drink health of the Fujinami 
 family," said the lawyer, consulting his agenda. So the 
 health of Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro was drunk with 
 relish by everybody, including the lady and gentleman 
 honoured. 
 
 "In this country," thought Geoffrey, "one gets the 
 speechmaking over before the dinner. Not a bad idea. 
 It saves that nervous feeling which spoils the appetite." 
 
 An old gentleman, with a restless jaw, tottered to his 
 feet and approached Geoffrey's table. He bowed twice 
 before him, and held out a claw-like hand. 
 
 "Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke, the father of Mr. Fujinami 
 Gentaro," announced Ito. "He has retired from life. He 
 wishes to drink wine with you. Please wash your cup 
 and give it to him." 
 
 There was a kind of finger-bowl standing in front of 
 Geoffrey, which he had imagined might be a spittoon. 
 He was directed to rinse his cup in this vessel, and to 
 hand it to the old gentleman. Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke 
 received it in both hands as if it had been a sacrament. 
 The attendant geisha poured out a little of the greenish 
 liquid, which was drunk with much hissing and sucking. 
 Then followed another obeisance ; the cup was returned, 
 and the old gentleman retired. 
 
 He was succeeded by Mr. Fujinami Gentaro himself, 
 with whom the same ceremony of the sake drinking was 
 repeated ; and then all the family passed by, one after an- 
 other, each taking the cup and drinking. It was like a 
 visiting figure in the lancers' quadrille. 
 
 As each relative bent and bowed, Ito announced his 
 name and quality. These names seemed all alike, alike
 
 138 KIMONO 
 
 as their faces and as their garments were. Geoffrey 
 could only remember vaguely that he had been introduced 
 to a Member of Parliament, a gross man with a terrible 
 wen like an apple under his ear, and to two army officers, 
 tall clean-looking men, who pleased him more than the 
 others. There were several Government functionaries ; 
 but the majority were business men. Geoffrey could only 
 distinguish for certain his host and his host's father. 
 
 "They look just like two old vultures," he thought. 
 
 Then there was Mr. Fujinami Takeshi, the son of the 
 host and the hope of the family, a livid youth with a 
 thin moustache and unhealthy marks on his face like 
 raspberries under the skin. 
 
 Still the geisha kept bringing more and more food in 
 a desultory way quite unlike our system of fixed and 
 regular courses. Still Ito kept pressing Geoffrey to eat, 
 while at the same time apologizing for the quality of 
 the food with exasperating repetition. Geoffrey had 
 fallen into the error of thinking that the fish and its 
 accompanying dishes which had been laid before him at 
 first comprised the whole of the repast. He had polished 
 them off with gusto; and had then discovered to his 
 alarm that they were merely hors d'azuvres. Nor did he 
 observe until too late how little the other guests were 
 eating. There was no discourtesy apparently in leaving 
 the whole of a dish untasted, or in merely picking at it 
 from time to time. Rudeness consisted in refusing any 
 dish. 
 
 Plates of broiled meat and sandwiches arrived, bowls 
 of soup, grilled eels on skewers that most famous of 
 Tokyo delicacies ; finally, the inevitable rice with whose 
 adhesive substance the Japanese epicure fills up the final 
 crannies in his well-lined stomach. It made its appear- 
 ance in a round drum-like tub of clean white wood, as 
 big as a bandbox, and bound round with shining brass. 
 The girls served the sticky grains into the china rice- 
 bowl with a flat wooden ladle. 
 
 "Japanese people always take two bowls of rice at
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 139 
 
 least," observed Ito. "One bowl very unlucky; at the 
 funeral we only eat one bowl." 
 
 This to Geoffrey was the coup de grace. He had only 
 managed to stuff down his bowl through a desperate 
 sense of duty. 
 
 "If I do have a second," he gasped, "it will be my own 
 funeral." 
 
 But this joke did not run in the well-worn lines of 
 Japanese humour. Mr. Ito merely thought that the big 
 Englishman, having drunk much sake, was talking non- 
 sense. 
 
 All the guests were beginning to circulate now ; the 
 quadrille was becoming more and more elaborate. They 
 were each calling on each other and taking wine. The 
 talk was becoming more animated. A few bold spirits 
 began to laugh and joke with the geisha. Some had laid 
 aside their cloaks; and some even had loosened their 
 kimonos at the neck, displaying hairy chests. The stiff 
 symmetry of the dinner party was quite broken up. The 
 guests were scattered like rooks, bobbing, scratching and 
 pecking about on the yellow mats. The bright plumage 
 of the geisha stood out against their sombre monotony. 
 
 Presently the geisha began to dance at the far end of 
 the room. Ten of the little girls did their steps, a slow 
 dance full of posturing with coloured handkerchiefs. Three 
 of the elder geisha in plain grey kimonos squatted behind 
 the dancers, strumming on their samisens. But there was 
 very little music either in the instrument or in the 
 melody. The sound of the string's twang and the rattle 
 of the bone plectrum drowned the sweetness of the note. 
 The result was a kind of dry clatter or cackle which is 
 ingenious, but not pleasing. 
 
 Reggie Forsyth used to say that there is no melody in 
 Japanese music; but that the rhythm is marvelous. It 
 is a kind of elaborate ragtime without any tune to it. 
 
 The guests did not pay any attention to the perfor- 
 mance, nor did they applaud when it was over. 
 
 Mr. Ito was consulting his agenda paper and his gold 
 watch.
 
 140 KIMONO 
 
 "You will now drink with these gentlemen," he said. 
 Geoffrey must have demurred. 
 
 "It is Japanese custom," he continued; "please step 
 this way; I will guide you." 
 
 Poor Geoffrey ! it was his turn now to do the visiting 
 figure, but his head was buzzing with some thirty cups of 
 sake which he had swallowed out of politeness, and with 
 the unreality of the whole scene. 
 
 "Can't do it," he protested ; "drunk too much already." 
 
 "In Japan we say, 'When friends meet the sake sellers 
 laugh !' " quoted the lawyer. "It is Japanese custom to 
 drink together, and to be happy. To be drunk in good 
 company, it is no shame. Many of these gentlemen will 
 presently be drunk. But if you do not wish to drink 
 more, then just pretend to drink. You take the cup, see ; 
 you lift it to your mouth, but you throw away the sake 
 into the basin when you wash the cup. That is geisha's 
 trick when the boys try to make her drunk, but she is 
 too wise!" 
 
 Armed with this advice Goeffrey started on his round 
 of visits, first to his host and then to his host's father. 
 The face of old Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke was as red as 
 beet-root, and his jaw was chewing more vigorously than 
 ever. Nothing, however, could have been more perfect 
 than his deportment in exchanging the cup with his 
 guest. But no sooner had Geoffrey turned away to pay 
 another visit than he became aware of a slight commo- 
 tion. He glanced round and saw Mr. Fujinami, senior, 
 in a state of absolute collapse, being conducted out of the 
 room by two members of the family and a cluster of 
 geisha. 
 
 "What has happened?" he asked in some alarm. 
 
 "It is nothing," said Ito; "old gentleman tipsy very 
 quick." 
 
 Everybody now seemed to be smiling and happy. Geof- 
 frey felt the curse of his speechlessness. He was brim- 
 ming over with good humour, and was most anxious to 
 please. The Japanese no longer appeared so grotesque 
 as they had on his arrival. He was sure that he would
 
 A GEISHA DINNER 141 
 
 have much in common with many of these men, who 
 talked so good-naturedly among themselves, until the 
 chill of his approach fell upon them. 
 
 Besides Ito and Sadako Fujinami, the only person 
 present who could talk English at all fluently was that 
 blotchy-faced individual, Mr. Fujinami Takeshi. The 
 young man was in a very hilarious state, and had gath- 
 ered around him a bevy of geisha with whom he was 
 cracking jokes. From the nature of his gestures they 
 must have been far from decorous. 
 
 "Please to sit down, my dear friend," he said to Geof- 
 frey. "Do you like geisha girl?" 
 
 "I don't think they like me," said Geoffrey. "I'm too 
 big." 
 
 "Oh, no," said the Japanese ; "very big, very good. 
 Japanese man too small, no good at all. Why do all geisha 
 love sumotori (professional wrestlers) ? Because sumo- 
 tori very big; but this English gentleman bigger than 
 sumotori. So this girl love you, and this girl, and this 
 girl, and this very pretty girl, I don't know ?" 
 
 He added a question in Japanese. The geisha giggled, 
 and hid her face behind her sleeve. 
 
 "She say, she wish to try first. To try the cake, you 
 eat some? Is that right?" 
 
 He repeated his joke in Japanese. The girl wriggled 
 with embarrassment, and finally scuttled away across the 
 room, while the others laughed. 
 
 All the geisha now hid their faces among much titter- 
 ing. 
 
 Geoffrey was becoming harassed by this badinage; but 
 he hated to appear a prude, and said: 
 
 "I have got a wife, you know, Mr. Fujinami; she is 
 keeping an eye on me." 
 
 "No matter, no matter," the young man answered, 
 waving his hand to and fro; "we all have wife; wife no 
 matter in Japan." 
 
 At last Geoffrey got back to his throne at Asako's side. 
 He was wondering what would be the next move in the
 
 142 KIMONO 
 
 game when, to his relief and surprise, Ito, after a glance 
 at his watch, said suddenly: 
 
 "It is now time to go home. Please say good-bye to 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami." 
 
 A sudden dismissal, but none the less welcome. 
 
 The inner circle of the Fujinami had gathered round. 
 They and the geisha escorted their guests to the rick- 
 shaws and helped them on with their cloaks and boots. 
 There was no pressing to remain ; and as Geoffrey passed 
 the clock in the entrance hall he noticed that it was just 
 ten o'clock. Evidently the entertainment was run with 
 strict adherence to the time-table. 
 
 Some of the guests were too deep in sakt and flirta- 
 tion to be aware of the break-up; and the last vision 
 granted to Geoffrey of the M.P. the fat man with the 
 wen was of a kind of Turkey Trot going on in a corner 
 of the room, and the thick arms of the legislator disap- 
 pearing up the lady's kimono sleeve.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOM 
 
 Iro wa nioedo The colours are bright, but 
 
 Chirinuru wo The petals fall I 
 
 Woga yo tore so In this world of ours who 
 
 Tsune naran? Shall remain forever? 
 
 Ui no okuyama To-day crossing 
 
 Kyo koete, The high mountains of muta- 
 
 Asaki yume nriji bility, 
 
 Ei mo sezu. We shall see no fleeting dreams, 
 
 Being inebriate no longer. 
 
 "0 hayo gasaimas' !" (Respectfully early!) 
 
 Twitterings of maid-servants salute the lady of the 
 house with the conventional morning greeting. Mrs. 
 Fujinami Shidzuye replies in the high, fluty, unnatural 
 voice which is considered refined in her social set. 
 
 The servants glide into the room which she has just 
 left, moving noiselessly so as not to wake the master who 
 is still sleeping. They remove from his side the thick 
 warm mattresses upon which his wife has been lying, the 
 hard wooden pillow like the block of history, the white 
 sheets and the heavy padded coverlet with sleeves like 
 an enormous kimono. They roil up all these yagu 
 (night implements), fold them and put them away into 
 an unsuspected cupboard in the architecture of the 
 veranda. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro still snores. 
 
 After a while his wife returns. She is dressed for the 
 morning in a plain grey silk kimono with a broad olive- 
 green obi (sash). Her hair is arranged in a formidable 
 helmet-like coiffure all Japanese matrons with their 
 hair done properly bear a remote resemblance to Pallas 
 Athene and Britannia. This will need the attention of 
 the hairdresser so as to wax into obedience a few hairs 
 left wayward by the night in spite of that severe wooden 
 
 143
 
 144 KIMONO 
 
 pillow, whose hard, high discomfort was invented by 
 female vanity to preserve from disarray the rigid order 
 of their locks. Her feet are encased in little white tabi 
 like gloves, for the big toe has a compartment all to itself. 
 She walks with her toes turned in, and with the heels 
 hardly touching the ground. This movement produces a 
 bend of the knees and hips so as to maintain the equi- 
 librium of the body, and a sinuous appearance which is 
 considered the height of elegance in Japan, so that the 
 grace of a beautiful woman is likened to "a willow-tree 
 blown by the wind," and the shuffle of her feet on the 
 floor-matting to the wind's whisper. 
 
 Mrs. Fujinami carries a red lacquer tray. On the tray 
 is a tiny teapot and a tiny cup and a tiny dish, in which 
 are three little salted damsons, with a toothpick fixed in 
 one of them. It is the petit dejeuner of her lord. She 
 put down the tray beside the head of the pillow, and 
 makes a low obeisance, touching the floor with her fore- 
 head. 
 
 "O hayo gazaimas' !" 
 
 Mr. Fujinami stirs, gapes, stretches, yawns, rubs his 
 lean fist in his hollow eyes, and stares at the rude incur- 
 sion of daylight. He takes no notice of his wife's pres- 
 ence. She pours out tea for him with studied pose of 
 hands and wrists, conventional and graceful. She re- 
 spectfully requests him to condescend to partake. Then 
 she makes obeisance again. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami yawns once more, after which he conde- 
 scends. He sucks down the thin, green tea with a whis- 
 tling noise. Then he places in his mouth the damson 
 balanced on the point of the toothpick. He turns it over 
 and over with his tongue as though he was chewing a 
 cud. Finally he decides to eat it, and to remove the stone. 
 
 Then he rises from his couch. He is a very small 
 wizened man. Dressed in his night kimono of light blue 
 silk, he passes along the veranda in the direction of the 
 morning ablutions. Soon the rending sounds of throat- 
 clearing show that he has begun his wash. Three maids 
 appear as by magic in the vacated room. The bed is
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 145 
 
 rolled away, the matting swept, and the master's morn- 
 ing clothes are laid out ready for him on his return. 
 
 Mrs. Fujinami assists her husband to dress, holding 
 each garment ready for him to slip into, like a well- 
 trained valet. Mr. Fujinami does not speak to her. 
 When his belt has been adjusted, and a watch with a 
 gold fob thrust into its interstice, he steps down from 
 the veranda, slides his feet into a pair of geta, and strolls 
 out into the garden. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami's garden is a famous one. It is a temple 
 garden many centuries old ; and the eyes of the initiated 
 may read in the miniature landscape, in the grouping of 
 shrubs and rocks, in the sudden glimpses of water, and 
 in the bare pebbly beaches, a whole system of philosophic 
 and religious thought worked out by the patient priests 
 of the Ashikaga period, just as the Gothic masons wrote 
 their version of the Bible history in the architecture of 
 their cathedrals. 
 
 But for the ignorant, including its present master, it 
 was just a perfect little park, with lawns six feet square 
 and ancient pine trees, with impenetrable forests which 
 one could clear at a bound, with gorges, waterfalls, 
 arbours for lilliputian philanderings and a lake round 
 whose tiny shores were represented the Eight Beautiful 
 Views of the Lake of Biwa near Kyoto. 
 
 The bungalow mansion of the family lies on a knoll 
 overlooking the lake and the garden valley, a rambling 
 construction of brown wood with grey scale-like tiles, 
 resembling a domesticated dragon stretching itself in the 
 sun. 
 
 Indeed, it is not one house but many, linked together 
 by a number of corridors and spare rooms. For Mr. and 
 Mrs. Fujinami live in one wing,* their son and his wife in 
 another, and also Mr. Ito, the lawyer, who is a distant 
 relative and a partner in the Fujinami business. Then, 
 on the farther side of the house, near the pebble drive 
 and the great gate, are the swarming quarters of the 
 servants, the rickshaw men, and Mr. Fujinami's secre- 
 taries. Various poor relations exist unobserved in un-
 
 146 KIMONO 
 
 frequented corners; and there is the following of Uni- 
 versity students and professional swashbucklers which 
 every important Japanese is bound to keep, as an adver- 
 tisement of his generosity, and to do his dirty work for 
 him. A Japanese family mansion is very like a hive of 
 drones. 
 
 Nor is this the entire population ' of the Fujinami 
 yashiki. Across the garden and beyond the bamboo grove 
 is the little house of Mr. Fujinami's stepbrother and his 
 wife ; and in the opposite corner, below the cherry- 
 orchard, is the inkyo, the dower house, where old Mr. 
 Fujinami Gennosuke, the retired Lord who is the pres- 
 ent Mr. Fujinami's father by adoption only watches the 
 progress of the family fortunes with the vigilance of 
 Charles the Fifth in the cloister of Juste. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro shuffled his way towards a little 
 room like a kind of summer-house, detached from the 
 main building and overlooking the lake and garden from 
 the most favourable point of vantage. 
 
 This is Mr. Fujinami's study like all Japanese rooms, 
 a square box with wooden framework, wooden ceiling, 
 sliding paper shoji, pale golden tat ami and double alcove. 
 All Japanese rooms are just the same, from the Em- 
 peror's to the rickshaw-man's ; only in the quality of the 
 wood, in the workmanship of the fittings, in the newness 
 and freshness of paper and matting, and by the orna- 
 ments placed in the alcove, may the prosperity of the 
 house be known. 
 
 In Mr. Fujinami's study, one niche of the alcove was 
 fitted up as a bookcase ; and that bookcase was made of a 
 wonderful honey-coloured satinwood brought from the 
 hinterland of China. The lock and the handles were in- 
 laid with dainty designs in gold wrought by a celebrated 
 Kyoto artist. In the open alcove the hanging scroll of 
 Lao Tze's paradise had cost many hundreds of pounds, 
 as had also the Sung dish below it, an intricacy of lotus 
 leaves caved out of a single amethyst.
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 147 
 
 On a table in the middle of this chaste apartment lay 
 a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and a yellow book. 
 The room was open to the early morning sunlight ; the 
 paper walls were pushed back. Mr. Fujinami moved a 
 square silk cushion to the edge of the matting near the 
 outside veranda. There he could rest his back against 
 a post in the framework of the building for even Jap- 
 anese get wearied by the interminable squatting which 
 life on the floor level entails and acquire that condi- 
 tion of bodily repose which is essential for meditation. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami was in the habit of meditating for one 
 hour every morning. It was a tradition of his house ; his 
 father and his grandfather had done so before him. 
 The guide of his meditations was the yellow book, the 
 Kongo (Maxims) of Confucius, that Bible of the Far 
 East which has moulded oriental morality to the shape of 
 the Three Obediences, the obedience of the child to his 
 parents, of the wife to her husband, and of the servant 
 to his lord. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami sat on the sill of his study, and medi- 
 tated. Around him was the stillness of early morning. 
 From the house could be heard the swish of the maids' 
 brooms brushing the tatami, and the flip-flap of their 
 paper flickers, like horses' tails, with which they dis- 
 lodged the dust from the walls and cornices. 
 
 A big black crow had been perched on one of the 
 cherry-trees in the garden. He rose with a shaking of 
 branches and a flapping of broad black wings. He crossed 
 the lake, croaking as he flew with a note more harsh, 
 rasping and cynical than the consequential caw of Eng- 
 lish rooks. His was a malevolent presence "from the 
 night's Plutonian shore," the symbol of something un- 
 clean and sinister lurking behind this dainty beauty and 
 this elaboration of cleanliness. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami's meditations were deep and grave. Soon 
 he put down the book. The spectacles glided along his 
 nose. His chest rose and fell quickly under the weight 
 of his resting chin. To the ignorant observer Mr. Fu- 
 jinami would have appeared to be asleep.
 
 148 KIMONO 
 
 However, when his wife appeared about an hour and a 
 half afterwards, bringing her lord's breakfast on another 
 red lacquer table she besought him kindly to condescend 
 to eat, and added that he must be very tired after so 
 much study. To this Mr. Fujinami replied by passing 
 his hand over his forehead and saying, "Domo! So des' 
 ne! (Indeed, it is so!) I have tired myself with toil." 
 
 This little farce repeated itself every morning. All 
 the household knew that the master's hour of meditation 
 was merely an excuse for an after-sleep. But it was a 
 tradition in the family that the master should study 
 thus; and Mr. Fujinami's grandfather had been a great 
 scholar in his generation. To maintain the tradition Mr. 
 Fujinami had hired a starveling journalist to write a 
 series of random essays of a sentimental nature, which 
 he had published under his own name, with the title, 
 Fallen Cherry-Blossoms. 
 
 Such is the hold of humbug in Japan that nobody in the 
 whole household, including the students who respected 
 nothing, ever allowed themselves the relief of smiling at 
 the sacred hour of study, even when the master's back 
 was turned. 
 
 "O hayo gozaimas' !" 
 
 "For honourable feast of yesterday evening indeed very 
 much obliged !" 
 
 The oily forehead of Mr. Ito touched the matting floor 
 with the exaggerated humility of conventional gratitude. 
 The lawyer wore a plain kimono of slate-grey silk. His 
 American manners and his pomposity had both been laid 
 aside with the tweed suit and the swallow-tail. He was 
 now a plain Japanese business man, servile and adula- 
 tory in his patron's presence. Mr. Fujinami Gentaro 
 bowed slightly in acknowledgment across the remnants 
 of his meal. 
 
 "It is no matter," he said, with a few waves of his 
 fan ; "please sit at your ease." 
 
 The two gentlemen arranged themselves squatting 
 cross-legged for the morning's confidential talk.
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 149 
 
 "The cherry-flowers," Ito began, with a sweep of the 
 arm towards the garden grove, "how quickly they fall, 
 alas !" 
 
 "Indeed, human life also," agreed Mr. Fujinami. "But 
 the guests of last evening, what is one to think?" 
 
 "Ma! In truth, sensei (master or teacher), it would 
 be impossible not to call that Asa San a beauty." 
 
 "Ito Kun," said his relative in a tone of mild censure, 
 "it is foolish always to think of women's looks. This 
 foreigner, what of him?" 
 
 "For a foreigner, that person seems to be honourable 
 and grave," answered the retainer, "but one fears that 
 it is a misfortune for the house of Fujinami." 
 
 "To have a son who is no son," said the head of the 
 family, sighing. 
 
 "Domo! It is terrible!" was the reply; "besides, as 
 the sensei so eloquently said last night, there are so few 
 blossoms on the old tree." 
 
 The better to aid his thoughts, Mr. Fujinami drew 
 from about his person a case which contained a thin 
 bamboo pipe, called kiscru in Japanese, having a metal 
 bowl of the size and shape of the socket of an acorn. He 
 filled this diminutive bowl with a little wad of tobacco, 
 which looked like coarse brown hair. He kindled it from 
 the charcoal ember in the hibachi. He took three sucks 
 of smoke, breathing them slowly out of his mouth again 
 in thick grey whorls. Then with three hard raps against 
 the wooden edge of the firebox, he knocked out again 
 the glowing ball of weed. When this ritual was over, 
 he replaced the pipe in its sheath of old brocade. 
 
 The lawyer sucked in his breath, and bowed his head. 
 
 "In family matters," he said, "it is rude for an outside 
 person to advise the master. But last night I saw a 
 dream. I saw the Englishman had been sent back to 
 England ; and that this Asa San with all her money was 
 again in the Fujinami family. Indeed, a foolish dream, 
 but a good thing, I think!" 
 
 Mr. Fujinami pondered with his face inclined and his 
 eyes shut.
 
 150 KIMONO 
 
 "Ito Kun," he said at last, "you are indeed a great 
 schemer. Every month you make one hundred schemes. 
 Ninety of them are impracticable, eight of them are 
 foolish, and two of them are masterpieces!" 
 
 "And this one?" asked Ito. 
 
 "I think it is impracticable," said his patron, "but it 
 would be worth while to try. It would without doubt 
 be an advantage to send away this foreigner. He is a 
 great trouble, and may even become a danger. Besides, 
 the house of Fujinami has few children. Where there are 
 no sons even daughters are welcome. If we had this 
 Asa, we could marry her to some influential person. She 
 is very beautiful, she is rich, and she speaks foreign 
 languages. There would be no difficulty. Now, as to the 
 present, how about this Osaka business?" 
 
 "I have heard from my friend this morning," answered 
 Ito; "it is good news. The Governor will sanction the 
 establishment of the new licensed quarter at Tobita, if 
 the Home Minister approves." 
 
 "But that is easy. The Minister has always protected 
 us. Besides, did I not give fifty thousand yen to the 
 funds of the Seiyukwaif" said Mr. Fujinami, naming the 
 political party then in the majority in Parliament. 
 
 "Yes, but it must be done quickly ; for opposition is 
 being organised. First, there was the Salvation Army 
 and the missionaries. Now, there are Japanese people, 
 too, people who make a cry and say this licensed prosti- 
 tute system is not suitable to a civilised country, and it 
 is a shame to Japan. Also, there may be a political 
 change very soon, and a new Minister." 
 
 "Then we would have to begin all over again, another 
 fifty thousand yen to the other side." 
 
 "If it is worth it?" 
 
 "My father says that Osaka is the gold mine of Japan. 
 It is worth all that we can pay." 
 
 "Yes, but Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke is an old man now, 
 and the times are changing." 
 
 The master laughed.
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 151 
 
 "Times change," he said, "but men and women never 
 change." 
 
 "It is true," argued Ito, "that rich and noble persons no 
 longer frequent the yukwaku (pleasure enclosure). My 
 friend, Suzuki, has seen the Chief of the Metropolitan 
 Police. He says that he will not be able to permit 
 Oiran Dochu another year. He says too that it will soon 
 be forbidden to show the joro in their windows. It will 
 be photograph-system for all houses. It is all a sign of 
 the change. Therefore, the Fujinami ought not to sink 
 any more capital in the yukwaku" 
 
 "But men will still be men, they will still need a laundry 
 for their spirits." Mr. Fujinami used a phrase which in 
 Japan is a common excuse for those who frequent the 
 demi-monde. 
 
 "That is true, sensci," said the counsellor; "but our 
 Japan must take on a show of Western civilisation. It 
 is the thing called progress. It is part of Western civili- 
 sation that men will become more hypocritical. These 
 foreigners say our Yoshiwara is a shame ; but, in their 
 own cities, immoral women walk in the best streets, and 
 offer themselves to men quite openly. These virtuous 
 foreigners are worse than we are. I myself have seen. 
 They say, 'We have no Yoshiwara system, therefore we 
 are good.' They pretend not to see like a geisha who 
 squints through a fan. We Japanese, we now become 
 more hypocritical, because this is necessary law of civili- 
 sation. The two swords of the samurai have gone ; but 
 honour and hatred and revenge will never go. The 
 kanzashi (hair ornaments) of the oiran will go too; but 
 what the oiran lose, the geisha will gain. Therefore, if 
 I were Fujinami San, I would buy up the geisha, and 
 also perhaps the inbai (unregistered women)." 
 
 "But that is a low trade," objected the Yoshiwara 
 magnate. 
 
 "It is very secret ; your name need never be spoken." 
 
 "And it is too scattered, too disorganised, it would be 
 impossible to control."
 
 152 KIMONO 
 
 "I do not think it would be so difficult. What might 
 be proposed is a geisha trust." 
 
 "But even the Fujinami have not got enough money." 
 
 "Within one month I guarantee to find the right men, 
 with the money and the experience and the influence." 
 
 "Then the business would no longer be the Fujinami 
 only " 
 
 "It would be as in America, a combine, something on 
 a big scale. In Japan one is content with such small 
 business. Indeed, we Japanese are a very small people." 
 
 "In America, perhaps, there is more confidence," said 
 the elder man ; "but in Japan we say, 'Beware of friends 
 who are not also relatives.' There is, as you know, the 
 temple of Inari Daimyojin in Asakusa. They say 
 that if a man worships at that temple he becomes the 
 owner of his friend's wealth. I fear that too many of 
 us Japanese make pilgrimage to that temple after night- 
 fall." 
 
 With those words, Mr. Fujinami picked up a newspaper 
 to indicate that the audience was terminated ; and Mr. 
 Ito, after a series of prostrations, withdrew. 
 
 As soon as he was out of sight, Mr. Fujinami Gentaro 
 selected from the pile in front of him a number of letters 
 and newspapers. With these in his hand, he left the 
 study, and followed a path of broad, flat stepping-stones 
 across the garden towards the cherry-orchard. Here 
 the way sloped rapidly downward under a drift of fallen 
 petals. On the black naked twigs of the cherry-trees one 
 or two sturdy blossoms still clung pathetically, like 
 weather-beaten butterflies. Beyond a green shrubbery, 
 on a little knoll, a clean newly-built Japanese house, like 
 a large rabbit hutch, rested in a patch of sunlight. It 
 was the inkyo, the "shadow dwelling" or dower house. 
 Here dwelt Mr. Fujinami, senior, and his wife his 
 fourth matrimonial experiment. 
 
 The old gentleman was squatting on the balcony of 
 the front corner room, the one which commanded the
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 153 
 
 best view of the cherry-grove. He looked as if he had 
 just been unpacked ; for he was surrounded by reams and 
 reams of paper, some white, and some with Chinese let- 
 ters scrawled over them. He was busy writing these 
 letters with a kind of thick paint-brush ; and he was so 
 deep in his task that he appeared not to notice his son's 
 approach. His festless jaw was still ijmperturbably 
 chewing. 
 
 "O hayo gozaimaJ !" 
 
 "Taro, yo! O hayo!" cried the old gentleman, calling 
 his son by his short boy's name, and cutting off all honor- 
 ifics from his speech. He always affected surprise at this 
 visit, which had been a daily occurrence for many years. 
 
 "The cherry-flowers are fallen and finished," said the 
 younger man. "Ah, human life, how short a thing!" 
 
 "Yes, one year more I have seen the flowers," said Mr. 
 Fujinami Gennosuke, nodding his head and taking his 
 son's generalisation as a personal reference. He had laid 
 his brush aside ; and he was really wondering what would 
 be Gentaro's comment on last night's feast and its guests 
 of honour. 
 
 "Father is practising handwriting again?" 
 
 The old man's mania was penmanship, just as his son's 
 was literature. Among Japanese it is considered the 
 pastime becoming to his age. 
 
 "My wrist has become stiff. I cannot write as I used 
 to. It is always so. Youth has the strength but not the 
 knowledge ; age has the knowledge, but no strength." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Mr. Gennosuke was immensely 
 satisfied with his calligraphy, and was waiting for com- 
 pliments. 
 
 "But this, this is beautifully written. It is worthy 
 of Kobo Daishi !" said the younger man, naming a famous 
 scholar priest of the Middle Ages. He was admiring a 
 scroll on which four characters were written in a per- 
 pendicular row. They signified, "From the midst of 
 tranquillity I survey the world." 
 
 "No," said the artist ; "you see the ten (point) there is 
 wrong. It is ill-formed. It should be written thus."
 
 154 KIMONO 
 
 Shaking back his kimono sleeve he wore a sea-blue 
 cotton kimono, as befitted his years and with a little 
 flourish of his wrist, like a golfer about to make his 
 stroke, he traced off the new version of the character on 
 the white paper. 
 
 Perched on his veranda, with his head on one side he 
 looked very like the marabout stork, as you may see him 
 at the Zoo, that raffish bird with the folds in his neck, the 
 stained glaucous complexion, the bald head and the 
 brown human eye. He had the same look of respectable 
 rascality. The younger Fujinami showed signs of be- 
 coming exactly like him, although the parentage was by 
 adoption only. He was not yet so bald. His black hair 
 was patched with grey in a piebald design. The skin of 
 the throat was at present merely loose, it did not yet 
 hang in bags. 
 
 "And this Asa San?" remarked the elder after a pause ; 
 "what is to be thought of her? Last night I became 
 drunk, as my habit is, and I could not see those people 
 well." 
 
 "She is not loud-voiced and bold like foreign women. 
 Indeed, her voice and her eyes are soft. Her heart is 
 very good, I think. She is timid, and in everything she 
 puts her husband first. She does not understand the world 
 at all ; and she knows nothing about money. Indeed, she 
 is like a perfect Japanese wife." 
 
 "Hm! A good thing, and the husband?" 
 
 "He is a soldier, an honourable man. He seemed fool- 
 ish, or else he is very cunning. The English people are 
 like that. They say a thing. Of course, you think it is 
 a lie. But no, it is the truth ; and so they deceive." 
 
 "Ma, mendo-kusai (indeed, smelly-troublesome !) And 
 why has this foreigner come to Japan?" 
 
 "Ito says he has come to learn about the money. That 
 means, when he knows he will want more." 
 
 "How much do we pay to Asa San?" 
 
 "Ten per cent." 
 
 "And the profits last year on all our business came to 
 thirty seven and a half per cent. Ah ! A fine gain. We
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 155 
 
 could not borrow from the banks at ten per cent. They 
 would want at least fifteen, and many gifts for silence. 
 It is better to fool the husband, and to let them go back 
 to England. After all, ten per cent is a good rate. And 
 we want all our money now for the new brothels in 
 Osaka. If we make much money there, then afterwards 
 we can give them more." 
 
 "Ito says that if the Englishman knows that the money 
 is made in brothels, he will throw it all away and finish. 
 Ito thinks it would be not impossible to send the English- 
 man back to England, and to keep Asa here in Japan." 
 
 The old man looked up suddenly, and for once his jaw 
 stopped chewing. 
 
 "That would be best of all," he exclaimed. "Then 
 indeed he is honourable and a great fool. Being an 
 Englishman, it is possible. Let him go back to England. 
 We will keep Asa. She too is a Fujinami; and, even 
 though she is a woman, she can be useful to the family. 
 She will stay with us. She would not like to be poor. 
 She has not borne a baby to this foreigner, and she is 
 young. I think also our Sada can teach her many things." 
 
 "It is of Sada that I came to speak to father," said 
 Mr. Gentaro. "The marriage of our Sada is a great 
 question for the Fujinami family. Here is a letter from 
 Mr. Osumd, a friend of the Governor of Osaka. The 
 Governor has been of much help to us in getting the 
 concession for the new brothels. He is a widower with 
 no children. He is a man with a future. He is protected 
 by the military clan. He is wishful to marry a woman 
 who can assist his career, and who would be able to take 
 the place of a Minister's wife. Mr. Osumi, who writes, 
 had heard of the accomplishments of our Sada. He men- 
 tioned her name to the Governor ; and His Excellency 
 was quite willing that Mr. Osumi should write something 
 in a letter to Ito." 
 
 "Hrn!" grunted the old gentleman, squinting sidelong 
 at his son; "this Governor, has he a private fortune?" 
 
 "No, he is a self-made man." 
 
 "Then it will not be with him, as it was with that Vis-
 
 156 KIMONO 
 
 count Kamimura. He will not be too proud to take our 
 money." 
 
 The truth of the allusion to Viscount Kamimura was 
 that the name of Sadako Fujinami had figured on the list 
 of possible brides submitted to that young aristocrat on 
 his return from England. At first, it seemed likely that 
 the choice would fall upon her, because of her undisputed 
 cleverness ; and the Fujinami family were radiant at the 
 prospect of so brilliant a match. For although nothing 
 had been formally mentioned between the two families, 
 yet Sadako and her mother had learned from their hair- 
 dresser that there was talk of such a possibility in the 
 servants' quarter of the Kamimura mansion, and that old 
 Dowager Viscountess Kamimura was undoubtedly mak- 
 ing inquiries which could only point to that one object. 
 
 The young Viscount, however, on ascertaining the 
 origin of the family wealth, eliminated poor Sadako from 
 the competition for his hand. 
 
 It was a great disappointment to the Fujinami, and 
 most of all to the ambitious Sadako. For a moment she 
 had seen opening the doorway into that marvellous world 
 of high diplomacy, of European capitals, of diamonds, 
 duchesses and intrigue, of which she had read in foreign 
 novels, where everybody is rich, brilliant, immoral and 
 distinguished, and where to women are given the roles to 
 play even more important than those of the men. This 
 was the only world, she felt, worthy of her talents ; but 
 few, very few, just one in a million Japanese women, 
 ever gets the remotest chance of entering it. This chance 
 presented itself to Sadako but for a moment only. The 
 doorway shut to again ; and Sadako was left feeling more 
 acutely than before the emptiness of life, and the bitter- 
 ness of woman's lot in a land where men are supreme. 
 
 Her cousin, Asako, by the mere luck of having had an 
 eccentric parent and a European upbringing, possessed 
 all the advantages and all the experience which the Jap- 
 anese girl knew only through the glamorous medium of 
 books. But this Asa San was a fool. Sadako had found 
 that out at once in the course of a few minutes talk at
 
 FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 157 
 
 the Maple Club dinner. She was sweet, gentle and in- 
 nocent ; far more Japanese, indeed, than her sophisticated 
 cousin. Her obvious respect and affection for her big 
 rough husband, her pathetic solicitude for the father 
 whose face she could hardly remember and for the' 
 mother who was nothing but a name ; these traits of char- 
 acter belong to the meek Japanese girl of Onna Daigaku 
 (Woman's Great Learning), that famous classic of Jap- 
 anese girlhood which teaches the submission of women 
 and the superiority of men. It was a type which was 
 becoming rare in her own country. Little Asako had 
 nothing in common with the argumentative heroines of 
 Bernard Shaw or with the desperate viragos of Ibsen, 
 to whom Sadako felt herself spiritually akin. Asako 
 must be a fool. She exasperated her Japanese cousin, 
 who at the same time was envious of her, envious above 
 all of her independent wealth. As she observed to her 
 own mother, it was most improper that a woman, and 
 a young woman too, should have so much money of her 
 own. It would be sure to spoil her character. 
 
 Meanwhile Asako was a way of access to first-hand 
 knowledge of that world of European womanhood which 
 so strongly attracted Sadako's intelligence, that almost 
 incredible world in which men and women were equal, 
 had equal rights to property, and equal rights to love. 
 Asako must have seen enough to explain something about 
 it; if only she were not a fool. But it appeared that 
 she had never heard of Strindberg, Sudermann, or 
 d'Annunzio; and even Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde 
 were unfamiliar names.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 
 
 Yume no at wa (These) meetings in dreams 
 
 Kurushikari keri! How sad they are ! 
 
 Odorokite When, waking up startled 
 
 Kaki-saguredomo One gropes about 
 
 Te ni mo furcneba. And there is no contact to the 
 
 hand. 
 
 Miss Fujinami made up her mind to cultivate Asako's 
 friendship, and to learn all that she could from her. So 
 she at once invited her cousin to the mysterious house in 
 Akasaka, and Asako at once accepted. 
 
 The doors seemed to fly open at the magic of the 
 wanderer's return. Behind each partition were family 
 retainers, bowing and smiling. Three maids assisted her 
 to remove her boots. There was a sense of expectation 
 and hospitality, which calmed Asako's fluttering shyness. 
 
 "Welcome ! Welcome !" chanted the chorus of maids, 
 "O agari nasaimashi ! (pray step up into the house!)" 
 
 The visitor was shown into a beautiful airy room over- 
 looking the landscape garden. She could not repress an 
 Ah ! of wonder, when first this fairy pleasance came in 
 sight. It was all so green, so tiny, and so perfect, 
 the undulating lawn, the sheet of silver water, the pigmy 
 forests which clothed its shores, its disappearance round 
 a shoulder of rock into that hinterland of high trees which 
 closed the vista and shut out the intrusion of the squalid 
 city. 
 
 [The Japanese understand better than we do the mes- 
 meric effects of sights and sounds. It was to give her 
 time to assimilate her surroundings that Asako was left 
 alone for half an hour or so, while Sadako and her mother 
 were combing their hair and putting their kimonos 
 straight. Tea and biscuits were brought for her,'but her 
 
 158
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 159 
 
 fancy was astray in the garden. Already to her imagina- 
 tion a little town had sprung up along the shingles of the 
 tiny bay which faced her ; the sails of white ships were 
 glimpsing where the sunlight struck the water ; and from 
 round the rock promontory she could catch the shimmer 
 of the Prince's galleon with its high poop and stern 
 covered with solid gold. He was on his way to rescue 
 the lady who was immured in the top of the red pagoda 
 on the opposite hill. 
 
 Asako's legs were getting numb. She had been sitting 
 on them in correct Japanese fashion all this time. She 
 was proud of the accomplishment, which she considered 
 must be hereditary, but she could not keep it up for much 
 longer than half an hour. Sadako's mother entered. 
 
 "Asa San is welcome." 
 
 Much bowing began, in which Asako felt her disad- 
 vantage. The long lines of the kimono, with the big 
 sash tied behind, lend themselves with peculiar grace to 
 the squatting bow of Japanese intercourse. But Asako, 
 in the short blue jacket of her tailor-made serge, felt 
 that her attitude was that of the naughty little boys in 
 English picture books, bending over for castigation. 
 
 Mrs. Fujinami wore a perfectly plain kimono, blackish- 
 brown in colour, with a plain gold sash. It is considered 
 correct for middle-aged ladies in Japan to dress with 
 modesty and reserve. She was tall for a Japanese woman 
 and big-boned, with a long lantern-face, and an almost 
 Jewish nose. The daughter was of her mother's build. 
 But her face was a perfect oval, the melon-seed shape 
 which is so highly esteemed in her country. The severity 
 of her appearance was increased, by her blue-tinted 
 spectacles ; and like so many Japanese women, her teeth 
 were full of gold stopping. She was resplendent in blue, 
 the blue of the Mediterranean, with fronds of cherry- 
 blossom and floating pink petals designed round her 
 skirts and at the bottom of the long exaggerated sleeves. 
 The sash of broad stiff brocade shone with light blue and 
 silver in a kind of conventional wave pattern. This was 
 tied at the back with a huge bow, which seemed perched
 
 160 KIMONO 
 
 upon its wearer like a gigantic butterfly alighting on a 
 cornflower. Her straight black hair was parted on one 
 side in "foreign" style. But her mother wore the helmet- 
 like marumage, the edifice of conservative taste in married 
 women, which looks more like a wig than like natural 
 hair. 
 
 Rings sparkled on Sadako's fingers, and she wore a 
 diamond ornament across her sash; but neither their 
 taste nor their quality impressed her cousin. Her face 
 was of the same ivory tint as Asako's, but it was hidden 
 under a lavish coating of liquid powder. This hideous 
 embellishment covers not only the Mongolian yellow, 
 which every Japanese woman seems anxious to hide, 
 but also the natural and charming nuances of young skin, 
 under a white monotonous surface like a mask of clay. 
 Painted roses bloomed on the girl's cheeks. The eye- 
 brows were artificially darkened as well as the lines round 
 the eyes. The face and its expression, in fact, were 
 quite obscured by cosmetics ; and Miss Fujinami was 
 wrapped in a cloud of cheap scent like a servant-girl on 
 her evening out. 
 
 She spoke English well. In fact, at school she had 
 achieved a really brilliant career, and she had even at- 
 tended a University for a time with the intention of 
 reading for a degree, an attainment rare among Japanese 
 girls. But overwork brought on its inevitable result. 
 Books had to be banished, and glasses interposed to save 
 the tired eyes from the light. It was a bitter disap- 
 pointment for Sadako, who was a proud and ambitious 
 girl, and it had not improved her disposition. 
 
 After the first formalities Asako was shown round 
 the house. The sameness of the rooms surprised her. 
 There was nothing to distinguish them except the dif- 
 ferent woods used in their ceilings and walls, a distinc- 
 tion which betrayed its costliness and its taste only to 
 the practised eye. Each room was spotless and absolute- 
 ly bare, with golden tatami, rice-straw mats with edg- 
 ings of black braid, fixed into the flooring, by whose 
 number the size of a Japanese room is measured. Asako
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 161 
 
 admired the pale white shoji, the sliding windows of 
 opaque glowing paper along the side of the room open 
 to the outdoor light, the fusuma or sliding partitions be- 
 tween room and room, set in the framework of the house, 
 some of them charmingly painted with sketches of 
 scenery, flowers, or people, some of them plain cream- 
 coloured boards flecked with tiny specks of gold. 
 
 Nothing broke the sameness of these rooms except the 
 double alcove, or tokonoma with its inevitable hanging 
 picture, its inevitable ornament, and its spray of blossom. 
 Between the double niche stood that pillar of wood which 
 Sadako explained as being the soul of the room, the lead- 
 ing feature from which its character was taken, being 
 either plain and firm, or twisted and ornate, or else still 
 unshaped, with the bosses of amputated branches seared 
 and black protesting against confinement. The tokonoma, 
 as the word suggests, must originally have been the 
 sleeping-place of the owner of the room, for it certainly 
 is the only corner in a Japanese house which is secured 
 from draughts. But perhaps it was respect for invisible 
 spirits which drove the sleeper eventually to abandon 
 his coign of vantage to the service of aesthetic beauty, 
 and to stretch himself on the open floor. 
 
 To Asako the rooms seemed all the same. Each gave 
 the same impression of spotlessness and nudity. Each 
 was stiffly rectangular like the honey squares fitted into 
 a hive. Above all, there was nothing about any of them 
 to indicate their individual use, or the character of the 
 person to whom they were specially assigned. No 
 dining-room, or drawing-room, or library. 
 
 "Where is your bedroom?" asked Asako, with a frank 
 demand for that sign of sisterhood among Western girls ; 
 "I should so like to see it." 
 
 "I generally sleep," answered the Japanese girl, "in 
 that room at the corner where we have been already, 
 where the bamboo pictures are. This is the room where 
 father and mother sleep." 
 
 They were standing on the balcony outside the apart- 
 ment where Asako had first been received.
 
 162 KIMONO 
 
 "But where are the beds?" she asked. 
 
 Sadako went to the end of the balcony, and threw open 
 a big cupboard concealed in the outside of the house. It 
 was full of layers of rugs, thick, dark and wadded. 
 
 "These are the beds," smiled the Japanese cousin. 
 "My brother Takeshi has a foreign bed in his room ; but 
 my father does not like them, or foreign clothes, or 
 foreign food, or anything foreign. He says the Japanese 
 things are best for the Japanese. But he is very old- 
 fashioned." 
 
 "Japanese style looks nicer," said Asako, thinking how 
 big and vulgar a bedstead would appear in that clean 
 emptiness and how awkwardly its iron legs would 
 trample on the straw matting; "but isn't it draughty 
 and uncomfortable?" 
 
 "I like the foreign beds best," said Sadako; "my 
 brother has let me try his. It is very soft." 
 
 So in this country of Asako's fathers, a bedstead was 
 lent for trial as though it had been some fascinating 
 novelty, a bicycle or a piano. 
 
 The kitchen appealed most to the visitor. It was the 
 only room to her mind which had any individuality of 
 its own. It was large, dark and high, full of servant- 
 girls scuttering about like little mice, who bowed and 
 then fled when the two ladies came in. The stoves for 
 boiling the rice interested Asako, round iron receptacles 
 like coppers, each resting on a brick fireplace. Every- 
 thing was explained to her: the high dressers hung with 
 unfamiliar implements in white metal and white wood: 
 the brightly labelled casks of sake and shoyu (sauce) 
 waiting in the darkness like the deputation of a friendly 
 society in its insignia of office : the silent jars of tea, 
 greenish in colour and ticketed with strange characters, 
 the names of the respective tea-gardens : the iron kettle 
 hanging on gibbet chains from the top of the ceiling over 
 a charcoal fire sunk in the floor; the tasteful design 
 of the commonest earthenware bowl : the little board 
 and chopper for slicing the raw fish : the clean white 
 rice-tubs with their brass bindings polished and shining :
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 163 
 
 the odd shape and entirely Japanese character which 
 distinguished the most ordinary things, and gave to the 
 short squat knives a romantic air and to the broad 
 wooden spoons a suggestion of witchcraft : finally, the 
 little shrine to the Kitchen God, perched on a shelf close 
 to the ceiling, looking like the fagade of a doll's temple, 
 and decorated with brass vases, dry grasses, and strips of 
 white paper. The wide kitchen was impregnated with a 
 smell already familiar to Asako's nose, one of the most 
 typical odours of Japan, the smell of native cooking, 
 humid, acrid and heavy like the smell of wood smoke 
 from damp logs, with a sour and rotten flavour to it 
 contributed by a kind of pickled horse-radish called 
 Daikon or the Great Root, dear to the Japanese palate. 
 
 The central ceremony of Asako's visit was her intro- 
 duction to the memory of her dead parents. She was 
 taken to a small room, where the alcove, the place of 
 honour, was occupied by a closed cabinet, the butsudan 
 (Buddha shelf), a beautiful piece of joiner's work in a 
 kind of lattice pattern covered with red lacquer and 
 gold. Sadako, approaching, reverently opened this 
 shrine. The interior was all gilt with a dazzling gold 
 like that used on old manuscripts. In the centre of this 
 glory sat a golden-faced Buddha with dark blue hair 
 and cloak, and an aureole of golden rays. Below him 
 were arranged the thai, the Tablets of the Dead, minia- 
 ture grave-stones about one foot high, with a black 
 surface edged with gold upon which were inscribed the 
 names of the dead persons, the new names given by the 
 priests. 
 
 Sadako stepped back and clapped her hands together 
 three times, repeating the formula of the Nichiren Sect 
 of Buddhists. 
 
 "Namu myoho renge kyo! (Adoration to the Wonderful 
 Law of the Lotus Scriptures!)" 
 
 She instructed Asako to do the same. 
 
 "For," she said, "we believe that the spirits of the dead 
 people are here ; and we must be very good to them." 
 
 Asako did as she was told, wondering whether her
 
 164 KIMONO 
 
 confessor would give her penance for idolatry. Sadako 
 then motioned her to sit on the floor. She took one of 
 the tablets from its place and placed it in front of her 
 cousin. 
 
 "That is your father's ihai," she said ; and then removing 
 another and placing it beside the first, she added, 
 
 "This is your mother." 
 
 Asako was deeply moved. In England we love our 
 dead ; but we consign them to the care of nature, to the 
 change of the seasons, and the cold promiscuity of the 
 graveyard. The Japanese dead never seem to leave the 
 shelter of their home or the circle of tneir family. We 
 bring to our dear ones flowers and prayers ; but the 
 Japanese give them food and wine, and surround them 
 with everyday talk. The companionship is closer. We 
 chatter much about immortality. We believe, many of 
 US', in some undying particle. We even think that in 
 some other world the dead may meet the dead whom, 
 they have known in life. But the actual communion, 
 of the dead and the living is for us a beautiful and 
 inspiring metaphor rather than a concrete belief. Now 
 the Japanese, although their religion is so much vaguer 
 than ours, hardly question this survival of the ancestors 
 in the close proximity of their children and grandchildren. 
 The little funeral tablets are for them clothed with an 
 invisible personality. 
 
 "This is your mother." 
 
 Asako felt influences floating around her. Her mind 
 was in pain, straining to remember something which 
 seemed to be not wholly forgotten. 
 
 Just at this moment Mrs. Fujinami arrived, carrying 
 an old photograph album and a roll of silk. Her appear- 
 ance was so opportune that any one less innocent than 
 Asako might have suspected that the scene had been re- 
 hearsed. In the hush and charm of that little chamber 
 of the spirits, the face of the elder woman looked soft and 
 sweet. She opened the volume at the middle, and pushed 
 it in front of Asako. 
 
 She saw the photograph of a Japanese girl seated in a
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 165 
 
 chair with a man standing at her side, with one hand 
 resting on the chair back. Her father's photograph she 
 recognised at once, the broad forehead, the deep eyes, the 
 aquiline nose, the high cheek bones, and the thin, angry 
 sarcastic lips; not a typically Japanese face, but a type 
 recurrent throughout our over-educated world, cultured, 
 desperate and stricken. Asako had very little in com- 
 mon with her father ; for his character had been moulded 
 or warped by two powerful agencies, his intellect and 
 his disease ; and it was well for his daughter that she had 
 escaped this dire inheritance. But never before had she 
 seen her mother's face. Sometimes she had wondered 
 who and what her mother had been ; what she had 
 thought of as her baby grew within her ; and with what 
 regrets she had exchanged her life for her child's. More 
 often she had considered herself as a being without a 
 mother, a fairy's child, brought into this world on a sun- 
 beam or born from a flower. 
 
 Now she saw the face which had reflected pain and 
 death for her. It was impassive, doll-like and very 
 young, pure oval in outline, but lacking in expression. 
 The smallness of the mouth was the most characteristic 
 feature, but it was not alive with smiles like her 
 daughter's. It was pinched and constrained, with the 
 lower lips drawn in. 
 
 The photograph was clearly a wedding souvenir. She 
 wore the black kimono of a bride, and the multiple skirts. 
 A kind of little pocket-book with silver charms dangling 
 from it, an ancient marriage symbol, was thrust into the 
 opening at her breast. Her head was covered with a 
 curious white cap like the "luggage" of Christmas 
 crackers. She was seated rigidly at the edge of her 
 uncomfortable chair; and her personality seemed to be 
 overpowered by the solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 "Did she love him," her daughter wondered, "as I love 
 Geoffrey?" 
 
 Through Sadako's interpretation Mrs. Fujinami ex- 
 plained that Asako's mother's name had been Yamagata 
 Haruko (Spring child). Her father had been a samurai
 
 166 KIMONO 
 
 in the old two-sworded days. The photograph was not 
 very like her. It was too serious. 
 
 "Like you," said the elder woman, "she was always 
 laughing and happy. My husband's father used to call 
 her the Semi (the cicada), because she was always sing- 
 ing her little song. She was chosen for your father 
 because he was so sad and wrathful. They thought that 
 she would make him more gentle. But she died ; and then 
 he became more sad than before." 
 
 Asako was crying very gently. She felt the touch of 
 her cousin's hand on her arm. The intellectual Miss 
 Sadako also was weeping, the tears furrowing her 
 whitened complexion. The Japanese are a very emo- 
 tional race. The women love tears ; and even the men 
 are not averse from this very natural expression of 
 feeling, which our Anglo-Saxon schooling has condemned 
 as babyish. Mrs. Fujinami continued, 
 
 "I saw her a few days before you were born. They 
 lived in a little house on the bank of the river. One 
 could see the boats passing. It was very damp and cold. 
 She talked all the time of her baby. 'If it is a boy,' she 
 said, 'everybody will be happy ; if it is a girl, Fujinami 
 San will be very anxious for the family's sake ; and the 
 fortune-tellers say that it will surely be a little girl. 
 But,' she used to say, 'I could play better with a little 
 girl; I know what makes them laugh!' When you were 
 born she became very ill. She never spoke again, and in 
 a few days she died. Your father became like a madman, 
 he locked the house, and would not see any of us ; and as 
 soon as you were strong enough, he took you away in a 
 ship." 
 
 Sadako placed in front of her cousin the roll of silk, 
 and said, 
 
 "This is Japanese obi (sash). It belonged to your 
 mother. She gave it to my mother a short time before 
 you were born ; for she said, 'It is too bright for me 
 now ; when I have my baby, I shall give up society, and 
 I shall spend all my time with my children.' My mother 
 gives it to you for your mother's sake."
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 167 
 
 It was a wonderful work of art, a heavy golden bro- 
 cade, embroidered with fans, and on each fan a Japanese 
 poem and a little scene from the olden days. 
 
 "She was very fond of this obi; she chose the poems 
 herself." 
 
 But Asako was not admiring the beautiful workman- 
 ship. She was thinking of the mother's heart which had 
 beat for her under that long strip of silk, the little 
 Japanese mother who "would have known how to make 
 her laugh." Tears were falling very quietly on to the old 
 sash. 
 
 The two Japanese women saw this ; and with the in- 
 stinctive tact of their race, they left her alone face to 
 face with this strange introduction to her mother's per- 
 sonality. 
 
 There is a peculiar pathos about the clothes of the 
 dead. They are so nearly a part of our bodies that it 
 seems unnatural almost that they should survive with 
 the persistence of inanimate things, when we who gave 
 them the semblance of life are far more dead than they. 
 It would be more seemly, perhaps, if all these things 
 which have belonged to us so intimately were to perish 
 with us in a general suttee. But the mania for relics 
 would never tolerate so complete a disappearance of one 
 whom we had loved; and our treasuring of hair and 
 ornaments and letters is a desperate and perhaps not 
 an entirely vain attempt to check the liberated spirit 
 in its leap for eternity. 
 
 Asako found in that old garment of her mother's a 
 much more faithful reflection of the life which had been 
 transmitted to her, than the stiff photograph could ever 
 realise. She had chosen the poems herself. Asako must 
 get them transcribed and translated; for they would be 
 a sure indication of her mother's character. Already the 
 daughter could see that her mother too must have loved 
 rich and beautiful things, happiness and laughter. 
 
 Old Mr. Fujinami had called her "the Semi," Asako 
 did not yet know the voice of the little insects which 
 are the summer and autumn orchestra of Japan. But
 
 168 KIMONO 
 
 she knew that it must be something happy and sweet; 
 or they would not have told her. 
 
 She rose from her knees, and found her cousin waiting 
 for her on the veranda. Whatever real expression she 
 may have had was effectively hidden behind the tinted 
 glasses, and the false white complexion, now renovated 
 from the ravages of emotion. But Asako's heart was 
 won by the power of the dead, of whom Sadako and her 
 family were, she felt, the living representatives. 
 
 Asako took both of her cousin's hands in her own. 
 
 "It was sweet of you and your mother to give me that," 
 she said and her eyes were full of tears "you could 
 not have thought of anything which would please me 
 more." 
 
 The Japanese girl was on the point of starting to bow 
 and smile the conventional apologies for the worthless- 
 ness of the gift, when she felt herself caught by a power 
 unfamiliar to her, the power of the emotions of the West. 
 
 The pressure on her wrists increased, her face was 
 drawn down towards her cousin's, and she felt against 
 the corner of her mouth the warm touch of Asako's lips. 
 
 She started back with a cry of "lya! (don't!)," the cry 
 of outraged Japanese femininity. Then she remembered 
 from her readings that such kissings were common 
 among European girls, that they were a compliment and 
 a sign of affection. But she hoped that it had not dis- 
 arranged her complexion again ; and that none of the 
 servants had seen. 
 
 Her cousin's surprise shook Asako out of her dream ; 
 and the kiss left a bitter powdery taste upon her lips 
 which disillusioned her. 
 
 "Shall we go into the garden?" said Sadako, who felt 
 that fresh air was advisable. 
 
 They joined hands ; so much familiarity was permitted 
 by Japanese etiquette. They went along the gravel path 
 to the summit of the little hillock where the cherry-trees 
 had lately been in bloom, Sadako in her bright kimono,
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 169 
 
 Asako in her dark suit. She looked like a mere mortal 
 being introduced to the wonders of Titania's country by 
 an authentic fairy. 
 
 The sun was setting in the clear sky, one half of which 
 was a tempest of orange, gold and red, and the other half 
 warm and calm with roseate reflections. Over the spot 
 where the focus point of all this glory was sinking into 
 darkness, a purple cloud hovered like a shred of the mon- 
 arch's glory caught and torn away on the jag of some 
 invisible obstruction. Its edges were white flame, as 
 though part o r the sun's fire were hidden behind it. 
 
 Even from this high position little could be seen 
 beyond the Fujinami enclosure except tree-tops. Away 
 down the valley appeared the grey scaly roofs of huddled 
 houses, and on a hill opposite more trees with the bizarre 
 pinnacle of a pagoda forcing its way through the midst 
 of them. It looked like a series of hats perched one on 
 the top of the other by a merchant of Petticoat Lane. 
 
 Lights were glimpsing from the Fujinami mansion; 
 more lights were visible among the shrubberies below. 
 This soft light, filtered through the paper walls, shone 
 like a luminous pearl. This is the home light of the 
 Japanese, and is as typical of their domesticity as the 
 blazing log-fire is of ours. It is greenish, still and pure, 
 like a glow-worm's beacon. 
 
 Out of the deep silence a bell tolled. It was as though 
 an unseen hand had struck the splendour of that metallic 
 firmament; or as though a voice had spoken out of the 
 sunset cloud. 
 
 The two girls descended to the brink of the lake. Here 
 at the farther end the water was broader; and it was 
 hidden from view of the houses. Green reeds grew along 
 the margin, and green iris leaves, like sword blades, 
 black now in the failing light. There was a studied 
 roughness in the tiny landscape, and in the midst of the 
 wilderness a little hut. 
 
 "What a sweet little summer-house !" cried Asako. 
 
 It looked like a settler's shack, built of rough, un- 
 shapen logs and thatched with rushes.
 
 170 KIMONO 
 
 "It is the room for the chanoyu, the tea-ceremony," 
 said her cousin. 
 
 Inside, the walls were daubed with earth ; and a round 
 window barred with bamboo sticks gave a view into 
 what was apparently forest depths. 
 
 "Why, it is just like a doll's house," cried Asako, de- 
 lighted. "Can we go in?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the Japanese. Asako jumped in at once 
 and squatted down on the clean matting; but her more 
 cautious cousin dusted the place with her handkerchief 
 before risking a stain. 
 
 "Do you often have tea-ceremonies?" asked Asako. 
 
 The Muratas had explained to her long ago something 
 about the mysterious rites. 
 
 "Two or three times in the Spring, and then two or 
 three times in the Autumn. But my teacher comes every 
 week." 
 
 "How long have you been learning?" Asako wanted 
 to know. 
 
 "Oh, since I was ten years old about.** 
 
 "Is it so difficult then?" said Asako, who had found 
 it comparatively easy to pour out a cup of drawing-room 
 tea without clumsiness. 
 
 Sadako smiled tolerantly at her cousin's naive ignor- 
 ance of things aesthetic and intellectual. It was as 
 though she had been asked whether music or philoso- 
 phy were difficult. 
 
 "One can never study too much," she said, "one is 
 always learning; one can never be perfect. Life is short, 
 art is long." 
 
 "But it is not an art like painting or playing the piano, 
 just pouring out tea?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Sadako smiled again, "it is much more than 
 that. We Japanese do not think art is just to be able to 
 do things, showing off like geisha. Art is in the character, 
 in the spirit. And the tea-ceremony teaches us to make 
 our character full of art, by restraining everything ugly 
 and common, in every movement, in the movement of 
 our hands, in the position of our feet, in the looks of our
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 171 
 
 faces. Men and women ought not to sit and move like 
 animals ; but the shape of their bodies, and their way of 
 action ought to express a poetry. That is the art of the 
 chanoyu." 
 
 "I should like to see it," said Asako, excited by her 
 cousin's enthusiasm, though she hardly understood a 
 word of what she had been saying. 
 
 "You ought to learn some of it," said Sadako, with 
 the zeal of a propagandist. "My teacher says and my 
 teacher was educated at the court of the Tokugawa 
 Shogun that no woman can have really good manners, 
 if she has not studied the chanoyu." 
 
 Of course, there was nothing which Asako would like 
 more than to sit in this fascinating arbour in the warm 
 days of the coming summer, and play at tea-parties with 
 her new-found Japanese cousin. She would learn to 
 speak Japanese, too; and she would help Sadako with 
 her French and English. 
 
 The two cousins worked out the scheme for their future 
 intimacy until the stars were reflected in the lake and 
 the evening breeze became too cool for them. 
 
 Then they left the little hermitage and continued their 
 walk around the garden. They passed a bamboo grove, 
 whose huge plumes, black in the darkness, danced and 
 beckoned like the Erl-king's daughters. They passed 
 a little house shuttered like a Noah's Ark, from which 
 came a monotonous moaning sound as of some one in 
 pain, and the rhythmic beat of a wooden clapper. 
 
 "What is that?" asked Asako. 
 
 "That is my father's brother's house. But he is illegiti- 
 mate brother ; he is not of the true family. He is a 
 very pious man. He repeats the prayer to Buddha ten 
 thousand times every day ; and he beats upon the mokugyo 
 a kind of drum like a fish which the Buddhist priests 
 use." 
 
 "Was he at the dinner last nigrht?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Oh no, he never goes out. He has not once left that 
 house for ten years. He is perhaps rather mad; but it 
 is said that he brings good luck to the family."
 
 172 KIMONO 
 
 A little farther on they passed two stone lanterns, 
 cold and blind like tombstones. Stone steps rose be- 
 tween them to what in the darkness looked like a large 
 dog-kennel. A lighted paper lantern hung in front of it 
 like a great ripe fruit. 
 
 "What is that?" asked Asako. 
 
 In the failing twilight this fairy garden was becoming 
 more and more wonderful. At any moment, she felt she 
 might meet the Emperor himself in the white robes of 
 ancient days and the black coal-scuttle hat. 
 
 "That is a little temple," explained her cousin, "for 
 Inari Sama." 
 
 At the top of the flight of steps Asako distinguished 
 two stone foxes. Their expression was hungry and 
 malign. They reminded her of what? She remembered 
 the little temple outside the Yoshiwara on the day she 
 had gone to see the procession. 
 
 "Do you say prayers there?" she asked her companion. 
 
 "No, / do not," answered the Japanese, "but the ser- 
 vants light the lamp every evening; and we believe it 
 makes the house lucky. We Japanese are very supersti- 
 tious. Besides, it looks pretty in the garden." 
 
 "I don't like the foxes' faces," said Asako, "they look 
 bad creatures." 
 
 "They are bad creatures," was the reply, "nobody likes 
 to see a fox; they fool people." 
 
 "Then why say prayers, if they are bad?" 
 
 "It is just because they are bad," said Sadako, "that 
 we must please them. We flatter them so that they may 
 not hurt us." 
 
 Asako was unlearned in the difference between religion 
 and devil-worship, so she did not understand the full 
 significance of this remark. But she felt an unpleasant 
 reaction, the first which she had received that day ; and 
 she thought to herself that if she were the mistress of 
 that lovely garden, she would banish the stone foxes 
 and risk their displeasure. 
 
 The two girls returned to the house. Its shutters were 
 up, and it, too, had that same appearance of a Noah's
 
 THE FAMILY ALTAR 173 
 
 Ark but of a more complete and expensive variety. 
 One little opening was left in the wooden armature for 
 the girls to enter by. 
 
 "Please come again many, many times," was cousin 
 Sadako's last farewell. "The house of the Fujinami is 
 your home. Sayonaral" 
 
 Geoffrey was waiting for his wife in the hall of the 
 hotel. He was anxious at her late return. His embrace 
 seemed to swallow her up to the amusement of the 
 boy sans who had been discussing the lateness of okusan, 
 and the possibility of her having an admirer. 
 
 "Thank goodness," said Geoffrey, "what have you been 
 doing? I was just going to organise a search party." 
 
 "I have been with Mrs. Fujinami and Sadako," Asako 
 panted, "they would not let me go; and oh!" She was 
 going to tell him all about her mother's picture ; but she 
 suddenly checked herself, and said instead, "They've 
 got such a lovely garden." 
 
 She described the home of the cousins in glowing 
 colours, the hospitality of the family, the cleverness of 
 cousin Sadako, and the lessons which they were going to 
 exchange. Yes, she replied to Geoffrey's questions, she 
 had seen the memorial tablets of her father and mother, 
 and their wedding photograph. But a strange paralysis 
 sealed her lips, and her soul became inarticulate. She 
 found herself absolutely incapable of telling that big 
 foreign husband of hers, truly as she loved him, the 
 veritable state of her emotions when brought face to 
 face with her dead parents. 
 
 Geoffrey had never spoken to her of her mother. He 
 had never seemed to have the least interest in her 
 identity. These "Jap women," as he called them, were 
 never very real to him. She dreaded the possibility of 
 revealing to him her secret, and then of receiving no 
 response to her emotion. Also she had an instinctive 
 reluctance to emphasise in Geoffrey's mind her kinship 
 with these alien people.
 
 174 KIMONO 
 
 After dinner, when she had gone up to her room, 
 Geoffrey was left alone with his cigar and his reflections. 
 
 "Funny that she did not speak more about her father 
 and mother. But I suppose they don't mean much to 
 her, after all. And, by Jove, it's a good thing for me. 
 I wouldn't like to have a wife who was all the time 
 running home to her people, and comparing notes with 
 her mother." 
 
 Upstairs in her bedroom, Asako had unrolled the 
 precious obi. An unmounted photograph came fluttering 
 out of the parcel. It was a portrait of her father alone, 
 taken a short time before his death. At the back of 
 the photograph was some Japanese writing. 
 
 "Is Tanaka there?" Asako asked her maid Titine. 
 
 Yes, of course, Tanaka was there, in the next room 
 with his ear near the door. 
 
 "Tanaka, what does this mean?" 
 
 "Japanese poem," he said, "meaning very difficult: 
 very many meanings : I think perhaps it means, having 
 travelled all over the world, he feels very sad." 
 
 "Yes, but word for word, Tanaka, what does it mean?" 
 
 "This writing means, World is really not the same it 
 says : all the world very many tell lies." 
 
 "And this?" 
 
 "This means, Travelling everywhere." 
 
 "And this at the end?" 
 
 "It means, Eveything always the same thing. Very 
 bad translation I make. Very sad poem." 
 
 "And this writing here?" 
 
 "That is Japanese name Fujinami Katsundo -and the 
 date, twenty-fifth year of Meiji, twelfth month." 
 
 Tanaka had turned over the photograph and was look- 
 ing attentively at the portrait. 
 
 "The honoured father of Ladyship, I think," he said. 
 
 "Yes," said Asako. 
 
 Then she thought she heard her husband's step away 
 down the corridor. Hurriedly she thrust obi and photo- 
 graph into a drawer. 
 
 Now, why did she do that? wondered Tanaka.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE DWARF TREES 
 
 Iwa-yado ni O pinetree standing 
 
 Tateru maisu no kit At the (side of ) the stone house, 
 
 Na wo mircba, When I look at you* 
 
 Mukashi no hito wo It is like seeing face to face 
 
 Ai-miru yotashi. The men of old time. 
 
 FOR the first time during the journey of their married 
 lives, Geoffrey and Asako were pursuing different paths. 
 It is the normal thing, no doubt, for the man to go out 
 to his work and to his play, while the wife attends to her 
 social and domestic duties. The evening brings reunion 
 with new impressions and new interests to discuss. Such 
 a life with its brief restorative separations prevents love 
 growing stale, and soothes the irritation of nerves which, 
 by the strain of petty repetitions, are exasperated some- 
 times into blasphemy of the heart's true creed. But the 
 Barrington menage was an unusual one. By adopting a 
 life of travel, they had devoted themselves to a pro- 
 tracted honeymoon, a relentless tete-a-tete. So long as 
 they were continually on the move, constantly refreshed 
 by new scenes, they did not feel the difficulty of their 
 self-imposed task. But directly their stay in Tokyo 
 seemed likely to become permanent, their ways separated 
 as naturally as two branches, which have been tightly 
 bound together, spread apart with the loosening of the 
 string. 
 
 This separation was so inevitable that 'they were 
 neither of them conscious of it. Geoffrey had all his 
 life been devoted to exercise and games of all kinds. 
 They were as necessary as food for his big body. At 
 Tokyo he had found, most unexpectedly, excellent tennis- 
 courts and first-class players. 
 
 They still spent the mornings together, driving round 
 
 175
 
 176 KIMONO 
 
 the city, and inspecting curios. So what could be more 
 reasonable than that Asako should prefer to spend her 
 afternoons with her cousin, who was so anxious to please 
 her and to initiate her into that intimate Japanese life, 
 which of course must appeal to her more strongly than 
 to her husband? 
 
 Personally, Geoffrey found the company of his Japan- 
 ese relatives exceedingly slow. 
 
 In return for the hospitalities of the Maple Club the 
 Barringtons invited a representative gathering of the 
 Fujinami clan to dinner at the Imperial Hotel, to be fol- 
 lowed by a general adjournment to the theatre. 
 
 It was a most depressing meal. Nobody spoke. All 
 of the guests were nervous ; some of them about their 
 clothes, some about their knives and forks, all of them 
 about their English. They were too nervous even to 
 drink wine, which would have been the only remedy for 
 such a "frost." 
 
 Only Ito, the lawyer, talked, talked noisily, talked with 
 his mouth full. But Geoffrey disliked Ito. He mistrusted 
 the man ; but, because of his wife's growing intimacy 
 with her cousins, he felt loath to start subterranean in- 
 quiries as to the whereabouts of her fortune. It was Ito 
 who, foreseeing embarrassment, had suggested the thea- 
 tre party after dinner. For this at least Geoffrey was 
 grateful to him. It saved him the pain of trying to make 
 conversation with his cousins. 
 
 "Talking to these Japs," he said to Reggie Forsyth, 
 "is like trying to play tennis all by yourself." 
 
 Later on, at his wife's insistence, he attended an in- 
 formal garden-party at the Fujinami house. Again he 
 suffered acutely from those cruel silences and porten- 
 tous waitings, to which he noticed that even the Japan- 
 ese among themselves were liable, but which apparently 
 they did not mind. 
 
 Tea and ice-creams were served by geisha girls who 
 danced afterwards upon the lawn. When this perform- 
 ance was over the guests were conducted to an open 
 space behind the cherry-grove, where a little shooting-
 
 THE DWARF TREES 177 
 
 range had been set up, with a target, air-guns and boxes 
 of lead lugs. Geoffrey, of course, joined in the shooting- 
 competition, and won a handsome cigarette case inlaid 
 with Damascene work. But he thought that it was a 
 poor game ; nor did he ever realize that this entertain- 
 ment had been specially organized with a view to flat- 
 tering his military and sporting tastes. 
 
 But the greatest disillusionment was the Akasaka gar- 
 den. Geoffrey was resigned to be bored by everything 
 else. But his wife had grown so enthusiastic about the 
 beauties of the Fujinami domain, that he had expected to 
 walk straight into a paradise. What did he see? A 
 dirty pond and some shrubs, not one single flower to break 
 the monotony of green and drab, and everything so small. 
 Why, he could walk round the whole enclosure in ten 
 minutes. Geoffrey Barrington was accustomed to coun- 
 try houses in England, with their broad acres and their 
 lavish luxuriance of scent and blossom. This niggling 
 landscape art of the Japanese seemed to him mean and 
 insignificant. 
 
 He much preferred the garden at Count Saito's home. 
 Count Saito, the late Ambassador at the Court of St. 
 James, with his stooping shoulders, his grizzled hair, 
 and his deep eyes peering under the gold-rimmed specta- 
 cles, had proposed the health of Captain and Mrs. Bar- 
 rington at their wedding breakfast. Since then, he had 
 returned to Japan, where he was soon to play a leading 
 political role. Meeting Geoffrey one day at the Em- 
 bassy, he had invited him and his wife to visit his famous 
 garden. 
 
 It was a hanging garden on the side of a steep hill, 
 parted down the middle by a little stream with its string 
 of waterfalls. Along either bank rose groups of iris, 
 mauve and white, whispering together like long-limbed 
 pre-Raphaelite girls. Round a sunny fountain, the source 
 of the stream, just below the terrace of the Count's 
 mansion, they thronged together more densely, sur-
 
 178 KIMONO 
 
 rounding the music of the water with the steps of a slow 
 sarabande, or pausing at the edge of the pool to admire 
 their own reflection. 
 
 Count Saito showed Geoffrey where the roses were 
 coming on, new varieties of which he had brought from 
 England with him. 
 
 "Perhaps they will not like to be turned into Japan- 
 ese," he observed ; "the rose is such an English flower." 
 
 They passed on to where the azaleas would soon be in 
 fiery bloom. For with the true gardener, the hidden 
 promise of the morrow is more stimulating to the enthu- 
 siasm than the assured success of the full flowers. 
 
 The Count wore his rustling native dress ; but two 
 black cocker spaniels followed at his heels. This com- 
 bination presented an odd mixture of English squire- 
 archy and the daimyo of feudal Japan. 
 
 On the crest of the hill above him rose the house, a tall 
 Italianate mansion of grey stucco, softened by creepers, 
 jessamine and climbing roses. Alongside ran the low 
 irregular roofs of the Japanese portion of the residence. 
 Almost all rich Japanese have a double house, half foreign 
 and half native, to meet the needs of their amphibious 
 existence. This grotesque juxtaposition is to be seen all 
 over Tokyo, like a tall boastful foreigner tethered to a 
 timid Japanese wife. 
 
 Geoffrey inquired in which wing of this unequal bivalve 
 his host actually lived. 
 
 "When I returned from England," said Count Saito, "I 
 tried to live again in the Japanese style. But we could 
 not, neither my wife nor I. We took cold and rheuma- 
 tism sleeping on the floor, and the food made us ill ; so 
 we had to give it up. But I was sorry. For I think it is 
 better for a country to keep its own ways. There is a 
 danger nowadays, when all the world is becoming cosmo- 
 politan. A kind of international type is springing up. 
 His language is esperanto, his writing is shorthand, he has 
 no country, he fights for whoever will pay him most, like 
 the Swiss of the Middle Ages. He is the mercenary of 
 commerce, the ideal commercial traveler. I am much
 
 THE DWARF TREES 179 
 
 afraid of him, because I am a Japanese and not a world 
 citizen. I want my country to be great and respected. 
 Above all, I want it to be always Japanese. I think that 
 loss in national character means loss of national 
 strength." 
 
 Asako was being introduced by her hostess to the cele- 
 brated collection of dwarf trees, which had made the 
 social fame of the Count's sojourn as Ambassador in 
 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Countess Saito, like her husband, spoke excellent Eng- 
 lish ; and her manner in greeting Asako was of London 
 rather than of Tokyo. She took both her hands and 
 shook them warmly. 
 
 "My dear," she said, in her curious deep hoarse voice, 
 "I'm so glad to see you. You are like a little bit of Lon- 
 don come to say that you have not forgotten me." 
 
 This great Japanese lady was small and very plain. 
 Her high forehead was deeply lined and her face was 
 marked with small-pox. Her big mouth opened wide as 
 she talked, like a nestling's. But she was immensely 
 rich. The only child of one of the richest bankers of 
 Japan, she had brought to her husband the opportunity 
 for his great gifts as a political leader, and the luxury 
 in which they lived. 
 
 The little trees were in evidence everywhere, decorat- 
 ing the living rooms, posted like sentinels on the terrace, 
 and staged with the honour due to statuary at points of 
 vantage in the garden. But their chief home was in a 
 sunny corner at the back of a shrubbery, where they 
 were aligned on shelves in the sunlight. Three special 
 gardeners who attended to their wants were grooming 
 and massaging them, soothing and titivating them, for 
 their temporary appearances in public. Here they had a 
 greenhouse of their own, kept slightly warmed for a few 
 delicate specimens, and also for the convalescence of the 
 hardier trees ; for these precious dwarfs are quite human 
 in their ailments, their pleasures and their idiosyncracies. 
 
 Countess Saito had a hundred or more of these fash- 
 ionable pets, of all varieties and shapes. There were
 
 180 KIMONO 
 
 giants of primeval forests reduced to the dimensions of a 
 few feet, like the timbers of a lordly park seen through 
 the wrong end of a telescope. There were graceful 
 maple trees, whose tiny star-like leaves were particularly 
 adapted to the process of diminution which had checked 
 the growth of trunk and branches. There were weeping 
 willows with light-green feathery foliage, such as sor- 
 rowing fairies might plant on the grave of some Talies- 
 sin of Oberon's court. There was a double cherry in be- 
 lated bloom ; its flowers of natural size hung amid the 
 slender branches like big birds' nests. There was a 
 stunted oak tree, creeping along the earth with gnarled 
 and lumpy limbs like a miniature dinosaur; it waved in 
 the air a clump of demensurate leaves with the truculent 
 mien of boxing-gloves or lobsters' claws. In the centre 
 of the rectangle formed by this audience of trees, and 
 raised on a long table, was a tiny wisteria arbor, formed 
 by a dozen plants arranged in quincunx. The intertwisted 
 ropes of branches were supported on shining rods of 
 bamboo ; and the clusters of blossom, like bunches of 
 grapes or like miniature chandeliers, still hung over the 
 litter of their fallen beauty, with a few bird-like flowers 
 clinging to them, pale and bleached. 
 
 "They are over two hundred years old," said their 
 proud owner, "they came from one of the Emperor's 
 palaces at Kyoto." 
 
 But the pride of the collection were the conifers and 
 evergreens trees which have Japanese and Latin names 
 only, the hinoki, the enoki, the sasaki, the kcyaki, the 
 ntaki, the surgi and the kusunoki all trees of the dark 
 funereal families of fir and laurel, which the birds avoid, 
 and whose deep winter green in the summer turns to 
 rust. There were spreading cedar trees, black like the 
 tents of Bedouins, and there were straight cryptomerias 
 for the masts of fairy ships. There was a strange tree, 
 whose light-green foliage grew in round clumps like 
 trays of green lacquer at the extremities of twisted 
 branches, a natural etagere. There were the distorted 
 pine-trees of Japan, which are the symbol of old age, of
 
 THE DWARF TREES 181 
 
 fidelity, of patience under adversity, and of the Japanese 
 nation itself, in every attitude of menace, curiosity, jubi- 
 lation and gloom. Some of them were leaning out of 
 their pots and staring head downwards at the ground 
 beneath them ; some were creeping along the earth like 
 reptiles ; some were mere trunks, with a bunch of green 
 needles sprouting at the top like a palm ; some with one 
 long pathetic branch were stretching out in quest of the 
 infinite to the neglect of the rest of the tree ; some were 
 tall and bent as by some sea wind blowing shoreward. 
 Streaking a miniature landscape, they were whispering 
 together the tales of centuries past. 
 
 The Japanese art of cultivating these tiny trees is a 
 weird and unhealthy practice, akin to vivisection, but 
 without its excuse. It is like the Chinese custom of 
 dwarfing their women's feet. The result is pleasing to 
 the eye ; but it hurts the mind by its abnormality, and 
 the heart by its ruthlessness. 
 
 Asako's admiration, so easily stirred, became enthusias- 
 tic as Countess Saito told her something of the personal 
 history of her favourite plants, how this one was two hun- 
 dred years old, and that one three hundred and fifty, and 
 how another had been present at such and such a scene 
 famous in Japanese history. 
 
 "Oh, they are lovely," cried Asako. "Where can one 
 get them? I must have some." 
 
 Countess Saito gave her the names of some well- 
 known market gardeners. 
 
 "You can get pretty little trees from them for fifty to 
 a hundred yen (5 to 10)," she said. "But of course the 
 real historical trees are so very few; they hardly ever 
 come on the market. They are like animals, you know. 
 They want so much attention. They must have a garden 
 to take their walks in, and a valet of their own." 
 
 This great Japanese lady felt an affection and sym- 
 pathy for the girl who, like herself, had been set apart by 
 destiny from the monotonous ranks of Japanese women 
 and their tedious dependence. 
 
 "Little Asa Chan," she said, calling her by her pet
 
 182 KIMONO 
 
 name, "take care; you can become Japanese again, but 
 your husband cannot." 
 
 "Of course not, he's too big," laughed Asako ; "but I 
 like to run away from him sometimes, and hide behind 
 the shoji. Then I feel independent." 
 
 "But you are not really so," said the Japanese, "no 
 woman is. You see the wisteria hanging in the big tree 
 there. What happens when the big tree is taken away? 
 The wisteria becomes independent, but it lies along the 
 ground and dies. Do you know the Japanese name for 
 wisteria? It is fnji Fujinami Asako. If you have any 
 difficulty ever, come and talk to me. You see, I, too, am a 
 rich woman; and I know that it is almost as difficult to 
 be very rich as it is to be very poor." 
 
 Captain Barrington and the ex-Ambassador were sit- 
 ting on one of the benches of the terrace when the ladies 
 rejoined them. 
 
 "Well, Daddy," the Countess addressed her husband in 
 English, "what are you talking about so earnestly?" 
 
 "About England and Japan," replied the Count. 
 
 As a matter of fact, in the course of a rambling con- 
 versation, Count Saito had asked his guest : 
 
 "Now, what strikes you as the most surprising differ- 
 ence between our two countries?" 
 
 Geoffrey pondered for a moment. He wanted to 
 answer frankly, but he was still awed by the canons of 
 Good Form. At last he said: "This Yoshivvara business." 
 
 The Japanese statesman seemed surprised. 
 
 "But that is just a local difference in the manner of 
 regulating a universal problem," he said. 
 
 "Englishmen aren't any better than they should be," 
 said Geoffrey ; "but we don't like to hear of women put 
 up for sale like things in a shop." 
 
 "Then you have not actually seen them yourself?" 
 said the Count. He could not help smiling at the charac- 
 teristic British habit of criticising on hearsay. 
 
 "Not actually ; but I saw the procession last month."
 
 THE DWARF TREES 183 
 
 "You really think that it is better to let immoral 
 women stray about the streets without any attempt to 
 control them and the crime and disease they cause?" 
 
 "It's not that," said Geoffrey ; "it seems to me horrible 
 that women should be put up to sale and exposed in 
 shop windows ticketed and priced." 
 
 Count Saito smiled again and said : 
 
 "I see that you are an idealist like so many English- 
 men. But I am only a practical statesman. The problem 
 of vice is a problem of government. No law can abolish 
 it. It is for us statesmen to study how to restrain it and 
 its evil consequences. Three hundred years ago these 
 women used to walk about the streets as they do in Lon- 
 don to-day. Tokugawa lyeyasu, the greatest of all Jap- 
 anese statesmen, who gave peace to the whole country, 
 put in order this untidiness also. He had the Yoshiwara 
 built, and he put all the women there, where the police 
 could watch both them and the men who visited them. 
 The English might learn from us here, I think. But you 
 are an unruly people. It is not only that you object for 
 ideal reasons to the imprisonment of these women; but 
 it is your men who would object very strongly to having 
 the eye of the policeman watching them when they paid 
 their visits." 
 
 Geoffrey was silenced by the experience of his host. 
 He was afraid, as most Englishmen are, of arguing 
 that the British determination to ignore vice, however 
 disastrous in practice, is a system infinitely nobler in 
 conception than the acquiescence which admits for the 
 evil its right to exist, and places it among the common- 
 places of life. 
 
 "And how about the people who make money out of 
 such a place?" asked Geoffrey. "They must be con- 
 temptible specimens." 
 
 The face of the wise statesman became suddenly gentle. 
 
 "I really don't know much about them," he said. "If 
 we do meet them they do not boast about it."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 EURASIA 
 
 Mono-sugo ya Queer 
 
 Ara omoshiro no Yes, but attractive 
 
 Kaeri-bana. Are the flowers which bloom 
 
 out of season. 
 
 ALTHOUGH he felt a decreasing interest in the Japanese 
 people, Geoffrey was enjoying his stay in Tokyo. He was 
 tired of traveling, and was glad to settle down in the 
 semblance of a home life. 
 
 He was very keen on his tennis. It was also a great 
 pleasure to see so much of Reggie Forsyth. Besides, he 
 was conscious of the mission assigned to him by Lady 
 Cynthia Cairns to save his friend from the dangerous 
 connection with Yae Smith. 
 
 Reggie and he had been at Eton together. Geoffrey, 
 four years the senior, a member of "Pop," and an athlete 
 of many colours, found himself one day the object of an 
 almost idolatrous worship on the part of a skinny little 
 being, discreditably clever at Latin verses, and given 
 over to the degrading habit of solitary piano practicing 
 on half-holidays. He was embarrassed but touched by a 
 devotion which was quite incomprehensible to him ; and 
 he encouraged it furtively. When Geoffrey left Eton the 
 friends did not see each other again for some years, 
 though they watched each other's careers from a dis- 
 tance, mutually appreciative. Their next meeting took 
 place in Lady Everington's drawing-room, where Bar- 
 rington had already heard fair ladies praising the gifts 
 and graces of the young diplomat. He heard him play 
 the piano ; and he also heard the appreciation of discern- 
 ing judgment. He heard him talking with arabesque 
 agility. It was Geoffrey's turn to feel on the wrong side 
 of a vast superiority, and in his turn he repaid the old 
 
 184
 
 EURASIA 185 
 
 debt of admiration ; generosity filled the gulf and the two 
 became firm friends. Reggie's intelligence flicked the 
 inertia of Geoffrey's mind, quickened his powers of ob- 
 servation, and developed his sense of interest in the world 
 around him. Geoffrey's prudence and stolidity had more 
 than once saved the young man from the brink of senti- 
 mental precipices. 
 
 For Reggie's unquestionable musical talent found its 
 nourishment in love affairs dangerously unsophisticated. 
 He refused to consider marriage with any of the sweet 
 young things, who would gladly have risked his luke- 
 warm interest for the chance of becoming an Ambassa- 
 dor's wife. He equally avoided pawning his youth to any 
 of the maturer married ladies, whose status and charac- 
 ter, together with those of their husbands, license them 
 to practice as certificated Egerias. His dangerous pen- 
 chant was for highly spiced adventuresses, and for pas- 
 toral amourettes, wistful and obscure. But he never 
 gave away his heart ; he lent it out at interest. He re- 
 ceived it again intact, with the profit of his musical in- 
 spiration. Thus his liaison with Veronique Gerson pro- 
 duced the publication of Les demi-jours, a series of musi- 
 cal poems which placed him at once in the forefront of 
 young composers ; but it also alarmed the Foreign Office, 
 which was paternally interested in Reggie's career. This 
 brought about his banishment to Japan. The Attente 
 d'hiver, now famous, is his candid musical confession that 
 the coma inflicted upon him by Veronique's unconcern 
 was merely the drowsiness of the waiting earth before 
 the New Year brought back the old story. 
 
 Reggie would never be attracted to native women ; 
 and he had not the dry inquisitiveness of his predecessor, 
 Aubrey Laking, which might induce him to buy and 
 keep a woman for whom he felt no affection. The love 
 which can exchange no thoughts in speech was alto- 
 gether too crude for him. It was his emotions, rather 
 than his senses, which were always craving for amorous 
 excitement. His frail body claimed merely its right to 
 follow their lead, as a little boat follows the strong wind
 
 186 KIMONO 
 
 which fills its sails. But ever since he had loved Geof- 
 frey Barrington at Eton it was a necessity for his nature 
 to love some one ; and as the haze of his young concep- 
 tions cleared, that some one became necessarily a woman. 
 He soon recognized the wisdom of the Foreign Office 
 in choosing Japan. It was a starvation diet which had 
 been prescribed for him. So he settled down to his mem- 
 ories and to L'attente d'hiver, thinking that it would be 
 two long years or more before his Spring blossomed 
 again. 
 
 Then he heard the story of the duel fought for Yae 
 Smith by two young English officers, both of them her 
 lovers, so people said, and the vaguer tale of a fiance's 
 suicide. Some weeks later, he met her for the first time 
 at a dance. She was the only woman present in Japanese 
 dress, and Reggie thought at once of Asako Barrington. 
 How wise of these small women to wear the kimono 
 which drapes so gracefully their stumpy figures. He 
 danced with her, his right hand lodged somewhere in the 
 folds of the huge bow with the embroidered peacock, 
 which covered her back. Under this stiff brocade he 
 could feel no sensation of a living body. She seemed to 
 have no bones in her, and she was as light as a feather. 
 It was then that he imagined her as Lilith, the snake- 
 girl. She danced with ease, so much better than he, that 
 at the end of a series of cannons she suggested that they 
 might sit out the dance. She guided him into the garden, 
 and they took possession of a rustic seat. In the ball- 
 room she had seemed timid, and had spoken in under- 
 tones only; but in this shadowy tetc-a-tetc beneath the 
 stars, she began to talk frankly about her own life. 
 
 She told him about her one visit to England with her 
 father ; how she had loved the country, and how dull it 
 was for her here in Japan. She asked him about his 
 music. She would so like to hear him play. There was 
 an old piano at her home. She did not think he would 
 like it very much indeed, Reggie was already shudder-
 
 EURASIA 187 
 
 ing in anticipation or else? Would she come to tea 
 with him at the Embassy? That would be nice! She 
 could bring her mother or one of her brothers? She 
 would rather come with a girl friend. Very well, to- 
 morrow? 
 
 On the morrow she came. 
 
 Reggie hated playing in public. He said that it was 
 like stripping naked before a multitude, or like having 
 to read one's own love letters aloud in a divorce court. 
 But there is nothing more soothing than to play to one 
 attentive listener, especially if that listener be feminine 
 and if the interest shown be that personal interest, which 
 with so many women takes the place of true apprecia- 
 tion, and which looks over the art to the artist. 
 
 Yae came with the girl friend, a lean and skinny half- 
 caste girl like a gipsy, whom Yae patronized. She came 
 once again with the girl friend ; and then she came alone. 
 
 Reggie was relieved, and said so. Yae laughed and 
 replied: 
 
 "But I brought her for your own sake ; I always go 
 everywhere by myself." 
 
 "Then please don't take me into consideration ever 
 again," answered Reggie. 
 
 So those afternoons began which so soon darkened 
 into evenings, while Reggie sat at the piano playing his 
 thoughts aloud, and the girl lay on the sofa or squatted 
 on the big cushion by the fire, with cigarettes within 
 reach and a glass of liqueur, wrapped in an atmosphere 
 of laziness and well-being such as she had never known 
 before. Then Reggie would stop playing. He would sit 
 down beside her, or he would take her on his knee ; and 
 they would talk. 
 
 He talked as poets talk, weaving stories out of nothing, 
 finding laughter and tears in what she would have passed 
 by unnoticed. She talked to him about herself, about 
 the daily doings of her home, its sadness and isolation 
 since her father died. He had been the playfellow of her 
 childhood. He had never grudged his time or his money 
 for her amusement. She had been brought up like a lit-
 
 188 KIMONO 
 
 tie princess. She had been utterly spoiled. He had trans- 
 ferred to her precocious mind his love of excitement, his 
 inquisitiveness, his courage and his lack of scruple ; and 
 then, when she was sixteen, he had died, leaving as his 
 last command to the Japanese wife who would obey him 
 in death as she had obeyed him living, the strict injunc- 
 tion that Yae was to have her own way always and in 
 everything. 
 
 He left a respectable fortune, a Japanese widow and 
 two worthless sons. 
 
 Poor Yae! Surrounded by the friends and amusements 
 of an English girl's life, the qualities of her happy dis- 
 position might have borne their natural fruit. But at her 
 father's death she found herself isolated, without friends 
 and without amusements. She found herself marooned 
 on the island of Eurasia, a flat and barren land of nar- 
 row confines and stunted vegetation. The Japanese have 
 no use for the half-castes ; and the Europeans look down 
 upon them. They dwell apart in a limbo of which Baron- 
 ess Miyazaki is the acknowledged queen. 
 
 Baroness Miyazaki is a stupendous old lady, whose 
 figure might be drawn from some eighteenth-century 
 comedy. Her late husband and gossip says that she 
 was his landlady during a period of study in England 
 held a high position in the Imperial Court. His wife, by 
 a pomposity of manner and an assumption of superior 
 knowledge, succeeded, where no other white woman has 
 succeeded, in acquiring the respect and intimacy of the 
 great ladies of Japan. She has inculcated the accents of 
 Pentonville, with its aitches dropped and recovered 
 again, among the high Japanese aristocracy. 
 
 But first her husband died ; and then the old Imperial 
 Court of the Emperor Meiji passed away. So Baroness 
 Miyazaki had to retire from the society of princesses. 
 She passed not without dignity, like an old monarch 
 en disponibilitt, to the vacant throne of the Eurasian 
 limbo, where her rule is undisputed. 
 
 Every Friday afternoon you may see her presiding 
 over her little court in the Miyazaki mansion, with its
 
 EURASIA 189 
 
 mixture of tinsel and dust. The Bourbonian features, 
 the lofty white wig, the elephantine form, the rustling 
 taffeta, and the ebony stick with its ivory handle, leads 
 one's thoughts backwards to the days of Richardson and 
 Sterne. 
 
 But her loyal subjects who surround her it is impos- 
 sible to place them. They are poor, they are untidy, they 
 are restless. Their black hair is straggling, their brown 
 eyes are soft, their clothes are desperately European, but 
 ill-fitting and tired. They chatter together ceaselessly 
 and rapidly like starlings, with curious inflections in their 
 English speech, and phrases snatched up from the ver- 
 nacular. They are forever glancing and whispering, 
 bursting at times into wild peals of laughter which lack 
 the authentic ring of gladness. They are a people of 
 shadows blown by the harsh winds of destiny across 
 the face of a land where they can find no permanent rest- 
 ing place. They are the children of Eurasia, the unhap- 
 piest people on earth. 
 
 It was among these people that Yae's lot was cast. She 
 stepped into an immediate ascendancy over them, thanks 
 to her beauty, her personality and, above all, to her 
 money. Baroness Miyazaki saw at once that she had a 
 rival in Eurasia. She hated her, but waited calmly for 
 the opportunity to assist in her inevitable collapse, a 
 woman of wide experience watching the antics of a girl 
 innocent and giddy, the Baroness playing the part of 
 Elizabeth of England to Yae's Mary Queen of Scots. 
 
 Meanwhile, Yae was learning what the Eurasian girls 
 were whispering about so continually love affairs, in- 
 trigues with secretaries of South American legations, 
 secret engagements, disguised messages. 
 
 This seed fell upon soil well-prepared. Her father had 
 been a reprobate till the day of his death, when he had 
 sent for his favourite Japanese girl to come and massage 
 the pain out of his wasted body. Her brothers had one 
 staple topic of conversation which they did not hesitate 
 to discuss before their sister geisha, assignation houses, 
 and the licensed quarters. Yae's mind was formed to
 
 190 KIMONO 
 
 the idea that for grown-up people there is one absorbing 
 distraction, which is to be found in the company of the 
 opposite sex. 
 
 There was no talk in the Smith's home of the romance 
 of marriage, of the love of parents and children, which 
 might have turned this precocious preoccupation in a 
 healthy direction. The talk was of women all the time, 
 of women as instruments of pleasure. Nor could Mrs. 
 Smith, the Japanese mother, guide her daughter's steps. 
 She was a creature of duty, dry-featured and self-effaced. 
 She did her utmost for her children's physical wants, she 
 nursed them devotedly in sickness, she attended to their 
 clothes and to their comforts. But she did not attempt 
 to influence their moral ideas. She had given up any 
 hope of understanding her husband. She schooled her- 
 self to accept everything without surprise. Poor man ! 
 He was a foreigner and had a fox (i.e. he was possessed) ; 
 and unfortunately his children had inherited this incor- 
 rigible animal. 
 
 To please her daughter she opened up her house for 
 hospitality with unseemly promptitude after her hus- 
 band's death. The Smiths gave frequent dances, well- 
 attended by young people of the Tokyo foreign commun- 
 ity. At the first of these series, Yae listened to the pas- 
 sionate pleadings of a young man called Hoskin, a clerk 
 in an English firm. On the second opportunity she be- 
 came engaged to him. On the third, she was struck with 
 admiration and awe by a South American diplomat with 
 the green ribbon of a Bolivian order tied across his false 
 shirt front. Don Quebrado d'Acunha was a practiced 
 hand at seduction and Ya6 became one of his victims 
 soon after her seventeenth birthday, and just ten days 
 before her admirer sailed away to rejoin his legitimate 
 spouse in Guayaquil. The engagement with Hoskin still 
 lingered on; but the young man, who adored her was 
 haggard and pale. Ya6 had a new follower, a teacher 
 of English in a Japanese school, who recited beautifully 
 and wrote poetry about her.
 
 EURASIA 191 
 
 Then Baroness Miyazaki judged that her time was 
 ripe. She summoned young Hoskin into her dowager 
 presence, and, with a manner heavily maternal, she 
 warned him against the lightness of his fiancee. When 
 he refused to believe evil of her she produced a pathetic 
 letter full of half-confessions, which the girl herself had 
 written to her in a moment of expansion. A week later 
 the young man's body was washed ashore near Yoko- 
 hama. 
 
 Yae was sorry to hear of the accident ; but she had 
 long ceased to be interested in Hoskin, the reticence of 
 whose passion had seemed like a touch of ice to her 
 fevered nerves. But this was Baroness Miyazaki's op- 
 portunity to discredit Yae, to crush her rival out of seri- 
 ous competition, and to degrade her to the demi-monde. 
 It was done promptly and ruthlessly ; for the Baroness's 
 gossip carried weight throughout the diplomatic, profes- 
 sional and missionary circles, even where her person was 
 held in ridicule. The facts of Hoskin's suicide became 
 known. Nice women dropped Yae entirely ; and bad men 
 ran after her with redoubled zest. Yae did not realize 
 her ostracism. 
 
 The Smith's dances next winter became so many com- 
 petitions for the daughter's corruption, and were ren- 
 dered brilliant by the presence of several of the young 
 officers attached to the British Embassy, who made the 
 running, and finally monopolized the prize. 
 
 Next year the Smiths acquired a motor-car which soon 
 became Yae's special perquisite. She would disappear 
 for whole days and nights. None of her family could 
 restrain her. Her answer to all remonstrances was : 
 
 "You do what you want ; I do what I want." 
 
 That summer two English officers whom she especially 
 favoured fought a duel with pistols for her beauty or 
 for her honour. The exact motive remained unknown. One 
 was seriously wounded ; and both of them had to leave 
 the country. 
 
 Yae was grieved by this sudden loss of both her lovers. 
 It left her in a condition of double widowhood from
 
 192 KIMONO 
 
 which she was most anxious to escape. But now she was 
 becoming more fastidious. The school teachers and the 
 dagos fascinated her no longer. Her soldier friends had 
 introduced her into Embassy circles, and she wished to 
 remain there. She fixed on Aubrey Laking for her next 
 attempt, but from him she received her first rebuff. 
 Having lured him into a tete-a-tete, as her method was, 
 she asked him for counsel in the conduct of her life. 
 
 "If I were you," he said dryly, "I should go to Paris or 
 New York. You will find much more scope there." 
 
 Fortunately fate soon exchanged Aubrey Laking for 
 Reggie Forsyth. He was just what suited her for a 
 time. But a certain impersonality in his admiration, his 
 fits of reverie, the ascendancy of music over his mind, 
 made her come to regret her more masculine lovers. And 
 it was just at this moment of dissatisfaction that she first 
 saw Geoffrey Barrington, and thought how lovely he 
 would look in his uniform. From that moment desire 
 entered her heart. Not that she wanted to lose Reggie ; 
 the peace and harmony of his surroundings soothed her 
 like a warm and scented bath. But she wanted both. 
 She had had two before, and had found them compli- 
 mentary to one another and agreeable to her. She 
 wanted to sit on Geoffrey's knee and to feel his strong 
 arms round her. But she must not be too sudden in her 
 advances, or she would lose him as she had lost Laking. 
 
 It is easy to condemn Yae as a bad girl, a born cocotte. 
 Yet such a judgment would not be entirely equitable. 
 She was a laughter-loving little creature, a child of the 
 sun. She never sought to do harm to anybody. Rather 
 was she over-amiable. She wished above all to make 
 her men friends happy and to be pleasing in their eyes. 
 She was never swayed by mercenary motives. She was 
 to be won by admiration, by good looks, and by personal 
 distinction, but never by money. If she tired of her 
 lovers somewhat rapidly, it was as a child tires of a 
 game or of a book, and leaves it forgotten to start another. 
 
 She was a child with bad habits, rather than a mature 
 sinner. It never occurred to her that, because Geof-
 
 EURASIA 193 
 
 frey Barrington was married, he at least ought to be 
 immune from her attack. In her dreams of an earthly 
 paradise there was no marrying or giving in marriage, 
 only the sweet mingling of breath, the quickening of 
 the heart-beats like the pulsation of her beloved motor- 
 car, the sound as of violin arpeggios rising higher and 
 ever higher, the pause of the ecstatic moment when the 
 sense of time is lost and then the return to earth on 
 lazy languorous wings like a sea-gull floating motion- 
 less on a shoreward breeze. Such was Yae"'s ideal of 
 Love and of Life too. It is not for us to condemn Yae\ 
 but rather should we censure the blasphemy of mixed 
 marriages which has brought into existence these thistle- 
 down children of a realm which has no kings or priests 
 or laws or Parliaments or duty or tradition or hope 
 for the future, which has not even an acre of dry ground 
 for its heritage or any concrete symbol of its soul the 
 Cimmerian land of Eurasia. 
 
 Reggie Forsyth understood the pathos of the girl's 
 position; and being a rebel and an anarchist at heart, 
 he readily condoned the faults which she confided to 
 him frankly. Gradually Pity, most dangerous of all 
 counsellors, revealed her to him as a girl romantically 
 unfortunate, who never had a fair chance in life, who 
 had been the sport of bad men and fools, who needed 
 only a measure of true friendship and affection for 
 the natural sunshine of her disposition to scatter the 
 rank vapours of her soul's night. What Reggie grasped 
 only in that one enlightened moment when he had 
 christened her Lamia, was the tragic fact that she had 
 no soul.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 
 
 Tsuki-yo yoshi The sea-shore of Mitsu ! 
 
 Tachitsu itsu netsu Standing, sitting or lying 
 
 Mitsu-no-hama. down, 
 
 How lovely is the moonlight 
 night ! 
 
 BEFORE the iris had quite faded, and before the azaleas 
 of Hibiya were set ablaze in Japan they count the 
 months by the blossoming of the flowers Reggie Forsyth 
 had deserted Tokyo for the joys of sea bathing at Kama- 
 kura. He attended at the Embassy for office hours dur- 
 ing the morning, but returned to the seaside directly 
 after lunch. This departure disarranged Geoffrey's 
 scheme for his friend's salvation ; for he was not pre- 
 pared to go the length of sacrificing his daily game of 
 tennis. 
 
 "What do you want to leave us for?" he remonstrated. 
 
 "The bathing," said Reggie, "is heavenly. Besides, 
 next month I have to go into villegiatura with my chief. 
 I must prepare myself for the strain with prayer and 
 fasting. But why don't you come down and join us?" 
 
 "Is there any tennis?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "There is a court, a grass court with holes in it; but 
 I've never seen anybody playing." 
 
 "Then what is there to do?" 
 
 "Oh, bathing and sleeping and digging in the sand and 
 looking at temples and bathing again; and next week 
 there is a dance." 
 
 "Well, we might come down for that if her Ladyship 
 agrees. How is Lamia?" 
 
 "Don't call her that, please. She has got a soul after 
 all. But it is rather a disobedient one. It runs away like 
 
 194
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 195 
 
 a little dog, and goes rabbit-hunting for days on end. 
 She is in great form. We motor in the moon light." 
 
 "Then 1 think it is quite time I did come," said Geof- 
 frey. 
 
 bo the Barringtons arrived in their sumptuous car on 
 the afternoon before the dance of which Reggie Forsyth 
 had spoken. 
 
 On the beach they found him in a blue bathing-costume 
 sitting under an enormous paper umbrella with Miss 
 Smith and the gipsy half-caste girl. Yae wore a cotton 
 kimono of blue and white, and she looked like a figurine 
 from a Nanking vase. 
 
 "Geoffrey," said the young diplomat, "come into the 
 sea at once. You look thoroughly dirty. Do you like 
 sea-bathing, Mrs. Barrington?" 
 
 "I have only paddled," said Asako, "when I was a little 
 girl." 
 
 Geoffrey could not resist the temptation of the blue 
 water and the lazy curling waves. In a few minutes the 
 two men were walking down to the sea's edge, Geoffrey 
 laughing at Reggie's chatter. His arms were akimbo, 
 with hands on the hips, hips which looked like the boles 
 of a mighty oak-tree. He touched the ground with the 
 elasticity of Mercury ; he pushed through the air with the 
 shoulders of Hercules. The line of his back was pliant 
 as a steel blade. In his hair the sun's reflection shone like 
 wires of gold. The Gods were come down in the sem- 
 blance of men. 
 
 Yae did not repress a sharp intake of her breath; and 
 she squeezed the hand of the gipsy girl as if pain had 
 gripped her. 
 
 "How big your husband is !" she said to Asako. "What 
 a splendid man!" 
 
 Asako thought of her husband as "dear old Geoffrey." 
 She never criticized his points; nor did she think that 
 Yae's admiration was in very good taste. However, she 
 accepted it as a clumsy compliment from an uneducated 
 girl who knew no better. The gipsy companion watched
 
 196 KIMONO 
 
 with a peculiar smile. She understood the range of 
 Yae's admiration. 
 
 "Isn't it a pity they have to wear bathing dress?" Miss 
 Smith went on. "It's so ugly. Look at the Japanese." 
 
 Farther along the beach some Japanese men were 
 bathing. They threw their clothes down on the sand and 
 ran into the water with nothing on their bodies except 
 a strip of white cotton knotted round the loins. They 
 dashed into the sea with their arms lifted above their 
 head, shouting wildly like savage devotees calling upon 
 their gods. The sea sparkled like silver round their 
 tawny skin. Their torsos were well formed and hardy; 
 their dwarfed and ill-shaped legs were hidden by the 
 waves. Certainly they presented an artistic contrast 
 with the sodden blue of the foreigners' bathing suits. 
 But Asako, brought up to the strict ideals of convent 
 modesty, said : 
 
 "I think it's disgusting; the police ought to stop ; those 
 people bathing with no clothes on." 
 
 The dust and sun of the motor ride, the constant anx- 
 iety lest they might run over some doddering old woman 
 or some heedless child, had given her a headache. As 
 soon as Geoffrey returned from his dip, she announced 
 that she would go back to her room. 
 
 As the headache continued, she abandoned the idea of 
 dancing. She would go to bed, and listen to the music 
 in the distance. Geoffrey wished to stay with her, but 
 she would not hear of it. She knew that her husband 
 was fond of dancing; she thought that the change and 
 the brightness would be good for him. 
 
 "Don't flirt with Yae Smith," she smiled, as he gave her 
 the last kiss, "or Reggie will be jealous." 
 
 At first Geoffrey was bored. He did not know many 
 of the dancers, business people from Yokohama, most of 
 them, or strangers stopping at the hotel. Their appear- 
 ance depressed him. The women had hard faces, the 
 lustre was gone from their 'hair, they wore ill-fitting 
 dresses without style or charm. The men were gross, 
 heavy-limbed and plethoric. The music was appalling. It
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 197 
 
 was produced out of a piano, a cello, and a violin driven 
 by three Japanese who cared nothing for time or tune. 
 Each dance, evidently, was timed to last ten minutes. 
 At the end of the ten minutes the music stopped without 
 finishing the phrase or even the bar ; and the movement 
 of the dancers was jerked into stability. 
 
 Reggie entered the room with Yae Smith. His man- 
 ner was unusually excited and elate. 
 
 "Hello, Geoffrey, enjoying yourself ?" 
 
 "No," said Geoffrey, "my wife has got a headache ; and 
 that music is simply awful." 
 
 "Come and have a drink," proposed Reggie. 
 
 He took them aside into the bar and ordered cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 "This is to drink our own healths," he announced, 
 "and many years of happiness to all of us. It is also, 
 Geoffrey, to drive away your English spleen, and to make 
 you into an agreeable grass-widower into whose hands I 
 may commend this young lady, because you can dance 
 and I cannot. My evening is complete. This is my Nunc 
 Dimittis." 
 
 He led them back to the ballroom. Then, with a low 
 bow and a flourish of an imaginary cocked-hat, he dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Geoffrey and Yae danced together. Then they sat out a 
 dance ; and then they danced again. Yae was tiny, but 
 she danced well ; and Geoffrey was used to a small part- 
 ner. For Yae it was sheer delight to feel the size and 
 strength of this giant man bending over her like a shel- 
 tering tree ; and then to be lifted almost in his arms and 
 to float on tiptoe over the floor with the delightful airi- 
 ness of dreams. 
 
 What strange orgies our dances are! To the critical 
 mind what a strange contradiction to our sheepish pas- 
 sion-hiding conventions ! A survival of the corrobborree, 
 of the immolation of the tribal virgins, a ritual handed 
 down from darkest antiquity like the cult of the Christ- 
 mas Tree and the Easter Egg; only their significance is 
 lost, while that of the dance is transparently evident.
 
 198 KIMONO 
 
 Maidens as chaste as Artemis, wives as loyal as Lucre- 
 tia pass into the arms of men who are scarcely known to 
 them with touchings of hands and legs, with crossings of 
 breath, to the sound of music aphrodisiac or fescennine. 
 
 The Japanese consider, not unreasonably, that our 
 dancing is disgusting. 
 
 A nice girl no doubt, and a nice man too, thinks of a 
 dance as a graceful exercise or as a game like tennis or 
 hockey. But Yae was not a nice girl; and when the 
 music stopped with its hideous abruptness, it awoke her 
 from a kind of trance in which she had been lost to all 
 sensations except the grip of Geoffrey's hand and arm, 
 the stooping of his shadow above her, and the tingling 
 of her own desire. 
 
 Geoffrey left his partner at the end of their second 
 dance. He went upstairs to see his wife. He found her 
 sleeping peacefully; so he returned to the ballroom 
 again. He looked in at the bar, and drank another glass 
 of champagne. He was beginning to enjoy himself. 
 
 He could not find Yae, so he danced with the gipsy 
 girl, who had a stride like a kangaroo. Then Yae re- 
 appeared. They had two more dances together, and an- 
 other glass of champagne. The night was fine. There 
 was a bright moonlight. Geoffrey remarked that it was 
 jolly hot for dancing. Yae suggested a stroll along the 
 seashore ; and in a few minutes they were standing to- 
 gether on the beach. 
 
 "Oh ! Look at the bonfires," cried Yae. 
 
 A few hundred yards down the sea-front, where the 
 black shadows of the native houses overhung the beach, 
 the lighted windows gleamed softly like flakes of mica. 
 The fishermen were burning seaweed and jetsam for 
 ashes which would be used as fertilizer. Tongues of fire 
 were flickering skywards. It was a blue night. The sky 
 was deep blue, and the sea an oily greenish blue. Blue 
 flames of salt danced and vanished over the blazing 
 heaps. The savage figures squatting round the fires 
 were dressed in tunics of dark blue cloth. Their legs 
 were bare. Their healthy faces lit up by the blaze were
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 199 
 
 the color of ripe apricots. Their attitudes and move- 
 ments were those of apes. The elder men were chatter- 
 ing together ; the younger ones were gazing into the fire 
 with an expression of healthy stupor. A boat was com- 
 ing in from the sea. A ruby light hung at the prow. It 
 was rowed by four men standing and yulohing, two in 
 the stern and two at the bow. They were intoning a 
 rhythmic chant to which their bodies moved. The boat 
 was slim and pointed ; and the rowers looked like Vikings. 
 
 The shadows cast by the moonlight were inky black, 
 the shadows of the beaked ships, the shadows of the sav- 
 age huts, of the ape-like men, of the huge round fish- 
 baskets like immense amphorae. 
 
 Far out from land, where the wide floating nets were 
 spread, lights were scattered like constellations. The 
 foreland was clearly visible, with the high woods which 
 clothed its summit. But the farther end of the beach 
 faded into an uneven string of lights, soft and spectral 
 as will-o'-the-wisps. Warmth rose from the sleeping 
 earth; and a breeze blew in from the sea, making a 
 strange metallic rustling, which to Japanese ears is the 
 sweetest natural music, in the gaunt sloping pine-trees, 
 whose height in the semi-darkness was exaggerated to 
 monstrous and threatening proportions. 
 
 Geoffrey felt a little hand in his, warm and moist. 
 
 "Shall we go and see Dai-Butsu?" said Yae. 
 
 Geoffrey had no idea who Dai-Butsu might be, but he 
 gladly agreed. She fluttered on beside him with her 
 long kimono sleeves like a big moth, Geoffrey's head 
 was full of wine and waltz tunes. 
 
 They dived into a narrow street with dwellings on 
 each side. Some of the houses were shuttered and silent. 
 Others were open to the street with a completeness of 
 detail denied by our stingy window-casements women 
 sitting up late over their needlework, men talking round 
 the firebox, shopkeepers adding up their accounts, /fisher- 
 men mending their tackle. 
 
 The street led inland towards abrupt hills, which 
 looked like a wall of darkness. It was lit by the round
 
 200 KIMONO 
 
 street lamps, the luminous globules with Chinese letters 
 on them which had pleased Geoffrey first at Nagasaki. 
 The road entered a gorge between two precipices, the 
 kind of cleft into which the children of Hamlin had fol- 
 lowed the Pied Piper. 
 
 "I would not like to come here alone," said Yae, cling- 
 ing tighter. 
 
 "It looks peaceful enough," said Geoffrey. 
 
 "There is a little temple just to the left, where a nun 
 was murdered by a priest only last year. He chopped 
 her with a kitchen knife." 
 
 "What did he do it for?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 "He loved her, and she would not listen to him ; so he 
 killed her. I think I would feel like that if I were a 
 man." 
 
 They passed under an enormous gateway, like a huge 
 barn door with no barn behind it. Two threatening gods 
 stood sentinel on either hand. Under the influence of the 
 moonlight the carved figures seemed to move. 
 
 Yae led her big companion along a broad-flagged path 
 between a pollarded avenue. Geoffrey still did not know 
 what they had come so far to see. Nor did he care. Every- 
 thing was so dreamy and so sweet. 
 
 The path turned ; and suddenly, straight in front of 
 them, they saw the God the Great Buddha the im- 
 mense bronze statue which has survived from the days 
 of Kamakura's sovereignty. The bowed head and the 
 broad shoulders were outlined against the blue and starry 
 sky; against the shadow of the woods the body, almost 
 invisible, could be dimly divined. The moonlight fell on 
 the calm smile and on the hands palm upwards in the 
 lap, with finger-tips and thumb-tips touching in the atti- 
 tude of meditation. That ineffably peaceful, smiling face 
 seemed to look down from the very height of heaven 
 upon Geoffrey Barrington and Yae Smith. The presence 
 of the God rilled the valley, patient and powerful, the 
 Creator of the Universe and the Maintainer of Life. 
 
 Geoffrey had never seen anything so impressive. He 
 stooped down towards his little companion, listening for
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 201 
 
 a response to his own emotion. It came. Before he 
 could realize what was happening he felt the soft kimono 
 sleeves like wings round his neck, and the girl's burning 
 mouth pressing his lips. 
 
 "Oh, Geoffrey," she whispered. 
 
 He sat down on a low table in front of a shuttered re- 
 freshment bar with Yae on his knee, his strong arm 
 round her, even as she had dreamed. The Buddha of 
 Infinite Understanding smiled down upon them. 
 
 Geoffrey was too little of a prig to scold the girl, and 
 too much of a man not to be touched and flattered by 
 the sincerity of her embrace. He was too much of an 
 Englishman to ascribe it to its real passionate motive, 
 and to profit by the opportunity. 
 
 Instead, he told himself that she was only a child ex- 
 cited by the beauty and the romance of the night even as 
 he was. He did not begin to realize that he or she were 
 making love. So he took her on his knee and stroked 
 her hand. 
 
 "Isn't he fine?" he said, looking up at the God. 
 
 She started at the sound of his voice, and put her arms 
 round his neck again. 
 
 "Oh, Geoffrey," she murmured, "how strong you are !" 
 
 He stood up laughing, with the girl in his arms. 
 
 "If it wasn't for your big obi" he said, "you -would 
 weigh nothing at all. Now hold tight ; for I am going 
 to carry you home." 
 
 He started down the avenue with a swinging stride. 
 Yae could watch almost within range of her lips the 
 powerful profile of his big face, a soldier's face trained to 
 command strong men and to be gentle to women and 
 children. There was a delicious fragrance about him, the 
 dry heathery smell of clean men. He did not look down 
 at her. He was staring into the black shadows ahead, 
 his mind still full of that sudden vision of Buddha Ami- 
 tabha. He was scarcely thinking of the half-caste girl 
 who clung tightly to his neck. 
 
 Yae had no interest in the Dai-Butsu except as a grand 
 background for love-making, a good excuse for hand
 
 202 
 
 squeezings and ecstatic movements. She had tried it once 
 before with her school-master lover. It never occurred 
 to her that Geoffrey was in any way different from her 
 other admirers. She thought that she herself was the 
 sole cause of his emotion and that his fixed expression 
 as he strode in the darkness was an indication of his 
 passion and a compliment to her charms. She was too 
 tactful to say anything, or to try to force the situation ; 
 but she felt disappointed when at the approach of lighted 
 houses he put her down without further caresses. In 
 silence they returned to the hotel, where a few tired 
 couples were still revolving to a spasmodic music. 
 
 Geoffrey was weary now ; and the enchantment of the 
 wine had passed away. 
 
 "Good-night, Yae," he said. 
 
 She was holding the lapels of his coat, and she would 
 have dearly loved to kiss him again. But he stood like 
 a tower without any sign of bending down to her ; and 
 she would have had to jump for the forbidden fruit. 
 
 "Good-night, Geoffrey," she purred, "I will never forget 
 to-night." 
 
 "It was lovely," said the Englishman, thinking of the 
 Great Buddha. 
 
 Geoffrey retired to his room, where Asako was sleeping 
 peacefully. He was very English. Only the first surprise 
 of the girl's kiss had startled his loyalty. With the 
 ostrich-like obtuseness, which our continental neighbours 
 call our hypocrisy, he buried his head in his principles. 
 As Asako's husband, he could not flirt with another 
 woman. As Reggie's friend, he would not flirt with 
 Reggie's sweetheart. As an honourable man, he would 
 not trifle with the affections of a girl who meant nothing 
 whatever to him. Therefore the incident of the Great 
 Buddha had no significance. Therefore he could lie down 
 and sleep with a light heart. 
 
 Geoffrey had been sleeping for half an hour or so when 
 he was awakened by a sudden jolt, as though the whole
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 203 
 
 building had met with a violent collision, or as though a 
 gigantic fist had struck it. Everything in the room was 
 in vibration. The hanging lamp was swinging like a 
 pendulum. The pictures were shaking on the walls. A 
 china ornament on the mantelpiece reeled, and fell with 
 a crash. 
 
 Geoffrey leapt out of bed to cross to where his wife 
 was sleeping. Even the floor was unsteady like a ship's 
 deck. 
 
 "Geoffrey ! Geoffrey !" Asako called out. 
 
 "It must be an earthquake," her husband gasped, 
 "Reggie told me to expect one." 
 
 "It has made me feel so sick," said Asako. 
 
 The disturbance was subsiding. Only the lamp was 
 still oscillating slightly to prove that the earthquake 
 was not merely a nightmare. 
 
 "Is any one about?" asked Asako. 
 
 Geoffrey went out on to the veranda. The hotel having 
 survived many hundreds of earthquake shocks, seemed 
 unaware of what had happened. Far out to sea puffs of 
 fire were dimly seen like the flashes of a battleship in 
 action, where the island volcano of Oshima was empty- 
 ing its wrath against the sky. 
 
 There were hidden and unfamiliar powers in this 
 strange country, of which Geoffrey and Asako had not 
 yet taken account. 
 
 Beneath a tall lamp-post on the lawn, round whose 
 smooth waxy light scores of moths were flitting, stood 
 the short stout figure of a Japanese, staring up at the 
 hotel. 
 
 "It looks like Tanaka," thought Geoffrey, "by Jove, 
 it is Tanaka !" 
 
 They had definitely left their guide behind in Tokyo. 
 Had Asako yielded at the last moment unable to dispense 
 with her faithful squire? Or had he come of his own 
 accord? and if so, why? These Japs were an unfathom- 
 able and exasperating people. 
 
 Sure enough next morning it was Tanaka who brought 
 the early tea.
 
 204 KIMONO 
 
 "Hello," said Geoffrey, "I thought you were in Tokyo." 
 
 "Indeed," grinned the guide, "I am sorry for you. 
 Perhaps I have commit great crime so to come. But I 
 think and I think Ladyship not so well. Heart very 
 anxious. Go to theatre, wish to make merry, but all 
 the time heart very sad. I think I will take last train. 
 I will turn like bad penny. Perhaps Lordship is angry." 
 
 "No, not angry, Tanaka, just helpless. There was an 
 earthquake last night?" 
 
 "Not so bad jishin (earth-shaking). Every twenty, 
 thirty years one very big jishin come. Last big jishin 
 Gifu jishin twenty years before. Many thousand people 
 killed. Japanese people say that beneath the earth is 
 one big fish. When the fish move, the earth shake. Silly 
 fabulous myth ! Tanaka say, 'It is the will of God !' " 
 
 The little man crossed himself devoutly. 
 
 A few minutes later there was a loud banging at the 
 door, followed by Reggie's voice, shouting, 
 
 "Are you coming down for a bath?" 
 
 "Earthquakes are horrible things," commented Reggie, 
 on their way to the sea. "Foreigners are supposed always 
 to sleep through their first one. Their second they find 
 an interesting experience ; but the third and the fourth 
 and the rest are a series of nervous shocks in increasing 
 progression. It is like feeling God but a wicked, cruel 
 God! No wonder the Japanese are so fatalistic and so 
 desperate. It is a case of 'Eat and drink, for to-morrow 
 ye die.' " 
 
 The morning sea was cold and bracing. The two 
 friends did not remain in for long. When they were 
 dried and dressed again, and when Geoffrey was for 
 returning to breakfast, Reggie held him back. 
 
 "Come and walk by the sea," he said, "I have some- 
 thing to tell you." 
 
 They turned in the direction of the fishing village, 
 where Geoffrey and Yae had walked together only a few 
 hours ago. But the fires were quenched. Black circles
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 205 
 
 of charred ashes remained; and the magic world of the 
 moonlight had become a cluster of sordid hovels, where 
 dirty women were sweeping their frowsty floors, and 
 scrofulous children were playing among stale bedding. 
 
 "Did you notice anything unusual in my manner last 
 night?" Reggie began very seriously. 
 
 "No," laughed Geoffrey, "you seemed rather excited. 
 But why did you leave so early?" 
 
 "For various reasons," said his friend. "First, I hate 
 dancing, but I feel rather envious of people who like it. 
 Secondly, I wanted to be alone with my own sensations. 
 Thirdly, I wanted you, my best friend, to have every 
 opportunity of observing Yae and forming an opinion 
 about her." 
 
 "But why?" Geoffrey began. 
 
 "Because it would now be too late for me to take 
 your advice," said Reggie mysteriously. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Barrington asked. 
 
 "Last night I asked Yae to marry me ; and I understand 
 that she accepted." 
 
 Geoffrey sat in the sunlight on the gunwale of a fish- 
 ingboat. 
 
 "You can't do that," he said. 
 
 "Oh, Geoffrey, I was afraid you'd say it, and you have," 
 said his friend, half laughing. "Why not?" 
 
 "Your career, old chap." 
 
 "My career," snorted Reggie, "protocol, protocol and 
 protocol. I am fed up with that, anyway. Can you 
 imagine me a be-ribboned Excellency, worked by wires 
 from London, babbling platitudes over teacups to other 
 old Excellencies, and giving out a lot of gas for the F. O. 
 every morning. No, in the old days there was charm and 
 power and splendour, when an Ambassador was really 
 plenipotentiary, and peace and war turned upon a court 
 intrigue. All that is as dead as Louis Quatorze. Person- 
 ality has faded out of politics. Everything is business, 
 now, concessions, vested interests, dividends and bond- 
 holders. These diplomats are not real people at all. 
 They are shadowy survivals of the grand siecle, wraiths
 
 206 KIMONO 
 
 of Talleyrand; or else just restless bagmen. I don't call 
 that a career." 
 
 Geoffrey had listened to these tirades before. It was 
 Reggie's froth. 
 
 "But what do you propose doing?" he asked. 
 
 "Doing? Why, my music of course. Before I left 
 England some music-hall people offered me seventy 
 pounds a week to do stunts for them. Their first offer 
 was two hundred and fifty, because they were under the 
 illusion that I had a title. My official salary at this 
 moment is two hundred per annum. So you see there 
 would be no financial loss." 
 
 "Then are you giving up diplomacy because you are 
 fed up with it? or for Yae Smith's sake? I don't quite 
 understand," said Geoffrey. 
 
 He was still pondering over the scene of last evening, 
 and he found considerable comfort in ascribing Yae's 
 behaviour to excitement caused by her engagement. 
 
 "Yae is the immediate reason: utter fed-upness is the 
 original cause," replied Reggie. 
 
 "Do you feel that you are very much in love with her?" 
 asked his friend. 
 
 The young man considered for a moment, and then 
 answered, 
 
 "No, not in love exactly. But she represents what I 
 have come to desire. I get so terribly lonely, Geoffrey, 
 and I must have some one, some woman, of course ; and 
 I hate intrigue and adultery. Yae never grates upon me. 
 I hate the twaddling activities of our modern women, 
 their little sports, their little sciences, their little earnest- 
 nesses, their little philanthropies, their little imitations 
 of men's ways. I like the seraglio type of woman, lazy 
 and vain, a little more than a lovely animal. I can play 
 with her, and hear her purring. She must have no 
 father or mother or brothers or sisters or any social 
 scheme to entangle me in. She must have no claim on 
 my secret mind, she must not be jealous of my music, 
 or expect explanations. Still less explain me to others,
 
 THE GREAT BUDDHA 207 
 
 a wife who shows one round like a monkey, what 
 horror!" 
 
 "But Reggie! old chap, does she love you?" 
 
 Geoffrey's ideas were stereotyped. To his mind, only 
 great love on both sides could excuse so bizarre a 
 marriage. 
 
 "Love !" cried Reggie. "What is Love ? I can feel 
 Love in music. I can feel it in poetry. I can see it in 
 sunshine, in the wet woods, and in the phosphorescent 
 sea. But in actual life ! I think of things in too abstract 
 a way ever to feel in love with anybody. So I don't 
 think anybody could really fall in love with me. It is 
 like religious faith. I have no faith, and yet I believe 
 in faith. I have no love, and yet I have a great love 
 for love. Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet 
 have believed!" 
 
 When Reggie was in this mood Geoffrey despaired of 
 getting any sense out of him, and he felt that the occa- 
 sion was too serious for smiles. 
 
 They were walking back to the hotel in the direction 
 of breakfast. 
 
 "Reggie, are you quite sure?" said his friend, solemnly. 
 
 "No, of course I'm not. I never could be." 
 
 "And are you intending to get married soon?" 
 
 "Not immediately, no: and all this is quite in con- 
 fidence, please." 
 
 "I'm glad there's no hurry," grunted Geoffrey. He 
 knew that the girl was light and worthless ; but to have 
 shown Reggie his proofs would have been to admit his 
 own complicity; and to give a woman away so callously 
 would be a greater offence against Good Form than his 
 momentary and meaningless trespass. 
 
 "But there is one thing you have forgotten," said 
 Reggie, rather bitterly. 
 
 "What's that, old chap?" 
 
 "When a fellow announces his engagement to the 
 dearest little girl in all the world, his friends offer their 
 congratulations. It's Good Form," he added maliciously.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE RAINY SEASON 
 
 Fugu-jiru no Poisonous delicacies (last 
 
 Ware ikite ir \ night) ! 
 
 Ne-satne kana! I awake 
 
 And I am still alive. 
 
 GEOFFREY HARRINGTON tried not to worry about Yae 
 Smith ; and, of course, he did not mention the episode of 
 the Great Buddha either to his wife or to Reggie Forsyth. 
 He did not exactly feel ashamed of the incident ; but he 
 realised that it was open to misinterpretation. He 
 certainly had no love for Yae; and she, since she was 
 engaged to his friend, presumably had no love for him. 
 There are certain unnatural states of mind in which we 
 are not altogether morally responsible beings. Among 
 these may be numbered the ball-room mood, which 
 drives quite sane people to act madly. The music, the 
 wine, the giddy turning, the display of women's charms 
 and the confusing proximity of them produce an un- 
 wonted atmosphere, of which we have most of us been 
 aware, so bewildering that admiration of one woman 
 will drive sane men to kiss another. Explanation is of 
 course impossible ; and circumstances must have their 
 way. Scheming people, mothers with daughters to 
 marry, study the effects of this psychical chemistry and 
 profit by their knowledge. Under similar influences 
 Geoffrey himself had been guilty of wilder indiscretions 
 than the kissing of a half-caste girl. 
 
 But when he thought the matter over, he was sorry 
 that it had occurred; and he was profoundly thankful 
 that nobody had seen him. 
 
 Somebody had seen him, however. 
 
 The faithful Tanaka, who had been charged by Mr. Ito, 
 the Fujinami lawyer, not to let his master out of his 
 
 208
 
 THE RAINY SEASON 209 
 
 sight, had followed him at a discreet distance during the 
 whole of that midnight stroll. He had observed the 
 talk and the attitudes, the silences and the holding of 
 hands, the glad exchange of kisses, the sitting of Yae on 
 Geoffrey's knees, and her triumphant return, carried in 
 his arms. 
 
 To the Japanese mind such conduct could only mean 
 one thing. The Japanese male is frankly animal where 
 women are concerned. He does not understand our fine 
 shades of self-deception, which give to our love-making 
 the thrill of surprise and the palliation of romance. 
 Tanaka concluded that there could be only one termin- 
 ation to the scene which he had witnessed. 
 
 He also learned that Yae Smith was Reggie Forsyth's 
 mistress, that he visited her room at night, that she was 
 a girl of no character at all, that she had frequently 
 stopped at the Kamakura hotel with other men, all of 
 them her lovers. 
 
 All this information Tanaka collected with a wealth 
 and precision of detail which is only possible in Japan, 
 where the espionage habit is so deeply implanted in the 
 every-day life of the people. 
 
 Mr. Ito could scarcely believe such welcome tidings. 
 The Barrington menage had seemed to him so devoted 
 that he had often despaired of his boast to his patron 
 that he would divide the wife from her husband, and 
 restore her to her family. Now, if Tanaka's story were 
 true, his task would be child's play. A woman charged 
 with jealousy becomes like a weapon primed and cocked. 
 If Ito could succeed in making Asako jealous, then he 
 knew that any stray spark of misunderstanding would 
 blast a black gulf between husband and wife, and might 
 even blow the importunate Englishman back to his own 
 country alone. 
 
 The lawyer explained his plan to the head of the family, 
 who appreciated its classic simplicity. Sadako was given 
 to understand the part which she was to play in alienat-
 
 210 KIMONO 
 
 ing her cousin's affections from the foreigner. She was 
 to harp on the faithlessness of men in general, and of 
 husbands in particular, and on the importance of money 
 values in matrimonial considerations. 
 
 She was to suggest that a foreign man would never 
 choose a Japanese bride merely for love of her. Then, 
 when the psychological moment had struck, the name 
 of Yae Smith was to be flashed into Asako's mind with 
 a blinding glare. 
 
 Asako had been visiting her Japanese cousins almost 
 every day. Her conversation lessons were progressing 
 rapidly ; for the first stages of the language are easy. 
 The new life appealed to Asako's love of novelty, and 
 the strangeness of it to her child's love of make-believe. 
 The summoning of her parents' spirits awakened in her 
 the desire for a home, which lurks in every one of us, 
 the love of old family things around us, the sense of 
 an inheritance and a tradition. She was tired of hotel 
 life; and she turned for relaxation to playing at Ja- 
 pan with cousin Sadako, just as her husband turned to 
 tennis. 
 
 Her favourite haunt was the little tea-house among 
 the reeds at the edge of the lake, which seemed so hidden 
 from everywhere. Here the two girls practised their 
 languages. Here they tried on each other's clothes, 
 and talked about their lives and purposes. Sadako 
 was intellectually the cleverer of the two, but Asako 
 had seen and heard more; so they were fairly equally 
 matched. 
 
 Often the cousins shocked each other's sense of pro- 
 priety. Asako had already observed that to the Japanese 
 mind, the immediate corollary to being married is to 
 produce children as promptly and as rapidly as possible. 
 Already she had been questioned on the subject by 
 Tanaka, by boy sans and by shop-attendants. 
 
 "It is a great pity," said cousin Sadako, "that you 
 have no baby. In Japan if a wife have no baby, she 
 is often divorced. But perhaps it is the fault of Mr. 
 Barrington?"
 
 THE RAINY SEASON 211 
 
 i 
 
 Asako had vaguely hoped for children in the future; 
 but on the whole she was glad that their coming had 
 been delayed. There was so much to do and to see first 
 of all. It had never occurred to her that her childlessness 
 might be the fault of either herself or her husband. But 
 her cousin went on ruthlessly, 
 
 "Many men are like that. Because of their sickness 
 their wives cannot have babies." 
 
 Asako shivered. This beautiful country of hers seemed 
 to be full of bogeys like a child's dream. 
 
 Another time Sadako asked her with much diffidence 
 and slanting of the eyes, 
 
 "I wish to learn about kissing." 
 
 "What is the Japanese for 'kiss'?" laughed Asako. 
 
 "Oh! There is no such word," expostulated Sadako, 
 shocked at her cousin's levity, "we Japanese do not 
 speak of such things." 
 
 'Then Japanese people don't kiss?" 
 
 'Oh, no," said the girl. 
 
 'Not ever?" asked Asako, incredulous. 
 
 'Only when they are quite alone." 
 
 'Then when you see foreign people kissing in public, 
 you think it is very funny?" 
 
 "We think it is disgusting," answered her cousin. 
 
 It is quite true. Foreigners kiss so recklessly. They 
 kiss on meeting: they kiss on parting. They kiss in 
 London: they kiss in Tokyo. They kiss indiscriminately 
 their fathers, mothers, wives, mistresses, cousins and 
 aunts. Every kiss sends a shiver down the spine of a 
 Japanese observer of either sex, as we should be shocked 
 by the crude exhibition of an obscene gesture. For this 
 blossoming of our buds of affection suggests to him, 
 with immediate and detailed clearness, that other em- 
 brace of which in his mind it is the inseparable con- 
 comitant. 
 
 The Japanese find the excuse that foreigners know 
 no better, just as we excuse the dirty habits of natives. 
 But they quote the kiss as an indisputable proof of the
 
 212 KIMONO 
 
 lowness of our moral standard, and as a sign of the 
 guilt, not of individuals so much as of our whole civil- 
 isation. 
 
 "Foreign people kiss too much," said cousin Sadako, 
 "it is a bad thing. If I had a husband, I would always 
 fear he kiss somebody else." 
 
 "That is why I am so happy with Geoffrey," said 
 Asako, "I know he would never love any one but 
 me." 
 
 "It is not safe to be so sure," said her cousin darkly, 
 "a woman is made for one man, but a man is made for 
 many women." 
 
 Asako, arrayed in a Japanese kimono, and to all appear- 
 ance as Japanese as her cousin, was sitting in the Fuji- 
 nami tea-parlour. She had not understood much of the 
 lesson in tea-ceremony at which she had just assisted. 
 But the exceeding propriety and dignity of the teacher, 
 the daughter of great people fallen upon evil days, had 
 impressed her. She longed to acquire that tranquillity 
 of deportment, that slow graceful poise of hand and 
 arm, that low measured speech. When the teacher had 
 gone, she began to mimic her gestures with all the 
 seriousness of appreciative imitation. 
 
 Sadako laughed. She supposed that her cousin was 
 fooling. Asako thought that she was amused by her 
 clumsiness. 
 
 "I shall never be able to do it," she sighed. 
 
 "But of course you will. I laugh because you are so 
 like Kikuye San." 
 
 Kikuye San was their teacher. 
 
 "If only I could practise by myself !" said Asako, "but 
 at the hotel it would be impossible." 
 
 Then they both laughed together at the incongruity 
 of rehearsing those dainty rites of old Japan in the over- 
 furnished sitting-room at the Imperial Hotel, with Geof- 
 frey sitting back in his arm-chair and puffing at his 
 cigar. 
 
 "If only I had a little house like this," said Asako. 
 
 "Why don't you hire one?" suggested her cousin.
 
 THE RAINY SEASON 213 
 
 Why not? The idea was an inspiration. So Asako 
 thought; and she broached the matter to Geoffrey that 
 very evening. 
 
 "Wouldn't it be sweet to have a ducky little Japanese 
 house all our very own?" she urged. 
 
 "Oh yes," her husband agreed, wearily, "that would 
 be great sport." 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro was delighted at the success of 
 his daughter's diplomacy. He saw that this plan for 
 a Japanese house meant a further separation of husband 
 and wife, a further step towards recovery of his errant 
 child. For he was beginning to regard Asako with 
 parental sentiment, and to pity her condition as the wife 
 of this coarse stranger. 
 
 Miss Sadako was under no such altruistic delusions. 
 She envied her cousin. She envied her money, her free- 
 dom, and her frank happiness. She had often pondered 
 about the ways of Japanese husbands and wives ; and the 
 more she thought over the subject, the more she envied 
 Asako her happy married life. She envied her with a 
 woman's envy, which seeks to hurt and spoil. She was 
 smarting from her own disappointment ; and by making 
 her cousin suffer, she thought that she could assuage 
 her own grief. Besides, the intrigue in itself interested 
 her, and provided employment for her idolent existence 
 and her restless mind. Of affection for Asako she had 
 none at all, but then she had no affection for anybody. 
 She was typical of a modern Japanese womanhood, 
 which is the result of long repression, loveless marriages 
 and sudden intellectual licence. 
 
 Asako thought her charming, because she had not yet 
 learned to discern. She confided to her all her ideas 
 about the new house ; and together the two girls explored 
 Tokyo in the motor-car which Ito provided for them, in- 
 specting properties. 
 
 Asako had already decided that her home was to be 
 on the bank of the river, where she could see the boats 
 passing, something like the house in which her father 
 and mother had lived. The desired abode was found
 
 214 KIMONO 
 
 at last on the river-bank at Mukojima just on the fringe 
 of the city, where the cherry-trees are so bright in 
 Springtime, where she could see the broad Sumida river 
 washing her garden steps, the fussy little river boats 
 puffing by, the portly junks, the crews of students train- 
 ing for their regattas, and, away on the opposite bank, 
 the trees of Asakusa, the garish river restaurants so noisy 
 at nightfall, the tall peaceful pagoda, the grey roofs and 
 the red plinths of the temple of the Goddess of Mercy. 
 
 Just when the new home was ready for occupation, 
 just when Asako's enthusiasm was at its height and the 
 purchases of silken bedding and dainty trays were almost 
 complete, Geoffrey suddenly announced his intention of 
 leaving Japan. 
 
 "I can't stick it any longer," he said fretfully, "I don't 
 know what's coming over me." 
 
 "Leave Japan?" cried his wife, aghast. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," grunted her husband, "it's no 
 good stopping here and going all to seed." 
 
 The rainy season was just over, the hot season of 
 steaming rain which the Japanese call nyubai. It had 
 played havoc with Geoffrey's nerves. He had never 
 known anything so unpleasant as this damp, relaxing 
 heat. It made the walls of the room sweat. It impreg- 
 nated paper and blotting-paper. It rotted leather ; and 
 spread mould on boots and clothes. It made matches 
 unstrikeable. It drenched Geoffrey's bed with perspira- 
 tion, and drove away sleep. It sent him out on long 
 midnight walks through the silent city in an atmosphere 
 as stifling as that of a green-house. It beat down upon 
 Tokyo its fetid exhalations, the smell of cooking, of 
 sewage and of humanity, and the queer sickly scent of a 
 powerful evergreen tree aflower throughout the city, 
 which resembled the reek of that Nagasaki brothel, 
 and recalled the dancing of the Chonkina. 
 
 It bred swarms of bloodthirsty mosquitoes from every 
 drop of stagnant water. They found their way through 
 the musty mosquito-net which separated his bed from 
 Asako's. They eluded his blow in the evening light ;
 
 THE RAINY SEASON 215 
 
 and he could only wreak his vengeance in the morning, 
 when they were heavy with his gore. 
 
 The colour faded from the Englishman's cheeks. His 
 appetite failed. He was becoming, what he had never 
 been before, cross and irritable. Reggie Forsyth wrote 
 to him from Chuzenji, 
 
 "Yae is here, and we go in for yachting in a kind of 
 winged punt, called a 'lark.' For five pounds you can 
 become a ship-owner. I fancy myself as a skipper, and 
 I have already won two races. But more often we escape 
 from the burble of the diplomats, and take our sand- 
 wiches and thermata or is thermal the plural? to the 
 untenanted shores of the lake, and picnic a deux. Then, 
 if the wind does not fall we are lucky; but if it does, 
 I have to row home. Yae laughs at my oarsmanship; 
 and says that, if you were here, you would do it so much 
 better. You are a dangerous rival, but for this once I 
 challenge you. I have a spare pen in my rabbit-hutch. 
 There is just room for you and Mrs. Barrington. You 
 must be quite melted by now. 
 
 But Asako did not want to go to Chuzenji. All her 
 thoughts were centred on the little house by the river. 
 
 "Geoffrey darling," she said, stroking his hair with her 
 tiny waxen fingers, "it is the hot weather which is mak- 
 ing you feel cross. Why don't you go up to the moun- 
 tains for a week or so, and stop with Reggie ?" 
 
 "Will you come?" asked her husband, brightening. 
 
 "I can't very well. You see they are just laying down 
 the tatami: and when that is done the house will be ready. 
 Besides, I feel so well here. I like the heat." 
 
 "But I've never been away without you!" objected 
 Geoffrey, "I think it would be beastly." 
 
 This side of the question had not struck Asako. She 
 was so taken up with her project. Now, however, she 
 felt a momentary thrill of relief. She would be able to 
 give all her time to her beloved Japanese home. Geoffrey 
 was a darling, but he was so uninterested in everything. 
 
 "It will only be for a few days," she said, "you want 
 the change ; and when you come back it will be like being 
 married again."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 
 
 lo chikaki Dusk, it seems, has come 
 
 Tsumagi no michi ya To the wood-cutter's track 
 
 Kure-nuramu; That is near my hut ; 
 
 Nokiba ni kudaru The voices of the mountainmen 
 
 Yama-bito no koye! Going down to the shed ! 
 
 GEOFFREY left early one morning in a very doubtful 
 frame of mind, after having charged Tanaka to take the 
 greatest care of his lady, and to do exactly what she told 
 him. 
 
 ^.It was not until half-way up the steep climb between 
 Nikko and Chuzenji that his lungs suddenly seemed to 
 break through a thick film, and he breathed fresh air 
 again. Then he was glad that he had come. 
 
 He was afoot. A coolie strode on before him with his 
 suit-case strapped on his back. They had started in 
 pouring rain, a long tramp through narrow gorges. 
 Geoffrey could feel the mountains around him ; but their 
 forms were wrapped in cloud. Now the mist was lift- 
 ing; and although in places it still clung to the branches 
 like wisps of cotton-wool, the precipitous slopes became 
 visible ; and overhead, peeping through the clouds at im- 
 possible elevations, pieces of the mountain seemed to be 
 falling from the grey sky. Everything was bathed in 
 rain. The sandstone cliffs gleamed like marble, the lux- 
 uriant foliage like polished leather. The torrent foamed 
 over its wilderness of grey boulders with a splendid rush 
 of liberty. 
 
 Country people passed by, dressed in straw overcoats 
 which looked like bee-hives, or with thin capes of oiled 
 paper, saffron or salmon-coloured. The kimono shirts 
 were girt up like fishers both men and women show- 
 ing gnarled and muscular limbs. The complexions of 
 
 216
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 217 
 
 these mountain folk were red like fruit; the Mongolian 
 yellow was hardly visible. 
 
 Some were leading long files of lean-shanked horses, 
 with bells to their bridles and high pack-saddles like 
 cradles, painted red. Rough girls rode astride in tight 
 blue trunk-hose. It was with a start that Geoffrey 
 recognised their sex; and he wondered vaguely whether 
 men could fall in love with them, and fondle them. They 
 were on their way to fetch provision for the lake settle- 
 ments, or for remote mining-camps way beyond the 
 mountains. 
 
 The air was full of the clamour of the torrent, the 
 heavy splashing of raindrops delayed among the leaves, 
 and the distant thunder of waterfalls. 
 
 What a relief to breath again, and what a pleasure to 
 escape from the tortuous streets and the toy houses, 
 from the twisted prettiness of the Tokyo gardens and 
 the tiresome delicacy of the rice-field mosaic, into a wild 
 and rugged nature, a land of forests and mountains 
 reminiscent of Switzerland and Scotland, where the occa- 
 sional croak of a pheasant fell like music upon Geoffrey's 
 ear! 
 
 The two hours' climb ended abruptly in a level sandy 
 road running among birch trees. At a wayside tea-house 
 a man was sitting on a low table. He wore white trous- 
 ers, a coat of cornflower shade and a Panama hat all 
 very spick and span. It was Reggie Forsyth. 
 
 "Hello," he cried, "my dear old Geoffrey ! I'm awfully 
 glad you've come. But you ought to have brought Mrs. 
 Barrington too. You seem quite incomplete without 
 her." 
 
 "Yes, it's a peculiar sensation, and I don't like it. But 
 the heat, you know, at Tokyo, it made me feel rotten. 
 I simply had to come away. And Asako is so busy now 
 with her new cousins and her Japanese house and all the 
 rest of it." 
 
 For the first time Reggie thought that he detected a 
 tone in his friend's voice which he had been expecting 
 to hear sooner or later, a kind of "flagging" tone he
 
 218 KIMONO 
 
 found the word afterwards in working out a musical 
 sketch called Love's Disharmony. Geoffrey looked white 
 and tired, he thought. It was indeed high time that he 
 came up to the mountains. 
 
 They were approaching the lake, which already showed 
 through the tree-trunks. A path led away to the left 
 across a rustic bridge. 
 
 "That's the way to the hotel. Yae is there. Farther 
 along are the Russian, French and British Embassies. 
 That's about half an hour from here." 
 
 Reggie's little villa stood at a few minutes' distance 
 in the opposite direction, past two high Japanese hotels 
 which looked like skeleton houses with the walls taken 
 out of them, past sheds where furs were on sale, and 
 picture post-cards, and dry biscuits. 
 
 The garden of the villa jutted out over the lake on an 
 embankment of stones. The house was discreetly hidden 
 by a high hedge of evergreens. 
 
 "William Tell's chapel," explained Reggie, "a week in 
 lovely Lucerne !" 
 
 It was a Japanese house, another skeleton. From 
 the wicket gate, Geoffrey could see its simple scheme 
 open to the four winds, its scanty furniture unblushingly 
 displayed; downstairs, a table, a sofa, some bamboo 
 chairs and a piano upstairs, two beds, two washstands, 
 and the rest. The garden consisted of two strips of wiry 
 grass on each side of the house ; and a flight of steps ran 
 down to the water's edge, where a small sailing-boat was 
 moored. 
 
 The landscape of high wooded hills was fading into 
 evening across the leaden ripples of the lake. 
 
 "What do you think of our highland home?" asked 
 Reggie. 
 
 There was not a sign of life over the heavy waters, not 
 a boat, not a bird, not an island even. 
 
 "Not much doing," commented Geoffrey, "but the air's 
 good." 
 
 "Not quite like a lake, it is?" his host reflected. 
 
 That was true. A lake had always appealed to Geof-
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 219 
 
 frey, both to his sense of natural beauty and to his in- 
 stinct for sport. There is a soothing influence in the im- 
 prisoned waters, the romance of the sea without its 
 restlessness and fury. The freshness of untrodden 
 islands, the possibilities of a world beneath the waters, 
 of half-perceived Venetas, the adventure of entrusting 
 oneself and one's fortunes to a few planks of wood, are 
 delights which the lake-lover knows well. He knows 
 too, the delicious sense of detachment from the shore 
 the shore of ordinary affairs and monotonous people 
 and the charm of unfamiliar lights and colours and reflec- 
 tions. Even on the Serpentine he can find this glamour, 
 when the birds are flocking to roost in the trees of Peter 
 Pan's island. 
 
 But on this lake of Chuzenji there was a sullen brood- 
 ing, an absence of life, a suggestion of tragedy. 
 
 "It isn't a lake," explained Reggie ; "it's the crater of 
 an old volcano which has filled up with water. It is one 
 of the earth's pockmarks healed over and forgotten. But 
 there is something lunar about it still, some memory of 
 burned out passions, something creepy in spite of the 
 beauty of the place. It is too dark this evening to see 
 how beautiful it is. In places the lake is unfathomably 
 deep, and people have fallen into the water and have 
 never been seen again." 
 
 The waters were almost blue now, a deep dull greyish 
 blue. 
 
 Suddenly, away to the left, lines of silver streaked the 
 surface ; and, with a clapping and dripping commotion, a 
 flight of white geese rose. They had been dozing under 
 the bank, and some one had disturbed them. A pale 
 figure like a little flame was dimly discernible. 
 
 "It's Yae !" cried Reggie ; and he made a noise which 
 was supposed to be a jodel. The white figure waved an 
 answer. 
 
 Reggie picked up a megaphone which seemed to be 
 kept there for the purpose. 
 
 "Good night," he shouted, "same time to-morrow!" 
 
 The figure waved again and disappeared.
 
 220 KIMONO 
 
 Next morning Geoffrey was awakened by the boom of 
 a temple bell. He stepped out on to his balcony, and saw 
 the lake and the hills around clear and bright under the 
 yellow sunshine. He drank in the cool breath of the 
 dew. For the first time after many limp and damp 
 awakenings he felt the thrill of the wings of the morning. 
 He thanked God he had come. If only Asako were here ! 
 he thought. Perhaps she was right in getting a Japanese 
 home just for the two of them. They would be happier 
 there than jostled by the promiscuity of hotels. 
 
 At breakfast, Reggie had found a note from the Am- 
 bassador. 
 
 "Oh, damn !" he cried, "I must go over and beat a type- 
 writer for two or three hours. I must therefore break 
 my tryst. But I expect you to replace me like the im- 
 mortal Cyrano, who should be the ideal of all soldiers. 
 Will you take Yae for an hour or two's sail? She likes 
 you very much." 
 
 "And if I drown your fiancee? I don't know anything 
 about sailing." 
 
 "I'll show you. It's very easy. Besides, Yae really 
 knows more about it than I do." 
 
 So Geoffrey after a short lesson in steering, tacking, 
 and the manipulation of the centreboard, piloted his host 
 safely over to British Bay, the exclusive precinct of the 
 temporary Embassy on the opposite shore of the lake. 
 He then made his way round French Cape past Russia 
 Cove to the wooden landing-stage of the Lakeside Hotel. 
 There he found Yae, sitting on a bench and throwing 
 pebbles at the geese. 
 
 She wore the blue and white cotton kimono, which is 
 the summer dress of Japanese women. It is a cheap gar- 
 ment, but most effective so clean and cool in the hot 
 weather. Silk kimonos soon become stale-looking; but 
 this cotton dress always seems to be fresh from the 
 laundry. A rope of imitation pearls was entwined in 
 her dark hair; and her broad sash of deep blue was 
 secured in front with an old Chinese ornament of jade.
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 221 
 
 "Oh, big captain," she cried, "I am so glad it is you. 
 I heard you were coming." 
 
 She stepped into the boat, and took over the tiller and 
 the command. Geoffrey explained his friend's absence. 
 
 "The bad boy," she said, "he wants to get away from 
 me in order to think about a lot of music. But I don't 
 care !" 
 
 Under a steady wind they sheered through the water. 
 On the right hand was Chuzenji village, a Swiss effect 
 of brown chalets dwarfed to utter insignificance by the 
 huge wooded mountain dome of Nantai San which rose 
 behind it. On the left the forest was supreme already, 
 except where in small clearings five or six houses*, ten- 
 anted by foreign diplomats, stood out above the lake. A 
 little farther on a Buddhist temple slumbered above a 
 flight of broad stone steps. The sacred buildings were 
 freshly lacquered, and red as a new toy. In front, on the 
 slope of golden sand, its base bathed by the tiny waves, 
 stood the torii, the wooden archway which is Japan's uni- 
 versal religious symbol. Its message is that of the 
 Wicket Gate in the Pilgrim's Progress. Wherever it is 
 to be seen and it is to be seen everywhere it stands 
 for the entering in of the Way, whether that way be 
 "Shinto" (The Way of the Gods), or "Butsudo" (The 
 Way of the Buddhas), or "Bushido" (The Way of the 
 Warriors). 
 
 There was plenty of breeze. The boat shot down the 
 length of the lake at a delicious speed. The two voy- 
 agers reached at last a little harbour, Shobu-ga-Hama 
 The Beach of the Lilies a muddy shore with slimy 
 rocks, a few brown cottages and a saw-mill. 
 
 "Let's go and see the waterfall," suggested Yae, "it's 
 only a few minutes." 
 
 They walked together up a steep winding lane. The 
 fresh air and the birch trees, the sight of real Alderney 
 cows grazing on patches of real grass, the distant rumble 
 of the cataract brought back to Geoffrey a feeling of 
 strength and well-being to which he had for weeks been 
 a stranger.
 
 222 KIMONO 
 
 If only the real Asako had been with him instead of 
 this enigmatic and disquieting image of her ! 
 
 The Japanese, who have an innate love for natural 
 beauty, never fail to mark an exceptional view with a 
 little bench or shelter for travelers, whence they can ob- 
 tain the best perspective. If sight-seers frequent the 
 spot in any number, there will be an old dame en gueritc, 
 with her picture post-cards and her Ebisu Beer, her 
 "Champagne Cider," her scntbei (round and salted bis- 
 cuits) and her tale of the local legend. 
 
 "Irrasshai! Irrasshai;" she pipes. "Come, come, please 
 rest a little!" 
 
 But the cascade above Shobu-ga-Hama is only one 
 among the thousand lesser waterfalls of this mountain 
 country. It is honoured merely by an unsteady bench 
 under a broken roof, and by a rope knotted round the 
 trunk of a tall tree in mid-stream to indicate that the 
 locality is an abode of spirits, and to warn passers-by 
 against inconsiderately offending the Undine. 
 
 Geoffrey and Yae were balancing themselves on the 
 bench, gazing at the race of foam and at the burnished 
 bracken. The Englishman was clearing his mind for 
 action. 
 
 "Miss Smith," he began at last, "do you think you will 
 be happy with Reggie?" 
 
 "He says so, big captain," answered the little half- 
 caste, her mouth queerly twisted. 
 
 "Because if you are not happy, Reggie won't be happy ; 
 and if you are neither of you happy, you will be sorry 
 that you married." 
 
 "But we are not married yet," said the girl, "we are 
 only engaged." 
 
 "But you will be married sometime, I suppose?" 
 
 "This year, next year, sometime, never !" laughed Yae. 
 "It is nice to be engaged, and it is such a protection. 
 When I am not engaged, all the old cats, Lady Cynthia 
 and the rest, say that I flirt. Now when I am engaged, 
 my fiance is here to shield me. Then they dare not say
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 223 
 
 things, or it comes round to him, and he is angry. So I 
 can do anything I like when I am engaged." 
 
 This was a new morality for Geoffrey. It knocked 
 the text from under the sermon which he had been pre- 
 paring. She was as preposterous as Reggie ; but she was 
 not, like him, conscious of her preposterousness. 
 
 "Then, when you are married, will you flirt?" asked 
 her companion. 
 
 "I think so," said Yae gravely. "Besides, Reggie only 
 wants me to dress me up and write music about me. If I 
 am always the same like an English doll wife, he won't 
 get many tunes to play. Reggie is like a girl." 
 
 "Reggie is too good for you," said the Englishman, 
 roughly. 
 
 "I don't think so," said Yae. "I don't want Reggie, 
 but Reggie wants me." 
 
 "What do you want then?" 
 
 "I want a great big man with arms and legs like a 
 wrestler. A man who hunts lions. He will pick me up 
 like you did at Kamakura, big captain, and throw me 
 in the air and catch me again. And I will take him away 
 from the woman he loves, so that he will hate me and 
 beat me for it. And when he sees on my back the marks 
 of the whip and the blood he will love me again so 
 strongly that he will become weak and silly like a baby. 
 Then I will look after him and nurse him ; and we will 
 drink wine together. And we will go for long rides to- 
 gether on horseback in the moonlight galloping along 
 the sands by the edge of the sea !" 
 
 Geoffrey was gazing at her with alarm. Was she going 
 mad? The girl jumped up and laid her little hands on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "There, big captain," she cried, "don't be frightened. 
 That is only one of Reggie's piano tunes. I never heard 
 tunes like his before. He plays them, and then explains 
 to me what each note means ; and then he plays the tune 
 again, and I can see the whole story. That is why I love 
 him sometimes !" 
 
 "Then you do love him?" Geoffrey was clutching
 
 224 KIMONO 
 
 pathetically for anything which he could understand or 
 appeal to in this elusive person. 
 
 "I love him," said Yae, pirouetting on her white toes 
 near the edge of the chasm, "and I love you and I love 
 any man who is worth loving !" 
 
 They returned to the lake in silence. Geoffrey's ser- 
 mon was abortive. This girl was altogether outside the 
 circle of his code of Good Form. He might as well preach 
 vegetarianism to a leopard. Yet she fascinated him, as 
 she fascinated all men who were not as dry as Aubrey 
 Laking. She was so pretty, so frail and so fearless. Life 
 had not given her a fair chance ; and she appealed to 
 the chivalrous instinct in men, as well as to their less 
 creditable passions. She was such a butterfly creature ; 
 and the flaring lamps of life had such a fatal attraction 
 for her. 
 
 The wind was blowing straight against the harbour. 
 The bay of Shobu-ga-Hama was shallow water. Try 
 as he might, Geoffrey could not manoeuvre the little yacht 
 into the open waters of the lake. 
 
 "We are on a lee-shore," said Geoffrey. 
 
 At the end he had to get down and wade bare-legged, 
 towing the boat after him until at last Yae announced 
 that the centreboard had been lowered and that the boat 
 was answering to the helm. 
 
 Geoffrey clambered in dripping. He shook himself 
 like a big dog after a swim. 
 
 "Reggie could never have done that," said Yae, with 
 fervent admiration. "He would be afraid of catching 
 cold." 
 
 At last they reached the steps of the villa. They were 
 both hungry. 
 
 "I am going to stop to lunch, big captain," said Yae. 
 "Reggie won't be back." 
 
 "How do you know ?" 
 
 "Because I saw Gwendolen Cairns listening last even- 
 ing when he spoke to me through the big trumpet. She 
 tells Lady Cynthia, and that means a lot of work next
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 225 
 
 day for poor Reggie, so that he can't spend his time with 
 me. You see ! Oh, how I hate women !" 
 
 After lunch, at Chuzenji, all the world goes to sleep. 
 It awakes at about four o'clock, when the white sails 
 come gliding out of the green bays like swans. They 
 greet, or avoid. They run side by side for the length of 
 a puff of breeze. They coquet with one another like but- 
 terflies; or they head for one of those hidden beaches 
 which are the principal charm of the lake, where baskets 
 are unpacked and cakes and sandwiches appear, where 
 dry sticks are gathered for a rustic fire, and after an 
 hour or more of anxious stoking the kettle boils. 
 
 "Of all the Japanese holiday places, Chuzenji is the 
 most select and the most agreeable," Reggie Forsyth ex- 
 plained ; "it is the only place in all Japan where the for- 
 eigner is genuinely popular and respected. He spends his 
 money freely, he does not swear or scold. The woman- 
 chasing, whisky-swilling type, who has disgraced us in 
 the open ports, is unknown here. These native moun- 
 taineers are rough and uneducated savages, but they are 
 honest and healthy. We feel on easy terms with them, 
 as we do with our own peasantry. In the village street 
 of Chuzenji I have seen a young English officer instruct- 
 ing the sons of boatmen and woodcutters in the mys- 
 teries of cricket." 
 
 In Chuzenji there are no Japanese visitors except the 
 pilgrims who throng to the lake during the season for 
 climbing the holy mountain of Nantai. These are coun- 
 try people, all of them, from villages all over Japan, who 
 have drawn lucky lots in the local pilgrimage club. One 
 can recognize them at once by their dingy white clothes, 
 like grave-clothes men and women are garbed alike 
 by their straw mushroom hats, by the strip of straw 
 matting strapped across their shoulders, and by the long 
 wooden staves which they carry and which will be 
 stamped with the seal of the mountain-shrine when they 
 have reached the summit. These pilgrims are lodged 
 free by the temple on the lake-side, in long sheds like 
 cattle-byres.
 
 226 KIMONO 
 
 The endless files of lean pack-horses, laden with bags 
 of rice and other provisions, the ruddy sexless girls who 
 lead them, and the women who have been foraging for 
 wood and come down from the mountain with enormous 
 faggots on their bent shoulders, provide a foreground 
 for the Chuzenji landscape. 
 
 Geoffrey was sleeping upstairs in his bedroom. Yae 
 was sleeping downstairs on the sofa. He had expected 
 her to return to the hotel after lunch, but her attitude 
 was that of "J'y snis, j'y restc." 
 
 He awoke with a start to find the girl standing beside 
 his bed. Afterwards he became sure that he had been 
 awakened by the touch of soft fingers on his face. 
 
 "Wake up, big captain," she was saying. "It is four 
 o'clock, and the Ark's coming." 
 
 "What Ark?" he yawned. 
 
 "Why, the Embassy boat." 
 
 Out of sheer devilry, Miss Smith waited for the arrival 
 of Lady Cynthia. The great lady paid no more attention 
 to her existence than if she had been a piece of the house. 
 But she greeted Geoffrey most cordially. 
 
 "Come for a walk," she said in her abrupt way. 
 
 As they turned down the village street she announced : 
 
 "The worst has happened I suppose you know ?" 
 
 "About Reggie?" 
 
 "Yes ; he's actually engaged to be married to the crea- 
 ture. Has he told you?" 
 
 "In the greatest confidence." 
 
 "Welt, he forgot to bind his young lady to secrecy. 
 She has told everybody." 
 
 "Can't he be recalled to London?" 
 
 "The old man says that would just push him over the 
 edge. He has talked of resigning from the service." 
 
 "Is there anything to be done?" 
 
 "Nothing! Let him marry her. It will spoil his career 
 in diplomacy, of course. But he will soon get tired of her 
 fooling him. He will divorce her, and will give up his 
 life to music to which, of course, he belongs. People
 
 AMONG THE NIKKO MOUNTAINS 227 
 
 like Reggie Forsyth have no right to marry at all." 
 
 "But are you sure that she wants to marry him?" said 
 his friend ; and he related his conversation with Yae that 
 morning. 
 
 "That's very interesting and encouraging," said Her 
 Excellency. "So she has been trying her hand on you 
 already." 
 
 "I never thought of that," exclaimed Geoffrey. "Why, 
 she knows that Reggie is my best friend ; and that I am 
 married." 
 
 The judicial features of Lady Cynthia lightened with a 
 judicial smile. 
 
 "You have been through so many London seasons,, 
 Captain Barrington, and there is still no guile in you !" 
 
 They walked on in silence past the temple terraces 
 down a winding country lane. 
 
 "Captain Barrington, would you care to play the part 
 of a real hero, a real theatre hero, playing to the gal- 
 lery?" 
 
 Geoffrey was baffled. Had the talk suddenly swung 
 over to amateur theatricals? Lady Cynthia was a ter- 
 rible puller of legs. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of Madge Carlyle?" she asked, "or 
 was she before your time ?" 
 
 "I have heard of her." 
 
 She was a famous London cocotte in the days when 
 mashers wore whiskers and "Champagne Charlie" was 
 sung. 
 
 "At the age of forty-three"' said Lady Cynthia, 
 "Madge decided to marry for the third or fourth time. 
 She had found a charming young man with plenty of 
 money and a noble heart, who believed that Madge was a 
 much slandered woman. His friends were sorry for the 
 young man ; and one of them decided to give a dinner to 
 celebrate the betrothal. In the middle of the feast an 
 urgent message arrived for the enamoured one, sum- 
 moning him to his home. When he had gone the others 
 started plying poor Madge with drinks. She was very 
 fond of drinks. They had splendid fun. Then one of the
 
 228 KIMONO 
 
 guests he was an old lover of Madge's suggested 
 Good-bye to the old days and the rest of it! 
 
 "But what did he think of his friends?" asked Geof- 
 frey. "It seems a low-down sort of trick." 
 
 "He was very sore about it at the time," said Lady 
 Cynthia; "but afterwards he understood that they were 
 heroes, real theatre heroes." 
 
 "It looks like rain," said Geoffrey, uneasily. 
 
 So they turned back, talking about London people. 
 
 The first drops fell as they were passing through the 
 wicket gate; and they entered the house during a roar 
 of thunder. Reggie was alone. 
 
 "I see that my fate is sealed," he said, as he rose to 
 meet them. " ' The heavens themselves blaze forth the 
 death of princes!'"
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 YAE SMITH 
 
 Nusubito wo The thief 
 
 Toraete mireba When I caught him and looked 
 
 Waga ko wan". at him, 
 
 Lo ! my own child ! 
 
 A WEEK of very hard work began for Reggie. The 
 Ambassador was reporting home on every imaginable 
 subject from political assassination to the manufacture 
 of celluloid. This was part of Lady Cynthia's scheme. 
 She was determined to throw Yae Smith and Geoffrey 
 Harrington together all the time, and to risk the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 So Yae though she had her room at the hotel, became 
 an inmate of Reggie's villa. She took all her meals there, 
 and her siesta during most of the afternoons. She even 
 passed whole nights with Reggie ; and their relations 
 could no longer be a secret even to Geoffrey's laborious 
 discretion. 
 
 This knowledge troubled him ; for the presence of 
 lovers, and the shadows cast by their intimacies are al- 
 ways disquieting even to the purest minds. But Geof- 
 frey felt that it was no business of his ; and that Reggie 
 and Yae being what they were, it would be useless 
 hypocrisy for him to censure their pleasures. 
 
 Meanwhile, Asako was writing to him, bewailing her 
 loneliness. So one morning at breakfast he announced 
 that he must be getting back to Tokyo. A cloud passed 
 over Yae's face. 
 
 "Not yet, big captain," she expostulated ; "I want to 
 take you right to the far end of the lake where the bears 
 live." 
 
 "Very well," agreed Geoffrey, "to-morrow morning 
 early, then; for the next day I really must go." 
 
 229
 
 230 KIMONO 
 
 He wrote to Asako a long letter with much about the 
 lake and Yae Smith, promising to return within forty- 
 eight hours. 
 
 At daybreak next morning Yae was hammering at 
 Geoffrey's door. 
 
 "Wake up, old sleepy captain," she cried. 
 
 Geoffrey got the boat ready ; and Yae prepared a picnic 
 breakfast to be eaten on the way. Poor Reggie, of 
 course, had work at the Embassy ; he could not come. 
 
 It was an ideal excursion. They reached Senju, the 
 woodcutter's village at the end of the lake. They 
 ascended the forest path as far as the upper lake, a mere 
 pond of reeds and sedges, which the bears are supposed 
 to haunt. 
 
 Geoffrey and Yae, however, saw nothing more alarming 
 than the village curs. 
 
 "Returned in safety from the land of danger!" cried 
 the girl, as she sprang ashore at the steps of the villa. 
 
 The air and exercise had wearied Geoffrey. After 
 lunch he changed into a kimono of Reggie's. Then he lay 
 down on his bed and was soon fast asleep. 
 
 How long he slept he could not say ; but he awoke 
 slowly out of confusing dreams. Somebody was in his 
 room. Somebody was near his bed. Was it Asako? 
 Was it a dream? 
 
 No, it was his comrade of the morning's voyage. It 
 was Yae Smith. She was sitting on the bed beside him. 
 She was gazing into his face with her soft, still, cat-like 
 eyes. What was she doing that for? She was stroking 
 his arm. Her touch was soft. He did not stop her. 
 
 Her hair was let down to below her waist, long black 
 hair, more silky in texture and more wavy than that of a 
 pure Japanese woman. Her kimono was wide open at 
 the throat. A sweet fragrance exhaled from her body. 
 
 "Big captain, may I?" she pleaded. 
 
 "What?" said Goeffrey, still half asleep. 
 
 "Just lie by your side just once^ just for the last 
 time," she cooed.
 
 YAfi SMITH 231 
 
 Geoffrey was for going to sleep again, well pleased 
 with his dream. But Ya6 slipped an arm across his 
 chest, and caught his shoulder in her hand. She nestled 
 closer to him. 
 
 "Geoffrey," she murmured, "I love you so much. You 
 are so strong and so big, Geoffrey. I want to stay like 
 this always, always, holding on to you till I make you 
 love me. Love me just a little, Geoffrey. Nobody will 
 ever know. Geoffrey, it must be nice to have me near 
 you. Geoffrey, you must, you must want to love me." 
 
 She was hugging his body now in an embrace astonish- 
 ingly powerful for so small a creature. It was this pres- 
 sure which finally awoke Geoffrey. Gently he disengaged 
 her arms and sat up in the bed. 
 
 She was clinging to his neck now, wild-eyed like a 
 Maenad. He felt pitifully ridiculous. The r61e of Joseph 
 is so thankless and humiliating. A month ago he would 
 have ordered her sternly to get out of the room and be- 
 have herself. But the hot month in Tokyo had relaxed 
 his firmness of mind; and familiarity with Reggie's bo- 
 hemian morality has sapped his fortress of Good Form. 
 
 "Don't be so naughty, Ya^," he said feebly. "Reggie 
 may be coming. For God's sake, control yourself." 
 
 Her voice was terrible now. 
 
 Geoffrey had lost the first moment when he might 
 have been stern with her. Clumsily he tried to loosen 
 her embrace. But for the first time in his life he was in 
 the grip of an elemental natural force, a thing foreign to 
 his experience of women in marriage or out of it. 
 
 "Yae\ don't," he gasped, pushing the girl away. "I 
 can't; I'm married." 
 
 "Married!" she screamed. " Does marriage hurt like 
 this? Love me, love me, Geoffrey. You must love me, 
 you will!" 
 
 "The rhapsody is ended!" 
 
 A voice which nobody would have recognized as 
 Reggie's put a sudden end to this frantic assault. 
 
 He was standing in the doorway smiling queerly. He
 
 232 KIMONO 
 
 had watched the two from the garden, whence indeed 
 all Chuzenji could have seen them in the open bedroom. 
 He had slipped off his shoes and had stolen up quietly 
 in order to listen to them. Now he judged it time to in- 
 tervene. 
 
 Yae~ started up from the bed. For a moment she 
 hovered on the edge, uncertain of her tactics. Geoffrey 
 stared, one hand to his forehead. Then the girl darted 
 across the room, fell at Reggie's feet, clasped his knees, 
 and sobbed convulsively. 
 
 " Reggie, Reggie, forgive me !" she cried. " It's not my 
 fault. He's been asking me and asking me to do this 
 ever since Kamakura and all the time here. This is 
 what he came to stay here for. Reggie, forgive me. I 
 will never be naughty again." 
 
 Reggie looked across at his friend for confirmation or 
 denial. The queer smile had vanished. Good Form de- 
 creed that the man must lie for the woman's sake, if 
 necessary till his soul were damned. But, with Geoffrey, 
 Good Form had long since been thrown to the winds, like 
 International Law in war time. Besides, the woman 
 was no better than a cocotte; and Reggie's friendship was 
 at stake. 
 
 " No," he said huskily; "that is not true. I was quietly 
 sleeping here and she came up to me. She is man- 
 mad." 
 
 The tangled heap at Reggie's feet leaped up, her green 
 eyes blazing. 
 
 "Liar!" she cried. " Reggie, do you believe him ? The 
 hypocrite, the goody-goody, the white slave man, the 
 pimp!" 
 
 "What does she mean?" said Geoffrey. Thank God, 
 the woman was clearly mad. 
 
 "Fujinami! Fujinami!" she yelled. "The great girl 
 king! The Yoshiwara daimyo! Every scrap of money 
 which his fool wife spends on sham curios was made in 
 the Yoshiwara, made by women, made out of filth, made 
 by prostitutes!" 
 
 The last word brought Geoffrey to his feet. In his 
 real agony he had quite forgotten his sham sin.
 
 YAfi SMITH 233 
 
 "Reggie, for God's sake, tell me, is this true?" 
 
 "Yes," said Reggie quietly, "it is quite true." 
 
 "Then why did no one tell me?" 
 
 "Husbands," said the young man, "and prospective 
 husbands are always the last to learn. Ya^, go back to 
 the hotel. You have done enough harm for to-day." 
 
 "Not unless you forgive me, Reggie," the girl pleaded. 
 "I will never go unless you forgive." 
 
 "I can't forgive," he said, "but I can probably forget." 
 
 The wrath of these two men fascinated her. She 
 would have waited if she could, listening at the door. 
 Reggie knew this. 
 
 "If you don't clear out, Yae", I will have to call To to 
 take you," he threatened. 
 
 To his great relief she went quietly. 
 
 Reggie returned to the bare bedroom, where Geoffrey 
 with bowed head was staring at the floor. In Reggie's 
 short kimono the big man looked decidedly ridiculous. 
 
 "Good," thought Reggie. "Thank God for the comic 
 spirit. It will be easier to get through with this now." 
 
 His first action was to wash his hands. He had an 
 unconscious instinct for symbolism. Then he sat down 
 oppositej[his friend. 
 
 The action of sitting reduces tragedy to comedy at 
 once, this was one of Napoleon's maxims. 
 
 Then he opened his cigarette case and offered it to 
 Geoffrey. This, too, was symbolic. Geoffrey took a 
 cigarette mechanically, and sucked it between his lips, 
 unlighted. 
 
 "Geoffrey," said his friend very quietly, "let us try to 
 put these women and all their rottenness out of our 
 heads. We will try to talk this over decently." 
 
 Geoffrey was so stunned by the shock of what he had 
 just learned that he had thought of nothing else. Now, 
 all of a sudden he remembered that he owed serious ex- 
 planations to his friend. 
 
 "Reggie," he said dully, "I'm most awfully sorry. I 
 had never dreamed of this. I was good pals with Ya6 
 because of you. I never dreamed of making love to her.
 
 234 KIMONO 
 
 You know how I love my wife. She must have been mad 
 to think of me like that. Besides," he added sheepishly, 
 "nothing actually happened." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't care what actually happened or 
 did not happen. Damn actual facts. They distort 
 the truth. They are at the bottom of every injustice. 
 What actually happened never matters. It is the pic- 
 ture which sticks in one's brain. True or false, it sticks 
 just the same; and suddenly or slowly it alters every 
 thing. But I can wipe up my own mess, I think. It is 
 much more serious with you than with me, Geoffrey. 
 She has bruised my heel, but she has broken your 
 head. No, don't protest, for Heaven's sake! I am not 
 interested." 
 
 "Then what she says is absolutely true?" said Geof- 
 frey, lighting his cigarette at last, and throwing the 
 match aside as if it were Hope. "For a whole year 
 I have been living on prostitutes' earnings. I am no 
 better than those awful ponces in Leicester Square, 
 who can be flogged if they are caught, and serve them 
 right too. And all that filthy Yoshiwara, it belongs 
 to Asako, to my sweet innocent little girl, just as Brandan 
 belongs to my father; and with all this filthy money 
 we have been buying comforts and clothes and curios 
 and rubbish." 
 
 Reggie was pouring out whiskies and sodas, two 
 strong ones. Geoffrey gulped down his drink, and then 
 proceeded with his lamentation: 
 
 "I understand it all now. Everybody knew. The 
 secrecy and the mystery. Even at my wedding they 
 were saying, 'Don't go to Japan, don't go.' They 
 must have all known even then. And then those damned 
 Fujinami, so anxious to be civil for the beastly money's 
 sake, and yet hiding everything and lying all the 
 time. And you knew, and the Ambassador, and 
 Count Saito, and the servants too always whis- 
 pering and laughing behind our backs. But you, 
 Reggie, you were my friend, you ought to have 
 told me." 
 
 "I asked Sir Ralph," said Reggie candidly, "whether
 
 YAfi SMITH 235 
 
 you ought to be told. He is a very wise man. He said, 
 'No.' He said, 'It would be cruel and it would be use- 
 less. They will go back to England soon and then 
 they will never know.' Where ignorance is bliss, you 
 understand?" 
 
 "It was unfair," groaned Geoffrey; "you were all de- 
 ceiving me." 
 
 "I said to Sir Ralph that it seemed to me unfair and 
 dangerous. But he has more experience than I." 
 
 "But what am I to do now?" said the big man help- 
 lessly. "This money must be given up, yes, and every- 
 thing we have. But whom to? Not to those filthy 
 Fujinami?" 
 
 "Go slow," advised Reggie. "Go back to England 
 first. Get your brain clear. Talk it over with your 
 lawyers. Don't be too generous. Magnanimity has 
 spoiled many noble lives. And remember that your 
 wife is in this too. You must consider her first. She 
 is very young and she knows nothing. I don't think 
 that she wants to be poor, or that she will understand 
 your motives." 
 
 "I will make her understand then," said Geoffrey. 
 
 "Don't talk like a brute. You will have to be very 
 patient and considerate for her. Go slow!" 
 
 "Can I stop here to-night, then?" asked Barrington, 
 plaintively. 
 
 "No," said Reggie with firmness; "that is really more 
 than I could stick. I told you truth or untruth, the 
 mind keeps on seeing pictures. Pack up your things. 
 Call a coolie. The evening walk down to Nikko will do 
 you more good than my jawing. Good-bye." 
 
 An unreal handshake and he was gone. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, Geoffrey realized that, how very 
 unwittingly, he had deeply wronged this man who was 
 his best friend and upon whom he was leaning in his 
 hour of trial. Like Job, his adversities were coming 
 upon him from this side and from that, until he must 
 curse God and die. Now his friend had given him his 
 dismissal. He would probably never see Reggie Forsyth 
 again.
 
 236 KIMONO 
 
 As he was starting on his long walk downhill a motor 
 car passed him. Only one motor car that season had 
 climbed the precipitous road from the plains. It must 
 be Yae" Smith's. Just as it was passing the girl leaned 
 out of the carriage and blew a kiss to Geoffrey. 
 
 She was not alone. There was a small fat man in the 
 car beside her, a Japanese with a round impertinent face. 
 With a throb of bitter heart-sickness Geoffrey recognized 
 his own servant, Tanaka. 
 
 Next morning Reggie Forsyth crossed the lake as 
 usual to his work at the Embassy. He met the Ambas- 
 sadress on the terrace of her villa. 
 
 "Good morning, Lady Cynthia," he said, "I congratu- 
 late you on your masterly diplomacy." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 Her manner nowadays was very chilly towards her 
 former favourite. 
 
 "In accordance with your admirable arrangements," he 
 said, "my marriage is off." 
 
 "Oh, Reggie," her coolness changed at once, "I'm so 
 glad " 
 
 He held up a warning hand. 
 
 "But you have broken a better man than I." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" 
 
 "Geoffrey Barrington. He has learned who the Fu- 
 jinami are, and where his money comes from." 
 
 "You told him?" 
 
 "I'm not such a skunk as all that, Lady Cynthia." 
 
 Her Excellency was pondering what had better be done 
 for Geoffrey. 
 
 "Where is he?" she asked. 
 
 "He stopped the night at Nikko. He is probably in 
 the train for Tokyo by now." 
 
 If she were a hero, a real theatre hero, as Geoffrey 
 had been apparently, she would go straight off to Tokyo 
 also; and perhaps she would be able to prevent a catas- 
 trophe. Or perhaps she would not. Perhaps she would 
 only make things worse. On the whole, she had better 
 stop in Chuzenji and look after her own husband.
 
 YAfi SMITH 237 
 
 "Reggie," she said, "you've had a lucky escape. How 
 did you know that I had any hand in this? You're more 
 of a girl than a man. A rotten marriage would have 
 broken you. Geoffrey Bamngton is made of stronger 
 stuff. He is in for a bad time. But he will learn a lot 
 which you know already; and he will survive."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE KIMONO 
 
 Na wo to Ufa wo It is other people who have sepa- 
 
 Hito 20 saku naru. rated 
 
 Ide, wagimil You and me. 
 
 Hito no naka-goto Come, my Lord! 
 
 Kiki-kosu na yumet Do not dream of listening 
 
 To the between-words of people 1 
 
 AFTER a ghastly night of sleeplessness at Nikko, Geof- 
 frey Barrington reached Tokyo in time for lunch. His 
 thoughts were confused and discordant. 
 
 "I feel as if I had been drunk for a week," he kept on 
 saying to himself. Indeed, he felt a fume of unreality 
 over all his actions. 
 
 One thing was certain: financially, he was a ruined 
 man. The thousands a year which yesterday morning 
 had been practically his, the ease and comfort which had 
 seemed so secure, were lost more hopelessly than if his 
 bank had failed. Even the cash in his pocket he touched 
 with the greatest disgust, as if those identical bills and 
 coins had been paid across the brothel counter as the 
 price for a man's dirty pleasures and a girl's shame and 
 disease. He imagined that the Nikko hotelkeeper looked 
 at his notes suspiciously as though they were endorsed 
 with the seal of the Yoshiwara. 
 
 Geoffrey was ruined. He was henceforth dependent 
 on what his brain could earn and on what his father 
 would allow him, five hundred pounds a year at the out- 
 side. If he had been alone in the world it would not have 
 mattered much ; but Asako, poor little Asako, the inno- 
 cent cause of this disaster, she was ruined too. She who 
 loved her riches, her jewellery, her pretty things, she would 
 have to sell them all. She would have to follow him 
 into poverty, she, who had no experience of its meaning. 
 
 238
 
 THE KIMONO 239 
 
 This was his punishment, perhaps, for having steadily 
 pursued the idea of a rich marriage. But what had Asako 
 done to deserve it? Thank God, his marriage had at 
 least not been a loveless one. 
 
 Geoffrey felt acutely the need of human sympathy in 
 his trouble. By sheer bad luck he had forfeited Reggie's 
 friendship. But he could still depend upon his wife's love. 
 
 So he ran up the stairs at the Imperial Hotel longing 
 for Asako's welcome, though he dreaded the obliga- 
 tion to break the bad news. 
 
 He threw open the door. The room was empty. He 
 looked for cloaks and hats and curios, for luggage, for 
 any sign of her presence. There was nothing to indicate 
 that the room was hers. 
 
 Sick with apprehension, he returned to thei corridor. 
 There was a 603; san near at hand. 
 
 "Okusan go away," said the boy san. "No come back, 
 I think." 
 
 "Where has she gone?" asked Geoffrey. 
 
 The boy san, with the infuriating Japanese grin, shook 
 his head. 
 
 "I am very sorry for you," he said. "To-day very early 
 plenty people come, Tanaka San and two Japanese girls. 
 Very plenty talk. Okusan cry tears. All nice kimono 
 take away very quick." 
 
 "Then Tanaka, where is he?" 
 
 "Go away with okusan," the boy grinned again, "I am 
 very sorry " 
 
 Geoffrey slammed the door in the face of his tormentor. 
 He staggered into a chair and collapsed, staring blankly. 
 What could have happened? 
 
 Slowly his ideas returned. Tanaka! He had seen the 
 little beast in Yae's motor car at Chuzenji. He must 
 have come spying after his master as he had done fifty 
 times before. He and that half-caste devil had raced him 
 back to Tokyo, had got in ahead of him, and had told a 
 pack of lies to Asako. She must have believed them, 
 since she had gone away. But where had she gone to? 
 The boy san had said "two Japanese girls." She must
 
 240 KIMONO 
 
 have gone to the Fujinami house, and to her horribly un- 
 clean cousins. 
 
 He must find her at once. He must open her eyes to 
 the truth. He must bring her back. He must take her 
 away from Japan forever. 
 
 Barrington was crossing the hall of the hotel mutter- 
 ing to himself, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, when he 
 felt a hand laid on his arm. It was Titine, Asako's 
 French maid. 
 
 "Monsieur le capitaine," she said, "tnadame est partie. 
 It is not my fault, monsieur le capitaine. I say to madame, 
 do not go, wait for monsieur. But madame is bewitched. 
 She, who is bonne catholique, she say prayers to the tem- 
 ples of these yellow devils. I myself have seen her clap 
 her hands so! and pray. Her saints have left her. 
 She is bewitched." 
 
 Titine was a Breton peasant girl. She believed im- 
 plicitly in the powers of darkness. She had long ago 
 decided that the gods of the Japanese and the korrigans 
 of her own country were intimately related. She had 
 served Asako since before her marriage, and would have 
 remained with her until death. She was desperately 
 faithful. But she could not follow her mistress to the 
 Fujinami house and risk her soul's salvation. 
 
 "Monsieur le capitaine go away, and madame very, very 
 unhappy. Every night she cry. Why did monsieur stay 
 away so long time?" 
 
 "It was only a fortnight," expostulated Geoffrey. 
 
 "For the first parting it was too long," said Titine 
 judicially. "Every night madame cry; and then she write 
 to monsieur and say, 'Come back.' Monsieur write and 
 say, 'Not yet.' Then madame break her heart and say, 
 'It is because of some woman that he stay away so long 
 time!' She say so to Tanaka; and Tanaka say, 'I go 
 and detect, and come again and tell madame ;' and 
 madame say, "Yes, Tanaka can go: I wish to know the 
 truth !' And still more she cry and cry. This morning 
 very early Tanaka came back with Mademoiselle Smith 
 and mademoiselle la cousins. They all talk a long time
 
 THE KIMONO 241 
 
 with madame in bedroom. But they send me away. 
 Then madame call me. She cry and cry. 'Titine,' she 
 say, 'I go away. Monsieur do not love me now. I go 
 to the Japanese house. Pack all my things, Titine.' I 
 say, 'No, madame, never. I never go to that house of 
 devils. How can madame tell the good confessor? How 
 can madame go to the Holy Mass? Will madame leave 
 her husband and go to these people who pray to stone 
 beasts? Wait for monsieur!' I say, 'What Tanaka say, 
 it is lies, all the time lies. What Mademoiselle Smith 
 say all lies/ But madame say, 'No come with me, Titine !' 
 But I say again, 'Never !' And madame go away, crying 
 all the time : and sixteen rickshaw all full of baggage. 
 Oh, monsieur le capitaine, what shall I do?" 
 
 "I'm sure, I don't know," said the helpless Geoffrey. 
 
 "Send me back to France, monsieur. This country is 
 full of devils, devils and lies." 
 
 He left her sobbing in the hall of the hotel with a 
 cluster of boy sans watching her. 
 
 Geoffrey took a taxi to the Fujinami house. No one 
 answered his ringing; but he thought that he could hear 
 voices inside the building. So he strode in, unannounced, 
 and with his boots on his feet, an unspeakable offence 
 against Japanese etiquette. 
 
 He found Asako in a room which overlooked the 
 garden where he had been received on former occasions. 
 Her cousin Sadako was with her and Ito, the lawyer. 
 To his surprise and disgust, his wife was dressed in the 
 Japanese kimono and obi which had once been so pleasing 
 to his eyes. Her change of nationality seemed to be 
 already complete. 
 
 This was an Asako whom he had never known before. 
 Her eyes were ringed with weeping, and her face was 
 thin and haggard. But her expression had a new look 
 of resolution. She was no longer a child, a doll. In the 
 space of a few hours she had grown to be a woman. 
 
 They were all standing. Sadako and the lawyer had
 
 242 KIMONO 
 
 formed. up behind the runaway as though to give her 
 moral support. 
 
 "Asako," said Geoffrey sternly, "what does this mean?" 
 
 The presence of the two Japanese exasperated him. 
 His manner was tactless and unfortunate. His tall 
 stature in the dainty room looked coarse and brutal. 
 Sadako and Ito were staring at his offending boots with 
 an expression of utter horror. Geoffrey suddenly re- 
 membered that he ought to have taken them off. 
 
 "Oh, damn," he thought. 
 
 "Geoffrey," said his wife, "I can't come back. I am 
 sorry. I have decided to stay here." 
 
 "Why?" asked Geoffrey brusquely. 
 
 "Because I know that you do not love me. I think 
 you never loved anything except my money." 
 
 The hideous irony of this statement made poor Geoffrey 
 gasp. He gripped the wooden framework of the room 
 so as to steady himself. 
 
 "Good God !" he shouted. "Your money ! Do you 
 know where it comes from?" 
 
 Asako stared at him, more and more bewildered. 
 
 "Send these people out of the room, and I'll tell you," 
 said Geoffrey. 
 
 "I would rather they stayed," his wife answered. 
 
 It had been arranged beforehand that, if , Geoffrey 
 called, Asako was not to be left alone with him. She 
 had been made to believe that she was in danger of 
 physical violence. She was terribly frightened. 
 
 "Very well," Geoffrey blundered on, "every penny you 
 have is made out of prostitution, out of the sale of women 
 to men. You saw the Yoshiwara, you saw the poor 
 women imprisoned there, you know that any drunken 
 beast can come and pay his money down and say, 'I 
 want that girl/ and she has to give herself up to be 
 kissed and pulled about by him, even if she hates him 
 and loathes him. Well, all this filthy Yoshiwara and all 
 those poor girls and all that dirty money belongs to 
 these Fujinami and to you. That is why they are so rich, 
 and that is why we have been so rich. If we were in
 
 THE KIMONO 243 
 
 England, we could be flogged for this, and imprisoned, 
 and serve us right too. And all this money is bad; and, 
 if we keep it, we are worse than criminals ; and neither 
 of us can ever be happy, or look any one in the face 
 again." 
 
 Asako was shaking her head gently like an automaton, 
 understanding not a word of all this outburst. Her 
 mind was on one thing only, her husband's infidelity. His 
 mind was on one thing only, the shame of his wife's 
 money. They were like card-players who concentrate 
 their attention exclusively on the cards in their own 
 hands, oblivious to what their partners or opponents may 
 hold. 
 
 Asako remaining silent, Mr. Ito began to speak. His 
 voice seemed more squeaky than ever. 
 
 "Captain Barrington," he said, "I am very sorry for 
 you. But you see now true condition of things. You 
 must remember you are English gentleman. Mrs. Bar- 
 rington wishes not to return to you. She has been told 
 that you make misconduct with Miss Smith at Kamakura, 
 and again at Chuzenji. Miss Smith herself says so. Mrs. 
 Barrington thinks this story must be true ; or Miss 
 Smith do not tell so bad story about herself. We think 
 she is quite right " 
 
 "Shut up!" thundered Geoffrey. "This is a matter 
 for me and my wife alone. Please, leave us. My wife 
 has heard one side of a story which is unfair and untrue. 
 She must hear from me what really happened." 
 
 "I think, some other day, it would be better," cousin 
 Sadako intervened. "You see, Mrs. Barrington cannot 
 speak to-day. She is too unhappy." 
 
 It was quite true. Asako stood like a dummy, neither 
 seeing nor hearing apparently, neither assenting nor 
 contradicting. How powerful is the influence of clothes ! 
 If Asako had been dressed in her Paris coat and skirt, 
 her husband would have crossed the few mats which 
 separated them, and would have carried her off willy- 
 nilly. But in her kimono did she wholly belong to him? 
 Or was she a Japanese again, a Fujinami? She seemed
 
 244 KIMONO 
 
 to have been transformed by some enchanter's spell; as 
 Titine had said, she was bewitched. 
 
 "Asako, do you mean this?" The big man's voice was 
 harsh with grief. "Do you mean that I am to go with- 
 out you?" 
 
 Asako still showed no sign of comprehension. 
 
 "Answer me, my darling; do you want me to go?" 
 
 Her head moved in assent, and her lips answered 
 "Yes." 
 
 That whisper made such a wrench at her husband's 
 heart that his grip tightened on the frail shoji, and with 
 a nervous spasm he sent it clattering out of its socket 
 flat upon the floor of the room, like a screen blown down 
 by the wind. Ito dashed forward to help Geoffrey replace 
 the damage. When they turned round again, the two 
 women had disappeared. 
 
 "Captain Harrington," said Ito, "I think you had better 
 go away. You make bad thing worse." 
 
 Geoffrey frowned at the little creature. He would 
 have liked to have crushed him underfoot like a cock- 
 roach. But as that was impossible, nothing remained for 
 him to do but to depart, leaving the track of his dirty 
 boots on the shining corridor. His last glimpse of his 
 cousins' home was of two little serving-maids scuttering 
 up with dusters to remove the defilement. 
 
 Asako had fainted. 
 
 As Reggie had said in Chuzenji, "What actually hap- 
 pens does not matter: it is the thought of what might 
 have happened, which sticks." If Reggie's tolerant and 
 experienced mind could not rid itself of the picture con- 
 jured up by the possibility of his friend's treachery and 
 his mistress's lightness, how could Asako, ignorant and 
 untried, hope to escape from a far more insistent obses- 
 sion? She believed that her husband was guilty. But 
 the mere feeling that it was possible that he might be 
 guilty would have been enough to numb her love for 
 him, at any rate for a time. She had never known heart-
 
 THE KIMONO 245 
 
 ache before. She did not realise that it is a fever which 
 runs its appointed course of torment and despair, which 
 at length after a given term abates, and then disappears 
 altogether, leaving the sufferer weak but whole again. 
 The second attack of the malady finds its victim familiar 
 with the symptoms, resigned to a short period of misery 
 and confident of recovery. A broken heart like a broken 
 horse is of great service to its owner. 
 
 But Asako was like one stricken with an unknown 
 disease. Its violence appalled her, and in her uncertainty 
 she prayed for death. Moreover, she was surrounded 
 by counsellors who traded on her little faith, who kept 
 on reminding her that she was a Japanese, that she was 
 among her father's people who loved her and understood 
 her, that foreigners were notoriously treacherous to 
 women, that they were blue-eyed and cruel-hearted, that 
 they thought only of money and material things. Let 
 her stay in Japan, let her make her home there. There 
 she would always be a personage, a member of the family. 
 Among those big, bold-voiced foreign women, she was 
 overshadowed and out of place. If her husband left her 
 for a half-caste, what chance had she of keeping him 
 when once he got back among the women of his own 
 race? Mixed marriages, in fact, were a mistake, an 
 offence against nature. Even if he wished to be faithful 
 to her, he could not really care for her as he could for 
 an Englishwoman. 
 
 As soon as Geoffrey Harrington had left the house, 
 Mr. Ito went in search of the head of the Fujinami, whom 
 he found at work on the latest literary production of his 
 tame students, The Pinegrove by the Sea-shore. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro put his writing-box aside with 
 a leisurely gesture, for a Japanese gentleman of culture 
 must never be in a hurry. 
 
 "Indeed, it has been so noisy, composition has become 
 impossible," he complained; "has that foreigner come to 
 the house?"
 
 246 KIMONO 
 
 He used the uncomplimentary w.ord "ketojin," which 
 may be literally translated "hairy rascal." It is a survival 
 from the time of Perry's black ships and the early days 
 of foreign intercourse, when "Expel the Barbarians !" 
 was a watchword in the country. Modern Japanese 
 assure their foreign friends that it has fallen altogether 
 into disuse ; but such is not the case. It is a word loaded 
 with all the hatred, envy and contempt against foreigners 
 of all nationalities, which still pervade considerable sec- 
 tions of the Japanese public. 
 
 "This Barrington," answered the lawyer, "is indeed a 
 rough fellow, even for a foreigner. He came into the 
 house with his boots on, uninvited. He shouted like a 
 coolie, and he broke the shoji. His behaviour was like 
 that of Susa-no-O in the chambers of the Sun-Goddess. 
 Perhaps he had been drinking whisky-sodas." 
 
 "A disgusting thing, is it not?" said the master. "At 
 this time I am writing an important chapter on the clear 
 mirror of the soul. It is troublesome to be interrupted 
 by these quarrels of women and savages. You will have 
 Keiichi and Goro posted at the door of the house. They 
 are to refuse entrance to all foreigners. It must not be 
 allowed to turn our yashiki into a battlefield." 
 
 Mr. Fujinami's meditations that morning had been 
 most bitter. His literary preoccupation was only a sham. 
 There was a tempest in the political world of Japan. 
 The Government was tottering under the revelations of 
 a corruption in high places more blatant than usual. With 
 the fall of the Cabinet, the bribes which the Fujinami 
 had lavished to obtain the licences and privileges neces- 
 sary to their trade, would become waste money. True, 
 the Governor of Osaka had not yet been replaced. A 
 Fujinami familiar had been despatched thither at full 
 speed to secure the new Tobita brothel concessions as a 
 fait accompli before the inevitable change should take 
 place. 
 
 The head of the house of Fujinami, therefore, being 
 a monarch in a small way, had much to think of besides 
 "the quarrels of women and savages." Moreover, he
 
 THE KIMONO 247 
 
 was not quite sure of his ground with regard to Asako. 
 To take a wife from her husband against his will, seems 
 to the Japanese mind so flagrantly illegal a proceeding; 
 and old Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke had warned his irre- 
 ligious son most gravely against the danger of tampering 
 with the testament of Asako's father, and of provoking 
 thereby a visitation of his "rough spirit."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 SAYONARA ( GOOD-BYE) 
 
 Tomo ni narite Those ships which left 
 
 Onaji minato wo The same harbour 
 
 Isuru fune no Side by side 
 
 Yuku-ye mo shirazu Towards an unknown 
 
 Kogi-wakari-nuru! destination 
 
 Have rowed away from 
 one another! 
 
 REGGIE FORSYTH, remaining in Chuzenji, had become a 
 prey to a most crushing reaction. At the time of trial, 
 he had been calm and clear-sighted. For a moment 
 he had experienced a sensation of relief at shaking off 
 the shackles which Yae's fascination had fastened upon 
 him. He had been aware all along that she was morally 
 worthless. He was glad to have the matter incontestably 
 proved. But his paradise, though an artificial one, had 
 been paradise all the same. It had nourished him with 
 visions and music. Now, he had no companion except 
 his own irrepressible spirit jibing at his heart's infirmity. 
 He came to the reluctant conclusion that he must take 
 Yae back again. But she must never come again to him 
 on the same terms. He would take her for what she 
 really was, a unique and charming fillc-de-joie, and he 
 knew that she would be glad to return. Without some- 
 thing, somebody, some woman to interest him, he could 
 not face another year in this barren land. 
 
 Then what about Geoffrey, his friend who had betrayed 
 him? No, he could not regard him in such a tragic light. 
 He was angry with Geoffrey, but not indignant. He was 
 angry with him for being a blunderer, an elephant, for 
 being so easily amenable to Lady Cynthia's intrigues, 
 for being so good-natured, stupid and gullible. He argued 
 that if Geoffrey had been a wicked seducer, a bold Don 
 
 248
 
 SAYONARA 249 
 
 Juan, he would have excused him and would have felt 
 more sympathy for him. He would have thoroughly 
 enjoyed sitting down with him to a discussion of Yae's 
 psychology. But what did an oaf like Geoffrey under- 
 stand about that bundle of nerves and instincts, partly 
 primitive and partly artificial, bred out of an abnormal 
 cross between East and West, and doomed from con- 
 ception to a life astray between light and darkness? 
 He had been disillusioned about his old friend, and he 
 wished never to see him again. 
 
 "What frauds these noble natures are !" he said to 
 himself, "these Old Honests, these sterling souls! And 
 as an excuse he tells me, 'Nothing actually happened!' 
 Disgusting ! 
 
 To play with light loves in the portal, 
 To kiss and embrace and refrain!' 
 
 The virtue of our days is mostly impotence! Lust and 
 passion and love and marriage ! Why do our dull insular 
 minds mix up these four entirely separate notions ? And 
 how can we jump with such goat-like agility from one 
 circle of thought into another without ever noticing the 
 change in the landscape?" 
 
 He strolled over to the piano to put these ideas into 
 music. 
 
 Lady Cynthia had decided that it would be bad for him 
 to stop in Chuzenji. Mountain scenery is demoralising 
 for a nature so Byronic. He was forthwith despatched 
 to Tokyo to represent his Embassy at a Requiem Mass 
 to be celebrated for the souls of an Austrian Archduke 
 and his wife, who had recently been assassinated by a 
 Serbian fanatic somewhere in Bosnia. Reggie was 
 furious at having to undertake this mission. For the 
 mountains were soothing to him, and he was not yet 
 ready for encounters. When he arrived in Tokyo, he 
 was in a very bad temper. 
 
 Asako had heard from Tanaka that Reggie Forsyth
 
 250 KIMONO 
 
 was expected at the Embassy. That useful intelligence- 
 officer had been posted by the Fujinami to keep watch 
 on the Embassy compound, and to report any movements 
 of importance; for the conspirators were not entirely 
 at ease as to the legality of abducting the wife of a 
 British subject, and keeping her against her husband's 
 demands. 
 
 Asako had received that day a pathetic letter from 
 Geoffrey, giving detail for detail his account of his deal- 
 ings with Yae Smith, begging her to understand and 
 believe him, and to forgive him for the crime which he 
 had never committed. 
 
 In spite of her cousin's incredulity, Asako's resolution 
 was shaken by this appeal. At last, now that she had 
 lost her husband, she was beginning to realise how very 
 much she loved him. Reggie Forsyth would be a more 
 or less impartial witness. 
 
 Late that evening, in a hooded rickshaw she crossed 
 the short distance which led to the Embassy. Mr. For- 
 syth had just arrived. 
 
 Mr. Forsyth was very displeased to hear Mrs. Barring- 
 ton announced. It was just the kind of meeting which 
 would exasperate and unnerve him. 
 
 Her appearance was against her. She wore a Japanese 
 kimono, unpleasantly reminiscent of Yae. Her hair was 
 disordered and frantic-looking. Her eyes were red with 
 weeping. 
 
 "Let me say at once," observed Reggie, as he offered 
 her a chair, "that I am in no way responsible for your 
 husband's shortcomings. I have too many of my own." 
 
 Asako could never understand Reggie when he talked 
 in that sarcastic tone. 
 
 "I want to know exactly what happened," she begged. 
 "I have no one else who can tell me." 
 
 "Your husband says that nothing actually happened," 
 replied Reggie brutally. 
 
 The girl realised that this statement was far from 
 being the vindication of Geoffrey which she had begun 
 to hope for.
 
 SAYONARA 251 
 
 "But what did you actually see?" she asked. 
 
 "I saw Miss Smith with your husband. As it was in 
 my house, they might have asked my leave first." 
 
 Asako shivered. 
 
 "But do you think Geoffrey had been love-making 
 to Miss Smith?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Reggie wearily. "From what I 
 heard, I think Miss Smith was doing most of the love- 
 making to Geoffrey; but he did not seem to object to the 
 process." 
 
 Asako's yearnings for proof of her husband's innocence 
 were crushed. 
 
 "What shall I do?" she pleaded. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know." This scene to Reggie was 
 becoming positively silly. "Take him back to England 
 as soon as possible, I should think." 
 
 "But would he fall in love with women in England?" 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 "Then what am I to do?" 
 
 "Grin and bear it. That's what we all have to do." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Forsyth," Asako implored, "you know my 
 husband so well. Do you think he is a bad man?" 
 
 "No, not worse than the rest of us," answered Reggie, 
 who felt quite maddened by this talk. "He is a bit of 
 a fool, and a good deal of a blunderer." 
 
 "But do you think Geoffrey was to blame for what 
 happened?" 
 
 "I have told you, my dear Mrs. Barrington, that your 
 husband assured me that nothing actually happened. I 
 am quite sure this is true, for your husband is a very 
 honourable man in details." 
 
 "You mean," said Asako, gulping out the words, "that 
 Miss Smith was not actually Geoffrey's mistress; they 
 did not sin together." 
 
 Asako did not know how intimate were the relations 
 between Reggie and Yae. She did not understand there- 
 fore how cruelly her words lanced him. But, more than 
 the shafts of memory it was the imbecility of the whole 
 scene which almost made the young man scream.
 
 252 KIMONO 
 
 "Exactly," he answered. "In the words of the Bible, 
 she lay with him, but he knew her not." 
 
 "Then, do you think I ought to forgive Geoffrey?" 
 
 This was too much. Reggie leaped to his feet. 
 
 "My dear lady, that is really a question for yourself 
 and yourself alone. Personally, I do not at present feel 
 like forgiving anybody. Least of all, can I forgive fools. 
 Geoffrey Harrington is a fool. He was a fool to marry, 
 a fool to marry you, a fool to come to Japan when every- 
 body warned him not to, a fool to talk to Yae when every- 
 body told him that she was a dangerous woman. No, 
 personally, at present I cannot forgive Geoffrey Barring- 
 ton. But it is very late and I am very tired, and I'm sure 
 you are, too. I would advise you to go home to your 
 erring husband; and to-morrow morning we shall all be 
 thinking more clearly. As the French say, L'oreiller 
 raccommode tout." 
 
 Asako still made no movement. 
 
 "Well, dear lady, if you wish to wait longer, you will 
 excuse me, if, instead of talking rot, I play to you. It is 
 more soothing to the nerves." 
 
 He sat down at the piano, and struck up the Merry 
 Widow chorus, 
 
 "I'll go off to Maxim's : I've done with lovers' dreams ; 
 The girls will laugh and greet me, they will not trick 
 
 and cheat me ; 
 Lolo, Dodo, Joujou, 
 Ooclo, Margot, Frou-frou, 
 I'm going off to Maxim's, and you may go to " 
 
 The pianist swung around on his stool : his visitor had 
 gone. 
 
 "Thank God," he sighed; and within a quarter of an 
 hour he was asleep. 
 
 He awoke in the small hours with that sick restless 
 feeling on his chest, which he described as a conviction 
 of sin.
 
 SAYONARA 253 
 
 "Good God !" he said aloud ; "what a cad I've been !" 
 
 He realised that an unspoiled and gentle creature had 
 paid him the greatest of all compliments by coming to 
 him for advice in the extremity of her soul's misery. He 
 had received her with silly badinage and cheap cynicism. 
 
 At breakfast he learned that things were much more 
 serious than he had imagined, that Asako had actually 
 left her husband and was living with her Japanese 
 cousins. What he had thought to be a lover's quarrel, 
 he now recognised to be the shipwreck of two lives. With 
 a kindly word he might have prevented this disaster. 
 
 He drove straight to the Fujinami mansion, at the risk 
 of being late for the Requiem Mass. He found two evil- 
 eyed hooligans posted at the gate, who stopped his rick- 
 shaw, and, informing him that none of the Fujinami 
 family were at home, seemed prepared to resist his entry 
 with force. 
 
 During the reception of the Austrian Embassy which 
 followed the Mass, an incident occurred which altered the 
 whole set of the young diplomat's thoughts, and, most 
 surprisingly, sent him posting down to the Imperial Hotel 
 to find Geoffrey Barrington, as one who has discovered 
 a treasure and must share it with his friend. 
 
 The big Englishman was contemplating a whisky-and- 
 soda in the hall of the hotel. It was by no means the 
 first of its series. He gazed dully at Reggie. 
 
 "Thought you were at Chuzenji," he said thickly. 
 
 "I had to come down for the special service for the 
 Archduke Franz Ferdinand," said Reggie, excitedly. 
 "They gave us a regular wake, champagne by the gallon ! 
 Several of the corps diplomatique became inspired ! They 
 saw visions and made prophesyings. Von Falkenturm, 
 the German military attache, was shouting out, 'We've 
 got to fight. We're going to fight ! We don't care who 
 we fight ! Russia, France, England : yes, the whole lot of 
 them !' The man was drunk, of course ; but, after, all, 
 in vino veritas. The rest of the square-heads were getting 
 very rattled, and at last they succeeded in suppressing
 
 254 KIMONO 
 
 Falkenturm. But, I tell you, Geoffrey, it's coming at 
 last; it's really coming!" 
 
 "What's coming?" 
 
 "Why, the Great War. Thank God, it's coming !" 
 
 "Why thank God?" 
 
 "Because we've all become too artificial and beastly. 
 We want exterminating, and to start afresh. We shall 
 escape at last from women and drawing-rooms and silly 
 gossip. We shall become men. It will give us all some- 
 thing to do and something to think about." 
 
 "Yes," echoed Geoffrey, "I wish I could get something 
 to do." 
 
 "You'll get it all right. I wish I were a soldier. Are 
 you going to stop in Japan much longer?" 
 
 "No going next week going home." 
 
 "Look here, I'll put in my resignation right away, and 
 I'll come along with you." 
 
 "No, thanks," said Geoffrey, "rather not." 
 
 In his excitement Reggie had failed to observe the 
 chilliness of his friend's demeanour. This snub direct 
 brought up the whole chain of events, which Reggie had 
 momentarily forgotten, or which were too recent as yet 
 to have assumed complete reality. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Geoffrey," he said, as he rose to go. 
 
 "Not at all," said Barrington, ignoring his friend's 
 hand and turning aside to order another drink. 
 
 Geoffrey had a letter in his pocket, received from his 
 wife that morning. It ran: 
 
 "DEAR GEOFFREY, I am very sorry. I cannot come 
 back. It is not only what has happened. I am Japanese. 
 You are English. You can never really love me. Our 
 marriage was a mistake. Everybody says so even Reggie 
 Forsyth. I tried my best to want to come back. I went 
 to Reggie last night, and asked him what actually 
 happened. He says that our marriage was a mistake, and 
 that our coming to Japan was a mistake. So do I. I 
 think we might have been happy in England. I want 
 you to divorce me. It seems to be very easy in Japan.
 
 SAYONARA 255 
 
 You only have to write a letter, which Mr. Ito will give 
 you. Then I can become quite Japanese again, and Mr. 
 Fujinami can take me back into his family. Also you 
 will be free to marry an English girl. But don't have 
 anything to do with Miss Smith. She is a very bad 
 girl. I shall never marry anybody else. My cousins are 
 very kind to me. It is much better for me to stay in 
 Japan. Titine said I was wrong to go away. Please 
 give her fifty pounds from me, and send her back to 
 France, if she wants to go. I don't think it is good for 
 us to see each other. We only make each other unhappy. 
 Tanaka is here, I do not like him now. Good-bye ! 
 Good-bye 1 
 
 Your loving, 
 
 ASAKO." 
 
 From this letter Geoffrey understood that Reggie For- 
 syth also was against him. The request for a divorce 
 baffled him entirely. How could he divorce his wife, 
 when he had nothing against her? In answer, he wrote 
 another frantic appeal to her to return to him. There 
 was no answer. 
 
 Then he left Tokyo for Yokohama it is only eighteen 
 miles away to wait there until his boat started. 
 
 Thither he was pursued by Ito. 
 
 "I am sorry for you." The revolting little man always 
 began his discourse now with this exasperating phrase. 
 "Mrs. Barrington would like very much to obtain the 
 divorce. She wishes very much to have her name in- 
 scribed on family register of Fujinami house. If there 
 is no divorce, this is not possible." 
 
 "But," objected Geoffrey, "it is not so easy to get 
 divorced as to get married unfortunately." 
 
 "In Japan," said the lawyer, "it is more easy, because 
 we have different custom." 
 
 "Then there must be a lot of divorces," said Geoffrey 
 grimly. 
 
 "There are very many," answered the Japanese, "more 
 than in any other country. In divorce Japan leads the
 
 256 KIMONO 
 
 world. Even the States come second to our country. 
 Among the low-class persons in Japan there are even 
 women who have been married thirty-five times, married 
 properly, honourably and legally. In upper society, too, 
 many divorce, but not so many, for it makes the family 
 angry." 
 
 "Marvellous!" said Geoffrey. "How do you do it?" 
 
 "There is divorce by law-courts, as in your country," 
 said Ito. "The injured party can sue the other party, and 
 the court can grant decree. But very few Japanese 
 persons go to the court for divorce. It is not nice, as 
 you say, to wash dirty shirt before all people. So there 
 is divorce by custom." 
 
 "Well?" asked the Englishman. 
 
 "Now, as you know, our mariage is also by custom. 
 There is no ceremony of religion, unless parties desire. 
 Only the man and the woman go to the Shiyakusho, to the 
 office of the city or the village; and the man say, 'This 
 woman is my wife ; please, write her name on the register 
 of my family.' Then when he want to divorce her, he 
 goes again to the office of the city and says, 'I have sent 
 my wife away ; please, take her name from the register 
 of my family, and write it again on the register of her 
 father's family.' You see, our custom is very convenient. 
 No expense, no trouble." 
 
 "Very convenient," Geoffrey agreed. 
 
 "So, if Captain Harrington will come with me to the 
 office of Akasaka, Tokyo, and will give notice that he 
 has sent Mrs. Harrington back to her family, then the 
 divorce is finished. Mrs. Barrington becomes again a 
 Japanese subject. Her name becomes Fujinami. She is 
 again one of her family. This is her prayer to you." 
 
 "And Mrs. Harrington's money?" asked Geoffrey sar- 
 castically. "You have forgotten that." 
 
 "Oh no," was the answer, "we don't forget the money. 
 Mr. Fujinami quite understand that it is great loss to 
 send away Mrs. Barrington. He will give big compen- 
 sation as much as Captain Barrington desires." 
 
 To Ito's surprise, his victim left the table and did not
 
 SAYONARA 257 
 
 return. So he inquired from the servants about Captain 
 Harrington's habits ; and learned from the boy sans that 
 the big Englishman drank plenty whisky-soda ; but he 
 did not talk to any one or go to the brothels. Perhaps 
 he was a little mad. 
 
 Ito returned to the charge next day. This time 
 Geoffrey had an inspiration. He said that if he could 
 be granted an interview alone with Asako, he would 
 discuss with her the divorce project, and would consent, 
 if she asked him personally. After some demur, the 
 lawyer agreed. 
 
 The last interview between husband and wife took 
 place in Ito's office, which Geoffrey had visited once 
 before in his search for the fortune of the Fujinami. The 
 scene of the rendezvous was well chosen to repress any 
 revival of old emotions. The varnished furniture, the 
 sham mahogany, the purple plush upholstery, the gilt 
 French clock, the dirty bust of Abraham Lincoln and the 
 polyglot law library checked the tender word and the 
 generous impulse. The Japanese have an instinctive 
 knowledge of the influence of inanimate things, and use 
 this knowledge with an unscrupulousness, which the 
 crude foreigner only realises if ever after it is too late. 
 
 Geoffrey's wife appeared hand in hand with cousin 
 Sadako. There was nothing English in her looks. She 
 had become completely Japanese from her black helmet- 
 like coiffure to the little white feet which shuffled over 
 the dusty carpet. There was no hand-shaking. The two 
 women sat down stiffly on chairs against the wall remote 
 from Geoffrey, like two swallows perched uneasily on 
 an unsteady wire. Asako held a fan. There was com- 
 plete silence. 
 
 "I wish to see my wife alone," said Geoffrey. 
 
 He spoke to Ito, who grinned with embarrassment and 
 looked at the two women. Asako shook her head. 
 
 "I made it quite clear to you, Mr. Ito," said Geoffrey 
 angrily, "that this was my condition. I understand that
 
 258 KIMONO 
 
 pressure has been used to keep my wife away from 
 me. I will apply to my Embassy to get her restored." 
 
 Ito muttered under his breath. That was a contin- 
 gency which he had greatly dreaded. He turned to 
 Sadako Fujinami and spoke to her in voluble Japanese. 
 Sadako whispered in her cousin's ear. Then she rose, 
 and withdrew with Ito. 
 
 Geoffrey was left alone with Asako. But was she 
 really the same Asako? Geoffrey had often seen upper- 
 class Japanese ladies at receptions in the hotel at Tokyo. 
 He had thought how picturesque they were, how well- 
 mannered, how excellent their taste in dress. But they 
 had seemed to him quite unreal, denizens of a shadow- 
 world of bowing, gliding figures. 
 
 He now realised that his former wife had become 
 entirely a Japanese, a person absolutely different from 
 himself, a visitant from another sphere. He was English ; 
 she was Japanese. They were divorced already. 
 
 The big man rose from his chair, and held out his 
 hand to his wife. 
 
 "I'm sorry, little Asako!" he said, very gently. "You 
 are quite right. It was a mistake. Good-bye, and God 
 bless you always !" 
 
 With immense relief and gratitude she took the giant's 
 paw in her own tiny hand. It seemed to have lost its 
 grip, to have become like a Japanese hand. 
 
 He opened the door for her. Once again, as on the 
 altar-steps of St. George's, the tall shoulders bent over 
 the tiny figure with a movement of instinctive protection 
 and tenderness. He closed the door behind her, recrossed 
 the room and stared into the empty fireplace. 
 
 After a time, Ito returned. The two men went together 
 to the district office of the Akasaka Ward. There 
 Geoffrey signed a declaration in Japanese and English 
 to the effect that his marriage with Asako Fujinami was 
 cancelled, and that she was free to return to her father's 
 family. 
 
 Next morning, at daylight his ship left Yokohama. 
 
 Before he reached Liverpool, war had been declared.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 FUJINAMI ASAKO 
 
 Okite mifav When I rise, I look 
 
 Nete mitsu kaya no When I lie down, I look 
 
 Hirosa kana. Alas, how vast is the mos- 
 
 quito-curtain. 
 
 ASAKO HARRINGTON was restored to the name and home 
 of the Fujinami. Her action had been the result of 
 hereditary instinct, of the natural current of circum- 
 stances, and of the adroit diplomacy of her relatives. 
 She had been hunted and caught like a wild animal ; and 
 she was soon to find that the walls of her enclosure, 
 which at first seemed so wide that she perceived them 
 not, were closing in upon her day by day as in a mediaeval 
 torture chamber, forcing her step by step towards the 
 unfathomable pit of Japanese matrimony. 
 
 The Fujinami had not adopted their foreign cousin out 
 of pure altruism. Far from it. Like Japanese in general, 
 they resented the intrusion of a "tanin" (outside person) 
 into their intimacy. They took her for what she was 
 worth to them. 
 
 Since Asako was now a member of the family, custom 
 allowed Mr. Fujinami Gentaro to control her money. 
 But Mr. Ito warned his patron that, legally, the 
 money was still hers, and hers alone, and that in case of 
 her marrying a second time it might again slip away. It 
 was imperative, therefore, to the policy of the Fujinami 
 house that Asako should marry a Fujinami, and that as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 A difficulty here arose, not that Asako might object to 
 her new husband it never occurred to the Fujinami that 
 this stranger from Europe might have opinions quite op- 
 posed to Japanese conventions but that there were very 
 few adequately qualified suitors. Indeed, in the direct 
 
 259
 
 260 KIMONO 
 
 line of succession there was only young Mr. Fujinami 
 Takeshi, the youth with the purple blotches, who had 
 distinguished himself by his wit and his savoir vivre on 
 the night of the first family banquet. 
 
 True, he had a wife already; but she could easily be 
 divorced, as her family were nobodies. If he married 
 Asako, however, was he still capable of breeding healthy 
 children? Of course, he might adopt the children whom 
 he already possessed by his first wife, but the elder 
 boy showed signs of being mentally deficient, the 
 younger was certainly deaf and dumb, and the two 
 others were girls and did not count. 
 
 Grandfather Fujinami Gennosuke, who hated and de- 
 spised his grandson, was for sweeping him and his brood 
 out of the way altogether, and for adopting a carefully 
 selected and creditable yoshi (adopted son) by marriage 
 with either Sadako or Asako. 
 
 "But if this Asa is barren?" said Mrs. Fujinami 
 Shidzuye", who naturally desired that her daughter 
 Sadako's husband should be the heir of the Fujinami. 
 "That Englishman was strong and healthy. There 
 was living together for more than a year, and still no 
 child. 
 
 "If she is barren, then a son must be adopted," said 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 "To adopt twice in succession is unlucky," objected Mr. 
 Fujinami Gentaro. 
 
 "Then," said Mrs. Shidzuye", "the old woman of Akabo 
 shall come for consultation. She shall tell if it is possible 
 for her to have babies. 
 
 Akabo was the up-country village, whence the first 
 Fujinami had come to Tokyo to seek his fortune. The 
 Japanese never completely loses touch with his ancestral 
 village ; and for over a hundred years the Tokyo Fuji- 
 nami had paid their annual visit to the mountains of the 
 North to render tribute to the graves of their forefathers. 
 They still preserved an inherited faith in the "wise 
 woman" of the district, who from time to time was sum-
 
 FUJINAMI ASAKO 261 
 
 moned to the capital to give her advice. Their other 
 medical counselor was Professor Kashio, who held de- 
 grees from Munich and Vienna. 
 
 During the first days of her self-chosen widowhood 
 Asako was little better than a convalescent. She had 
 never looked at sorrow before ; and the shock of what 
 she had seen had paralyzed her vitality without as yet 
 opening her understanding. Like a dog, who in the midst 
 of his faithful affection has been struck for a fault of 
 which he is unconscious, she took refuge in darkness, 
 solitude and despair. 
 
 The Japanese, who are as a rule intuitively aware of 
 others' emotions, recognized her case. A room was pre- 
 pared for her in a distant wing of the straggling house, a 
 "foreign-style" room in an upper story with glass in the 
 windows stained glass too with white muslin blinds, 
 a colored lithograph of Napoleon and a real bed, recently 
 purchased on Sadako's pleading that everything must be 
 done to make life happy for their guest. 
 
 "But she is a Japanese," Mr. Fujinami Gentaro had 
 objected. "It is not right that a Japanese should sleep 
 upon a tall bed. She must learn to give up luxurious 
 ways." 
 
 Sadako protested that her cousin's health was not yet 
 assured ; and so discipline was relaxed for a time. 
 
 Asako spent most of her days in the tall bed, gazing 
 through the open doorway, across the polished wood 
 veranda like the toffee veranda of a confectioner's model, 
 past the wandering branch of an old twisted pine-tree 
 which crouched by the side of the mansion like a faithful 
 beast, over the pigmy landscape of the garden, to the 
 scale-like roofs of the distant city, and to the pagoda on 
 the opposite hill. 
 
 It rested her to lie thus and look at her country. From 
 time to time Sadako would steal into the room. Her 
 cousin would leave the invalid in silence, but she always 
 smiled; and she would bring some offering with her, a 
 dish of food Asako's favorite dishes, of which Tanaka
 
 262 KIMONO 
 
 had already compiled a complete list or sometimes a 
 flower. At the open door she would pause to shuffle off 
 her pale blue zori (sandals) ; and she would glide across 
 the clean rice-straw matting shod in her snow-white tabi 
 only. 
 
 Asako gradually accustomed herself to the noises of 
 the house. First, there was the clattering of the amado, 
 the wooden shutters whose removal announced the be- 
 ginning of the day, then the gurgling and the expectora- 
 tions which accompanied the family ablutions, then the 
 harsh sound of the men's voices and their rattling laugh- 
 ter, the sound of their geta on the gravel paths of the 
 garden like the tedious dropping of heavy rain on an 
 iron roof, then the flicking and dusting of the maids as 
 they went about their daily soji (house-cleaning), their 
 shrill mouselike chirps and their silly giggle ; then the 
 afternoon stillness when every one was absent or sleep- 
 ing; and then, the revival of life and bustle at about six 
 o'clock, when the clogs were shuffled off at the front 
 door, when the teacups began to jingle, and when sounds 
 of swishing water came up from the bath-house, the 
 crackle of the wood-fire under the bathtub, the smell of 
 the burning logs, and the distant odours of the kitchen. 
 
 Outside, the twilight was beginning to gather. A big 
 black crow flopped lazily on to the branch of the neigh- 
 bouring pine-tree. His harsh croak disturbed Asako's 
 mind like a threat. High overhead passed a flight of 
 wild geese in military formation on their way to the conti- 
 nent of Asia. Lights began to peep among the trees. 
 Behind the squat pagoda a sky of raspberry pink closed 
 the background. 
 
 The twilight is brief in Japan. The night is velvety; 
 and the moonlight and the starlight transfigure the dolls' 
 house architecture, the warped pine-trees, the feathery 
 bamboo clumps and the pagoda spires. 
 
 From a downstair room there came the twang of 
 cousin Sadako's koto, a kind of zither instrument, upon 
 which she played interminable melancholy sonatas of 
 Jiquid, detached notes, like desultory thoughts against a
 
 FUJINAMI ASAKO 263 
 
 background of silence. There was no accompaniment to 
 this music and no song to chime with it ; for, as the Jap- 
 anese say, the accompaniment for koto music is the sum- 
 mer night-time and its heavy fragrance, and the voice 
 with which it harmonizes is the whisper of the breeze in 
 the pine-branches. 
 
 Long after Sadako had finished her practice, came 
 borne upon the distance the still more melancholy pipe 
 of a student's flute. This was the last human sound. 
 [After that the night was left to the orchestra of the 
 insects the grasshoppers, the crickets and the semi 
 (cicadas). Asako soon was able to distinguish at least 
 ten or twelve different songs, all metallic in character, 
 like clock springs being slowly wound up and then let 
 down with a run. The night and the house vibrated with 
 these infinitesimal chromatics. Sometimes Asako 
 thought the creatures must have got into her room, and 
 feared for entanglements in her hair. Then she remem- 
 bered that her mother's nickname had been "the Semi" 
 and that she had been so called because she was always 
 happy and singing in her little house by the river. 
 
 This memory roused Asako one day with a wish to see 
 how her own house was progressing. This wish was the 
 first positive thought which had stirred her mind since 
 her husband had left her ; and it marked a stage in her 
 convalescence. 
 
 "If the house is ready," she thought "I will go there 
 soon. The Fujinamis will not want me to live here per- 
 manently." 
 
 This showed how little she understood as yet the Jap- 
 anese family system, whereby relatives remain as perma- 
 nent guests for years on end. 
 
 "Tanaka" she said one morning, in what was almost 
 her old manner, "I think I will have the motor car to- 
 day." 
 
 Tanaka had become her body servant as in the old days. 
 At first she had resented the man's reappearance, which 
 awakened such cruel memories. She had protested 
 against him to Sadako, who had smiled and promised.
 
 264 KIMONO 
 
 But Tanaka continued his ministrations ; and Asako had 
 not the strength to go on protesting. As a matter of 
 fact, he was specially employed by Mr. Fujinami Gentaro 
 to spy on Asako's movements, an easy task hitherto, 
 since she had not moved from her room. 
 
 "Where is the motor car, Tanaka?" she asked again. 
 
 He grinned, as Japanese always do when embarrassed. 
 
 "Very sorry for you," he answered; "motor car has 
 gone away." 
 
 "Has Captain Barrington ?" Asako began instinct- 
 ively; then, remembering that Geoffrey was now many 
 thousands of miles from Japan, she turned her face to 
 the wall and began to cry. 
 
 "Young Fujinami San," said Tanaka, "has taken motor 
 car. He go away to mountains with geisha girl. Very 
 bad, young Fujinami San, very roue." 
 
 Asako thought that it was rather impertinent to bor- 
 row her own motor car without asking permission, even 
 if she was their guest. She did not yet understand that 
 she and all her possessions belonged from henceforth to 
 her family to her male relatives, that is to say ; for she 
 was only a woman. 
 
 "Old Mr. Fujinami San," Tanaka went on, happy to 
 find his mistress, to whom he was attached in a queer 
 Japanese sort of way, interested and responsive at last, 
 "old Mr. Fujinami San, he also go to mountain with geisha 
 girl, but different mountain. Japanese people all very 
 roue. All Japanese people like to go away in summer 
 season with geisha girl. Very bad custom. Old Mr. Fu- 
 jinami San, not so very bad, keep same geisha girl very 
 long time. Perhaps Ladyship see one little girl, very nice 
 little girl, come sometimes with Miss Sadako and bring 
 meal-time things. That little girl is geisha girl's daugh- 
 ter. Perhaps old Mr. Fujinami San's daughter also, I 
 think : very bastard : I don't know !" 
 
 So he rambled on in the fashion of servants all the 
 world over, until Asako knew all the ramifications of her 
 relatives, legitimate and illegitimate. 
 
 She gathered that the men had all left Tokyo during
 
 FUJINAMI ASAKO 265 
 
 the hot season, and that only the women were left in the 
 house. This encouraged her to descend from her eyrie, 
 and to endeavour to take up her position in her family, 
 which was beginning to appear the less reassuring the 
 more she learned about its history. 
 
 The life of a Japanese lady of quality is peculiarly tedi- 
 ous. She is relieved from the domestic cares which give 
 occupation to her humbler sisters. But she is not treated 
 as an equal or as a companion by her menfolk, who are 
 taught that marriage is for business and not for pleasure, 
 and consequently that home-life is a bore. She is sup- 
 posed to find her own amusements, such as flower-arrange- 
 ment, tea-ceremony, music, kimono-making and the 
 composition of poetry. More often, this refined and inno- 
 cent ideal degenerates into a poor trickle of an exist- 
 ence, enlivened only by scrappy magazine reading, ser- 
 vants' gossip, empty chatter about clothes, neighbours 
 and children, backbiting, envying and malice. 
 
 Once Sadako took her cousin to a charity entertain- 
 ment given for the Red Cross at the house of a rich 
 nobleman. A hundred or more ladies were present; but 
 stiff civility prevailed. None of the guests seemed to 
 know each other. There was no friendly talking. There 
 were no men guests. There was three hours' agony of 
 squatting, a careful adjustment of expensive kimonos, 
 weak tea and tasteless cakes, a blank staring at a dull 
 conjuring performance, and deadly silence. 
 
 "Do you ever have dances?" Asako asked her cousin. 
 
 "The geisha dance, because they are paid," said Sadako 
 primly. Her pose was no longer cordial and sympathetic. 
 She set herself up as mentor to this young savage, who 
 did not know the usages of civilized society. 
 
 "No, not like that," said the girl from England; "but 
 dancing among yourselves with your men friends." 
 
 "Oh, no, that would not be nice at all. Only tipsy per- 
 sons would dance like that." 
 
 Asako tried, not very successfully, to chat in easy 
 Japanese with her cousin ; but she fled from the intermin- 
 able talking parties of her relatives, where she could
 
 266 KIMONO 
 
 not understand one word, except the innumerable paren- 
 theses naruhodo (indeed!) and so des'ka (is it so?) 
 with which the conversation was studded. As the reali- 
 zation of her solitude made her nerves more jumpy, she 
 began to imagine that the women were forever talking 
 about her, criticizing her unfavorably and disposing of 
 her future. 
 
 The only man whom she saw during the hot summer 
 months, besides the inevitable Tanaka, was Mr. Ito, the 
 lawyer. He could talk quite good English. He was not 
 so egotistical and bitter as Sadako. He had traveled in 
 America and Europe. He seemed to understand the 
 trouble of Asako's mind, and would offer sympathetic 
 advice. 
 
 "It is difficult to go to school when we are no longer 
 children," he would say sententiously. "Asa San must 
 be patient. Asa San must forget. Asa San must take 
 Japanese husband. I think it is the only way." 
 
 "Oh, no," the poor girl shivered; "I wouldn't marry 
 again for anything." 
 
 "But," Ito went on relentlessly, "it is hurtful to the 
 body when once it has custom to be married. I think 
 that is reason why so many widow women are unfortun- 
 ate and become mad." 
 
 Every day he would spend an hour or so in conversation 
 with Asako. She thought that this was a sign of friend- 
 liness and sympathy. As a matter of fact, his object at 
 first was to improve his English. Later on more ambi- 
 tious projects developed in his fertile brain. 
 
 He would talk about New York and London in his 
 queer stilted way. He had been a fireman on board ship, 
 a teacher of jiujitsu, a juggler, a quack dentist, Heaven 
 knows what else. Driven by the conscientious inquisitive- 
 ness of his race, he had endured hardships, contempt and 
 rough treatment with the smiling patience inculcated in 
 the Japanese people by their education. "We must chew 
 our gall, and bide our time," they say, when the too pow- 
 erful foreigner insults or abuses them. 
 
 He had seen the magnificence of our cities, the vast-
 
 FUJINAMI ASAKO 267 
 
 ness of our undertakings and had returned to Japan with 
 great relief to find that life among his own people was 
 less strenuous and fierce, that it was ordered by circum- 
 stances and the family system, that less was left to indi- 
 vidual courage and enterprise, that things happened more 
 often than things were done. The impersonality of Japan 
 was as restful to him as it is aggravating to a European. 
 
 But it must not be imagined that Ito was an idle man. 
 On the contrary, he was exceedingly hard working and 
 ambitious. His dream was to become a statesman, to 
 enjoy unlimited patronage, to make men and to break 
 men, and to die a peer. When he returned to Japan from 
 his wanderings with exactly two shillings in his pocket, 
 this was his programme. Like Cecil Rhodes, his hero 
 among white men, he made a will distributing millions. 
 Then he attached himself to his rich cousins, the Fujinami ; 
 and very soon he became indispensable to them. Fujinami 
 Gentaro, an indolent man, gave him more and more au- 
 thority over the family fortune. It was dirty business, 
 this buying of girls and hiring of pimps, but it was im- 
 mensely profitable; and more and more of the profits 
 found their way into Ito's private account. Fujinami 
 Gentaro did not seem to care. Takeshi, the son and heir, 
 was a nonentity. Ito's intention was to continue to 
 serve his cousins until he had amassed a working capital 
 of a hundred thousand pounds. Then he would go into 
 politics. 
 
 But the advent of Asako suggested a short cut to his 
 hopes. If he maried her he would gain immediate control 
 of a large interest in the Fujinami estate. Besides she 
 had all the qualifications for the wife of a Cabinet Min- 
 ister, knowledge of foreign languages, ease in foreign 
 society, experience of foreign dress and customs. More- 
 over, passion was stirring in his heart, the swift stormy 
 passion of the Japanese male, which, when thwarted, 
 -drives him towards murder and suicide. 
 
 Like many Japanese, he had felt the attractiveness 
 of foreign women when he was traveling abroad. Their 
 independence stimulated him, their savagery and their
 
 268 KIMONO 
 
 masterful ways. Ito had found in Asako the physical 
 beauty of his own race together with the character and 
 energy which had pleased him so much in white women. 
 Everything seemed to favor his suit. Asako clearly 
 seemed to prefer his company to that of other members 
 of the family. He had a hold over the Fujinami which 
 would compel them to assent to anything he might re- 
 quire. True, he had a wife already ; but she could easily be 
 divorced. 
 
 Asako tolerated him, faute de mieux. Cousin Sadako 
 was becoming tired of their system of mutual instruc- 
 tion, as she tired sooner or later of everything. 
 
 She had developed a romantic interest in one of the 
 pet students, whom the Fujinami kept as an advertise- 
 ment and a bodyguard. He was a pale youth with long 
 greasy hair, spectacles and more gold in his teeth than 
 he had ever placed in his waist-band. Popriety forbade 
 any actual conversation with Sadako; but there was an 
 interchange of letters almost every day, long subjective 
 letters describing states of mind and high ideals, punc- 
 tuated with shadowy Japanese poems and with quota- 
 tions from the Bible, Tolstoy, Nietzsche, Bergson, Eucken, 
 Oscar Wilde and Samuel Smiles. 
 
 Sadako told her cousin that the young man was a 
 genius.and would one day be Professor of Literature at 
 the Imperial University.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE REAL SHINTO 
 
 Yo no nako wo To what shall I compare 
 
 Nani ni tatoyemuf This world? 
 
 Asa-borake To the white wake behind 
 
 Kogi-yuku fune no A ship that has rowed away 
 
 Ato no shira-nami. At dawn! 
 
 WHEN the autumn came and the maple trees turned 
 scarlet, the men returned from their long summer holi- 
 days. After that Asako's lot became heavier than ever. 
 
 "What is this talk of tall beds and special cooking?" 
 said Mr. Fujinami Gentaro. "The girl is a Japanese. 
 She must live like a Japanese and be proud of it." 
 
 So Asako had to sleep on the floor alongside her cousin 
 Sadako in one of the downstairs rooms. Her last posses- 
 sion, her privacv, was taken away from her. The soft 
 mattresses which formed the native bed, were not un- 
 comfortable ; but Asako discarded at once the wooden 
 pillow, which every Japanese woman fits into the nape 
 of her neck, so as to prevent her elaborate coiffure be- 
 coming disarranged. As a result, her head was always 
 untidy, a fact upon which her relatives commented. 
 
 "She does not look like a great foreign lady now," said 
 Mrs. Shidzuye, the mistress of the house. "She looks 
 like osandon (a rough kitchen maid) from a country inn." 
 
 The other women tittered. 
 
 One day the old woman of Akabo arived. Her hair 
 was quite white like spun glass, and her waxen face was 
 wrinkled like a relief map. Her body was bent double 
 like a lobster; and her eyes were dim with cataracts. 
 Cousin Sadako said with awe that she was over a hun- 
 dred years old. 
 
 Asako had to submit to the indignity of allowing this 
 dessicated hag to pass her fumbling hands all over her 
 body, pinching her and prodding her. The old woman 
 
 269
 
 270 KIMONO 
 
 smelt horirbly of daikon (pickled horse-radish). Further- 
 more the terrified girl had to answer a battery of ques- 
 tions as to her personal habits and her former marital 
 relations. In return, she learned a number of curious 
 facts about herself, of which she had hitherto no inkling. 
 The lucky coincidence of having been born in the hour of 
 the Bird and the day of the Bird set her apart from the 
 rest of womankind as an exceptionally fortunate indi- 
 vidual. But, unhappily, the malignant influence of the 
 Dog Year was against her nativity. When once this dis- 
 affected animal had been conquered and cast out, Asako's 
 future should be a very bright one. The family witch 
 agreed with the Fujinami that the Dog had in all proba- 
 bility departed with the foreign husband. Then the 
 toothless crone breathed three times upon the mouth, 
 breasts and thighs of Asako; and when this opera- 
 tion was concluded, she stated her opinion that there 
 was no reason, obstetrical or esoteric, why the ransomed 
 daughter of the house of Fujinami should not become the 
 mother of many children. 
 
 But on the psychical condition of the family in general 
 she was far from reassuring. Everything about the man- 
 sion, the growth of the garden, the flight of the birds, 
 the noises of the night-time, foreboded dire disaster in 
 the near future. The Fujinami were in the grip of a 
 most alarming inge (chain of cause and effect). Several 
 "rough ghosts" were abroad ; and were almost certain to 
 do damage before their wrath could be appeased. What 
 was the remedy ? It was indeed difficult to prescribe for 
 such complicated cases. Temple charms, however, were 
 always efficacious. The old woman gave the names of 
 some of the shrines which specialized in exorcism. 
 
 Some days later the charms were obtained, strips of 
 rice paper with sacred writings and symbols upon them, 
 and were pasted upon posts and lintels all over the house. 
 This was done in Mr. Fujinami's absence. When he re- 
 turned, he commented most unfavourably on this act of 
 faith. The prayer tickets disfigured his house. They 
 looked like luggage labels. They injured his reputation
 
 THE REAL SHINTO 271 
 
 as an esprit fort. He ordered the students to remove 
 them. 
 
 After this sacrilegious act, the old woman, who had 
 lingered on in the family mansion for several weeks, re- 
 turned again to Akabo, shaking her white locks and 
 prophesying dark things to come. 
 
 For some reason or other, the witch's visit did not im- 
 prove Asako's position. She was expected to perform 
 little menial services, to bring in food at meal-times and 
 to serve the gentlemen on bended knee, to clap her hands 
 in summons to the servant girls, to massage Mrs. Fu- 
 jinami, who suffered from rheumatism in the shoulder, 
 and to scrub her back in the bath. 
 
 Her wishes were usually ignored; and she was not en- 
 couraged to leave the house and grounds. Sadako no 
 longer took her cousin with her to the theatre or to 
 choose kimono patterns at the Mitsukoshi store. She 
 was irritated at Asako's failure to learn Japanese. It 
 bored her to have to explain everything. She found this 
 girl from Europe silly and undutiful. 
 
 Only at night they would chatter as girls will, even if 
 they are enemies; and it was then that Sadako narrated 
 the history of her romance with the young student. 
 
 One night, Asako awoke to find that the bed beside 
 her was empty, and that the paper shoji was pushed aside. 
 Nervous and anxious, she rose and stood in the dark 
 veranda outside the room. A cold wind was blowing in 
 from some aperture in the amado. This was unusual, 
 for a Japanese house in its night attire is hermetically 
 sealed. 
 
 Suddenly Sadako appeared from the direction of the 
 wind. Her hair was disheveled. She wore a dark cloak 
 over her parti-coloured night kimono. By the dim light 
 of the andon (a rushlight in a square paper box), Asako 
 could see that the cloak was spotted with rain. 
 
 "I have been to benjo," said Sadako nervously. 
 
 "You have been out in the rain," contradicted her 
 cousin. "You are wet through. You will catch cold."
 
 272 KIMONO 
 
 "Sa! Damare! (Be quiet!)" whispered Sadako, as she 
 threw her cloak aside, "do not talk so loud. See !" She 
 drew from her breast a short sword in a sheath of sha- 
 green. "If you speak one word, I kill you with this." 
 
 "What have you done?" asked Asako, trembling. 
 
 "What I wished to do," was the sullen answer. 
 
 "You have been with Sekine?" Asako mentioned the 
 student's name. 
 
 Sadako nodded in assent. Then she began to cry, hid- 
 ing her face in her kimono sleeve. 
 
 "Do you love him ?" Asako could not help asking. 
 
 "Of course, I love him," cried Sadako, starting up from 
 her sorrow. "You see me. I am no more virgin. He is 
 my life to me. Why cannot I love him? Why cannot I 
 be free like men are free to love as they wish? I am 
 new woman. I read Bernard Shaw. I find one law for 
 men in Japan, and another law for women. But I will 
 break that law. I have made Sekine' my lover, because 
 I am free/" 
 
 Asako could never have imagined her proud, inhuman 
 cousin reduced to this state of quivering emotion. Never 
 before had she seen a Japanese soul laid bare. 
 
 "But you will marry Sekine", Sada dear; and then you 
 will be happy." 
 
 "Marry Sekine*!" the girl hissed, "marry a boy with no 
 money and leave you to be the Fujinami heiress, when I 
 am promised to the Governor of Osaka, who will be 
 home Minister when the next Governor comes!" 
 
 "Oh, don't do that," urged Asako, her English senti- 
 mentalism flooding back across her mind. "Don't marry 
 a man whom you don't love. You say you are a new 
 woman. Marry Sekine". Marry the man whom you love. 
 Then you will be happy." 
 
 "Japanese girls are never happy," groaned her cousin. 
 
 Asako gasped. This morality confused her. 
 
 "But that would be a mortal sin," she said. "Then you 
 could never be happy." 
 
 "We cannot be happy. We are Fujinami," said Sadako
 
 THE REAL SHINTO 273 
 
 gravely. "We are cursed. The old woman of Akabo 
 said that it is a very bad curse. I do not believe super- 
 stition. But^I believe there is a curse. You also, you 
 have been unhappy, and your father and mother. We 
 are cursed because of the women. We have made so 
 much money from poor women. They are sold to men, 
 and they suffer in pain and die so that we become rich. 
 It is a very bad ing$. So they say in Akabo, that we 
 Fujinami have a fox in our family. It brings us money; 
 but it makes us unhappy. In Akabo, even poor people 
 will not marry with the Fujinami, because we have the 
 fox." 
 
 It is a popular belief, still widely held in Japan, that 
 certain families own spirit foxes, a kind of family ban- 
 shee who render them service, but mark them with a 
 curse. 
 
 "I do not understand," said Asako, afraid of this wild 
 talk. 
 
 "Do you know why the Englishman went away?" said 
 her cousin brutally. 
 
 It was Asako's turn to cry. 
 
 "Oh, I wish I had gone with him. He was so good to 
 me, always so kind and so gentle!" 
 
 "When he married you," said Sadako, "he did not know 
 that you had the curse. He ought not to have come to 
 Japan with you. Now he knows you have the curse. So 
 he went away. He was wise." 
 
 "What do you mean by the curse?" asked Asako. 
 
 "You do not know how the Fujinami have made so 
 much money?" 
 
 "No," said Asako. "It used to come for me from Mr. 
 Ito. He had shares or something." 
 
 "Yes. But a share that means a share of a business. 
 Do you not know what is our business?" 
 
 "No," said Asako again. 
 
 "You have seen the Yoshiwara, where girls are sold to 
 men. That is our business. Do you understand now?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then I will tell you the whole story of the Fujinami. 
 About one hundred and twenty years ago our great-
 
 274 KIMONO 
 
 great-grandfather came to Yedo, as Tokyo was then 
 called. He was a poor boy from the country. He had no 
 friends. He became clerk in a dry goods store. One 
 day a woman, rather old, asked him: 'How much pay 
 you get?' He said, ' No pay, only food and clothes.' The 
 woman said, 'Come with me; I will give you food and 
 clothes and pay also.' He went with her to the Yoshiwara 
 where she had a small house with five or six girls. Every 
 night he must stand in front of the house, calling. Then 
 the drunken workmen, and the gamblers, and the bad 
 samurai would come and pay their money. And they 
 pay their money to him, our great-great-grandfather. 
 When the girls were sick, or would not receive guests, 
 he would beat them, and starve them, and burn o kyu 
 (a medical plant called moxa, used for cauterization) 
 on their backs. One day he said to the woman who was 
 mistress of the house, ' Your girls are too old. The rich 
 friends do not come any more. Let us sell these girls. 
 I will go into the country and get new girls, and then 
 you will marry me and make me your partner.' The 
 woman said, 'If we have good luck with the girls and make 
 money, then I marry you.' So our great-great-grand- 
 father went back to his own country, to Akabo; and his 
 old friends in the country were astonished, seeing how 
 much money he had to spend. He said 'Yes. I have 
 many rich friends in Yedo. They want pretty country 
 girls to be their wives. See, I pay you in advance five 
 pieces of gold. After the marriage more money will be 
 given. Let me take your prettiest girls to Yedo with 
 me. And they will all get rich husbands.' They were 
 simple country people, and they believed him because 
 he was a man of their village, of Akabo. He went back 
 to Yedo with about twenty girls, fifteen or sixteen years 
 old. He and the other clerks of the Yoshiwara first 
 made them jorb. From those twenty girls he made very 
 much money. So he married the woman who kept the 
 house. Then he hired a big house called Tomonji. 'He 
 furnished it very richly; and he would only receive 
 guests of the high-class people. Five of his girls became 
 very famous oiran. Even their pictures, drawn by
 
 THE REAL SHINTO 275 
 
 Utamaro, are worth now hundreds of yen. When our 
 great-great-grandfather died he was a very rich man. 
 His son was the second Fujinami. He bought more 
 houses in the Yoshiwara and more girls. He was our 
 great-grandfather. He had two sons. One was your 
 father's father, who bought this land and first built a 
 house here. The other was my grandfather, Fujinami 
 Gennosuke", who still lives in the inkyo. They have 
 all made much money from girls; but the curse was 
 hurting them all, especially their wives and daughters." 
 
 "And my father?" asked Asako. 
 
 "Your father wrote a book to say how bad a thing it is 
 that money is made from men's lust and the pain of 
 women. He told in the book how girls are tricked to 
 come to Tokyo, how their parents sell them because they 
 are poor or because there is famine, how the girls are 
 brought to Tokyo ten and twenty at a time, and are put 
 to auction sale in the Yoshiwara, how they are shut up 
 like prisoner, how very rough men are sent to them to 
 break their spirit and to compel them to be joro. There 
 is a trial to see how strong they are. Then, when the 
 spirit is broken, they are shown in the window as 
 'new girls' with beautiful kimono and with wreath of 
 flowers on their head. If they are lucky they escape dis- 
 ease for a few years, but it comes soon or late rinbyo, 
 baidoku and raibyo. They are sent to the hospital for 
 treatment; or else they are told to hide the disease and 
 to get more men. So the men take the disease and bring 
 it to their wives and children, who have done no wrong. 
 But the girls of the Yoshiwara have to work all the time, 
 when they are only half cured. So they become old 
 and ugly and rotten very quickly. Then, if they take 
 consumption or some such thing, they die and the master 
 says, 'It is well. She was already too old. She was 
 wasting our money.' And they are buried quickly in 
 the burial place of the joro outside the city boundary, 
 the burial place of the dead who are forgotten. Or some, 
 who are very strong, live until their contract is finished. 
 Then they go back to the country, and marry there 
 and spread disease. But they all die cursing the Fuji-
 
 276 KIMONO 
 
 Harm, who have made money out of their sorrow and 
 pain. I think this garden is full of their ghosts, and their 
 curses beat upon the house, like the wind when it makes 
 the shutters rattle!" 
 
 "How do you know all these terrible things?" asked 
 Asako. 
 
 "It is written in your father's book. I will read it to 
 you. If you do not believe, ask Ito San. He will tell you 
 it is true." 
 
 So for several evenings Sadako read to this stranger 
 Fujinami her own father's words, the words of a fore- 
 runner. 
 
 : Japan is still a savage country, wrote Fujinami Kat- 
 sundo, the Japanese are still barbarians. To compare 
 the conventional codes, which they have mistaken for 
 civilization, with the depth and the height of Occidental 
 idealism, as Christ perceived it and Dante and St. Francis 
 of Assisi and Tolstoy, is "to compare the tortoise with 
 the moon." Japan is imitating from the West its worst 
 propensities hard materialism, vulgarity and money- 
 worship. The Japanese must be humble, and must admit 
 that the most difficult part of their lesson has yet to be 
 learned. Cut and dried systems are useless. Prussian 
 constitution, technical education, military efficiency and 
 bravado such things are not progress. Japan must de- 
 nounce the slavery of ancestor-worship, and escape from 
 the rule of the dead. She must chase away the bogeys 
 of superstition, and enjoy life as a lovely thing, and love 
 as the vision of a life still more beautiful. She must 
 cleanse her land of all its filth, and make it what it still 
 might be the Country of the Rising Sun. 
 
 Such was the message of Asako's father in his book, 
 The Real Shinto. 
 
 "We are not allowed to read this book," Sadako ex- 
 plained; "the police have forbidden it. But I found a 
 secret copy. It was undutiful of your father to write 
 such things. He went away from Japan; and everyone 
 said, 'It is a good thing he has gone; he was a bad man; 
 he shamed his country and his family.' ' 
 
 There was much in the book which Asako could not
 
 THE REAL SHINTO 277 
 
 follow. Her cousin tried to explain it to her; and many 
 nights passed thus, the two girls sitting up and reading 
 by the pale light of the andon. It was like a renewal of 
 the old friendship. Sometimes a low whistle sounded 
 from outside the house. Sadako would lay aside the 
 book, would slip on her cloak and go out into the garden, 
 where Sekin6 was waiting for her. 
 
 When she was left to herself Asako began to think 
 for the first time in her life. Hitherto her thoughts had 
 been concerned merely with her own pleasures and pains, 
 with the smiles and frowns of those around her, with 
 petty events and trifling projects. Perhaps, because some 
 of her father's blood was alive in her veins, she could 
 understand certain aspects of his book more clearly than 
 her interpreter, Sadako. She knew now why Geoffrey 
 would not touch her money. It was filthy, it was dis- 
 eased, like the poor women who had earned it. Of course, 
 her Geoffrey preferred poverty to wealth like that. Could 
 she face poverty with him? Why, she was poor already, 
 here in her cousins' house. Where was the luxury which 
 her money used to buy? She was living the life of a 
 servant and a prisoner. 
 
 What would be the end of it? Surely Geoffrey would 
 come back to her, and take her away! But he had no 
 money now, and it would cost much money to travel to 
 Japan. And then, this terrible war! Geoffrey was a 
 soldier. He would be sure to be there, leading his men. 
 Supposing he were killed? 
 
 One night in a dream she saw his body carried past 
 her, limp and bleeding. She screamed in her sleep. Sa- 
 dako awoke, terrified. 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "I dreamed of Geoffrey, my husband. Perhaps he is 
 killed in the war." 
 
 "Do not say that," said Sadako. "It is unlucky to 
 speak of death. It troubles the ghosts. I have told you 
 this house is haunted. 
 
 Certainly for Asako the Fujinami mansion had lost its 
 charm. Even the beautiful landscape was besieged by 
 horrible thoughts. Every day two or three of the Yoshi-
 
 278 KIMONO 
 
 wara women died of disease and neglect, so Sadako said; 
 and therefore every day the invisible population of the 
 Fujinami garden must be increasing, and the volume of 
 their curses must be gathering in intensity. The ghosts 
 hissed like snakes in the bamboo grove. They sighed in 
 the pine branches. They nourished the dwarf shrubs with 
 their pollution. Beneath the waters of the lake the 
 corpses women's corpses were laid out in rows. Their 
 thin hands shook the reeds. Their pale faces rose at 
 night to the surface, and stared at the moon. The au- 
 tumn maples smeared the scene with infected blood; and 
 the stone foxes in front of the shrine of Inari sneered 
 and grinned at the devil world which their foul influence 
 had called into being through the black witchcraft of 
 lechery, avarice and disease.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 
 
 Yo no naka ni In this world 
 
 Ushi no Kurutna no If there were no 
 
 Nakari-seba, Ox-cart (i.e. Buddhist religion), 
 
 Cmoi no iye wo How should we escape 
 
 Ikade ide-mashif From the (burning) mansion of 
 
 our thought? 
 
 DURING October, the whole family of the Fujinami re- 
 moved from Tokyo for a few days in order to perform 
 their religious duties at the temple of Ikegami. Even 
 grandfather Gennosuke emerged from his dower-house, 
 bringing his wife, O Tsugi. Mr. Fujinami Gentaro was 
 in charge of his own wife, Shidzuye San, of Sadako and 
 of Asako. Only Fujinami Takeshi, the son and heir, with 
 his wife Matsuko, was absent. 
 
 There had been some further trouble in the family 
 which had not been confided to Asako, but which neces- 
 sitated urgent steps for the propitiation of religious influ- 
 ences. The Fujinami were followers of the Nichiren sect 
 of Buddhism. Their conspicuous devotion and their large 
 gifts to the priests of the temple were held to be causes 
 of their ever-increasing prosperity. The dead Fujinami, 
 down from that great-great-grandfather who had first 
 come to seek his fortune in Yedo, were buried at Ike- 
 gami. Here the priests gave to each hotoke (Buddha or 
 dead person) his new name, which was inscribed on small 
 black tablets, the ihai. One of these tablets for each dead 
 person was kept in the household shrine at Tokyo, and 
 one in the temple at Ikegami. 
 
 Asako was taken to the October festival, because her 
 father too was buried in the temple grounds one small 
 bone of him, that is to say, an ikotsu or legacy bone, 
 posted home from Paris before the rest of his mortality 
 
 279
 
 280 KIMONO 
 
 found alien sepulture at Pere Lachaise. Masses were 
 said for the dead; and Asako was introduced to the tab- 
 let. But she did not feel the same emotion as when she 
 first visited the Fujinami house. Now, she had heard her 
 father's authentic voice. She knew his scorn for preten- 
 tiousness of all kinds, for false conventions, for false 
 emotions, his hatred of priestcraft, his condemnation of 
 the family wealth, and his contempt for the little re- 
 spectabilities of Japanese life. 
 
 A temple in Japan is not merely a building; it is a site. 
 These sites were most carefully chosen with the same 
 genius which guided our Benedictines and Carthusians. 
 The site of Ikegami is a long-abrupt hill, half-way be- 
 tween Tokyo and Yokohama. It is clothed with crypto- 
 meria trees. These dark conifers, like immense cypresses, 
 give to the spot that grave, silent, irrevocable atmos- 
 phere, with which Boecklin has invested his picture of 
 the Island of the Dead. These majestic trees are essen- 
 tially a part of the temple. They correspond to the pil- 
 lars of our Gothic cathedrals. The roof is the blue vault 
 of heaven; and the actual buildings are but altars, chan- 
 tries and monuments. 
 
 A steep flight of steps is suspended like a cascade from 
 the crest of the hill. Up and down these steps, the 
 wooden clogs of the Japanese people patter incessantly 
 like water-drops. At the top of the steps stands the 
 towered gateway, painted with red ochre, which leads to 
 the precincts. The guardians of the gate, Ni-O, the two 
 gigantic Deva kings, who have passed from India into Jap- 
 anese mythology, are encaged in the gateway building. 
 Their cage and their persons are littered with nasty mor- 
 sels of chewed paper, wherever their worshippers have 
 literally spat their prayers at them. 
 
 Within the enclosure are the various temple buildings, 
 the bell-tower, the library, the washing-trough, the hall 
 of votive offerings, the sacred bath-house, the stone lan- 
 terns and the lodgings for the pilgrims ; also the two 
 main halls for the temple services, which are raised on
 
 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 281 
 
 low piles and are linked together by a covered bridge, so 
 that they look like twin arks of safety, floating just five 
 feet above the troubles of this life. These buildings are 
 most of them painted red ; and there is fine carving on 
 panels, friezes and pediments, and also much tawdry 
 gaudiness. Behind these two sanctuaries is the mortuary 
 chapel where repose the memories of many of the great- 
 est in the land. Behind this again are the priests' dormi- 
 tories, with a lovely hidden garden hanging on the slopes 
 of a sudden ravine ; its presiding genius is an old pine- 
 tree, beneath which Nichiren himself, a contemporary 
 and a counterpart of Saint Dominic, used to meditate on 
 his project for a Universal Church, founded on the life of 
 Buddha, and led by the apostolate of Japan. 
 
 For the inside of a week the Fujinami dwelt in one of 
 a row of stalls, like loose-boxes, within the temple pre- 
 cincts. The festival might have some affinity with the 
 Jewish Feast of Tabernacles, when the devout left their 
 city dwellings to live in booths outside the walls. 
 
 Namu myoho renge kyo. 
 
 (Adoration to the Wonderful Law of the Lotus Scrip- 
 tures !) 
 
 The famous formula of the priests of the Nichiren sect 
 was being repeated over and over again to the accompani- 
 ment of drums ; for in the sacred text itself lies the only 
 authentic Way of Salvation. With exemplary insistence 
 Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke was beating out the rhythm of 
 the prayer with a wooden clapper on the mokugyo, a 
 wooden drum, shaped like a fish's head. 
 
 Namu myoho renge kyo. 
 
 From every corner of the temple enclave the invoca- 
 tion was droning like a threshing machine. Asako's Cath- 
 olic conscience, now awakening from the spell which
 
 282 KIMONO 
 
 Japan had cast upon it, became uneasy about its share 
 in these pagan rites. In order to drive the echo of the 
 litany out of her ears, she tried to concentrate her atten- 
 tion upon watching the crowd. 
 
 Namu myoho renge kyo. 
 
 Around her was a dense multitude of pilgrims, in their 
 hundreds of thousands, shuffling, chaffering and staring. 
 Some, like the Fujinami, had hired temporary lodgings, 
 and had cooks and servants in attendance. Some were 
 camping in the open. Others were merely visiting the 
 temple for the inside of the day. The crowds kept on 
 shifting and mingling like ants on an ant-hill. 
 
 Enjoyment, rather than piety, was the prevailing spirit ; 
 for this was one of the few annual holidays of the indus- 
 trious Tokyo artisan. 
 
 In the central buildings, five feet above this noisy con- 
 fluence of people, where the golden images of the 
 Buddhas are enthroned, the mitred priests with their 
 copes of gold-embroidered brown were performing the 
 rituals of their order. To right and left of the high altar, 
 the canons squatting at their red-lacquered praying- 
 desks, were reciting the sutras in strophe and antistrophe. 
 Clouds of incense rose. 
 
 In the adjoining building an earnest young preacher 
 was exhorting a congregation of elderly and somnolent 
 ladies to eschew the lusts of the flesh and to renounce 
 the world and its gauds, marking each point in his dis- 
 course with raps of his fan. Foxy-faced satellites of the 
 abbey were doing a roaring trade in charms against 
 various accidents, and in sacred scrolls printed with pray- 
 ers or figures o" Nichiren. 
 
 The temple-yard was an immense fancy fair. The 
 temple pigeons wheeled disconsolately in the air or 
 perched upon the roofs, unable to find one square foot 
 of the familiar flagstones, where they were used to strut 
 and peck. Stalls lined the stone pathways and choked 
 the spaces between the buildings. Merchants were ped- 
 dling objects of piety, sacred images, charms and rosa-
 
 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 283 
 
 ries ; and there were flowers for the women's hair, and 
 toys for the children, and cakes and biscuits, biiru (beer) 
 and ramune (lemonade) and a distressing sickly drink 
 called "champagne cider" and all manner of vanities. In 
 one corner of the square a theatre was in full swing, the 
 actors making up in public on a balcony above the crowd, 
 so as to whet their curiosity and attract their custom. 
 Beyond was a cinematograph, advertised by lurid paint- 
 ings of murders and apparitions ; and farther on there was 
 a circus with a mangy zoo. 
 
 The crowd was astonishingly mixed. There were pros- 
 perous merchants of Tokyo with their wives, children, 
 servants and apprentices. There were students with 
 their blue and white spotted cloaks, their kepis with the 
 school badge, and their ungainly stride. There were 
 modern young men in yofuku (European dress), with 
 panama hats, swagger canes and side-spring shoes, su- 
 percilious in attitude and proud of their unbelief. There 
 were troops of variegated children, dragging at their 
 elders' hands or kimonos, or getting lost among the legs 
 of the multitude like little leaves in an eddy. There were 
 excursion parties from the country, with their kimonos 
 caught up to the knees, and with baked earthen faces 
 stupidly staring, sporting each a red flower or a coloured 
 towel for identification purposes. There were labourers 
 in tight trousers and tabard jackets, inscribed with the 
 name and profession of their employer. There were geisha 
 girls on their best behaviour, in charge of a professional 
 auntie, and recognizable only by the smart cut of their 
 cloaks and the deep space between the collar and the 
 nape of the neck, where the black chignon lay. 
 
 Close to the tomb of Nichiren stood a Japanese Salva- 
 tionist, a zealous pimply young man, wearing the red and 
 blue uniform of General Booth with kcdseigun (World-* 
 saving Army) in Japanese letters round his staff cap. He 
 stood in front of a screen, on which the first verse of 
 "Onward, Christian Soldiers," was written in a Japan- 
 ese translation. An assistant officiated at a wheezy har- 
 monium. The tune was vaguely akin to its Western pro-
 
 284 KIMONO 
 
 totype ; and the two evangelists were trying to induce a 
 tolerant but uninterested crowd to join in the chorus. 
 
 Everywhere beggars were crawling over the compound 
 in various states of filth. Some, however, were so ghastly 
 that they were excluded from the temple enclosure. 
 They had lined up among the trunks of the cryptomeria 
 trees, among the little grey tombs with their fading in- 
 scriptions and the moss-covered statues of kindly 
 Buddhas. 
 
 Asako gave a penny into the crooked hand of one poor 
 sightless wretch. 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried cousin Sadako; "do not go near to 
 them. Do not touch them. They are lepers." 
 
 Some of them had no arms, or had mere stumps ending 
 abruptly in a red and sickening object like a bone which 
 a dog has been chewing. Some had no legs, and were 
 pulled along on little wheeled trolleys by their less dilapi- 
 dated companions in misfortune. Some had no 
 features. Their faces were mere glabrous disks, from which 
 eyes and nose had completely vanished ; only the mouth re- 
 mained, a toothless gap fringed with straggling hairs. Some 
 had faces abnormally bloated, with powerful foreheads and 
 heavy jowls, which gave them an expression of stony im- 
 mobility like Byzantine lions. All were fearfully dirty and 
 covered with sores and lice. 
 
 The people passing by smiled at their grim unsightliness, 
 and threvr pennies to them, for which they scrambled and 
 scratched like beasts. 
 
 Namu myoho renge kyo. 
 
 Asako's relatives spent the day in eating, drinking and 
 gossiping to the rhythm of the interminable prayer. 
 
 It was a perfect day of autumn, which is the sweetest 
 season in Japan. A warm bright sun had been shining on 
 the sumptuous colours of the waning year, on the brilliant 
 reds and yellows which clothed the neighbouring hills, on 
 the broad brown plain with its tesselated design of bare 
 rice-fields, on the brown villas and cottages huddled in their
 
 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 285 
 
 fences of evergreen like birds in their nests, on the red 
 trunks of the cryptomeria trees, on the brown carpet of 
 matted pine-needles, on the grey crumbling stones of the old 
 graveyard, on the high-pitched temple roofs, and on the in- 
 consequential swarms of humanity drifting to their devo- 
 tions, casting their pennies into the great alms-trough in 
 front of the shrine, clanging the brass bell with a prayer for 
 good luck, and drifting home again with their bewildered, 
 happy children. 
 
 Asako no longer felt like a Japanese. The sight of her 
 countrymen in their drab monotonous thousands sickened 
 her. The hiss and cackle of their incomprehensible tongue 
 beat upon her brain with a deadly incessant sound, like rain- 
 drops to one who is impatiently awaiting the return of fine 
 weather. 
 
 Here at Ikegami, the distant view of the sea and the 
 Yokohama shipping invited Asako to escape. But where 
 could she escape to? To England. She was an English- 
 woman no longer. She had cast her husband off for insuf- 
 ficient reasons. She had been cold, loveless, narrow-minded 
 and silly. She had acted, as she now recognised, largely on 
 the suggestion of others. Like a fool she had believed what 
 had been told. She had not trusted her love for her husband. 
 As usual, her thoughts returned to Geoffrey, and to the con- 
 stant danger which threatened him. Lately, she had started 
 to write a letter to him several times, but had never got 
 further than "Dearest Geoffrey." 
 
 She was glad when the irritating day was over, when the 
 rosy sunset clouds showed through the trunks of the crypto- 
 merias, when the night fell and the great stars like lamps 
 hung in the branches. But the night brought no silence. 
 Paper lanterns were lighted round the temple; and rough 
 acetylene flares lit up the tawdry fairings. The chattering, 
 the bargaining, the clatter of the geta became more terrify- 
 ing even than in daytime. It was like being in the darkness 
 in a cage of wild beasts, heard, felt, but unseen. 
 
 The evening breeze was cold. In spite of the big wooden 
 fireboxes strewn over their stall, the Fujinami were shiv- 
 ering.
 
 286 KIMONO 
 
 "Let us go for a walk," suggested cousin Sadako. 
 
 The two girls strolled along the ridge of the hill as far 
 as the five-storied pagoda. They passed the tea-house, so 
 famous for its plum-blossoms in early March. It was 
 brightly lighted. The paper rectangles of the shoji were 
 aglow like an illuminated honeycomb. The wooden walls 
 resounded with the jangle of the samisen, the high scream- 
 ing geisha voices, and the rough laughter of the guests. 
 From one room the shoji were pushed open ; and drunken 
 men could be seen with kimonos thrown back from their 
 shoulders showing a body reddened with sake. They had 
 taken the geishas' instruments from them, and were per- 
 forming an impromptu song and dance, while the girls 
 clapped their hands and writhed with laughter. Beyond 
 the tea-house, the din of the festival was hushed. Only 
 from the distance came the echo of the song, the rasp of the 
 forced merriment, the clatter of the get a, and the hum of the 
 crowd. 
 
 Starlight revealed the landscape. The moon was rising 
 through a cloud's liquescence. Soon the hundreds of rice- 
 plots would catch her full reflection. The outline of the 
 coast of Tokyo Bay was visible as far as Yokohama; so 
 were the broad pool of Ikegami and the lumpy masses of 
 the hills inland. 
 
 The landscape was alive with lights, lights dim, lights 
 bright, lights stationary, lights in swaying movement round 
 each centre of population. It looked as if the stars had 
 fallen from heaven, and were being shifted and sorted by 
 careful gleaners. As each nebula of white illumination as- 
 sembled itself, it began to move across the vast plain, drawn 
 inwards towards Ikegami from every point of the compass 
 as though by a magnetic force. These were the lantern pro- 
 cessions of pilgrims. They looked like the souls of the 
 righteous rising from earth to heaven in a canto from Dante. 
 
 The clusters of lights started, moved onwards, paused, 
 re-grouped themselves, and struggled forward, until in the 
 narrow street of the village under the hill Asako could dis- 
 tinguish the shapes of the lantern-bearers and their strange 
 antics, and the sacred palanquin, a kind of enormous
 
 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL 287 
 
 wooden bee-hive, which was the centre of each procession, 
 borne on the sturdy shoulders of a swarm of young men to 
 the beat of drums and the inevitable chant. 
 
 Namu myoho renge kyo. 
 
 Slowly the procession jolted up the steep stairway, and 
 came to rest with their heavy burdens in front of the temple 
 of Nichiren. 
 
 "It is very silly," said cousin Sadako, "to be so supersti- 
 tious, I think." 
 
 "Then why are we here?" asked Asako. 
 
 "My grandfather is very superstitious ; and my father is 
 afraid to say 'No' to him. My father does not believe in any 
 gods or Buddhas ; but he says it does no harm, and it may 
 do good. All our family is gohei-katsugi (brandishers of 
 sacred symbols). We think that with all this prayer we can 
 turn away the trouble of Takeshi." 
 
 "Why, what is the matter with Mr. Takeshi? Why is he 
 not here ? and Matsuko San and the children ?" 
 
 "It is a great secret," said the Fujinami cousin, "you 
 will tell no one. You will pretend also even with me that you 
 do not know. Takeshi San is very sick. The doctor says 
 that he is a leper." 
 
 Asako stared, uncomprehending. Sadako went on, 
 
 "You saw this morning those ugly beggars. They were 
 all so terrible to see, and their bodies were so rotten. My 
 brother is becoming like that. It is a sickness. It cannot be 
 cured. It will kill him very slowly. Perhaps his wife Matsu 
 and his children also have the sickness. Perhaps we too are 
 sick. No one can tell, not for many years." 
 
 Ugly wings seemed to cover the night. The world beneath 
 the hill had become the Pit of Hell, and the points of light 
 were devils' spears. Asako trembled. 
 
 "What does it mean?" she asked. "How did Takeshi San 
 become sick?" 
 
 "It was a tenbatsu (judgment of heaven)," answered 
 her cousin. "Takeshi San was a bad man. He was rude 
 to his father, and he was cruel to his wife. He thought
 
 288 KIMONO 
 
 only of geisha and bad women. No doubt, he became 
 sick from touching a woman :who was sick. Besides, 
 it is the bad inge of the Fujinami family. Did not the 
 old woman of Akabo say so? It is the curse of the 
 Yoshiwara women. It will be our turn next, yours and 
 mine." 
 
 No wonder that poor Asako could not sleep that night 
 in the cramped promiscuity of the family dead. 
 
 Fujinami Takeshi had been sickly for some time; but 
 then his course of life could hardly be called a healthy 
 one. On his return from his summer holiday, red patches 
 had appeared on the palms of his hands, and afterwards 
 on his forehead. He had complained of the irritation 
 caused by this "rash." Professor Kashio had been called 
 in to prescribe. A blood test was taken. The doctor then 
 pronounced that the son and heir was suffering from 
 leprosy, and for that there was no cure. 
 
 The disease is accompanied by irritation, but by little 
 actual pain. Constant application of compresses can allay 
 the itching, and can often save the patient from the more 
 ghastly ravages of disfigurement. But, slowly, the limbs 
 lose their force, the fingers and toes drop away, the hair 
 falls, and merciful blindness comes to hide from the suf- 
 ferer the living corpse to which his spirit is bound. More 
 merciful yet, the slow decay attacks the organs of the 
 body. Often consumption intervenes. Often just a sim- 
 ple cold suffices to snuff out the flickering life. 
 
 In the village of Kusatsu, beyond the Karuizawa moun- 
 tains, there is a natural hot spring, whose waters are 
 beneficial for the alleviation of the disease. In this place 
 there is a settlement of well-to-do lepers. Thither it was 
 decided to banish poor Takeshi. His wife, Matsuko, 
 naturally was expected to accompany him, to nurse him 
 and to make life as comfortable for him as she could. 
 Her eventual doom was almost certain. But there was 
 no question, no choice, no hesitation and no praise. Every 
 Japanese wife is obliged to become an Alcestis, if her 
 husband's well-being demand it. The children were sent 
 to the ancestral village of Akabo.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 
 
 0-bune no With a rocking 
 
 Hatjuru-tontari no (As) of great ships 
 
 Tayutai ni Riding at anchor 
 
 Mono-omoi-yase-nu, I have at last become worn out 
 
 Hito no ko yuye ni. with love, 
 
 Because of a child of man. 
 
 WHEN the Fujinami returned to Tokyo, the wing of the 
 house in which the unfortunate son had lived, had been 
 demolished. An ugly scar remained, a slab of charred 
 concrete strewn with ashes and burned beams. Saddest 
 sight of all was the twisted iron work of Takeshi's for- 
 eign bedstead, once the symbol of progress and of the 
 haikara spirit. The fire was supposed to have been acci- 
 dental ; but the ravages had been carefully limited to the 
 offending wing. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro, disgusted at this unsightly 
 wreckage wished to rebuild at once. But the old grand- 
 father had objected that this spot of misfortune was sit- 
 uated in the northeast corner of the mansion, a quarter 
 notoriously exposed to the attacks of oni (evil spirits). 
 He was in favor of total demolishment. 
 
 This was only one of the differences of opinion between 
 the two seniors of the house of Fujinami, which became 
 more frequent as the clouds of disaster gathered over 
 the home in Akasaka. A far more thorny problem was 
 the question of the succession. 
 
 With the living death of Takeshi, there was no male 
 heir. Several family councils were held in the presence 
 of the two Mr. Fujinami generally in the lower-house, at 
 which six or seven members of the collateral branches 
 were also present. Grandfather Gennosuke, who de- 
 
 289
 
 290 KIMONO 
 
 spised Takeshi as a waster, would not listen to any plea 
 on behalf of his children. 
 
 "To a bad father a bad child," he enunciated, his rest- 
 less jaw masticating more ferociously than ever. 
 
 He was strongly of opinion that it was the curse of 
 Asako's father which had brought this sorrow upon his 
 family. Katsundo and Asako were representatives of 
 the elder branch. Himself, Gentaro and Takeshi were 
 mere usurpers. Restore the elder branch to its rights, 
 and the indignant ghost would cease to plague them all. 
 
 Such was the argument of grandfather Gennosuke. 
 
 Fujinami Gentaro naturally supported the claims of his 
 own progeny. If Takeshi's children must be disinherited 
 because of the leprous strain, then, at least, Sadako re- 
 mained. She was a well-educated and serious girl. She 
 knew foreign languages. She could make a brilliant mar- 
 riage. Her husband would be adopted as heir. Perhaps 
 the Governor of Osaka? 
 
 The other members of the council shook their heads, 
 and breathed deeply. Were there no Fujinami left of 
 the collateral branches ? Why adopt a tanin (outside per- 
 son) ? So spoke the M.P., the man with a wen, who had 
 an axe of his own to grind. 
 
 It was decided to choose the son-in-law candidate first 
 of all; and, afterwards, to decide which of the girls he 
 was to marry. Perhaps it would be as well to consult the 
 fortune tellers. At any rate, a list of suitable applicants 
 would be prepared for the next meeting. 
 
 "When men speak of the future," said grandfather 
 Gennosuke, "the rats in the ceiling laugh." 
 
 So the conference broke up. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro had no sooner returned to the 
 academic calm of his chaste reading room, than Mr. Ito 
 appeared on the threshold. 
 
 The oily face was more moist than usual, the buffalo- 
 horn moustache more truculent ; and though the autumn 
 day was cool, Ito was agitating a fan. He was evidently 
 nervous. Before approaching the sanctum, he had blown 
 his nose into a small square piece of soft paper, which
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 291 
 
 is the Japanese apology for a handkerchief. He had 
 looked around for some place where to cast the offence; 
 but finding none along the trim garden border, he had 
 slipped it into his wide kimono sleeve. 
 
 Mr. Fujinami frowned. He was tired of business mat- 
 ters, and the worry of other people's affairs. He longed 
 for peace. 
 
 "Indeed, the weather becomes perceptibly cooler," said 
 Mr. Ito, with a low prostration. 
 
 "If there is business," his patron replied crisply, "please 
 step up into the room." 
 
 Mr. Ito slipped off his geta, and ascended from the 
 garden path. When he had settled himself in the cor- 
 rect attitude with legs crossed and folded, Mr. Fujinami 
 pushed over towards him a packet of cigarettes, adding: 
 
 "Please, without embarrassment, speak quickly what 
 you have to say." 
 
 Mr. Ito chose a cigarette, and slowly pinched together 
 the cardboard holder, which formed its lower half. 
 
 "Indeed, sensei, it is a difficult matter," he began. "It 
 is a matter which should be handled by an intermediary. 
 If I speak face to face like a foreigner the master will 
 excuse my rudeness." 
 
 "Please, speak clearly." 
 
 "I owe my advancement in life entirely to the master. 
 I was the son of poor parents. I was an emigrant and a 
 vagabond over three thousand worlds. The master gave 
 me a home and lucrative employment. I have served the 
 master for many years ; with my poor effort the fortunes 
 of the family have perhaps increased. I have become as 
 it were a son to the Fujinami." 
 
 He paused at the word "son." His employer had caught 
 his meaning, and was frowning more than ever. At last 
 he answered: 
 
 "To expect too much is a dangerous thing. To choose a 
 yoshi (adopted son) is a difficult question. I myself can- 
 not decide such grave matters. There must be consulta- 
 tion with the rest of the Fujinami family. You yourself
 
 292 KIMONO 
 
 have suggested that Governor Sugiwara might perhaps 
 be a suitable person." 
 
 "At that time the talk was of Sada San ; this time the 
 talk is of Asa San." 
 
 A flash of inspiration struck Mr. Fujinami Gentaro, 
 and a gush of relief. By giving her to Ito, he might be 
 able to side-track Asako, and leave the highway to in- 
 heritance free for his own daughter. But Ito had grown 
 too powerful to be altogether trusted. 
 
 "It must be clearly understood," said the master, "that 
 it is the husband of our Sada who will be the Fujinami 
 yoshi." 
 
 Ito bowed. 
 
 "Thanks to the master," he said, "there is money in 
 plenty. There is no desire to speak of such matters. The 
 request is for Asa San only. Truly, the heart is speak- 
 ing. That girl is a beautiful child, and altogether a 
 haikara person. My wife is old and barren and of low 
 class. I wish to have a wife who is worthy of my posi- 
 tion in the house of Fujinami San." 
 
 The head of the family cackled with sudden laughter ; 
 he was much relieved. 
 
 "Ha! Ha! Ito Kun! So it is love, is it? You are in 
 love like a school student. Well, indeed, love is a good 
 thing. What you have said shall be well considered." 
 
 So the lawyer was dismissed. 
 
 Accordingly, at the next family council Mr. Fujinami 
 put forward the proposal that Asako should be married 
 forthwith to the family factotum, who should be given 
 a lump sum down in consideration for a surrender of all 
 further claim in his own name or his wife's to any share 
 in the family capital. 
 
 "Ito Kun," he concluded, "is the brain of our business. 
 He is the family karo (prime minister). I think it would 
 be well to give this Asa to him." 
 
 To his surprise, the proposal met with unanimous op- 
 position. The rest of the family envied and disliked Ito, 
 who was regarded as Mr. Fujinami's pampered favourite. 
 
 Grandfather Gennosuke was especially indignant.
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 293 
 
 "What?" he exploded in one of those fits of rage com- 
 mon to old men in Japan ; "give the daughter of the elder 
 branch to a butler, to a man whose father ran between 
 rickshaw shafts. If the spirit of Katsundo has not heard 
 this foolish talk it would be a good thing for us. Already 
 there is a bad inge. By doing such a thing it will become 
 worse and worse, until the whole house of Fujinami is 
 ruined. This Ito is a rascal, a thief, a good-for-nothing, 
 a " 
 
 The old gentleman collapsed. 
 
 Again the council separated, still undecided except for 
 one thing that the claim of Mr. Ito to the hand of Asako 
 was quite inadmissible. 
 
 When the "family prime minister" next pressed his 
 master on the subject, Mr. Fujinami had to confess that 
 the proposal had been rejected. 
 
 Then Ito unmasked his batteries, and his patron had 
 to realize that the servant was a servant no longer. 
 
 Ito said that it was necessary for him to have Asa 
 San and that before the end of the year. He was in love 
 with this girl. Passion was an overwhelming thing. 
 
 "Two things have ever been the same 
 Since the Age of the Gods 
 The flowing of water, 
 And the way of Love." 
 
 This old Japanese poem he quoted as his excuse for 
 what would otherwise be an inexcusable impertinence. 
 The master was aware that politics in Japan were in an 
 unsettled state, and that the new Cabinet was scarcely 
 established; that a storm would overthrow it, and that 
 the Opposition were already looking about for a suitable 
 scandal to use for their revenge. He, Ito, held the evi- 
 dence which they desired the full story of the Tobita 
 concession, with the names and details of the enormous 
 bribes distributed by the Fujinami. If these things were 
 published, the Government would certainly fall ; also the 
 Tobita concession would be lost and the whole of that
 
 294 KIMONO 
 
 great outlay; also the Fujinami's leading political friends 
 would be discredited and ruined. There would be a big 
 trial, and exposure, and outcry, and judgment, and prison* 
 The master must excuse his servant for speaking so 
 rudely to his benefactor. But in love there are no scru- 
 ples; and he must have Asa San. After all, after his 
 long service, was his request so unreasonable? 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro, thoroughly scared, protested 
 that he himself was in favour of the match. He begged 
 for time so as to be able to convert the other members 
 of the family council. 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Ito, "if Asa San were sent away 
 from Akasaka, perhaps if she were living alone, it would 
 be more easy to manage. What is absent is soon forgot- 
 ten. Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke is a very old gentleman; 
 he would soon forget. Sada San could then take her 
 proper position as the only daughter of the Fujinami. 
 Was there not a small house by the river side at Muko- 
 jima, which had been rented for Asa San? Perhaps she 
 would like to live there quite alone." 
 
 "Pehaps Ito Kun would visit her from time to time," 
 said Mr. Fujinami, pleased with the idea; "she will be so 
 lonely ; there is no knowing." 
 
 The one person who was never consulted, and who had 
 not the remotest notion of what was going on, was Asako 
 herself. 
 
 Asako was most unhappy. The disappearance of Fu- 
 jinami Takeshi exasperated the competition between her- 
 self and her cousin. Just as formerly all Sadako's intel- 
 ligence and charm had been exerted to attract her Eng- 
 lish relative to the house in Akasaka, so now she applied 
 all her force to drive her cousin out of the family circle. 
 For many weeks now Asako had been ignored ; but after 
 the return from Ikegami a positive persecution com- 
 menced. Although the nights were growing chilly, she 
 was given no extra bedding. Her meals were no longer 
 served to her; she had to get what she could from the 
 kitchen. The servants, imitating their mistress's attitude
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 295 
 
 were deliberately disobliging and rude to the little for- 
 eigner. 
 
 Sadako and her mother would sneer at her awkward- 
 ness and at her ignorance of Japanese customs. Her obi 
 was tied anyhow; for she had no maid. Her hair was 
 untidy; for she was not allowed a hairdresser. 
 
 They nicknamed her rashamen (goat face), using an 
 ugly slang word for a foreigner's Japanese mistress ; and 
 they would pretend that she smelt like a European. 
 
 "Kusai! Kusai! (Stink ! Stink !)" they would say. 
 
 The war even was used to bait Asako. Every Ger- 
 man success was greeted with acclamation. The ex- 
 ploits of the Emden were loudly praised ; and the tragedy 
 of Coronel was gloated over with satisfaction. 
 
 "The Germans will win because they are brave," said 
 Sadako. 
 
 "The English lose too many prisoners ; Japanese sol- 
 diers are never taken prisoner." 
 
 "When the Japanese general ordered the attack on 
 Tsingtao, the English regiment ran away 1" 
 
 Cousin Sadako announced her intention of studying 
 German. 
 
 "Nobody will speak English now," she said. "The 
 English are disgraced. They cannot fight." 
 
 "I wish Japan would make war on the English," Asako 
 answered bitterly, "you would get such a beating that 
 you would never boast again. Look at my husband," 
 she added proudly; "he is so big and strong and brave. 
 He could pick up two or three Japanese generals like 
 toys and knock their heads together." 
 
 Even Mr. Fujinami Gentaro joined once or twice in 
 these debates, and announced sententiously : 
 
 "Twenty years ago Japan defeated China and took 
 Korea. Ten years ago we defeated Russia and took Man- 
 churia. This year we defeat Germany and take Tsingtao. 
 In ten years we shall defeat America and take Hawaii 
 and the Philippines. In twenty years we shall defeat 
 England and take India and Australia. Then we Japan-
 
 296 KIMONO 
 
 ese shall be the most powerful nation in the world. This 
 is our divine mission." 
 
 It was characteristic of the loyalty of Asako's nature, 
 that, although very ignorant of the war, of its causes 
 and its vicissitudes, yet she remained fiercely true to 
 England and the Allies, and could never accept the Jap- 
 anese detachment. Above all, the thought of her hus- 
 band's danger haunted her. Waking and sleeping she 
 could see him, sword in hand, leading his men to des- 
 perate hand-to-hand struggles, like those portrayed in 
 the crude Japanese chromographs, which Sadako showed 
 her to play upon her fears. Poor Asako ! How she hated 
 Japan now! How she loathed the cramped, draughty, 
 uncomfortable life ! How she feared the smiling faces 
 and the watchful eyes, from which it seemed she never 
 could escape ! 
 
 Christmas was at hand, the season of pretty presents 
 and good things to eat. Her last Christmas she had spent 
 with Geoffrey on the Riviera. Lady Everington had been 
 there. They had watched the pigeon shooting in the 
 warm sunlight. They had gone to the opera in the even- 
 ing Madame Butterfly! Asako had imagined herself in 
 the role of the heroine, so gentle, so faithful, waiting and 
 waiting in her little wooden house for the big white hus- 
 band who never came. What was that ? She heard the 
 guns of his ship saluting the harbour. He was coming 
 back to her at last but not alone ! A woman was with 
 him, a white woman! 
 
 Alone, in her bare room her only companion a flaky 
 yellow chrysanthemum nodding in the draught Asako 
 sobbed and sobbed as though her heart were breaking. 
 Somebody tapped at the sliding shutter. Asako could 
 not answer. The shoji was pushed open, and Tanaka 
 entered. 
 
 Asako was glad to see him. Alone of the household 
 Tanaka was still deferential in his attitude towards his 
 late mistress. He was always ready to talk about the 
 old times which gave her a bitter pleasure. 
 
 "If Ladyship is so sad," he began, as he had been
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 297 
 
 coached in his part beforehand by the Fujinami, "why 
 Ladyship stay in this house? Change house, change 
 trouble, we say." 
 
 "But where can I go?" Asako asked helplessly. 
 
 "Ladyship has pretty house by river brink," suggested 
 Tanaka. "Ladyship can stay two month, three month. 
 Then the springtime come and Ladyship feel quite happy 
 again. Even I, in the winter season, I find the mind very 
 distress. It is often so." 
 
 To be alone, to be free from the daily insults and cru- 
 elty; this in itself would be happiness to Asako. 
 
 "But will Mr. Fujinami allow me to go?" she asked, 
 timorously. 
 
 "Ladyship must be brave," said the counselor. "Lady- 
 ship is not prisoner. Ladyship must say, I go. But per- 
 haps I can arrange matter for Ladyship." 
 
 "Oh, Tanaka, please, please do. I'm so unhappy here." 
 
 "I will hire cook and maid for Ladyship. I myself will 
 be seneschal !" 
 
 Mr. Fujinami Gentaro and his family were delighted to 
 hear that their plan was working so smoothly, and that 
 they could so easily get rid of their embarrassing cousin. 
 The "seneschal" was instructed at once to see about ar- 
 rangements for the house, which had not been lived in 
 since its new tenancy. 
 
 Next evening, when Asako had spread the two quilts 
 on the golden matting, when she had lit the rushlight in 
 the square andon, when the two girls were lying side by 
 side under the heavy wadded bedclothes, Sadako said 
 to her cousin : 
 
 "Asa Chan, I do not think you like me now as much 
 as you used to like me." 
 
 "I always like people when I have once liked them," 
 said Asako ; "but everything is different now." 
 
 "I see, your heart changes quickly," said her cousin 
 bitterly. 
 
 "No, I have tried to change, but I cannot change. I 
 have tried to become Japanese, but I cannot even learn 
 the Japanese language. I do not like the Japanese way
 
 298 KIMONO 
 
 of living. In France and in England I was always happy. 
 I don't think I shall ever be happy again." 
 
 "You ought to be more grateful," said Sadako severely. 
 "We have saved you from your husband, who was cruel 
 
 and deceitful " 
 
 "No, I don't believe that now. My husband and I 
 loved each other always. You people came between us 
 with wicked lies and separated us." 
 
 "Anyhow, you have made the choice. You have chosen 
 to be Japanese. You can never be English again." 
 
 The Fujinami had hypnotized Asako with this phrase, 
 as a hen can be hypnotized with a chalk line. Day after 
 day it was dinned into her ears, cutting off all hope of 
 escape from the country or of appeal to her English 
 friends. 
 
 "You had better marry a Japanese," said Sadako. "or 
 you will become old maid. Why not marry Ito San? He 
 says he likes you. He is a clever man. He has plenty 
 of money. He is used to foreign ways." 
 
 "Marry Mr. Ito!" Asako exclaimed, aghast; "but he 
 has a wife already." 
 
 "They will divorce. It is no trouble. There are not 
 even children." 
 
 "I would rather die than marry any Japanese," said 
 Asako with conviction. 
 
 Sadako Fujinami turned her back and pretended to 
 sleep; but long through the dark cold night Asako could 
 feel her turning restlessly to and fro. 
 
 Some time about midnight Asako heard her name 
 called : 
 
 "Asa Chan, are you awake?" 
 
 "Yes; is anything the matter?" 
 
 "Asa Chan, in your house by the river you will be 
 lonely. You will not be afraid?" 
 
 "I am not afraid to be lonely," Asako answered ; "I am 
 afraid of people." 
 
 "Look !" said her cousin ; "I give you this.* 
 
 She drew from the bosom of her kimono the short
 
 JAPANESE COURTSHIP 299 
 
 sword in its sheath of shagreen, which Asako had seen 
 once or twice before. 
 
 "It is very old," she continued; "it belonged to my 
 mother's people. They were samurai of the Sendai clan. 
 In old Japan every noble girl carried such a short sword ; 
 for she said, 'Better death than dishonour.' When the 
 time came to die she would strike here, in the throat, 
 not too hard, but pushing strongly. But first she would 
 tie her feet together with the obidome, the silk string 
 which you have to hold your obi straight. That was in 
 case the legs open too much ; she must not die in immod- 
 est attitude. So when General Nogi did harakiri at Em- 
 peror Meiji's funeral, his wife, Countess Nogi, killed her- 
 self also with such a sword. I give you my sword be- 
 cause in the house by the river you will be lonely and 
 things might happen. I can never use the sword myself 
 now. It was the sword of my ancestors. I am not pure 
 now. I cannot use the sword. If I kill myself I throw 
 myself into the river like a common geisha. I think it 
 is best you marry Ito. In Japan it is bad to have a hus- 
 band ; but to have no husband, it is worse."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 
 
 Kuraki yori Out of the dark 
 
 Kuraki michi ni za Into a dark path 
 lri-nu-beki: I now must enter: 
 
 Haruka ni terase, Shine (on me) from afar, 
 
 Yama no ha no tsuki! Moon of the mountain fringe ! 
 
 SOME days before Christmas Asako had moved into her 
 own little home. 
 
 To be free, to have escaped from the watchful eyes and 
 the whispering tongues to be at liberty to walk about the 
 streets and to visit the shops, as an independent lady of 
 Japan these were such unfamiliar joys to her that for a 
 time she forgot how unhappy she really was, and how she 
 longed for Geoffrey's company as of old. Only in the 
 evenings a sense of insecurity rose with the river mists, 
 and a memory of Sadako's warning shivered through 
 the lonely room with the bitter cold of the winter air. 
 It was then that Asako felt for the little dagger resting 
 hidden in her bosom just as Sadako had shown her how 
 to "wear it. It was then that she did not like to be alone, 
 and that she summoned Tanaka to keep her company and 
 to while away the time with his quaint loquacity. 
 
 Considering that he had been largely instrumental in 
 breaking up her happy life, considering that every day 
 he stole from her and lied to her, it was wonderful that 
 his mistress was still so attached to him, that, in fact, 
 she regarded him as her only friend. He was like a bad 
 habit or an old disease, which we almost come to cherish 
 since we cannot be delivered from it. 
 
 But, when Tanaka protested his devotion, did he mean 
 what he said? There is a bedrock of loyalty in the Jap- 
 anese nature. Half-way down the road to shame, it will 
 halt of a sudden, and bungle back its way to honour. Then 
 
 300
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 301 
 
 there is the love of the beau geste which is an even stronger 
 motive very often than the love of right-doing for its 
 own sake. The favorite character of the Japanese drama 
 is the otokodate, the chivalrous champion of the common 
 people who rescues beauty in distress from the lawless, 
 bullying, two-sworded men. It tickled Tanaka's remark- 
 able vanity to regard himself as the protector of this 
 lonely and unfortunate lady. It might be said of him as 
 of Lancelot, that 
 
 "His honour rooted in dishonour stood, 
 And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true." 
 
 Asako was glad on the whole that she had no visitors. 
 The Fujinami were busy with their New Year prepara- 
 tions. Christmas Day passed by, unheeded by the Japan- 
 ese, though the personality and appearance of Santa 
 Claus are not unknown to them. He stands in the big 
 shop windows in Tokyo as in London, with his red cloak, 
 his long white beard and his sack full of toys. Some- 
 times he is to be seen chatting with Buddhist deities, 
 with the hammer-bearing Daikoku, with Ebisu the fisher- 
 man, with fat naked Hotei, and with Benten, the fair 
 but frail. In fact, with the American Billiken, Santa 
 Claus may be considered as the latest addition to the 
 tolerant theocracy of Japan. 
 
 Asako attended High Mass at the Catholic Cathedral 
 in Tsukiji, the old foreign settlement. The music was 
 crude ; and there was a long sermon in Japanese. The 
 magnificent bearded bishop, who officiated, was flanked 
 by two native priests. But the familiar sounds and move- 
 ments of the office soothed her, and the fragrance of the 
 incense. The centre of the aisle was covered with straw 
 mats where the Japanese congregation was squatting. 
 Chairs for the foreigners were placed in the side aisles. 
 These were mostly members of the various Embassy and 
 Legation staffs. For a moment Asako feared recognition. 
 Then she remembered how entirely Japanese she had be- 
 come in appearance.
 
 302 KIMONO 
 
 Mr. Ito called during the afternoon to wish a Merry 
 Christmas. Asako regaled him with thin green tea and 
 little square cakes of ground rice, filled with a kind of 
 bean paste called "an." She kept Tanaka in the room all 
 the time; for Sadako's remarks about marriage with Ito 
 had alarmed her. He was most agreeable, however, and 
 most courteous. He amused Asako with stories of his 
 experiences abroad. He admired the pretty little house 
 and its position on the river bank; and, when he bowed 
 his thanks for Asako's hospitality, he expressed a wish 
 that he might come again many times in future. 
 
 "I am afraid of him," Asako had confided to Tanaka, 
 when the guest had departed, "because Sada San said 
 that he wants to divorce his wife and marry me. You 
 are to stop here with me in the room whenever he comes. 
 Do not leave me alone, please." 
 
 "Ladyship is daimyo," the round face answered; "Tan- 
 aka is faithful samurai. Tanaka gives life for Ladyship !" 
 I 
 
 It was the week before New Year. All along the 
 Ginza, which is the main thoroughfare of Tokyo, along 
 the avenue of slender willow trees which do their gallant 
 utmost to break the monotony of the wide ramshackle 
 street, were spread every evening the stock-in-trade of 
 the yomise, the night shops, which cater their most diverse 
 wares for the aimless multitudes sauntering up and down 
 the sidewalks. There are quack medicines and stylo- 
 graph pens, clean wooden altar cabinets for the kitchen 
 gods, and images of Daikoku and Ebisu ; there are cheap 
 underclothing and old hats, food of various kinds, boots 
 and books and toys. But most fascinating of all are the 
 antiquities. Strewn over a square six feet of ground are 
 curios, most attractive to the unwary, especially by the 
 deceptive light of kerosene lamps. One in a thousand 
 perhaps may be a piece of real value ; but almost every 
 object has a character and a charm of its own. There are 
 old gold screens, lacquer tables and cabinets, bronze 
 vases, gilded Buddhas, fans, woodcuts, porcelains, kake-
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 303 
 
 mono (hanging pictures), makimono (illustrated scrolls), 
 inro (lacquer medicine boxes for the pocket), netsuke 
 (ivory or bone buttons, through which the cords of the 
 tobacco pouch are slung), tsuba (sword hilts of iron or- 
 namented with delightful landscapes of gold and silver 
 inlay). The Ginza at night-time is a paradise for the 
 minor collector. 
 
 "Kore wa ikuraf (How much is this?)" asked Asako, 
 picking up a tiny silver box, which could slip into a 
 waistcoat pocket. Inside were enshrined three gentle 
 Buddhas of old creamy ivory, perfectly carved to the 
 minutest petal of the full-blown lotus upon which each 
 reposed. 
 
 "Indeed, it is the end of the year. We must sell all 
 things cheaply," answered the merchant. "It is asked 
 sixty yen for true ancient artistic object." 
 
 "Such a thing is not said," replied Asako, her Japanese 
 becoming quite fluent with the return of her light-heart- 
 edness. "Perhaps a joke is being made. It would be 
 possible to give ten yen." 
 
 The old curio vender, with the face and spare figure 
 of Julius Caesar, turned aside from such idle talk with a 
 shrug of hopelessness. He affected to be more interested 
 in lighting his slender pipe over the chimney of the lamp 
 which hung suspended over his wares. 
 
 "Ten yen! Please see!" said Asako, showing a bank- 
 note. The merchant shook his head and puffed. Asako 
 turned away into the stream of passers-by. She had not 
 gone ten yards, however, before she felt a touch on her 
 kimono sleeve. It was Julius Caesar with his curio. 
 
 "Indeed, okusan, there must be reduction. Thirty yen; 
 take it, please." 
 
 He pressed the little box into Asako's hand. 
 
 "Twenty yen" she bargained, holding out two notes. 
 
 "It is loss! It is loss!" he murmured; but he shuf- 
 fled back to his stall again, very well content. 
 
 "I shall send it to Geoffrey," thought Asako; "it will 
 bring him good luck. Perhaps he will write to me and 
 thank me. Then I can write to him."
 
 304 KIMONO 
 
 The New Year is the greatest of Japanese festivals. 
 Japanese of the middle and lower classes live all the year 
 round in a thickening web of debt. But during the last 
 days of the year these complications are supposed to be 
 unraveled and the defaulting debtor must sell some of his 
 family goods, and start the New York with a clean slate. 
 These operations swell the stock-in-trade of the yomise. 
 
 On New Year's Day the wife prepares the mochi cakes 
 of ground rice, which are the specialities of the season ; 
 and the husband sees to the erection of his door posts of 
 the two kadomatsu (corner pine trees), little Christmas 
 trees planted in a coil of rope. Then, attired in his frock- 
 coat and top hat, if he be a haikarcu gentleman, or in his 
 best kimono and haori, if he be an old-fashioned Japanese, 
 he goes round in a rickshaw to pay his complimentary 
 calls, and to exchange o medeto (respectfully lucky!), 
 the New Year wish. He has presents for his important 
 patrons, and cards for his less influential acquaintances. 
 For, as the Japanese proverb says, "Gifts preserve friend- 
 ship." At each house, which he visits, he sips a cup of 
 sake, so that his return home is often due to the rickshaw 
 man's assistance, rather than to his own powers of self- 
 direction. In fact, as Asako's maid confided to her mis- 
 tress, "Japanese wife very happy when New Year time 
 all finish.*' 
 
 On the night following New Year, snow fell. It con- 
 tinued to fall all the next morning until Asako's little 
 garden was as white as a bride-cake. The irregularities 
 of her river-side lawn were smoothed out under the white 
 carpet. The straw coverings, which a gardener's fore- 
 sight had wrapped round the azalea shrubs and the dwarf 
 conifers, were enfolded in a thick white shroud. Like 
 tufts of foam on a wave, the snow was tossed on the 
 plumes of the bamboo clump, which hid the neighbour's 
 dwelling, and made a bird's nest of Asako's tiny domain. 
 
 Beyond the brown sluggish river, the roofs and pinna- 
 cles of Asakusa were more fairy-like than a theatre scene. 
 Asako was thinking of that first snow-white day, which
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 305 
 
 introduced Geoffrey and her to the Embassy and to Yae 
 Smith. 
 
 She shivered. Darkness was falling. A Japanese house 
 is a frail protection in winter time ; and a charcoal fire in 
 a wooden box is poor company. The maid came in to 
 close the shutters for the night. Where was Tanaka? 
 He had gone out to a New Year party with relatives. 
 Asako felt her loneliness all of a sudden ; and she was 
 grateful for the moral comfort of cousin Sadako's sword. 
 She drew it from its sheath and examined the blade, 
 and the fine work on the hilt, with care and alarm, like a 
 man fingering a serpent. 
 
 No sooner was the house silenced than the wind arose. 
 It smote the wooden framework with an unexpected 
 buffet almost like an earthquake. The bamboo grove 
 began to rattle like bones ; and the snow slid and fell 
 from the roof in dull thuds. 
 
 There was a sharp rap at the front door. Asako started 
 and thrust the dagger into the breast of her kimono. She 
 had been lying full length on a long deckchair. Now she 
 put her feet to the ground. O Hana, the maid, came in 
 and announced that Ito San had called. Asako, half- 
 pleased and half-apprehensive, gave instructions for him 
 to be shown in. She heard a stumbling on the steps of 
 her house; then Ito lurched into the room. His face 
 was very red, and his voice thick. He had been paying 
 many New Year calls. 
 
 "Happy New Year, Asa San, Happy New Year!" he 
 hiccoughed, grasping her hand and working it up and 
 down like a pump-handle. "New Year in Japan very 
 lucky time. All Japanese people say New Year time 
 very lucky. This New Year very lucky for Ito. No more 
 dirty business, no more Yoshiwara, no more pimp. I am 
 millionaire, madame. I have made one hundred thousand 
 pounds, five hundred thousand dollars gold. I now be- 
 come giin giin (Member of Parliament). I become great 
 party organizer, great party boss, then daijin (Minister 
 of State), then taishi (Ambassador), then soridaijin 
 (Prime Minister). I shall be greatest man in Japan.
 
 306 KIMONO 
 
 Japan greatest country in the world. Ito greatest man 
 in the world. And I marry Asa San to-morow, next day, 
 any day." 
 
 Ito was sprawling in the deck chair, which divided the 
 little sitting-room into two parts and cut off Asako's re- 
 treat. She was tremblng on a bamboo stool near the 
 shuttered window. She was terribly frightened. Why 
 did not Tanaka come? 
 
 "Speak to me, Asa San," shouted the visitor; "say to 
 me very glad, very, very glad, will be very nice wife of 
 Ito. Fujinami give you to me. I have all Fujinami's 
 secrets in my safe box. Ito greatest man in Japan. Fu- 
 jinami very fear of me. He give me anything I want. 
 I say, give me Asa San. Very, very love." 
 
 Asako remaining without speech, the Japanese frowned 
 at her. 
 
 "Why so silence, little girl? Say, I love you, I love you 
 like all foreign girls say. I am husband now. I never 
 go away from this house until you kiss me. You under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Asako gasped. 
 
 "Mr. Ito, it is very late. Please, come some other day. 
 I must go to bed now." 
 
 "Very good, very good. I come to bed with you," said 
 Ito, rolling out of his chair and putting one heavy leg 
 to the ground. He was earing a kimono none too well 
 adjusted, and Asako could see his hairy limb high up the 
 thigh. Her face must have reflected her displeasure. 
 
 "What?" the Japanese shouted; "you don't like me. 
 Too very proud! No dirty Jap, no yellow man, what? 
 So you think, Madame Lord Princess Harrington. In the 
 East, it may be, ugly foreign women despise Japs. But 
 New York, London, Paris very different, ha ! ha ! New 
 York girl say, Hello, Jap ! come here ! London girl say, 
 Jap man very nice, very sweet manner, very soft eyes. 
 When I was in London I have five or six girls, English 
 girls, white girls, very beauty girls, all together, all very 
 love ! London time was great fine time !" 
 
 Asako felt helpless. Her hand was on the hilt of her
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 307 
 
 dagger, but she still hoped that Ito might come to his 
 senses and go away. 
 
 "There !" he cried, "I know foreign custom. I know 
 everything. Mistletoe ! Mistletoe ! A kiss for the mis- 
 tletoe, Asa San !" 
 
 He staggered out of his chair and came towards her, 
 like a great black bird. She dodged him, and tried to es- 
 cape round the deck chair. But he caught hold of her 
 kimono. She drew her sword. 
 
 "Help! Help!" she cried. "Tanaka!" 
 
 Something wrenched at her wrist, and the blade fell. 
 At the same moment the inner shoji flew open like the 
 shutter of a camera. Tanaka rushed into the room. 
 
 Asako did not turn to look again until she was outside 
 the room with her maid and her cook trembling beside 
 her. Then she saw Tanaka and Ito locked in a wrestler's 
 embrace, puffing and grunting at each other, while their 
 feet were fumbling for the sword which lay between 
 them. Suddenly both figures relaxed. Two foreheads 
 came together with a wooden concussion. Hands were 
 groping where the feet had been. One set of fingers, 
 hovering over the sword, grasped the hilt. It was Tan- 
 aka ; but his foot slipped. He tottered and fell backward. 
 Ito was on the top of him. Asako closed her eyes. She 
 heard a hoarse roar like a lion. When she dared to look 
 again, she saw Tanaka kneeling over Ito's body. With 
 a wrench he pulled Sadako's dagger out of the prostrate 
 mass. It was followed by a jet of blood, and then by a 
 steady trickle from body, mouth and nostrils, which 
 spread over the matting. Slowly and deliberately, Tan- 
 aka wiped first the knife and then his hands on the clothes 
 of his victim. Then he felt his mouth and throat. 
 
 "Sa! Shimatta! (There, finished!)" he said. He 
 turned towards the garden side, threw open the shoji 
 and the amado. He ran across the snow-covered lawn ; 
 and from beyond the unearthly silence which followed 
 his departure, come the distant sound of a splash in the 
 river. 
 
 At last, Asako said helplessly:
 
 308 KIMONO 
 
 "Is he dead?" 
 
 The cook, a man, was glad of the opportunity to escape. 
 
 "I go and call doctor," he said. 
 
 "No, stay with me," said Asako ; "I am afraid. O Hana 
 can go for the doctor." 
 
 Asako and the cook waited by the open shoji, staring 
 blankly at the body of Ito. Presently the cook said that 
 he must go and get something. He did not return. Asako 
 called to him to come. There was no answer. She went 
 to look for him in his little three-mat room near the 
 kitchen. It was empty. He had packed his few chattels 
 in his wicker basket and had decamped. 
 
 Asako resumed her watch at the sitting-room door, an 
 unwilling Rizpah. It was as though she feared that, if 
 she left her post, somebody might come in and steal Ito. 
 But she could have hardly approached the corpse even 
 under compulsion. Sometimes it seemed to move, to try 
 to rise ; but it was stuck fast to the matting by the resin- 
 ous flow of purple blood. Sometimes it seemed to speak : 
 
 "Mistletoe! Mistletoe! Kiss me, Asa San!" 
 
 Gusts of cold wind came in from the open windows, 
 touching the dead man curiously, turning over his kimono 
 sleeves. Outside, the bamboo grove was rattling like 
 bones ; and the caked snow fell from the roof in heavy 
 thuds. 
 
 O Hana returned with a doctor and a policeman. The 
 doctor loosened Ito's kimono, and at once shook his head. 
 
 The policeman wore a blue uniform and cape ; and a 
 sword dragged at his side. He had produced a notebook 
 and a pencil from a breast pocket. 
 
 "What is your name?" he asked Asako; "what is your 
 age? your father's and mother's name? What is your 
 address? Are you married? Where is your husband? 
 How long have you known this man? Were you on fa- 
 miliar terms? Did you kill him How did you kill him? 
 Why did you kill him?" 
 
 The questions buzzed round Asako's head like a swarm 
 of hornets. It had never occurred to the unfortunate girl
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 309 
 
 that any suspicion could fall upon her. Three more police- 
 men had arrived. 
 
 "Every one in this house is arrested," announced the 
 first policeman. 
 
 "Put out your hands," he ordered Asako. Rusty hand- 
 cuffs were slipped over her delicate wrists. One of the 
 policemen had produced a coil of rope, which he pro- 
 ceeded to tie round her waist and then round the waist 
 of O Hana. 
 
 "But what have I done ?" asked Asako plaintively. 
 
 The policeman took no notice. She could hear two of 
 them upstairs in her bedroom, talking and laughing, 
 knocking open her boxes and throwing things about. 
 
 Asako and her maid were led out of the house like two 
 performing animals. It was bitterly cold, and Asako had 
 no cloak. The road was already full of loafers. They 
 stared angrily at Asako. Some laughed. Some pulled 
 at her kimono as she passed. She heard one say : 
 
 "It is a geisha; she has murdered her sweetheart." 
 
 At the police station, Asako had to undergo the same 
 confusing interrogatory before the chief inspector. 
 
 "What is your name? What is your age? Where do 
 you live? What are your father's and mother's names?" 
 
 "Lies are no good," said the inspector, a burly unsha- 
 ven man ; "confess that you have killed this man." 
 
 "But I did not kill him," protested Asako. 
 
 "Who killed him then? You must know that," said the 
 inspector triumphantly. 
 
 "It was Tanaka," said Asako. 
 
 "Who is this Tanaka?" the inspector asked the police- 
 man. 
 
 "I do not know ; perhaps it is lies," he answere 1 
 sulkily. 
 
 "But it is not lies," expostulated Asako, "he ran away 
 through the window. You can see his footmarks in the 
 snow." 
 
 "Did you see the marks ?" the policeman was asked. 
 
 "No ; perhaps there were no marks." 
 
 "Did you look?"
 
 310 KIMONO 
 
 r 
 
 "I did not look actually, but " 
 
 "You're a fool !" said the inspector. 
 
 The weary questioning continued for quite two hours, 
 until Asako had told her story of the murder at least 
 three times. The unfamiliar language confused her, and 
 the reiterated refrain: 
 
 "You, now confess; you killed the man!" 
 
 Asako was chilled to the bone. Her head was aching; 
 her eyes were aching; her legs were aching with the or- 
 deal of standing. She felt that they must soon give way 
 altogether. 
 
 At last, the inspector closed his questionnaire. 
 
 "Saf" he ejaculated, "it is past midnight. Even I must 
 sleep sometimes. Take her away to the court, and lock 
 her in the 'sty.' To-morrow the procurator will examine 
 at nine o'clock. She is pretending to be silly and not 
 understanding; so she is probably guilty." 
 
 Again the handcuffs and the degrading rope were 
 fastened upon her. She felt that she had already been 
 condemned. 
 
 "May I send word to my friends?" she asked. Surely 
 even the Fujinami would not abandon her to her fate. 
 
 "No. The procurator's examination has not yet taken 
 place. After that, sometimes permission can be granted. 
 That is the law." 
 
 She was left waiting in a stone-flagged guard-room, 
 where eight or nine policemen stared at her imper- 
 tinently. 
 
 "A pretty face, eh ?" they said, "it looks like a geisha ! 
 Who is taking her to the court? It is Ishibashi. Oh, so! 
 He is always the lucky chap !" 
 
 A rough fellow thrust his hand up her kimono sleeve, 
 and caught hold of her bare arm near the shoulder. 
 
 "Here, Ishibashi," he cried ; "you have caught a fine bird 
 this time." 
 
 The policeman Ishibashi picked up the loose end of the 
 rope, and drove Asako before him into a closed van, which 
 was soon rumbling along the deserted streets. 
 
 She was made to alight at a tall stone building, where
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 311 
 
 they passed down several echoing corridors, until, at the 
 end of a little passage a warder pushed open a door. 
 This was the "sty," where prisoners are kept pending 
 examination in the procurator's court. The floor and 
 walls were of stone. It was bitterly cold. There was no 
 window, no light, no fire-box, and no chair. Alone, in 
 the petrifying darkness, her teeth chattering, her limbs 
 trembling, poor Asako huddled her misery into a corner 
 of the dirty cell, to await the further tender mercies 
 of the Japanese criminal code. She could hear the 
 scuttering of rats. Had she been ten times guilty, she 
 felt that she could not have suffered more ! 
 
 Daylight began to show under the crack of the door. 
 Later on a warder came and beckoned to Asako to follow 
 him. She had not touched food for twenty hours, but 
 nothing was offered to her. She was led into a room 
 with benches like a schoolroom. At the master's desk 
 sat a small spotted man with a cloak like a scholar's 
 gown, and a black cap with ribbons like a Highlander's 
 bonnet. This was the procurator. At his side, sat his 
 clerk, similarly but less sprucely garbed. 
 
 Asako, utterly weary, was preparing to sit down on one 
 of the benches. The warder pulled her up by the nape of 
 her kimono. She had to stand during her examination. 
 
 "What is your name? What is your age? What are 
 your father's and mother's names?" 
 
 The monotonous questions were repeated all over again ; 
 and then, 
 
 "To confess were better. When you confess, we shall 
 let you go. If you do not confess, we keep you here for 
 days and days." 
 
 "I am feeling sick," pleaded Asako; "may I eat some- 
 thing?" 
 
 The warder brought a cup of tea and some salt biscuit. 
 
 "Now, confess," bullied the procurator ; "if you do not 
 confess, you will get no more to eat." 
 
 Asako told her story of the murder. She then told it
 
 312 KIMONO 
 
 again. Her Japanese words were slipping from the clutch 
 of her worn brain. She was saying things she did not 
 mean. How could she defend herself in a language which 
 was strange to her mind? How could she make this 
 judge, who seemed so pitiless and so hostile to her, under- 
 stand and believe her broken sentences ? She was beating 
 with a paper sword against an armed enemy. 
 
 An interpreter was sent for; and the questions were 
 all repeated in English. The procurator was annoyed 
 at Asako's refusal to speak in Japanese. He thought that 
 it was obstinacy, or that she was trying to fool him. He 
 seemed quite convinced that she was guilty. 
 
 "I can't answer any more questions. I really can't. I 
 am sick," said Asako, in tears. 
 
 "Take her back to the 'sty/ while we have lunch," 
 ordered the procurator. "I think this afternoon she will 
 confess." 
 
 Asako was taken away, and thrust into the horrible 
 cell again. She collapsed on the hard floor in a state 
 which was partly a fainting-fit, and partly the sleep of 
 exhaustion. Dreams and images swept over her brain 
 like low-flying clouds. It seemed to her distracted fancy 
 that only one person could save her Geoffrey, her hus- 
 band! He must be coming soon. She thought that she 
 could hear his step in the corridor. 
 
 "Geoffrey ! Geoffrey !" she cried. 
 
 It was the warder. He stirred her with his foot. She 
 was hauled back to the procurator's court. 
 
 "So! Have you considered well?" said the little spotted 
 man. "Will you now confess ?" 
 
 "How can I confess what I have not done?" protested 
 Asako. 
 
 The remorseless inquisition proceeded. Asako's replies 
 became more and more confused. The procurator 
 frowned at her contradictions. She must assuredly be 
 guilty. 
 
 "How many times do you say that you have met this 
 Ito?" he asked. 
 
 Asako was at the end of her strength. She reeled and
 
 ALONE IN TOKYO 313 
 
 would have fallen; but the warder jerked her straight 
 again. 
 
 "Confess, then," shouted the procurator, "confess and 
 you will be liberated. 
 
 "I will confess," Asako gasped, "anything you like." 
 
 "Confess that you killed this Ito !" 
 
 "Yes, I confess." 
 
 "Then, sign the confession." 
 
 With the triumphant air of a sportsman who has landed 
 his fish after a long and bitter struggle, the procurator 
 held out a sheet of paper prepared beforehand, on which 
 something was written in Japanese characters. 
 
 Asako tried to move towards the desk that she might 
 write her name ; but this time, her legs gave way al- 
 together. The warder caught her by the neck of her 
 kimono, and shook her as a terrier shakes a rat. But 
 the body remained limp. He twisted her arm behind 
 her with a savage wrench. His victim groaned with pain, 
 but spoke no distinguishable word. Then he laid her out 
 on the benches, and felt her chest. 
 
 "The body is very hot," he said ; "perhaps she is indeed 
 sick." 
 
 "Obstinate," grunted the procurator ; "I am certain 
 that she is guilty. Are you not?" he added, addressing 
 the clerk. 
 
 The clerk was busy filling up some of the blanks in the 
 back evidence, extemporising where he could not re- 
 member. 
 
 "Assuredly," he said, "the opinion of the procurator 
 is always correct." 
 
 However, the doctor was summoned. He pronounced 
 that the patient was in a high fever, and must at once 
 be removed to the infirmary. 
 
 So the preliminary examination of Asako Fujinami came 
 to an abrupt end.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 LADY BRANDAN 
 
 Haru no hi no The long thoughts 
 
 Nagaki ornoi wa Of the spring days 
 
 Wasureji wo, Will never be forgotten 
 
 Hito no kokoro ni Even when autumn comes 
 
 Aki ya tatsuramu. To the hearts of the people, 
 
 THE low-flying clouds of hallucination had fallen so close 
 to Asako's brain, that her thoughts seemed to be caught 
 up into the dizzy whirlwind and to be skimming around 
 and round the world at the speed of an express aero- 
 plane. Like a clock whose regulation is out of order, 
 the hour-hand of her life seemed to be racing the minute- 
 hand, and the minute-hand to be covering the face of the 
 dial in sixty seconds or less, returning incessantly to the 
 same well-known figures, pausing awhile, then jerking 
 away again at an insane rate. From time to time the haze 
 over the mind began to clear ; and Asako seemed to look 
 down upon the scene around her from a great height. 
 There was a long room, so long that she could not see 
 the end of it, and rows of narrow beds, and nurses, dressed 
 in white with high caps like bishops' mitres, who appeared 
 and disappeared. Sometimes they would speak to her 
 and she would answer. But she did not know what they 
 said, nor what she said to them. 
 
 A gentle Japanese lady with a very long, pock-marked 
 face, sat on her bed and talked to her in English. Asako 
 noticed that the nurses and doctors were most deferential 
 to this lady ; and that, after her departure, she was treated 
 much more kindly than before. A name kept peeping 
 out of her memory, like a shy lizard out of its hole ; but 
 the moment her brain tried to grab at it, it slipped back 
 again into oblivion. 
 
 Two English ladies called together, one older and one 
 younger. They talked about Geoffrey. Geoffrey was 
 
 314
 
 LADY BRANDAN 315 
 
 one of the roman figures on the clock dial of her mind. 
 They said good things about Geoffrey ; but she could not 
 remember what they were. 
 
 One day, the Japanese lady with the marked face and 
 one of the nurses helped her to get out of bed. Her legs 
 were trembling, and her feet were sorely plagued by 
 pins and needles ; but she held together somehow. To- 
 gether they dressed her. The lady wrapped a big fur 
 cloak round her ; and with a supporter on either side 
 she was led into the open air, where a beautiful motor-car 
 was waiting. There was a crowd gathered round it. But 
 the police kept them back. As Asako stepped in, she 
 heard the click of cameras. 
 
 "Asa Chan," said the lady, "don't you remember me? 
 I am Countess Saito." 
 
 Of course, Asako remembered now a spring morn- 
 ing with Geoffrey and the little dwarf trees. 
 
 The notoriety of the Ito murder case did Asako a good 
 turn. Her friends in Japan had forgotten her. They had 
 imagined that she had returned to England with Geoffrey. 
 Reggie Forsyth, who alone knew the details of her posi- 
 tion, had thrown up his secretaryship the day that war 
 was declared, and had gone home to join the army. 
 
 The morning papers of January 3rd, with their high- 
 flown account of the myterious house by the river-side 
 and the Japanese lady who could talk no Japanese, 
 brought an unexpected shock to acquaintances of the Bar- 
 ringtons, and especially to Lady Cynthia Cairns and to 
 Countess Saito. These ladies both made inquiries, and 
 learned that Asako was lying dangerously ill in the prison 
 infirmary. A few days later, when Tanaka was arrested 
 and had made a full confession of the crime, Count Saito, 
 who knew how suspects fare at the hands of a zealous 
 procurator, called in person on the Minister of Justice, 
 and secured Asako's speedy liberation. 
 
 "This girl is a valuable asset to our country," he had 
 explained to the Minister. "She is married to an English- 
 man, who will one day be a peer in England. This was 
 a marriage of political importance. It was a proof of
 
 316 KIMONO 
 
 the equal civilisation of our Japan with the great countries 
 of Europe. It is most important that this Asako should 
 be sent back to England as soon as possible, and that she 
 should speak good things about Japan." 
 
 So Asako was released from the procurator's clutches ; 
 and she was given a charming little bedroom of her own 
 in the European wing of the Saito mansion. The house 
 stood on a high hill ; and Asako, seated at the window, 
 could watch the multiplex activity of the streets below, 
 the jolting tramcars, the wagons, the barrows and the 
 rickshaws. To the left was a labyrinth of little houses 
 of clean white wood, bright and new, like toys, with toy 
 evergreens and pine-trees bursting out of their narrow 
 gardens. This was a geisha quarter, whence the sound of 
 samisen music and quavering songs resounded all day 
 long. To the right was a big grey-boarded primary 
 school, which, with the regular movement of tides, sucked 
 in and belched out its flood of blue-cloaked boys and 
 magenta-skirted maidens. 
 
 Count and Countess Saito, despite their immense wealth 
 and their political importance, were simple, unostentatious 
 people, who seemed to devote most of their thoughts to 
 their children, their garden, their dwarf trees, and their 
 breed of cocker spaniels. They took their social duties 
 lightly, though their home was a Mecca for needy rela- 
 tives on the search for jobs. They gave generously ; they 
 entertained hospitably. Good-humour ruled the house- 
 hold ; for husband and wife were old partners and devoted 
 friends. 
 
 Count Saito brought his nephew and secretary, a most 
 agreeable young man, to see 'Asako. The Count said, 
 
 "Asa Chan, I want you to tell Mr. Sakabe all about the 
 Fujinami house and the way of life there." 
 
 So Asako told her story to this interested listener. 
 Fortunately, perhaps, she could not read the Japanese 
 newspapers ; for most of her adventures reappeared in 
 the daily issues almost word for word. From behind 
 the scenes, Count Saito was directing the course of the 
 famous trial which had come to be known as the Fuiinami
 
 LADY BRANDAN 317 
 
 Affair. For the Count had certain political scores of his 
 own to pay off ; and Asako proved to be a godsend. 
 
 Tanaka was tried for murder ; but it was established 
 that he had killed Ito in defending his mistress's honour ; 
 and the court let him off with a year's hard labour. But 
 the great Fujinami bribery case which developed out of 
 the murder trial, ruined a Cabinet Minister, a local gov- 
 ernor, and a host of minor officials. It reacted on the 
 Yoshiwara regulations. The notoriety of the case has 
 gone far towards putting an end to public processions of 
 oiran, and to the display of prostitutes in the windows of 
 their houses. Indeed, it is probably only a question of 
 time for the great pleasure quarters to be closed down, 
 and for vice to be driven into secrecy. Mr. Fujinami 
 Gentaro was sentenced to three years' imprisonment for 
 causing bribes to be distributed. 
 
 Meanwhile Countess Saito had been in correspondence 
 with Lady Everington in England. On one bright March 
 morning, she came into Asako's room with a small flower- 
 pot in her hands. 
 
 "See, Asa Chan," she said in her strange hoarse voice, 
 "the first flower of the New Year, the plum-blossom. 
 It is the flower of hope and patience. It blooms when 
 the snow is still on the ground, and before it has any 
 green leaves to protect it." 
 
 "It smells sweet," said Asako. 
 
 Her hostess quoted the famous poem of the exiled 
 Japanese statesman, Sukawara no Michizane, 
 "When the East wind blows, 
 Send your perfume to me, 
 Flower of the plum ; 
 Even if your master is absent, 
 Do not forget the spring." 
 
 "Asako dear," Countess Saito continued, "would you 
 like to go to England?" 
 
 Asako's heart leaped. 
 
 "Oh yes !" she answered gladly. 
 
 Her hostess sighed reproachfully. She had tried to 
 make life so agreeable for her little visitor; yet from the
 
 318 KIMONO 
 
 tone of her voice it was clear that Japan would never be 
 home for her. 
 
 "Marchioness Samejima and I," continued the Japanese 
 lady, "have been arranging for a party of about twenty- 
 five Red Cross nurses to visit England and France. They 
 are all very good, clever girls from noble families. We 
 wish to show sympathy of Japan for the poor soldiers who 
 are suffering so much; and we wish to teach our girls 
 true facts about war and how to manage a hospital in 
 war-time. We thought you might like to go as guide 
 and interpreter." 
 
 It needed no words to show how joyfully i/Vsako 
 accepted this proposal. Besides, she had heard from 
 Geoffrey. A letter had arrived thanking her for her Christ- 
 mas gift. 
 
 "Little darling Asako," her husband had written, "It 
 was so sweet of you and so like you to think of me at 
 Christmas time. I hope that you are very happy and 
 having a jolly good time. It is very rotten in England 
 just now with the war going on. It had broken out 
 before I reached home ; and I joined up at once with my 
 old regiment. We have had a very lively time. About 
 half of my brother officers have been killed ; and I am a 
 colonel now. Also, incidentally, I have become Lord 
 Brandan. My father died at the end of last year. Poor 
 old father! This war is a ghastly business; but we have 
 got them beat now. I shall be sorry in a way when it is 
 over; for it gives me plenty to do and to think about. 
 Reggie Forsyth is with his regiment in Egypt. Lady Ever- 
 ington is writing to you. I am in the north of France, 
 and doing quite a lot of parlcy-voo. Is there any chance 
 of your coming to England? God bless you, Asako dar- 
 ling. Write to me soon. 
 
 Your loving Geoffrey." 
 
 With this letter folded near her heart, Asako was 
 hardly in a mood to admire plum-blossoms. It was with 
 difficulty that she could summon sufficient attention to
 
 LADY BRANDAN 319 
 
 give the little Saito children their daily lessons in English 
 and French. 
 
 Long rides in the motor-car through the reviving 
 country-side to the splendid gorge of Miyanoshita or to 
 the beaches of Oiso, where Count Saito had his summer 
 villa, long days ot play with the children in the hanging 
 garden, the fascinating companionship of the dwarf trees 
 and the black spaniels, and the welcome absence of espion- 
 age and innuendo, had soon restored Asako to health 
 again. 
 
 "Little Asa Chan," Count Saito said one day, beckoning 
 his guest to sit down beside him in the sunlight on the 
 terrace, "you will be happy to go back to England?" 
 
 "Oh yes," said the girl. 
 
 "It is a fine country, a noble country ; and you will be 
 happy to see your husband again?" 
 
 Asako blushed and held down her head. 
 
 "I don't think he is still my husband," she said, "but 
 oh ! I do want to see him so." 
 
 "I think he wants to see you," said the Count; "My 
 wife has received a letter from Lady Everington which 
 says that he would like you very much to come back to 
 him." 
 
 The Count waited for this joyful news to produce its 
 effect, and then he added, 
 
 "Asa Chan, you are going to be a great English lady; 
 but you will always remain a Japanese. In England, 
 you will be a kind of ambassador for Japan. So you must 
 never forget your father's country, and you must never 
 say bad things about Japan, even if you have suffered 
 here. Then the English people will like you ; and for 
 that reason, they will like Japan too; and the two 
 counties will stand side by side, as they ought to, like 
 good friends. The English are a very great people, the 
 greatest of all ; but they know very little about us in the 
 East. They think that because we are yellow people, 
 therefore we are inferior to them. Perhaps, when they 
 see a Japanese lady as one of their peers' wives and a 
 leader in society, they will understand that the Japanese
 
 320 KIMONO 
 
 also are not so inferior; for the English people have a 
 great respect for peers. Japan is proud to be England's 
 younger brother; but the elder brother must not take all 
 the inheritance. He must be content to share. For per- 
 haps he will not always be the strong one. This war will 
 make England weak and it will make Japan strong. It 
 will make a great change in the world, and in Asia most 
 of all. Already the people of Asia are saying, Why 
 should these white men rule over us? They cannot rule 
 themselves; they fight among themselves like drunkards; 
 their time is over and past. Then, when the white rulers 
 are pushed out of Asia, Japan will become very strong 
 indeed. It will be said then that England, the elder 
 brother, is become inkyo (retired from active life), and 
 that Japan, the younger brother, is manager of the family. 
 I think you will live to see these things, Asa Chan. Cer- 
 tainly your children will see them." 
 
 "I could never like Japan," Asako said honestly. 
 
 The old diplomat shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Very well, Asa Chan. Just enjoy life, and be happy. 
 That will be the best propaganda."
 
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