Kimono Part 44

CHAPTER XXII

FUJINAMI ASAKO

_Okite mitsu Nete mitsu kaya no Hirosa kana_.

When I rise, I look-- When I lie down, I look-- Alas, how vast is the mosquito-curtain.

Asako Barrington was restored to the name and home of the Fujinami.

Her action had been the result of hereditary instinct, of the natural current of circ.u.mstances, 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 j.a.panese matrimony.

The Fujinami had not adopted their foreign cousin out of pure altruism. Far from it. Like j.a.panese 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 opposed to j.a.panese conventions--but that there were very few adequately qualified suitors. Indeed, in the direct line of succession there was only young Mr. Fujinami Takes.h.i.+, 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 n.o.bodies. 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 despised his grandson, was for sweeping him and his brood out of the way altogether, and for adopting a carefully selected and creditable _yos.h.i.+_ (adopted son) by marriage with either Sadako or Asako.

"But if this Asa is barren?" said Mrs. Fujinami s.h.i.+dzuye, 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. s.h.i.+dzuye, "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 j.a.panese never completely loses touch with his ancestral village; and for over a hundred years the Tokyo Fujinami 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 summoned to the capital to give her advice.

Their other medical counselor was Professor Kas.h.i.+o, who held degrees 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 j.a.panese, who are as a rule intuitively aware of others' emotions, recognized her case. A room was prepared for her in a distant wing of the straggling house, a "foreign-style" room in an upper story with gla.s.s in the windows--stained gla.s.s 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 j.a.panese," Mr. Fujinami Gentaro had objected. "It is not right that a j.a.panese should sleep upon a tall bed. She must learn to give up luxurious ways."

Sadako protested that her cousin's health was not yet a.s.sured; 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 paG.o.da 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 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 beginning of the day, then the gurgling and the expectorations which accompanied the family ablutions, then the harsh sound of the men's voices and their rattling laughter, 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 sleeping; 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 swis.h.i.+ng 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 neighbouring pine-tree. His harsh croak disturbed Asako's mind like a threat. High overhead pa.s.sed a flight of wild geese in military formation on their way to the continent of Asia. Lights began to peep among the trees. Behind the squat paG.o.da a sky of raspberry pink closed the background.

The twilight is brief in j.a.pan. 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 paG.o.da spires.

From a downstair room there came the tw.a.n.g of cousin Sadako's _koto_, a kind of zither instrument, upon which she played interminable melancholy sonatas of liquid, detached notes, like desultory thoughts against a background of silence. There was no accompaniment to this music and no song to chime with it; for, as the j.a.panese say, the accompaniment for _koto_ music is the summer 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 gra.s.shoppers, 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 remembered 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 permanently."

This showed how little she understood as yet the j.a.panese family system, whereby relatives remain as permanent 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. 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 j.a.panese always do when embarra.s.sed.

"Very sorry for you," he answered; "motor car has gone away."

"Has Captain Barrington--?" Asako began instinctively; then, remembering that Geoffrey was now many thousands of miles from j.a.pan, 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 borrow 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 j.a.panese sort of way, interested and responsive at last, "old Mr. Fujinami San, he also go to mountain with _geisha_ girl, but different mountain. j.a.panese people all very _roue_. All j.a.panese people like to go away in summer season with _geisha_ girl. Very bad custom. Old Mr. Fujinami San, not so very bad, keep same _geisha_ girl very long time. Perhaps Ladys.h.i.+p 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 daughter. Perhaps old Mr. Fujinami San's daughter also, I think: very b.a.s.t.a.r.d: I don't know!"

So he rambled on in the fas.h.i.+on 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 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 rea.s.suring the more she learned about its history.

The life of a j.a.panese lady of quality is peculiarly tedious. 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 supposed to find her own amus.e.m.e.nts, such as flower-arrangement, tea-ceremony, music, kimono-making and the composition of poetry. More often, this refined and innocent ideal degenerates into a poor trickle of an existence, enlivened only by sc.r.a.ppy magazine reading, servants'

gossip, empty chatter about clothes, neighbours and children, backbiting, envying and malice.

Once Sadako took her cousin to a charity entertainment given for the Red Cross at the house of a rich n.o.bleman. 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."