Kimono Part 8

"Shall we get out and explore, sweetheart?" suggested Geoffrey. They pa.s.sed under the low gate, up a pebbled 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 "_Ira.s.shai_!

(Condescend to come!)."

The Barringtons 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-blossoms on a mountain side, below which, on a stand of dark 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 _zabuton_. 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 j.a.pan 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 greyness. 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 distinct but infinitely remote, as sound of the world might reach the G.o.ds in Heaven. It was a half-hour of fairyland 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 j.a.panese.

"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.

A third _nesan_ appeared. She could speak some English.

"Is _Okusama_ (lady) j.a.panese?" she began, after she had placed the tiny square table before Geoffrey, and had performed a prostration.

Geoffrey a.s.sented.

Renewed prostration before _okusama_, and murmured greetings in j.a.panese.

"But I can't speak j.a.panese," 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 j.a.panese 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 san_; 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 san_ go away.

Give O Fuji San very nice finger ring."

She lapsed into vernacular. The other girl showed with feigned embarra.s.sment a little ring set with gla.s.sy sapphires.

"Oh!" said Asako, dimly comprehending.

"All Ingiris' _danna san_ come Nagasaki," the talkative maid went on, "want j.a.panese girl. Ingiris' _danna san_ kind man, but too plenty drink. j.a.panese _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 j.a.panese girl do?" asked Asako.

"Other _danna san_ come," was the laconic reply. "Ingiris' _danna san_ live in j.a.pan, j.a.panese girl very nice. Ingiris' _danna san_ go away, no want j.a.panese girl. j.a.panese girl no want go away j.a.pan. j.a.panese girl go to other country, she feel very sick; heart very lonely, very sad!"

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 j.a.pan is a brothel, and every tea-house and restaurant a house of a.s.signation.

From a wing of the building near by came the tw.a.n.ging 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.

"j.a.panese _geisha_," said the tea-house girl, "if _danna san_ 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 Sakashira suru wa Sake nomite Yei-naki suru ni Nao shikazu keri._

To sit silent And look wise Is not to be compared with Drinking _sake_ 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 impressions. 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, Chonkina, 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 rickshaws, 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! Chonkina!_

As though in answer to his incantation, Geoffrey suddenly came upon Wigram. Wigram had been a fellow-pa.s.senger on board the steamer. He was an old Etonian; and this was really the only bond between the 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.

"h.e.l.lo, Barrington," he said, "you all alone?"

"Yes," answered Geoffrey, "my wife is a bit overtired; she has turned in."

"So you are making the most of your opportunity, studying night-life, eh, naughty boy?"

"Not much about, is there?" said Geoffrey, who considered 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 Nagasaki is one of the hottest spots on the face of the globe."