CHAPTER XVIII
IN THE BAMBOO LANE
_What did Bersonin mean?_ Phil replenished his glass, feeling a tense,nervous excitement.
Why had he listened so intently--made _him_ listen--to what the men inthe next room were saying? He could recall it all--for some reason everyword was engraven on his mind. The visit of the foreign Squadron.Speculators who had once made quick fortunes through an accident to abattle-ship. He thought of the look he had seen on Bersonin's face.
"What do you want me to do?" He muttered the words to himself. As herose to go he glanced half-fearfully over his shoulder.
He walked along the street, his brain afire. He was passing a moat inwhose muck bottom piling was being driven; the heavy plunger was liftedby a dozen ropes pulled by a ring of coolie women, dressed like men,with blue-cotton leggins and red cloths about their heads. As theydragged at the straw ropes, and the great weight rose and fell, theychanted a wailing refrain, with something minor and plaintive in itsburden--
"_Yo--eeya--ko--ra! Yo-eeya--ko--ra!_"
_What do you want me to do?..._ The words wove oddly with the refrain.Why should he say them over and over? Again and again it came--an echoof an echo--and again and again he seemed to see the look in theexpert's hollow, cat-like eyes! It haunted him as he walked on towardAoyama parade-ground, to the little house in _Kasumigatani Cho_, the"Street-of-the-Misty-Valley."
Then, as he walked, he saw some one that for the moment drove it fromhis mind. He had turned for a short-cut through a temple inclosure, andthere he met her face to face--the girl of the _matsuri_, whom he hadseen wading in the foam at Kamakura. Her slim neck, pale withrice-powder, rose from a soft white neckerchief flowered with gold, anda scarlet poppy was dreaming in her black hair. Phil's face sprang red,and a wave of warm color overran her own.
"_O-Haru-San!_" he cried.
"_Konichi-wa_," she answered with grave courtesy and made to pass him,but he turned and walked by her side. "Please, please!" he entreated."If you only knew how often I have looked for you! Don't be unkind!"
"Why you talk with me?" said Haru, turning. "My Japanese girl--no allsame your country."
"You wild, pretty thing!" he said. "Why are you so afraid of me?Foreigners don't eat butterflies."
"No," she answered, without hesitation, "they jus' break wings."
He laughed unevenly. Her quickness of retort delighted him, and herbeauty was stinging his blood. He put out his hand and touched hersleeve, but she drew away hurriedly:
"See!" she said. "My know those people to come in gate. Talk--'bout my_papa-San_--please, so they will to think he have know you, _ne_?"
Phil obeyed the hint, but Haru's cheeks, as she saluted her friends,were flushing painfully. It was her first subterfuge employed in amoment of embarrassment with the realization that her home was near andthat she was violating the code of deportment that from babyhood hedgesabout the young Japanese girl with a complicated etiquette.
The women they had passed looked back curiously at the foreigner walkingwith her. One, a girl of Haru's own age, called smilingly after her:
"_Komban Mukojima de sho?_" Phil understood the query. Was she going toMukojima--to the cherry festival--to-night! His eyes sparkled at thetossed-back, "_Hai!_" Well, he would be there, too! He had appreciatedthe quick wit of her subterfuge. The clever little baggage! She was notsuch a small, brown saint, after all!
"I think I did that rather well," he said, when they had passed out ofearshot. "They'll think your honorable parent and I exchange New Yeargifts at the very least."
A little smile of irrepressible fun was lurking under Haru's flush. "Youhave ask how is _papa-San_ rhu-ma-tis-um," she said. "In our street hehave some large fame, for because he so old and no have got."
Phil laughed aloud. "Look here, little Haru," he said, "you and I aregoing to be great friends, aren't we?" He looked down at the slim,nervous arm, so soft and firm of flesh, so deliciously turned andmodeled. He knew a jade bracelet in Yokohama that would mightily becomeit--he would write to-night and have it sent up! "When can I see youagain, eh?"
They had turned into a narrow deserted lane, bordered withbamboo fences, and opening, a little way beyond, into the widerStreet-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods. She stopped as he spoke and shook herhead. "My no can tell," she answered. "No come more far. My house verynear now."
He caught her hand--it was almost as small as a child's, with itsdelicate wrist and slender fingers. "Give me a kiss and I will let yougo," he said.
As she shrank back indignantly against the palings, her free hand flungup across her face, he threw his arms about her and strained her to him.She wrestled against him with little inarticulate sobs, but he liftedher face and kissed her again and again.
He released her, breathing hard, the veins in his temples throbbing, hislips burning hot. He stood a moment looking after her, as white-facedand breathless, she fled down the bamboo lane.
"There!" he muttered. "That's for you to remember me by--till nexttime!"
The Kingdom of Slender Swords Page 20