“Dr. Kushida seems to think there is a possibility.”
“But I wonder if injections will ever really take it away. That reminds me. Katharina is married.”
“You had a letter?”
“I saw her brother yesterday in Kobe. He came running after me, and said they had word two or three days ago.”
“And who is her husband?”
“You remember she was secretary to the president of an insurance company? Well, she married him.”
“She caught someone, did she.”
“She enclosed a picture of her house, and told her brother and mother to hurry to England. Her husband would take care of them. She would even send travel money. The brother said the house looked like a palace.”
“She did very well for herself. A tottering old man, I suppose?”
“As a matter of fact he is just thirty-five, and this is his first marriage.”
“Not really!”
“You remember how she told us she would catch a rich husband when she got to Europe?”
“When did she leave Japan? Hardly a year ago.”
“The end of March.”
“Only ten months ago, then.”
“And she has been in England no more than six months.”
“She did very well for herself in six months. It pays to be beautiful.”
“Beautiful? There must be any number of women better looking than Katharina. Or do you suppose there are no good-looking women in England?”
“Are Kyrilenko and the old one going to England, then?”
“I gather not. The old one says they would embarrass Katharina. If they stay in Japan, the husband will never know how poor they are.”
“Westerners worry about that sort of thing too, do they?”
“Oh, yes, and she got the first husband to give her the child.”
There was no particular reason for Taeko’s visit; she only wanted to tell of Katharina. Though Sachiko pressed her to stay for lunch—Yukiko would soon be home—Taeko seemed to have an appointment with Okubata and she left after about a half hour. Sachiko sat for a time staring at the fire. The news of Katharina’s marriage did indeed seem important enough for a special visit. It was only in the movies, Sachiko had thought, that rich young executives fell in love with and presently married their newly-hired secretaries. As Taeko had remarked, Katharina was not outstandingly beautiful, nor did she seem to have extraordinary talent. If even she could be so fortunate, were similar cases then common in the West? That the president of an insurance company, thirty-five, unmarried, and the owner of a fine mansion, should marry a woman quite without roots, a vagabond about whose family and breeding he knew nothing, a woman he had hired but six months before—Japanese common sense would simply not permit it, however beautiful the woman might be. She had heard that the English were conservative. Were they nonetheless liberal on the subject of marriage? When Katharina said she would find herself a rich husband, they had laughed at her as a romantic girl who knew little of the world, but she had known more than they, and had left Japan in complete confidence that her looks would see her through.
It would be a mistake to compare a White-Russian refugee with a cloistered lady from an old Osaka family. But how ineffectual they all seemed in comparison with Katharina! Even Taeko, the scapegrace, the venturesome one, did in the final analysis fear criticism, and had not succeeded in marrying the man she wanted. And Katharina, probably younger than Taeko, had left her mother and brother and home behind and set off across the world, and promptly made herself a future. Not of course that Sachiko envied Katharina—Yukiko was far better than any Katharina—but how feeble and spineless they seemed, two older sisters and two brothers-in-law, unable to find Yukiko a husband! Sachiko would not want her quiet sister to set about imitating Katharina—the fact that she could not do so even under orders was what gave Yukiko her charm—but should not Yukiko’s guardians, the people at the main house and Teinosuke and Sachiko herself, feel humble before the Russian girl? They were utterly useless, Katharina might laugh, and what could they answer? Sachiko remembered how Tsuruko, returning to Tokyo the year before, had heaved a deep sign and said to Sachiko when no one else was listening: “I only hope someone will marry her. It hardly matters who any more. Even if it ends in divorce, I hope someone will marry her.”
Soon the doorbell rang and Yukiko came in. Her face already flushed from the heat, Sachiko bent nearer the stove and wiped the tears from her eyes.
13
IT WAS SOME two or three weeks later. Yukiko and Sachiko were still regular customers at Mrs. Itani’s beauty shop, and “Itani” still worried about Yukiko. One day she asked whether Sachiko knew an Osaka lady named Mrs. Niu. And how did Itani happened to know Mrs. Niu, Sachiko asked in return. Itani had met her just the other day. The two had chanced to be at a farewell party for a soldier going overseas, and Itani, learning that Mrs. Niu knew Sachiko, had exchanged reports with her. Mrs. Niu said that she had once been very close to Mrs. Makioka, but that for some reason they had not seen each other recently. She and two or three friends had called at the Ashiya house and found Mrs. Makioka in bed with jaundice—but that was long ago, possibly three or four yean ago.
Sachiko remembered the incident well. There were Mrs. Niu and Mrs. Shimozuma and someone else whose name she had forgotten—that fearfully stylish lady just back from America, the one with the strange accent. Really too ill to see them, Sachiko had not been especially polite, and she had sent them off without dinner. Perhaps Mrs. Niu was annoyed. She had not come again.
“I was very rude to her. Did she say anything?”
“No, she seemed more worried about Miss Yukiko. She wondered if Miss Yukiko was married yet, and said she had a good prospect. She thought of the man when Miss Yukiko’s name came up. She said she was sure he would interest you.”
Itani talked on. Meeting Mrs. Niu for the first time, she had no idea what the lady might consider “a good prospect.” Still a friend of Mrs. Makioka’s was to be trusted, and Itani therefore ventured to ask her good offices for Miss Yukiko. The man, Itani learned, was a doctor who had lost his first wife. Except for a daughter twelve or thirteen, he had no immediate family. He was not practicing medicine at the moment, but worked as director of a pharmaceutical company. That, said Itani, was all she had heard, and she had replied that it seemed to her not a bad prospect at all, and had urged Mrs. Niu to act immediately, since not a moment was to be lost. Itani herself would be glad to do anything she could, and she doubted that the Makiokas would make the demands they once had. She would see then how the man felt, said Mrs. Niu. That was very well, said Itani, but should they not now frame their plans in a general sort of way? Mrs. Niu replied that she would guarantee to produce the man—she did not think he would have objections, and if he did she would drag him out by force—and she wanted Itani to take responsibility for producing the Makiokas. A simple, quiet dinner party could be arranged, somewhere in Osaka. Mrs. Niu had the next two or three evenings open. In any case she would telephone. A splendid idea, Itani agreed, and Mrs. Makioka too would be pleased. As they left, Itani again urged Mrs. Niu to hurry. Itani was sure she would receive a telephone call very soon. She would visit Sachiko when she did.
Both Mrs. Niu and Itani were rather aggressive women, and Sachiko was sure she would soon hear more. At about ten o’clock three mornings later there was a call from Itani. Mrs. Niu had just telephoned to ask whether Itani could bring Miss Yukiko to a certain Japanese-style restaurant that evening at six. It would be no formal miai. Miss Yukiko need feel no more constraint than if she had been invited out to dinner. Mrs. Niu hoped Yukiko would agree to go alone, but if someone had to be with her it should be Teinosuke and not Sachiko. Beside her radiant sister, Yukiko would leave but a dim impression. Itani agreed, and hoped very much that Yukiko would go alone. Though it was rude of her to bring up such an important matter over the telephone, she added, they had covered the ground already, and haste was so important. She wanted her
answer immediately. Sachiko asked her to wait an hour or two.
What did Yukiko think, she asked. It was true that so hastily arranged a party did not seem entirely felicitous. Still they must not be rude to Itani, who had been thinking of Yukiko all this time. And Mrs. Niu, hardly a friend of but a day, knew them well enough not to suggest too outrageously inappropriate a man.
But they really knew so little, answered Yukiko. Should Sachiko not talk to Mrs. Niu, even over the telephone? Sachiko immediately called Mrs. Niu and learned that the man’s qualifications seemed surprisingly good: his name was Hashidera, he was from Shizuoka Prefecture, and he had two older brothers, both doctors; he had studied in Germany; he rented a house in Ten-nōji Ward, where he lived with his daughter and an old housekeeper; the daughter, a student in the Sekiyō Hill Seminary, had inherited all her mother’s elegance and grace; the man lived well, inasmuch as he had very probably received a share of the family property (the two brothers were both successful men, and the family was one of the more important in Shizuoka Prefecture), and he probably had a sizable income besides as director of the East Asia Pharmaceutical Company; the man himself was well groomed and more than prepossessing—indeed one would not be wrong in calling him truly handsome. And how old was he? Probably forty-four or forty-five. And the daughter? She would be in about her second year in the seminary. And did he have any sisters? Any younger brothers? Mrs. Niu did not know. What of his parents, then? Mrs. Niu wondered whether they were still living. It gradually became clear that Mrs. Niu and the man’s wife had shared the same hobby, and had come to know each other as members of a group that studied batik dying. Mrs. Niu said that she had not visited the house often. She had met the husband once while the wife was living, she believed, and again at the funeral, and at memorial services on the first anniversary—four times in all, counting a visit the day before to discuss the meeting with Yukiko. She had told him that there was no point in mourning his wife forever—she had a fine girl she wanted him to meet. He replied that he would leave everything to her, and now if the Makiokas were to refuse …
Mrs. Niu was adept at both standard Tokyo speech and the Osaka dialect, and could change back and forth to suit the occasion; but for some reason (was she using only standard speech these days?—Sachiko remembered their last meeting) it was an even swifter torrent of Tokyo speech than usual that assailed Sachiko over the telephone.
Sachiko was coaxed into standard speech herself. Mrs. Niu was really too unkind, she said. Had Mrs. Niu not insisted that Sachiko stay away from the party? No, that had been Mrs. Itani’s idea. Mrs. Niu herself quite agreed, but because the idea had been Mrs. Itani’s, Sachiko should be angry with Mrs. Itani if she must be angry with someone.
“That reminds me,” Mrs. Niu said, “I met Mrs. Jimba the other day, and when one of us happened to mention you she said she had tried to arrange something for you once herself.”
Sachiko was startled. “What did Mrs. Jimba say?”
“Well—” Mrs. Niu hesitated. “She said she was turned down rather sharply.”
“She must have been angry, then,” said Sachiko.
“Possibly so,” Mrs. Niu said. “But if it’s no match, it’s no match, and you can never arrange anything if you are going to be upset at each little failure. I’ll never be so unreasonable myself, and if you don’t like the man you can just come out and say so. Anyway, tell Yukiko that she has to meet him. I’ll be very unhappy if she won’t meet him.”
Mrs. Niu added that she had already made reservations, and would be there with the man at the appointed hour. They needn’t telephone again. She would be expecting them.
Sachiko thought it a little undignified to accept an invitation for that very night, an invitation as startling in its way as a covey of birds flying up at one’s feet. If they chose not to worry about dignity, however, there was no reason why they should not send Yukiko off. Yukiko would not want to go alone, but Teinosuke had gone in Sachiko’s place before and could go again if he was free that evening. The problem was only that they did not want to seem vulgarly eager. They wanted an excuse to postpone the miai two or three days, to give it a little dignity. But they had to worry about Mrs. Niu and what she would think if they looked coldly upon a project that filled her with enthusiasm. One of her remarks had upset Sachiko: that Mrs. Jimba was angry. Sachiko felt even more timid about refusing. They had refused Nomura two years before with the utmost circumspection: they had said that the main house was a little dissatisfied— but the refusal had apparently carried stronger overtones than they had meant to put into it. Sachiko had for some time wondered whether Mrs. Jimba might not be angry, and had even felt that she had reason to be angry. Mrs. Niu’s remark therefore struck home. And why had Mrs. Niu brought the subject up? She liked to talk, of course, but it was more than the usual chatter when she suddenly introduced a complete outsider into the conversation and passed on a report she ought to have kept to herself. Perhaps Sachiko was being threatened.
“What shall we do, Yukiko?”
Yukiko did not answer.
“How would it be if you were to go?”
“And you?”
“I would like to go with you, but they say I am to stay home. Will you go with Itani?”
“With Itani?”
“We can have Teinosuke go with you, then.” Sachiko studied Yukiko’s expression. “I know he will go if he has nothing else to do. Shall I telephone him?”
Yukiko nodded very slightly, and Sachiko put in an emergency call to Osaka.
14
TOLD THAT Yukiko and Itani would arrive separately at his office no later than five-thirty, Teinosuke had nothing in particular to suggest, though he knew how prompt Itani would be and insisted that Yukiko too arrive on time—or better, some twenty minutes or a half hour early. He was much disturbed when, at five-fifteen, there was still no sign of Yukiko. He knew that his wife and Yukiko paid no attention to time, and he knew too that Itani’s impatience would be trying. Yukiko must surely have left the house by now. Still, to make very sure, he put in a call to Ashiya. Before the call went through, Itani arrived with Yukiko behind her.
“Fine, fine. The two of you together. I was just going to phone.”
“As a matter of fact I went by to call for Miss Yukiko. Shall we go? We have so little time, and I’ve kept the cab waiting.”
Teinosuke had heard the details of the miai, but only by telephone. Though he knew Mrs. Niu’s name, he was not at all sure he had met her. He felt as if he were plunging into a fog. On the way to the restaurant he asked about the man, and of Itani’s relations with him. Itani would have to leave such matters to Mrs. Niu, she was afraid. What then of her relations with Mrs. Niu? Itani had met Mrs. Niu but once, and that once but recently. Teinosuke felt that he had ventured into a new sort of fairyland indeed.
Mrs. Niu and Hashidera were waiting at the restaurant.
“Well, well. Here you are already. Have we kept you waiting?” Itani’s manner was wonderfully familiar considering that she had met the woman only once.
“We just this minute arrived,” answered Mrs. Niu pleasantly. “But aren’t you remarkable. It’s exactly six.”
“I’m always on time. I was worried about Miss Yukiko, though, and went around to fetch her.” . “Did you have trouble finding the place?”
“None at all. Mr. Makioka here knew it immediately.”
“How are you? I believe we’ve met.” Teinosuke remembered having seen this face in his parlor.
“I’m afraid I’m not being very friendly these days. It’s a long time since I’ve seen Sachiko—not since we found her in bed with jaundice.”
“It was then, was it. That must have been three or four years ago.”
“At least. Three of us rushed in and forced her out of bed. I’m sure we looked like female gangsters.”
“Gangsters is the word for it.” Hashidera, who had on a brown suit and was waiting to be introduced, glanced sideways at Mrs. Niu and smiled. He turned to Tein
osuke. “My name is Hashidera. As a matter of fact, the lady is exactly what she says she is—a gangster. She told me I had to come, and she dragged me out before I knew what was happening to me.”
“Please, Mr. Hashidera. Be a gentleman. You’re here, and you don’t talk of such things.”
“Quite right,” agreed Itani. “You don’t go making excuses. After all, men are supposed to behave like men. And you are really being a little insulting.”
“So it goes with lady gangsters. Ganging up on me again.”
“Nothing of the sort. We’re thinking of your own good. You’ll only ruin your health, sitting around all day staring at your wife’s picture. You need to go out now and then. You must know that there are plenty of women just as beautiful.”
Teinosuke was afraid to look at Yukiko. But Yukiko was by now a veteran, and she only smiled.
“We’ll stop arguing and sit down at the table. You are over there, Mr. Hashidera, and I’ll sit here myself.”
“With two gangsters after you, it won’t pay not to do as you’re told.”
Teinosuke suspected that, like Yukiko, Hashidera had been dragged out against his will. Far from sure that he wanted to remarry so soon, he had been pounced upon by Mrs. Niu, a woman with whom he was not particularly friendly, and forced to act before he knew what he was doing. His conversation was full of words like “startled” and “confused.” And yet the show of confusion was not at all displeasing. Teinosuke saw that the man knew how to handle himself in polite society. Offering a card on which he was announced as a physician and a director of the East Asia Pharmaceutical Company, Hashidera smiled: “I’m no doctor. I’m the chief clerk in a drug store.” There was little of the physician about him. He rather suggested the able entrepreneur. Although he was said to be forty-four or forty-five, the skin on his face and hands down to the tips of his fingers had a youthful firmness. A regular-featured, round-cheeked, good-looking man, the solidness of whose figure gave him the full dignity of his years. In appearance at least he would rank first among the candidates they had reviewed for Yukiko’s hand. He also seemed to be a good drinker, though not quite a match for Teinosuke, and he could always be persuaded to have another cup of saké. Usually there was a certain stiffness and restraint among people so recently introduced. Partly because of the two bold lady gangsters, however, and partly because the man himself was so completely at ease, the conversation flowed smoothly.
The Makioka Sisters Page 45