by Boris Akunin
‘You remember I said that I was in love, enamoured with you? Well, I was mistaken, I love you,’ he began in a gloomy, almost accusatory voice, and then paused in order to give her a chance to react.
‘I know, I know!’ she exclaimed.
Having once assumed a morose tone, Fandorin could no longer abandon it.
‘It is splendid that you know everything. But I had hoped to hear something else. For instance: “I love you too”.’
‘I have loved you all this time,’ Eliza exclaimed immediately with tears in her eyes. ‘I love you madly and desperately.’
She reached her arms out to him, but Erast Petrovich did not yield to temptation. He had to tell her everything that he had been intending to.
‘You are an actress, you cannot manage without exaggerations, I accept you as you are, I hope that you will take the same attitude to me. Please listen to everything I have to say and then decide.’
Until this moment Erast Petrovich had been standing, Now he sat down at the opposite side of the table, as if establishing a barrier between them, and now the conditions for crossing would have to be negotiated.
‘I have lived in this world for a long time. I behaved with you like an absolute idiot … Don’t object, just listen,’ he said when she shook her head and threw her hands up in the air. ‘I knew from the very beginning what I could expect and what I could not. You see, it is always written on a woman’s face whether she is capable of a great love or she is not. The way she will behave if life forces her to choose between her beloved and herself, between her beloved and children, between her beloved and an idea.’
‘What choice do you think I will make?’ Eliza asked timidly.
‘You will choose a role. That part of you suits me. We are cut from the same cloth, you and I. I will also choose a role. My role is not a theatrical one, certainly, but that does not matter. Therefore I suggest an honest alliance, without any lies or self-deception. You and I shall have a marriage of convenience.’
‘That is the same thing that Shustrov offered me,’ she said with a shudder.
‘Possibly. But our convenience will not be one of commerce, but of love. To put it in entrepreneurial terms, I propose a love with limited liability. Don’t frown. We love each other, we want to be together. But at the same time, we are both invalids of love. I am not willing to abandon my manner of life for your sake. You will not sacrifice the stage for me. Or if you do, you will soon regret it and become unhappy.’
He thought he had managed to break through her habit of affectation. Eliza listened to him seriously and attentively – without wringing her hands, without assuming an air of glowing love.
‘You know, I think we are ideally suited for each other,’ said Fandorin, moving on to the second point, which was no less delicate. ‘I am a mature man and you are a mature woman. There is an ancient formula that can be used to calculate the correct combination of a man’s and a woman’s ages at the moment of their alliance. The number of years that the bride has lived should be equal to half of the bridegroom’s years, plus seven. So according to the Chinese rule you are slightly younger than the ideal age for my chosen one. You are thirty, and according to the formula you should be thirty-four and a half. This is not a great difference.’
As he had expected, Eliza was interested by this dubious Chinese wisdom. She wrinkled up her forehead and worked her lips.
‘Wait … I can’t count it up. How old are you, then? Thirty-four and a half minus seven, multiply by two …’
‘Fifty-five.’
She was upset.
‘As old as that. I didn’t think you were more than forty-five!’
This was a painful subject for Erast Petrovich, but he had prepared well for it.
‘A man has three ages, and their link to the number of years he has lived is only relative. The first is the age of the mind. There are old men with the intellectual development of a ten-year-old child, but some youths have a mature intellect. The older a man’s mind is, the better. The second age is spiritual. The supreme achievement on this path of life is to reach wisdom. It can only descend on a man in old age, when the vain commotion has receded and the passions are exhausted. As I see now, I still have a long way to go to get there. In the spiritual sense, I am younger than I would like to be. And finally, there is physical age. Everything here depends on the correct use of the body. The human organism is an apparatus that is amenable to endless improvement. The wear and tear is more than made up for by acquired skills. I assure you that now I have much better control of my body than I did in my youth.’
‘Oh, I saw how in just two minutes you ran up onto the gallery gangway and climbed down the cable!’ Eliza lowered her eyes demurely. ‘And I have had other opportunities to appreciate how well you control your body …’
Erast Petrovich, however, did not allow the conversation to be diverted from its serious vein.
‘What do you say, Eliza?’ He felt his voice breaking and coughed. ‘What do you think of my p-proposal?’
Now everything depended, not so much on her words, as on the way she pronounced them.
If his sincerity had not broken though the actress’s defensive guise, nothing worthwhile would come of their union.
Eliza turned pale and then blushed. Then she turned pale again. And a terrible thing – her eyes seemed to have rid themselves of their perpetual squint, and they were both looking straight at Fandorin.
‘One condition.’ She also seemed to have suddenly turned hoarse. ‘No children. May God allow me not to be torn apart between you and the stage. If we cannot get along with each other, it will be painful for us, but we will manage somehow. But I would feel sad for the children.’
This is not a mask speaking, Erast Petrovich thought with immense relief. This is a real, live woman. The way she speaks to me is already an answer. And he also thought that there was a disappointment in store for Masa. It was not the Japanese servant’s destiny to teach a little Fandorin how to be happy.
‘That’s reasonable,’ Erast Petrovich said out loud. ‘I wanted to ask you about that myself.’
Here, however, Eliza’s reserves of reason and restraint ran out. She jumped up, knocking over her chair, dashed to Fandorin, huddled up against him and murmured devotedly.
‘Hold me tight, never let me go! Otherwise I shall be torn off the earth, blown away, up into the sky. I shall be lost without you! God sent you to me to be my salvation! You are my only hope, you are my anchor, my guardian angel. Love me, love me, as much as you can! And I shall love you as well as I know how and with all the strength I have.’
And now he couldn’t tell whether she was being genuine just at that moment or whether, without even noticing, she had slipped into some role. If she had, then how magnificently it had been played, how magnificently.
But Eliza’s face was wet with tears, her lips were trembling and her shoulders were shaking, and Fandorin felt ashamed of his scepticism.
Essentially, whether she was acting or not was not really important. Erast Petrovich was happy, unconditionally happy. And now come what may.
APPENDIX
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
OKASAN
Owner of the Yanagi tea house
KUBOTA
Counsellor to the Prince of Satsuma
O-BARA
The owner’s adopted daughter, a geisha of the first rank
YUBA
Her pupil
IZUMI
The owner’s adopted daughter, a geisha of the first rank
SEN-CHAN
Her pupil
KINJO
A thief
FIRST ASSASSIN
SOGA
Nicknamed ‘First Sword’, a Ronin who lives in the tea house
SECOND ASSASSIN
FUTOYA
A rich merchant
THE INVISIBLE ONE
The Jyonin of the Sinobi clan
THE INAUDIBLE ONE
A warrior of the Sinobi clan
> The stage is divided into two parts, alternated by rotating it. In one half the scenery is permanent – this is the garden of the tea house and Izumi’s room: in the other half the scenery changes. On the left a little platform or hanamichi is attached to the stage, running out into the hall to approximately the fifth row. Between the hanamichi and the hall there is an empty space. On the right, the Storyteller sits at the edge of the stage throughout the performance, wearing a severe black kimono with crests. He is gently lit by a paper lantern.
ACT ONE
Scene one
At the gates of the Yanagi tea house, which are flung open wide in welcome. Lying on a stand at the very centre is a shamisen, or lute, and at one edge there are two pillows: one larger and rather more luxurious, the other smaller and more modest. Quiet music is playing.
STORYTELLER (he strikes a drum lying in front of him with a wooden stick – the sound is a low, quiet rumbling)
This is the Yanagi tea house, throughout the capital
It is famed for the art of its exquisite feasts.
The respected owner, to secure her own success,
Adopted two peerless geishas as her foster-daughters,
Since when the house’s fame has multiplied most greatly,
And now the Yanagi is celebrated far and wide.
Today from distant Satsuma a noted visitor
Is honouring this refuge of refinement with his presence.
For an occasion such as this the main gates
Have been flung wide open, so that all might see
How celebrated is this house of tea today.
Since morning old and young have gathered at the stage,
For when else could they see the dancers and the singers
Who charm the ears and eyes of only noblemen and merchants?
Before uttering his final phrase, the Storyteller strikes the drum, and the public streams up onto the hanamichi. Trying to occupy places closer to the stage, the viewers sit down with their backs to the hall. At the front are the trainee geishas – the young woman Yuba and the teenage girl Sen-chan – behind them are the merchant Futoya and the First Assassin (he is dressed like a monk, with a large straw hat on his head) and then the thief Kinjo and the Ronin Soga (in a patched kimono, but with two swords in his belt).
STORYTELLER (he strikes the drum)
And here we see the owner – Okasan her name,
Which simply means ‘mama’ – for she is like a mother to all here –
Trembling in her joy, leading her dear guest along
To take the place of honour at the very finest spot.
Mr Kubota’s duties are exalted ones,
As counsellor and minister to the Prince of Satsuma.
Bowing repeatedly, Okasan seats the samurai in the place of honour, and sits down modestly beside him. At the appearance of the guest all the spectators on the hanamichi lean towards him. While a conversation takes place between Kubota and the owner, everyone remains respectfully motionless, with only Sen-chan fidgeting and squirming in her place.
OKASAN Oh, what happiness it is that you, Kubota-san, have not forgotten me, even after so very many years! Ah, of course, I have become ugly and old, but seeing you, I tremble once again in joy.
She covers her face elegantly with her hand, performing the gesture ‘Pleasant Embarrassment’.
KUBOTA Ah, but how could I forget you? Ah, those golden days! But weeping tears for spring is foolish on an autumn day. Yes, we are not as we once were. What once was is now past, and yet it would be strange to be offended at our fate. What a high grandee I have now become, and you are now the owner of the finest of all tea houses. But I have come to you today not in remembrance of the past. I have been sent here on an errand from my prince. His Lordship wishes to choose from among the geishas of the capital one who will be a concubine for his sweet delectation.
Okasan flutters her sleeves elegantly, performing the gesture ‘Great and Joyful Amazement’.
My prince is well accustomed to trusting my judgement. My instructions were to hasten to the capital. Before the prince arrives I must go round all the tea houses and select ten of the very finest geishas. During a presentation he will make his choice of one. For a geisha truly an enviable fate! Think how much money you would receive. And how greatly your establishment’s prestige would be enhanced!
OKASAN I do not dare to dream of such a matchless honour.
My best reward is simply to behold your face.
She performs the gesture ‘Most Profound Gratefulness’.
I shall show you forthwith what brings my house its fame. I shall reveal my treasure, holding nothing back. It was no accident that I ordered the gates to be flung open. My house and my heart are both alike open to you.
She performs the gesture ‘Boundless Sincerity’.
First my daughter O-Bara will demonstrate all her art for you. Do not be strict with her.
She claps her hands.
The owner’s adopted daughter O-Bara appears and walks up onto the stage. She is wearing a magnificent brocade kimono with a scarlet lining. Her tall hairstyle is decorated with slides in the form of butterflies. Her face, as befits a geisha, is thickly whitened. Her movements are precise and bold and every gesture is replete with sensuality.
Yuba gets up and minces to the stage. She bows, hands her mistress a little drum and goes back. The performance begins. O-Bara first dances to fast music, beating out the rhythm with blows on a drum. The geisha keeps her eyes fixed on the guest all the time, demonstrating in every way possible that she is performing only for him.
STORYTELLER (during the dance)
For good reason is she called O-Bara – ‘a rose’.
Her thorns instantly pierce any male heart.
O-Bara has no equals when she wishes to kindle
The flames of passion and awaken generosity.
It is no secret to O-Bara why this guest has come
(the rumour of it filled the tea house long ago).
She has in mind to captivate Kubota,
So he will help her to become the prince’s concubine.
The dance is over. The pupil takes the drum, the geisha sits down with the shamisen and sings in a beautiful, low, slightly hoarse voice, looking at the samurai.
O-BARA (sings)
Even as the convolvulus winds
Around the mighty cedar,
Thus too would I, my master,
Around your body twine myself.
My tender leaves and petals,
My aroma and my flowers
Would I devote to you alone,
My precious sovereign lord!
Kubota listens, swaying his head to the rhythm. Okasan glances sideways at him to see whether he is pleased.
During O-Bara’s performance, the following takes place on the hanamichi.
Kinjo, taking advantage of the fact that the spectators are absorbed in the performance, sets about his thievish business. First he deftly frisks the Ronin beside him: he searches under his belt and in his broad sleeve, and raises the hem of his kimono from behind. But he finds nothing of any value and shakes his head in disgust. He creeps a little farther forward, walking on tiptoe, and sets to work on the merchant. Here he has much better luck. He takes a purse out of the man’s sleeve and a silk pouch and gilded pipe from behind his belt; in the lining of the merchant’s kimono he discovers a secret pocket, from which he fishes out several gold coins.
The geisha’s performance comes to an end. She bows deeply, exclusively to Kubota, and heaves a deep sigh, which is accompanied by the gesture ‘Sensual Agitation’, then walks away to the far side of the stage and sits down there.
KUBOTA (to the owner) What a seductress! I could have watched and watched. I am no longer young, and yet my blood still boiled. The prince will like her even more. Of course, it is embarrassing even to compare her with the princess. For after all, my lord’s wife was chosen by his father, who was thinking, not of beauty, but of profit for the treasury …<
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OKASAN Will you permit me now to call Izumi? She is in a different style, but also very fine.
Kubota nods and the owner claps her hands.
Izumi appears. She is wearing a muted but elegant kimono of bluish-white with silver embroidery. She moves smoothly, almost weightlessly. Her eyes are lowered. She bows first to the guest, then to the owner, then to the public. Her pupil Sen-chan abruptly gets up, runs to the stage and hands Izumi a fan, after which she takes her time returning to her place.
Izumi begins a slow, elegant dance.
KUBOTA (moved) Oh, such nobility! The patterning of the dance is pure! She is exactly like a willow tree above a quiet river!
SEN-CHAN (very clearly) Did you hear, my sister? He has approved the dance. He likened you to a willow tree above a quiet river!
OKASAN Such naughtiness! Intolerable child! She has not been with us for long. Forgive her, my lord!
Kubota is so entranced by the geisha that he has not heard either the shout or the apologies. Sen-chan comes running back and takes the fan from Izumi, who sits down with the shamisen, plays and sings.
IZUMI
All genuine beauty is hidden,
It dazzles not, it does not catch the eye
Beauty’s voice is soft and delicate,
Not everyone is capable of hearing it.
The lovely captivates with its perfection.
Filled with a mystery ineffable,
It reveals but a tiny morsel of itself,