And Then

by Sōseki Natsume

  It was five minutes to eleven when Daisuke arrived in Aoyama. The guests had not yet arrived. His brother was not home either. Only his sister-in-law was sitting in the living room, fully prepared. As soon as she saw Daisuke, she attacked: “You’re outrageous, trying to outwit me like that and go off on a trip!” On certain occasions Umeko was incapable of being logical. In this instance she seemed completely oblivious of the fact that it was she who had outwitted Daisuke. Daisuke found it charming. So he sat down and immediately began to appraise her appearance. He learned that his father was in his room, but he refused to go back. Pressed to do so, he said, “When the guests arrive, I’ll go announce it to him. I can pay my respects then, won’t that do?” As usual, he gave free reign to his tongue. But he would not utter a single word on Sagawa’s daughter, though Umeko struggled her utmost to bring the conversation to this subject. This was only too apparent to Daisuke. It made him play the innocent all the more and take his revenge on her.

  Presently, the awaited guests arrived, and just as he had promised, Daisuke went to inform his father. Sure enough, his father only said, “All right” and immediately got up. He had no time to scold. Daisuke went back to put on a hakama and then proceeded to the parlor.

  Hosts and guests were all facing one another. His father and Takagi opened the conversation. Umeko concentrated on Sagawa’s daughter. Soon his brother ambled in, still wearing what he had worn earlier that morning. He turned to the guests and said, “Excuse me for being late,” then took his seat and, turning to Daisuke, said in a low voice, “They’re early, aren’t they.”

  The room next to the parlor had been prepared as the dining room. Through the crack in the door Daisuke caught a glimpse of the corner of a conspicuously white tablecloth, and understood that the meal would be Western style. Umeko left her seat for a moment and looked in the door. This was to signal their father that the luncheon preparations were complete.

  “Please come this way.” Their father stood up. Takagi bowed and also stood. Sagawa’s daughter followed her uncle’s example and stood. Daisuke discovered then that the woman’s body was comparatively long and slender from the hips down. At the table, his father and Takagi sat face to face at the center. Umeko sat at Takagi’s right and the daughter took her place at their father’s left. Just as the women now sat facing each other, so Seigo and Daisuke sat opposite each other. It worked out so that Daisuke could look at the young lady’s face from a slight angle over the cruet stand. He thought that the flesh and color of her cheeks, which caught the sun’s vigorous rays from the window behind, cast too dark a shadow on the edge of her nose. On the other hand, the area bordering her ear was clearly a light pink. Her conspicuously small ears looked delicate enough to admit the light. In contrast to her skin, her large eyes were a dark brown-black. The young lady’s face, whose chief merit consisted of the colorfulness of this contrast, was on the whole rather round.

  Given the number of people present, the table was not on the large side. Compared to the size of the room, it was even too small, but with freshly cut flowers to frame the snowy white cloth, the knives and forks stood out nicely.

  Conversation at the table generally consisted of ordinary small talk. At first, even that failed to provoke much interest. In such situations, Daisuke’s father normally introduced his favorite topics of paintings, books, and antiques. And if the mood seized him, he would bring out any number of them from storage and arrange them before his guest. Thanks to him, Daisuke had acquired some discrimination in these matters. His brother likewise knew at least the names of a few artists. However, this meant no more than his standing in front of a scroll and saying, oh, this is a Kyūei, isn’t it, or oh, this is an Ōkyo, isn’t it. Since he never changed his expression at all, he did not seem in the least interested. Neither Seigo nor Daisuke ever brandished magnifying glasses in an effort to ascertain the authenticity of a work. Nor, whatever the painting in question, did they ever apply the sort of criticism their father was wont to pronounce—the old masters never painted waves like that, those waves contradicted the teaching.

  To add life to the withering conversation, their father eventually tried touching upon his favorite areas. But after two or three words, it became apparent that Takagi was totally indifferent to those subjects. Veteran that he was, Daisuke’s father immediately retreated. But once the conversation returned to territory that was safe for both, neither felt any interest in it. Finally, Daisukes father asked Takagi what his hobbies were. Takagi answered to the effect that he had no hobbies in particular. The old man, apparently deciding that all was lost, handed Takagi over to his sons and for some time remained outside the circle of conversation. Seigo effortlessly cultivated topics ranging from an inn in Kobe to Nankō Jinja Shrine—anything that came to mind. And he also created a natural opening for Sagawa’s daughter. The daughter would punctuate the conversation with the necessary words, then retreat immediately. Daisuke and Takagi first took up Dōshisha University, then turned to the state of American universities. In the end, the names of Emerson and Hawthorne came up. But Daisuke merely ascertained that Takagi possessed knowledge of this sort and did not pursue the matter any further. The literary conversation thus came to an end after the names of two or three authors and works had been raised and failed to develop at all.

  Umeko, of course, had been chattering ceaselessly from the start. The principal object of her efforts, was, naturally, to break through the reserve and silence of the young lady seated before her. Out of politeness if nothing else, the latter could not but respond to Umeko’s uninterrupted flow of questions. But there was hardly a trace of her having taken the initiative to win Umeko’s heart. Whenever she spoke, she had a habit of crooking her neck slightly. This, however, failed to strike Daisuke as coquettish.

  The young lady had been educated in Kyoto. In music, she had begun with lessons on the koto but had later changed to piano. She had practiced the violin as well, but because the fingering was difficult, she might as well not have touched the instrument. She seldom went to the theater.

  When Umeko asked, “What did you think of the Kabuki the other day?” Sagawa’s daughter did not answer. Daisuke took this less as a sign of not understanding drama than as an expression of contempt for it. Still, Umeko persisted with the topic, saying that actor A was such and such whereas actor B was thus and so. Daisuke saw that his sister-in-law was again overstepping the bounds of good judgment and had no choice but to cut in from the side, “Even if you don’t care for theater, you must read novels?” thus putting an end to the theater talk.

  Then, for the first time, the young lady looked straight at Daisuke for an instant. Her answer was unexpectedly distinct: “No, not even novels.”

  At this, the company, who had all been awaiting her answer expectantly, burst out laughing. Takagi took it upon himself to explain for his niece. Under the influence of Miss So-and-So who had been in charge of the young lady’s education, she had in some respects been trained almost as a Puritan. Accordingly, she was very much behind the times, he added, offering his own view of the matter. Naturally, no one laughed this time.

  Daisuke’s father, who was not very favorably disposed toward Christianity, praised, “That’s very fine.”

  Umeko failed to see any merit in such an education. Still she said, “Yes, that’s true”—an ambiguous observation hardly in keeping with her nature.

  Seigo, not wanting Umeko’s words to weigh unduly heavily upon the other party, immediately changed the subject. “Then your English must be quite good?”

  The young lady smiled and said no.

  The meal being over, guests and hosts returned to the drawing room and began talking. But the flame of conversation would not light on to new subjects as from one candle to another. Umeko stood and opened the piano and looked back at the young lady. “Won’t you give us a piece?” she asked. The young lady, of course, did not stir. “Then Dai-san, why don
’t you start us off?”

  Daisuke knew that he was not skilled enough to play before others. But if he were to make such excuses, matters would only become complicated, so he simply said, “Why don’t you just leave it open. I’ll get to it later,” and continued to talk about unrelated subjects.

  The guests left in another hour. The four went out together to the entranceway. On his way back, the old man said, “Daisuke isn’t leaving yet, is he?” Daisuke, one step behind the others, stretched so that he could nearly touch the lintel with both hands. Then he wandered around the deserted drawing room and dining room for a short while and returned to the living room to find his brother and sister-in-law sitting face to face discussing something.

  “Hey, you can’t go home yet. Father says he wants to see you. Go on to the back,” said his brother in an exaggeratedly serious tone. Umeko betrayed a faint smile. Daisuke scratched his head in silence.

  He did not have the courage to enter his father’s room alone. He tried every possible means to drag his brother and sister-in-law along. When his efforts met with failure, he simply sat down on the spot. Then a chambermaid came in to say, “If the young master would please come to the back for a moment.”

  “Hm, I’ll be there right away,” Daisuke answered and proceeded to advance the following argument to his brother and sister-in-law: given their father’s disposition and his own indiscreet character, he might well end up angering the old man if he were to go by himself. Should that happen, his brother and sister-in-law would have to step in and mediate. That would be far more troublesome for them in the end, so they might as well go now rather than try to spare themselves a little effort.

  Seigo, who disliked arguments, wore an expression that all but said, how stupid! “Then let’s go,” he said, and got up. Umeko also got up, laughing. The three crossed the corridor to their father’s room and seated themselves innocently.

  Umeko adroitly maneuvered the conversation so that their father’s scoldings would not touch upon Daisuke’s past history. She directed the flow of conversation as much as possible toward an evaluation of the guests who had just left. She praised Sagawa’s daughter as a very quiet, nice girl. Their father and Seigo and Daisuke all expressed agreement with this. But his brother raised the question that if she was indeed educated by an American Miss, then shouldn’t she be a little more direct in the Western manner? Daisuke thought the question a valid one. His father and sister-in-law were silent. Then Daisuke offered the explanation that her quietness came from shyness and therefore was quite separate from the Miss’s training; it probably had to do with the standards of male-female social intercourse in Japan. His father thought that that was quite true. Umeko guessed that the place of the young lady’s education, Kyoto, might have something to do with it as well. His brother said that even in Tokyo, not all women were like Umeko. At this, their father tapped his ash receptacle and adopted an expression of severe neutrality. Then Umeko said her looks were better than average, too. Neither their father nor Seigo had any objections to this. Daisuke also admitted his agreement. The four then moved on to an assessment of Takagi. This was easily settled with the view that he had a good, stable character. Unfortunately, no one knew the young lady’s parents. But their father gave his word that they were modest, trustworthy people. He had had a member of the House of Peers from the same prefecture check into their background. Lastly, they launched into the topic of the Sagawa family fortunes. Their father said that people like them were more stable than ordinary businessmen because they rested on a solid foundation.

  With the young lady’s eligibility thus largely established, his father turned to Daisuke and asked, “You can’t have any serious objections?” Neither his tone nor words could be taken to mean, well, what do you think of it?

  “Well, no.” Daisuke was still inconclusive. His father was watching Daisuke intently, but his wrinkled brow clouded increasingly. Then his brother, feeling pressed to say something, said, “Well, why don’t you think it over carefully?” and created a little breathing space for Daisuke.

  CHAPTER XIII

  SOME FOUR DAYS LATER, Daisuke went on his father’s orders to see Takagi off at Shimbashi Station. Perhaps it was because he had been roused early that morning after too little sleep and then had let the wind toss his sleepy head—but by the time he arrived at the station, he felt that he might have caught a cold. No sooner had he stepped into the waiting room than Umeko advised him that he looked unwell. Daisuke removed his hat without answering and clasped his wet head from time to time. In the end, his hair, so neatly parted in the morning, became completely rumpled.

  On the platform, Takagi suddenly turned to Daisuke and said, “How about it—why not take this train and come for a visit to Kobe?” Daisuke only answered, thank you. Just as the train was about to leave, Umeko made a point of approaching the window and, calling Sagawa’s daughter by name, said “Do be sure to come again soon.” From the other side of the window, the young lady bowed politely, but on this side of the glass no words could be discerned. When the train had gone, the four left the ticket area and went their separate ways. Umeko tried to take Daisuke back to Aoyama, but Daisuke clasped his head and refused.

  He took a ricksha straight to Ushigome and, as soon as he arrived, went directly into his study and fell on his back. Kadono came out to check on him, but knowing Daisuke’s ways, said nothing and left after picking up the cloak flung over a chair.

  As he lay, Daisuke wondered what would happen in his immediate future. If he left things as they were, he would end up having to accept this match. He had refused quite a number of them already. If he rejected this one in addition to all the others, it seemed likely that the family would either give up on him in disgust, or become seriously angry. If they were to give up pressing a wife on him, nothing could be better, but to have them get seriously angry with him would be highly inconvenient. On the other hand, it seemed stupid for a modern man to accept something he did not want. Daisuke wandered in the midst of this dilemma.

  Unlike his father, Daisuke was not the old-fashioned sort who began with a plan and then tried to force nature to conform to it. This was because he believed nature to be greater than any plan fabricated by man. For his father to force him to run counter to his own nature and do his bidding was the same as an abandoned wife’s waving the letter of divorce as proof of her married state. But Daisuke had not the slightest intention of confronting his father with such an argument. To attack his father with logic was the most difficult of undertakings. Furthermore, even if he were to risk the difficulty, he stood to gain nothing. The result would only be to invite his father’s displeasure and would be no different from rejecting the match without giving a reason.

  Of his father, brother, and sister-in-law, Daisuke had the greatest doubts about his father’s character. He went so far as to guess that even in the case of the current match, the marriage itself was not his father’s sole objective. But of course, he had not been afforded an opportunity to determine precisely where his father’s motives lay. He did not think it immoral that he, a son, should speculate in this way on his father’s intentions. Nor did he for a moment consider himself particularly unfortunate as a son. It was just that he found it disagreeable that the gulf between them was likely to widen more than ever on account of this.

  At one extreme of their rift lay the possibility of disinheritance. Daisuke tried to imagine that situation. He recognized that some anguish would attend upon it, but not so much as to be unbearable. He was rather more fearful of the cessation of funds that would ensue.

  Daisuke had always maintained that man was finished when potatoes became more important to him than diamonds. If he brought his father’s wrath upon himself, and if the worst came true and their financial ties were broken, then he would have to abandon the diamond and gnaw at the potato. All that would be left in compensation was a love that came naturally to him. And the object of
that love was another man’s wife.

  He thought and thought as he lay. But no matter how much time elapsed, his mind would not arrive at anything. Just as he did not have the right to determine his life span, so he could not determine his future. But just as he could make certain estimates about his life span, so he could also perceive certain shadows in his future. He dallied at trying to capture these shadows.

  At moments like this Daisuke’s brain only flitted with fantasies like bats that startle the night. As he lay chasing the light of their beating wings, his head seemed to lift from the floor, becoming buoyant. Before he knew it, he fell into a light sleep.

  Suddenly, someone sounded a bell in his ear. Daisuke awoke even before the thought of fire crossed his mind. However, he did not spring up; he simply continued to lie. It was almost normal for such sounds to appear in his dreams. At times, the echoing persisted even after he was awake. Five or six nights ago, his sleep had been shattered by the awareness that the house was shaking violently. At the time, his shoulders, hips, and part of his back had clearly felt the floor move. It also happened frequently that the throbbing of his heart, which he had felt in a dream, would carry over into wakefulness. On such occasions he would place his hand on his chest and saintlike, lie with his gaze turned to the ceiling.

  Daisuke laid waiting for the bell to finish buzzing deep in his ear. Then he got up. When he went into the morning room, he found that his tray had been covered and left next to the brazier. The clock pointed past twelve. The old woman must have finished her meal; she was in the maid’s room, nodding away with her elbow leaning on the rice pot. Kadono was nowhere to be seen.

  Daisuke went to the bathroom, wet his head, then returned to his tray. He finished a lonely meal and went back to his study. That day, for the first time in a long while, he felt like looking at some of his books.