And Then

by Sōseki Natsume

  Only the hands of the clock concerned him. There were still over two hours before Hiraoka would arrive. Daisuke wondered how he should pass the time until then. He could not stay still. But whatever he tried failed to absorb him. He wished that he could at least sleep through the two hours and wake up to find Hiraoka before him.

  In the end he tried to think of a task for himself. By chance his eyes fell on the envelope from Umeko lying on his desk. That was it, he thought, and forced himself to sit at the desk and compose a letter of thanks to his sister-in-law. He intended to write it with as much care as possible, but when he had put it in the envelope and addressed it, he looked at the clock and found that only fifteen minutes had gone by. Still seated, Daisuke turned uneasy eyes to the sky; he seemed to be mentally searching for something. Suddenly, he got up.

  “If Hiraoka comes, tell him I’ll be back right away and have him wait,’’ he told Kadono and went out. The sun hit him full in the face with a force that all but toppled him. Daisuke blinked and squinted constantly as he walked. From Ushigomemitsuke he passed through Iidamachi and came out below Kudanzaka, where he went to the secondhand bookstore he had visited the day before and said, “Yesterday, I asked you to come over for some books I didn’t want any more, but I’ve decided to put it off for a while, so . . .” On the way back, it was so hot that he took the streetcar to Iidabashi and went out toward Bishamonmae, across from the wharf.

  A ricksha was parked in front of the house. A pair of shoes was neatly arranged in the entranceway. Daisuke knew without being told by Kadono that Hiraoka had come. He wiped the sweat, changed to a freshly washed cotton kimono, and went out to the living room.

  “Oh, you’ve been on an errand,” said Hiraoka. He was wearing a suit again and waved his fan as if he were being steamed.

  “Thanks for coming in the heat.” Daisuke also was forced to turn to formal phrases.

  For a few minutes, the two talked about the weather. Daisuke wanted to ask about Michiyo right away. But for some reason, it was difficult for him to come out with it. Eventually, the usual exchanges came to an end. The burden now fell on him who had arranged the meeting.

  “I hear that Michiyo-san is ill?”

  “Yes. I’ve had to take two or three days off from the office on account of it. I completely forgot about answering your letter, too.”

  “That doesn’t matter at all, but is Michiyo-san’s condition that serious?”

  Hiraoka could not give a clear yes or no answer. He explained briefly that while there seemed to be no immediate danger, it was definitely not a light case.

  The morning after that hot day when she had stopped to visit Daisuke on her shopping trip to Kagurazaka, Michiyo was helping her husband get ready for work when she suddenly fainted, still holding his tie in her hands. Hiraoka was startled and had put aside his own things to tend to her recovery. Ten minutes later, Michiyo had said that she was all right and asked him to go to work. There was even the shadow of a smile on her lips. She was still lying down, but there seemed to be no particular reason to worry, so he had gone to work, leaving instructions to send for the doctor if she felt unwell or to call him at the office if necessary. That night, he had come home late. Michiyo had already gone to bed, saying she felt unwell. When he asked her how she was, she would not give a clear answer. The next morning when he got up, her color was very poor. Hiraoka, quite surprised, had called the doctor. The doctor had examined Michiyo’s heart and knit his brows. The fainting, he had said, was from anemia. He warned that she was suffering from acute nervous exhaustion. After that, Hiraoka had taken off from work. Michiyo herself insisted that she was all right and almost begged him to go to work, but he had not listened. His second night of nursing her, Michiyo had wept and said there was something she had to apologize to him for and told him to go to Daisuke’s for an explanation. The first time he heard this, Hiraoka had not believed her words. Thinking that her heart was giving her trouble, he had said yes, yes, just to put her mind at rest. On the third day, the same request was repeated. It was then that Hiraoka had finally recognized some sort of significance to Michiyo’s words. And then the same evening, Kadono had come all the way to Koishikawa to get his answer to Daisuke’s letter.

  “Is there some connection between what you called me over for and what Michiyo was talking about?” Hiraoka looked wonderingly at Daisuke’s face.

  Hiraoka’s words had affected Daisuke deeply, but when he was suddenly confronted with this unforeseen question, he was stopped for an answer. With its unexpectedness and its innocence, Hiraoka’s question hit home sharply. Daisuke blushed slightly—an unusual thing for him—and looked down. But when he raised his head again, he had recovered his usual quiet manner, in which there was not a trace of fear.

  “There’s probably a good deal of connection between what Michiyo-san wants to apologize to you for and what I want to talk to you about. They might even be one and the same thing. I must tell you about it at any cost. I’m going to tell you because I have a duty to tell you, so for the sake of our friendship in the past, I hope you’ll consent to letting me fulfill my duty.’’

  “What is this? You’re being so formal.” Hiraoka’s brow acquired an air of seriousness for the first time.

  “Well, I would prefer to do without these preliminaries, which make it seem as if I’m making excuses, and talk to you candidly instead, but considering the rather serious nature of the matter, and the fact that it involves social taboos, it would be extremely distressing if you became agitated halfway through. I really would like to have you hear me out to the end. . . .”

  “Well, what is it, this thing that you have to tell me about?” In addition to reflecting intense curiosity, Hiraoka’s face was becoming increasingly serious.

  “But in return, when I’ve said everything I have to say, I’ll listen quietly to whatever you might have to say about me.”

  Hiraoka did not say anything. From behind his glasses he fixed wide eyes upon Daisuke. Outside, the sun glared piercingly and even penetrated the verandah, but the two had all but dismissed the heat from their awareness.

  Daisuke lowered his voice one pitch. He began to recount in detail the changes his relationship with Michiyo had undergone since the couple’s return from Kyoto. Hiraoka listened with his lips tightly shut to Daisuke’s every word and every syllable. Daisuke took a little over an hour to tell everything. During that time Hiraoka interrupted him approximately four times to ask exceedingly simple questions.

  “And this is roughly the course of it,” Daisuke concluded. Hiraoka’s only response was a sigh so deep that it sounded like a moan.

  Daisuke was enormously pained. “From your position, it must seem that I betrayed you. You must think me an unpardonable friend. There’s nothing I can say to that. There’s no way I can apologize for what has happened.”

  “Then you think that what you did was wrong?” “Of course.”

  “So you kept on, knowing that it was wrong?” Hiraoka emphasized. His tone had become rather more urgent than before.

  “That’s right. That’s why I’m ready to accept manfully any punishment you might want to mete out to us. I just gave you the facts as they are to furnish you with material for your sentence.”

  Hiraoka did not answer. Then he drew his face close to Daisuke and said, “Do you mean to say that you think there is some way in this world of restoring my honor when it’s been so disgraced?”

  This time it was Daisuke who did not answer.

  “The sanctions of the law and of society are of no use to me,” continued Hiraoka.

  “So you’re asking if there’s a way to restore your honor just with the parties concerned?”

  “That’s right.”

  “If I could make Michiyo-san undergo a complete change of heart, if I made her love you more than twice as much as before, and moreover, if I made her hate m
e like a monster, then that would be some measure of penance.”

  “Are you capable of doing that?” “No,” said Daisuke firmly.

  “Then in effect you have pushed ahead to this day with something you considered to be wrong and now, still considering it to be wrong, you intend to push it through to the end, isn’t that it?”

  “It may seem like a contradiction. But it’s a contradiction that comes from a situation in which a husband-wife relationship established as an institution of society happens not to coincide with a husband-wife relationship that has emerged as a fact of nature, so there’s nothing to be done about it. I apologize to you as Michiyo-san’s husband according to the social institution. But as far as my act itself is concerned, I don’t feel guilty of a contradiction or of anything else.”

  “Then,” Hiraoka raised his voice slightly. “Then, you are of the view that my wife and I can’t establish a husband-wife relationship that would satisfy the requirements of a social institution, is that right?” Daisuke turned sympathetic, pitying eyes upon Hiraoka. Hiraoka’s rugged brow softened slightly.

  “Hiraoka. As far as society is concerned, this is a big scandal that touches upon a man’s honor. In order to uphold your rights—even if you don’t intentionally try to uphold them, it’s only natural that the instinct should be there, and it can’t be helped that you should become agitated—but anyway, won’t you try to go back to the self you were during our schooldays, before all this happened, and listen to what I have to say once more?”

  Hiraoka said nothing. Daisuke also held back for a moment. He took one puff on his cigarette, then without hesitation, said quietly, “You didn’t love Michiyo-san.”

  “Well, but that’s . . .”

  “That may be none of my business, but I have to say it. Because I think that’s probably the answer to all the questions behind this problem.”

  “Then you don’t have any responsibility?” “I love Michiyo-san.”

  “Do you have the right to love another man’s wife?”

  “It can’t be helped. Legally, Michiyo-san belongs to you. But she’s a human being, not a thing, so no one can own her heart. No one, no matter who, can give orders about the direction or quantity of love. The rights of a husband don’t go that far. In fact, it’s a husband’s duty to keep his wife’s love from straying, isn’t it?”

  “All right, even supposing it’s true that I didn’t love Michiyo as you might have hoped. . . .” Hiraoka seemed to be struggling to contain himself. Daisuke waited for his words to come to an end.

  “You remember about three years ago, don’t you?” Hiraoka had changed his approach again.

  “Three years ago you and Michiyo-san got married.” “That’s right. Do you still remember that time?”

  Daisuke’s mind suddenly flew back over the space of those three years. The memory of those days shone like a torch whirling in the darkness.

  “It was you who said you’d work on my behalf to get Michiyo.” “It was you who confided to me that you wanted to marry her.” “Of course, I haven’t forgotten that. I’m grateful for your kindness to this day.”

  With these words, Hiraoka was lost in thought for a minute.

  “We went through Ueno at night and were going down to Yanaka. It had just rained, and the road was bad under Yanaka. We’d started talking in front of the museum, and when we got to the bridge, you wept for me.”

  Daisuke was silent.

  “I’ve never been so thankful for a friend as I was then. I was so happy that I couldn’t sleep at all that night. It was a night when the moon was out, so I stayed up until it disappeared.”

  “I was happy that night, too,’’ said Daisuke, as if in a dream.

  But Hiraoka broke him off sharply. “Why did you weep for me then? Why did you swear that you would help me get Michiyo? If you were going to do something like this, why didn’t you just say to me, ‘Oh, is that right?’ and leave me alone? I don’t remember ever having done anything so horrible that would make you take revenge on me like this.” Hiraoka’s voice trembled.

  Beads of perspiration gathered on Daisuke’s pale forehead. Then he said imploringly, “Hiraoka, I loved Michiyo-san before you did.”

  Hiraoka looked on blankly at Daisuke’s suffering.

  “I was not the person then that I am now. When I heard your story, I thought that even if it meant sacrificing my own future, it was my duty as a friend to try to help you fulfill your wishes. That’s where I was wrong. If only my mind had been as ripe as it is now, there might have been another solution, but unfortunately, I was young, and so I was much too scornful of nature. Thinking back to that time, I’ve been overwhelmed with regret. Not just for myself. I’m regretful for you, too. What I apologize to you for from the bottom of my heart is not so much what’s happened now but for my thoughtless chivalry of three years ago. Please, Hiraoka, forgive me. As you can see, nature has taken its revenge on me and I bow my head before you in apology.”

  Tears fell upon Daisuke’s knees. Hiraoka’s glasses clouded. “It’s fate, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  Hiraoka let out a low moan. For a while, the two gazed into each other’s faces.

  “If you have any thoughts on how to settle this, I’ll hear them.” “I’m the one who’s apologizing to you. I don’t have the right to bring up anything like that. It’s only proper that I listen to your thoughts first,” said Daisuke.

  “I don’t have any.” Hiraoka clasped his head.

  “Then let me speak. Won’t you give me Michiyo-san?” Daisuke’s tone was determined.

  Hiraoka took his hands from his head and let his arms fall like two sticks upon the table. At the same time, he said, “All right, I will.” Then, before Daisuke could respond, he repeated, “I will. I’ll give her to you, but I can’t do it now. Maybe, as you’ve guessed, I haven’t loved Michiyo all that much. But I haven’t hated her either. Michiyo is sick now. And it’s not a light case. I don’t want to hand over a bedridden person to you. If I can’t give her to you until she’s well, then until that time, I’m her husband, and as her husband, it’s my responsibility to nurse her.”

  “I’ve apologized to you. Michiyo-san is apologizing to you too. As far as you’re concerned, we must be scandalous creatures. Maybe we can never justify ourselves, no matter how much we apologize. But after all, she is sick in bed.”

  “I know that. You probably think I’m going to take advantage of her being sick and be cruel to her out of spite—but really, even for me, that would be . . .”

  Daisuke believed Hiraoka’s words. And thanked him inwardly. Next Hiraoka said, “Given this situation, since I am Michiyo’s husband in the eyes of society, I can’t associate with you any more. I want you to understand that from this day, I’m breaking all ties with you.” “I suppose it can’t be helped,” said Daisuke, hanging his head.

  “Michiyo’s illness, as I’ve said, isn’t light. There’s no telling what could happen. I know you must be worried too. But once we’ve broken ties with each other, there’s no choice. Whether I’m there or not, I want you to refrain from entering my house.”

  “I understand,” said Daisuke falteringly. His cheeks grew increasingly pale. Hiraoka rose. “Please stay just another five minutes,” pleaded Daisuke. Hiraoka sat down and remained wordless.

  “Is there any chance of sudden danger with Michiyo-san’s illness?” “Well.”

  “Won’t you tell me that much?”

  “Well, you probably don’t have to worry that much.”

  Hiraoka’s answer was pronounced in a dark tone; it seemed as if he were cursing the earth.

  “If—if, by any chance, it looks like the worst could happen, then would you let me see her just once? I promise I won’t ask anything else. Just that. Please agree to just that much.”

  Hiraoka’s lips were
closed; he would not readily give an answer. Daisuke, with no outlet for his anguish, rubbed his palms together until the grime appeared.

  “Well, that’ll depend on the circumstances at the time,” answered Hiraoka heavily.

  “Then from time to time may I send to find out how she is?” “No, that won’t do. You and I don’t have any ties any more. If there’s to be any exchange with you in the future, that’ll only be when I hand Michiyo over to you.”

  Daisuke jumped from his chair as if an electric current had shot through him. “Oh! I know! You’re planning just to show me Michiyosan’s dead body. That’s terrible! That’s cruel!”

  Daisuke went around the edge of the table and came up to Hiraoka. With his right hand he grabbed Hiraoka’s suit collar and shook him back and forth, saying, “That’s terrible, that’s terrible.”

  Hiraoka saw in Daisuke’s eyes a crazed, frightening light. He stood up with Daisuke still shaking his shoulders. “Nothing of the sort will happen,” he said, and held Daisuke’s hand. The two looked at each other with faces that were possessed.

  “You’ve got to calm down,” said Hiraoka.

  “I am calm,” answered Daisuke. The words escaped painfully from between his gasps.

  Presently, the reaction to the outburst set in. Like a man who had exhausted the power to support himself, Daisuke sank to his chair. He covered his face with both hands.

  CHAPTER XVII

  THAT NIGHT, PAST TEN O’CLOCK, Daisuke crept out of the house. To a surprised Kadono who asked, “Where would you be going at this hour, Sensei?” he had answered vaguely, “Oh, nowhere,” and then had gone to Teramachi. Now that it was hot, the night had only begun. A stream of people in cotton kimonos passed alongside Daisuke. To him they appeared only as moving objects. The shops on either side were brightly lit. Daisuke’s eyes were dazzled, and he turned off to a side street with fewer lights. When he came out to the edge of the Edogawa River, a dark wind was blowing just perceptibly, faintly stirring the black leaves of the cherry trees. Two figures stood on the bridge, looking down over the railing. He did not run into anyone from Kongōjizaka either. The Iwasakis’ high stone wall sealed the narrow hilly road on either side.