“Nonsense,” he said, “do you suppose there’d be a crane flying in the middle of Tokyo?”
“I’m sure I saw one—a white crane with a red crest. It started to come down on the roof next door, but then it flew off again that way.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Thereupon the two began a rather gloomy argument. Kazu had missed her chance to admit playfully, “I was fooling you.” She was as much to blame as Noguchi, and she had been mistaken to persist with such excessive earnestness and intensity in acting out her childish trick.
Kazu had finally realized at this late date how troublesome her disposition made things: she could not go on living unless she were constantly excited about something. The changes she tried to introduce into the routine of their lives were all rebuffed by her husband; Noguchi obstinately continued to lead his accustomed life. Even so, Kazu’s affection for her husband remained unchanged. On Saturday evenings he sometimes showed a surprising loquacity, and though jokes were rare as ever in his conversation, he would on occasion discuss foreign literature or lecture her on socialism.
10
Important Visitors
It was obvious at any rate that Noguchi thought of this marriage as his final abode, and Kazu, for her part, felt she had found her tomb. But people cannot go on living inside a tomb.
During Kazu’s normal weekdays at the Setsugoan the houseboy kept her informed in detail of Noguchi’s activities. It came as a fresh surprise each time to discover how extremely uneventful his life was. Noguchi, despite his advanced years, devoted himself completely to his studies.
“Yesterday,” the houseboy reported, “he spent from three in the afternoon until his bedtime in the library, studying. He ate his dinner in the library too.”
“If he keeps studying that way I’m afraid he’ll get sick from lack of exercise. I must give him a good talking-to next Saturday.”
Kazu had strong prejudices concerning the intellectual life. For her it signified a kind of dangerous indolence into which men of promise were likely to fall. She rejoiced, however, that despite her intention of giving her husband “a good talking-to” he was not a man ever to listen to her advice.
About this time a little incident took place at the Setsugoan.
The night before there had been bright moonlight, and the thief had apparently concealed himself in the shadows of the garden to wait until everyone was asleep. The shrubbery around the huge ilex tree afforded an ideal hiding place. The thief had evidently sneaked into the garden when everybody was busy with the parties in full swing upstairs and the front entrance was left unattended. He must have spent a couple of hours quietly waiting. Probably he had refrained from smoking for fear that the lighted ends of his cigarettes might be seen, but Kazu discovered two or three wads of masticated chewing gum. From this she deduced that the thief was still young.
The thief had tried Kazu’s room first, but after forcing open the window a couple of inches, he decided not to enter. Kazu’s slumbers were undisturbed. There was a safe in her cupboard, but the thief could not have guessed that the occupant of such a cramped little room was the proprietress.
The thief then slipped into the sleeping quarters of the five resident maids. His shoe struck something soft, and the next instant powerful shrieks assailed him. He made his escape without stealing a thing.
Once the police arrived that night they created such an uproar that Kazu was unable to get back to bed again. It was during the course of her customary stroll the next morning that she discovered at the base of the sunlit ilex tree, the lumps of chewing gum looking for all the world like glistening white teeth.
Kazu somehow couldn’t get it out of her head that the thief, after looking into the room where she lay, had decided not to go in. To think that she had been sleeping all the while and knew nothing!
“I’m sure I saw one—a white crane with a red crest. It started to come down on the roof next door, but then it flew off again that way.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Thereupon the two began a rather gloomy argument. Kazu had missed her chance to admit playfully, “I was fooling you.” She was as much to blame as Noguchi, and she had been mistaken to persist with such excessive earnestness and intensity in acting out her childish trick.
Kazu had finally realized at this late date how troublesome her disposition made things: she could not go on living unless she were constantly excited about something. The changes she tried to introduce into the routine of their lives were all rebuffed by her husband; Noguchi obstinately continued to lead his accustomed life. Even so, Kazu’s affection for her husband remained unchanged. On Saturday evenings he sometimes showed a surprising loquacity, and though jokes were rare as ever in his conversation, he would on occasion discuss foreign literature or lecture her on socialism.
10
Important Visitors
It was obvious at any rate that Noguchi thought of this marriage as his final abode, and Kazu, for her part, felt she had found her tomb. But people cannot go on living inside a tomb.
During Kazu’s normal weekdays at the Setsugoan the houseboy kept her informed in detail of Noguchi’s activities. It came as a fresh surprise each time to discover how extremely uneventful his life was. Noguchi, despite his advanced years, devoted himself completely to his studies.
“Yesterday,” the houseboy reported, “he spent from three in the afternoon until his bedtime in the library, studying. He ate his dinner in the library too.”
“If he keeps studying that way I’m afraid he’ll get sick from lack of exercise. I must give him a good talking-to next Saturday.”
Kazu had strong prejudices concerning the intellectual life. For her it signified a kind of dangerous indolence into which men of promise were likely to fall. She rejoiced, however, that despite her intention of giving her husband “a good talking-to” he was not a man ever to listen to her advice.
About this time a little incident took place at the Setsugoan.
The night before there had been bright moonlight, and the thief had apparently concealed himself in the shadows of the garden to wait until everyone was asleep. The shrubbery around the huge ilex tree afforded an ideal hiding place. The thief had evidently sneaked into the garden when everybody was busy with the parties in full swing upstairs and the front entrance was left unattended. He must have spent a couple of hours quietly waiting. Probably he had refrained from smoking for fear that the lighted ends of his cigarettes might be seen, but Kazu discovered two or three wads of masticated chewing gum. From this she deduced that the thief was still young.
The thief had tried Kazu’s room first, but after forcing open the window a couple of inches, he decided not to enter. Kazu’s slumbers were undisturbed. There was a safe in her cupboard, but the thief could not have guessed that the occupant of such a cramped little room was the proprietress.
The thief then slipped into the sleeping quarters of the five resident maids. His shoe struck something soft, and the next instant powerful shrieks assailed him. He made his escape without stealing a thing.
Once the police arrived that night they created such an uproar that Kazu was unable to get back to bed again. It was during the course of her customary stroll the next morning that she discovered at the base of the sunlit ilex tree, the lumps of chewing gum looking for all the world like glistening white teeth.
Kazu somehow couldn’t get it out of her head that the thief, after looking into the room where she lay, had decided not to go in. To think that she had been sleeping all the while and knew nothing!
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