O my Samaro.”
“Did you love him much, Sarawana?”
“Me litee him as the birds the boughs; the river cry of him: ‘O my Samaro!’” Then I tried to comfort her. “Laugh and be happy, and come on the river in a pleasure junk,” for as I spoke a Japanese boatman beckoned us, laid his rowing-poles down and started to bargain with me. Then Sarawana answered: “Me litee you-ee; Geisha girl want be ap-pee little while.”
“Of course,” I replied; and then she said: “Samaro dead, but he know me good-ee and white man know-ee too!” Then she lifted her pale blue kimono and revealed her tiny, clogged feet and ankles as she stepped into the junk; and by my side, singing melody and words that I could not understand, she went down the river. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, sympathised with the sad little Geisha girl, and admired her modesty and poetic tenderness for the dead youth that she loved.
I saw many Geisha girls and Japanese women of all classes, but they were not all like Sarawana, and so I tell you of her. Japanese men and women are very much like the white races; just one difference marks their characters with a ray of spiritual light: the girls, boys, women and men of Japan are poetic, everything about them is a symbol. A butterfly sat on Sarawana’s hand: it was a kiss of her dead lover, and when it flew away it went back to his grave to kiss the flowers and make him happy.
The birds in the plum trees sing old love vows; their wings fading in the sunset are the beautiful thoughts of the dead or the living flying home to heaven again. Japanese eyes shine with tears of joy as they think of those things at which English girls and boys would toss their heads back and scream with laughter.
I did not return to my ship, but stayed at Tokio till my money had all gone. For a while I stopped with my Japanese sailor friend; he was a generous fellow, and invited me to stay with him and his people as long as I wished. I taught Sarawana to play some easy melodies on my violin, and I was surprised at the quick way she picked up fiddle-playing. She taught me to play one or two Japanese tunes, and I sat outside her bamboo bungalow and played as she sang, and the cherry blossoms dropped on us from the branches overhead.
I will not tell you all my experiences at Tokio, but I made a bold bid to get a living out of my violin and secured several good pupils. A Japanese lady of note was one of them; she was connected with the Mikado’s Court and had relatives in Tokio. She paid me well, and I made good headway with her, and she was exceedingly kind to me. I also had a few Englishwomen as pupils, and went to Yokohama to give two of them lessons daily.
Sarawana persuaded me to get up a kind of Geisha orchestra. She played second fiddle and the cymbals. I ventured forth to a grand festival with my Japanese Geisha troupe. When it became known that I was friendly with the Geisha girls I lost my best pupils, though there was no harm in anything that I did. Sarawana’s mother was pleased with our venture, and was delighted when she saw her daughters dressed up in brilliant kimonos and decked out in sashes of rich yellow and blue, with red flowers in their hair! I thought more of the novelty of it than I did of the money I might make. How romantic it all seemed as we marched along, laughing, under the white-blossomed cherry-trees in far-off Japan. I did not know that professors and teachers of English ladies should not go about with Geisha girls. However, I enjoyed myself, and my memory of Sarawana and Tince, her sister, as I called her, and her Geisha friends is sweeter to me than the memory of those pupils I lost.
My Geisha troupe failed, and I secured an engagement as violinist at a missionary hall. Sarawana and her family attended the meetings. I worked there for about three weeks and received a good salary; it was easy, but unmusical, work. I had to play the mission harmonium twice a day, on Sundays three times. The hall was always crammed with converts: old men, young men and girls, some of them dressed in Japanese costume and others in European. Some wore tall hats and white collars; they sang English hymns, though the words were translated into Japanese. The old men and women sang very much out of tune, but looked very earnest; their wooden mouths opened and shut as I scraped away. The mission was conducted by English women missionaries, as well as by men. The Japanese women were very decent people, and when I left they made a collection for me and handed me quite a considerable sum. I composed a hymn and dedicated it to the society, but whether they ever published it or not I do not know; they said they would. When I bade my Japanese friends good-bye they seemed sorry to see me go, especially Sarawana and my sailor comrade. He had a wooden-looking face that smiled eternally, like a carved idol. When he was fast asleep on his mat beside me he still smiled, and so he was a good comrade, for I was subject to fits of depression, and when the little Japanese maid would play her lament and sing of her dead lover I used to wish she was not so faithful.