It flashed on him that she made a picture as she stood there, exquisite in her soft-tinted kimono, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed. She seemed as if she might be emblematic, a figure representative of the new Japanese idealism, standing side by side with this bronze frock-coated individual, a nice old respectable bureaucrat no doubt, whoever he might be; the two, the breathing, pulsating girl and the cold, stiff bronze man, symbolic of Japan of to-day, the contrast. Still, why did she insist on taking part in this mad medley of mob passion? How much happier she would be—— Recollection came to him of some of their excursions together. But, of course, that could be no longer. The thought came to him suddenly—it was fortunate that she had refused to discuss personal topics. That was just like him, saying things without thinking. He had not intended to recall their affair, matters of affection; still, of course, he could see now how it must have seemed to her that he was trying to do so.
The crowd kept surging into the square, which was gradually filling. It began to become monotonous; nothing happened; it did not look as if anything was even about to happen; one became impatient, disappointed with the sense of constantly baffled expectation. Evidently the "revolution" was about to fizzle and splutter into extinction without dramatic dénouement. Did it have any intention whatever, this mob? What was the idea of the whole thing? "What is going to happen, Sadako-san? What are you people going to do? Is all this disturbance throughout Japan a planned, concerted movement, or is it just accidental, spontaneous outbreaks caused by the death of the Premier?"
"Both, in a way." She showed her pleasure at being able to instruct him. "We have been waiting for many months for this to happen, we radicals, thousands of us, scattered through all of Japan. Everywhere where there was dissatisfaction, among the tenant farmers in all the country districts, among the industrial laborers and all the other poor people in the cities, in fact, everywhere in Japan we had our leaders, a few here and a few there; only a few were needed in each place; conditions have made the people, the whole nation almost, ready to strike if only some one gave a start. They all knew, we all knew, that some day the great event would occur which would be the signal for our men to lead revolts throughout Japan. We all knew that it would happen some day, to-morrow, in a month, in a year, but when we didn't know, or possibly only the very few leaders. The police knew, too, that it would happen sometime; but that was just what baffled them; what prevented them from making an end to the business, the utter uncertainty of it all. They could not keep all of us, the thousands and thousands on their suspect lists, locked up all the time. So we all waited, we and the police, for the event that would be the signal, and when they killed that poor fool Mito, we all knew that the time had come. But the police could not move fast enough. Do you know that all bridges and wires are down all about Tokyo? They have had to send their best troops to Korea and Manchuria for their schemes there. They couldn't depend on most of the army for imperialist schemes, ever since the Siberian scandal. So now there is in Tokyo only the First Regiment, the Imperial Guards, who'll be loyal to the General Staff. And do you think that they can stop us?" She stretched her hand out towards the crowding thousands in the square before them. "Do you think one regiment can stop them?"
"But what is it that you are going to do? Why are all these people coming here? What's the big purpose?"
"Why, overthrow, of course." She almost shouted in her impatience. "We shall turn them out, the General Staff, the bureaucrats; then we shall—anyway, we shall overthrow the Government."
He shrugged his shoulders wearily. Always, in beer hall, or public square, or radical magazine, these students, professors, theorists, revolutionists, always ranting about the "overthrow" without an idea of what must follow. Impatience overcame him. It all seemed so futile, silly, even the big events, the assassination of the Premier, the burning of the Diet building and the rest, purposeless, childish destruction, leading nowhere.
"Well, suppose you do overthrow it all, what then? Do you want to be like Russia?"
"What's the matter with Russia then?" The voice, masculine, faintly familiar, came from right behind him. He turned resentfully. Who the devil could this be, eavesdropping? It was Lüttich. He had seen the Russian only a few times since the days when they were fellow-travelers on the Tenyo Maru. He had supposed that he was teaching the violin, dancing, French and other polite accomplishments to the aristocracy. What was he doing here, evidently hand in glove with the revolutionists? And what the devil business had he to butt in on them?
"The last time I talked politics with you, Lüttich," he spoke with studied sarcasm, that the others might hear, "you seemed to have lots to say against the present government of Russia."
"Of course," the other laughed scornfully. "What chance do you think a Russian would have living in Japan unless he sang just that tune? But, good Lord, man, did you really think that I'd content myself with that, with being a dancing master, and in these times. These are the times to live in, Kent. Think of it, a few years ago, Petrograd, and now here, to-day, Tokyo! And to have a hand in it all! Did you see the police station, Kent-san? What did you think of it?"