They took the precaution not to leave the Obana-ya in company. They fell in together at a corner a little way off. Along the path bathed in the pale shimmer of a mist veiled moon, the shadows of two love-doves were printed, as the pair plodded on with their hearts filled with almost nameless emotions, as on that night of their flight. Facing the garden of the Buddhist temple, Eitai-ji, which occupied a space within the premises of the Hachiman Temple, on the one side story along the bank of a canal, there was seen a house with a lantern hung outside the front entrance illumining forth the name of “Tsuta-ya” which was Tsuya’s present home. The house itself was not large, but two or three geisha serving under her, a servant maid in attendance, choice wood-work and upholstery in display in the upstairs room, bespoke of a home and living of fair comfort. A little girl of fifteen or sixteen years, came out as far as the lattice door at the entrance to greet her mistress who, having whispered something in her ear, went in, unshod herself hurriedly, and led the way for him up the stairs.
Of those days at the home of the Suruga-ya where their love was possible only in snatches, all the sweeter because clandestine; and of those days at the boatman’s home on the front of the Onagikawa canal, a period of twenty days or so, brief as a dream, passed in the joys of a madcap love, no longer trammeled by fear or care, but occasionally exposed to boatmen’s teasing chaffs which seemed but to add zest to their enjoyment:—of these Tsuya so fondly remembered, and these memories out of the past made her bemoan their love that was to be so fleeting and vain.
“I remember you scolded me one time when I called myself after the manner of a geisha; but you won’t mind it, if I do now, will you?” And she was at once speaking in the bold vernacular of her trade. When she caught him calling her by the less familiar name of “Tsu chan,” as he had been wont to do, she rebuked him for the manner she considered as cold. Even if for this night only, she asked him to feel himself her true wedded man and call her “O-Tsuya.” “And for that I shall no longer call you ‘Shin don’,” she said, “but you will be ‘Shin san’,[14] as my husband should be.”
Drinks he had taken in plenty and wished for no more. But she would not hear of it, and pressed them upon him, almost pouring down through parted lips. Of Shinsuké who had once boasted of such a capacity for drinks, it was strange that he should become so easily susceptible to the effect of saké,[15] unless, perhaps, a real taste for the drink, of which he was now capable, had put a finer edge on the fibre of his nerves as well. For, as time scored its hours, he could feel the drink imbuing deeper and deeper into his system, melting even to the marrow of his bones.
Three short days to stay, and that was to end their love for all time; on this their hearts were set, and their minds attuned thereto. Sitting before a display of dishes ordered from a near-by restaurant, they drank one bottle of saké after another, from morn till night. Neither to sleep nor to awake, the passion-crazed pair lived to measure out their numbered days, until by the close of the third day, they were so fagged out that their own minds seemed distant and dazed, even in their waking hours. And after all that, once their minds brought to that angle, they could not put their fingers on a single thing that was particularly sweet to be recalled. The happiest memory, after all, appeared to be that of the first evening; of those moments of their hurried retreat from the tea house Obana-ya. And one thing that came back to Shinsuké’s mind as a vague memory was what he gave to Tsuya of his troubled mind, about daybreak of this day, under the maddening spurs of drink.
“You’ve got to be very ready with your tongue,” he remarked, “but I should doubt if you, down in your true heart, love me half so much as you used to. That man Tokubey, I understand, is a man of means, sense and everything else;—such a world of difference between him and myself! The sooner I give myself away to the officer, the better for your sake, I know!”
“Oh, stuff! If you mean to play the jealous husband for my entertainment, nix for mine! I don’t relish that sort of thing. I don’t know what you’re thinking of me, but I do know this: except to you, I have never given myself away—”
“More strange that Tokubey should put up so much cash for you!”
“Give me all the more credit for that! I haven’t exactly killed a man, but when it comes to wicked business like that, I know a thing or two to teach you!”
Wherewith the man was satisfied at once. He repented of his mistrusting mind, whining for joy, “Forgive me! Forgive me!”