'Misfortune fell upon the family of Y., the maiden, and she became a Geisha, an actress, if you like, not from levity on her part, but from a sense of duty, which caused her to sacrifice herself to the occupation just mentioned—a sentiment which is unintelligible in the West. The story proceeds to narrate how X., the young Samurai, and Y., his former sweetheart, meet each other after a long lapse of time by pure accident, and how their love of days gone by revived in their hearts, especially from the pity which the young Samurai felt for her misfortune and her corresponding responsiveness. Further, how the young Samurai began to neglect his official duties and to incur the displeasure of the councillors of his lord, and was on the brink of becoming a Ronin—a masterless Samurai, the greatest shame of a Samurai, if incurred by his own dishonourable conduct.
'In those days, it must be remembered, the moral discipline of the Samurai was very rigid. The conduct of our young Samurai involved not only the ruin of himself but also the destruction of the family as a Samurai, a matter most lamentable to the house of a knight. At last Z., the despairing wife, takes the matter very seriously to heart, not so much from jealousy as from a sense of duty to her house and a desire to save her lord and husband from disgrace. She forms a bold plan, and personally visits her rival to obtain her confidence. She persuades her, not by any vulgar quarrel, but by serious reasoning and rational appeal, to put a stop to all connection with her husband. The rival assents and gives her promise. Then comes the climax. After a great struggle between love and reason, and hampered by several circumstances which made her unable to fulfil her promise, the rival puts an end to her own life, committing jigai, which is equivalent to Seppuku—vulgarly called Harakiri—in the case of a man, leaving some touching and well-meant letters behind her. What became of the young Samurai and his wife after that I scarcely need to relate here. Such, then, is the kind of plot we find in that class of books.'
While discoursing in this strain, a young lady—an English maiden—joined us.
—'Your plot seems not altogether like ours,' said the English lady. 'I dare say you have read some of our everyday novels?'
—'Well, I have read some, but it is now so many years ago that I do not remember them, with one exception, and that is Jane Eyre. Years ago I read some chapters of it, and those are enough. The general contents of those chapters remained ever in my memory. A little time ago I was staying at Folkestone. One gloomy afternoon, when I was intent over many things, that memory recurred to me all of a sudden. I went to a bookseller and bought a copy of the book: I read through once more some of the earlier chapters, and it created a great impression on me.'
—'What caused that impression, I should like to know?' interposed Lady Modestina.
—'Well, I cannot explain the reason very well,' I answered.
—'I can see it very well,' said the English lady; 'you are too proud to explain the reason,' Turning to the Ladies Modestina and Dulciana, she continued. 'Perhaps you have not read, or do not remember well, the story of our English novel. The story is this: Jane Eyre, a young girl, suffers every torture in the house of her uncle at the hands of young John Reed and his sisters, and indeed of Mrs. Reed also. You know Jane Eyre was the orphan child of a sister of Mr. Reed. He had taken her into his family in order to bring her up with his own children. He died some time after, enjoining his wife on his deathbed to look after her kindly. You see, therefore, though Jane Eyre was not properly a member of the family, some of the same blood ran in her veins as in theirs. In spite of that fact, and in spite of the injunction of Mr. Reed, her uncle, and, above all, in spite of all the modesty and good behaviour she showed, Jane was tormented by every member of the family. That is no doubt the point which has impressed the baron so much to think of——'
—'Perhaps,' I said smilingly.
—'Never mind, baron, Jane was of strong enough character to emerge from the trouble, and so will Japan, in spite of all the calumnies, if indeed she has not done so already.'