Between the time of the discovery of the silk pajamas and their repacking—I cold-heartedly refused to exhibit a putting of them on—we rose from nobodies to persons of importance in Minakuchi. Even the mistress hinted that she had mentally recounted her space for guests and had thought of a luxurious corner of amply sufficient dimensions to spread two beds. There was, of course, no sane reason why we should not, then and there, have taken advantage of this altered atmosphere, but for me the inn had lost its savour. Anyone who has ever had some similar twist of psychology will appreciate the inside of my irrationalism. Others will not or cannot. I moved over to the ’rickshas. O-Owre-san remained lingering. He, too, had noted the change in the mistress’s attitude.
“How about making one more overture?” he suggested.
“Perhaps so,” I answered, “but don’t you feel that any experience which this inn might now hold for us would be an anti-climax after our present dramatic triumph?”
O-Owre-san regretfully sniffed the fragrant steam drifting from the kitchen braziers.
“No, I decidedly don’t feel so,” said he, “but of course, if I have to save your dilettante soul from anti-climaxes, I suppose I can sleep in a rice field—but whatever you do, do it!”
I threw our bags into the ’rickshas and we climbed in after them, and were off to the other inn.
We made our impact against this objective much more catapultic. There was nothing tentative in our kicking off our shoes and getting well under the lintel before any mistress of authority could appear. Our onslaught paralysed the advance line of receiving maidens, and we settled down on the interior mats and assumed a contemplative calm. We continued to sit thus oblivious to the excitement heaped upon excitement. We were islands of fact in the midst of an ocean of conversation. After the ocean had dried up because none had words left, we were still obviously remaining, and there was nothing left to do but to make the best of us. A maid picked up our bags and bowed very low. She retreated toward the inner darkness and we followed, first along a corridor and then up a flight of railless stairs to a room open on two sides against a courtyard garden.
To have been in harmony at all with the ancient traditions of the Tokaido, coolies should have been carrying our luggage in huge red and gold lacquered chests. The room to which we were taken would have been a room of dignity even for a [daimyo]. The maid placed our two dusty Occidental rucksacks on the shelf under the kakemona. Their very presence piped a chanty that our possessing that room was ironic comedy. We began to laugh. A [ne-san] is as ever ready to laugh as water is to flow, and with no other grand cause than just the doing. Our maid began laughing with us, and up the stairs came all the other maids in curiosity. Ensconced, their interest seemed permanent. Our vocabulary was very far from being sufficient to protect our Western prudery. As a last resort we took them by their shoulders and turned them around and urged them in this unsubtle manner from the door.
I began undressing at one end of the room, leaving my garments in my wake as I rolled over the soft matting. When I reached the kakemona shelf, I slipped into my silk pajamas. When we went below to find the honourable bath we at least left the room looking not so bare as our meagre luggage had predicted.