“In English?”
“No, in Japanese.”
“It would be a job to read English in Japanese.”
“It would be lovely, being so unhuman.”
A fun for the while, I thought, and began to read the book in Japanese, with stops and pauses. If there was an unhuman way of reading, mine was certainly it, and the woman was listening also unhumanly.
“‘An aura of tenderness rose from the woman,—from her voice, from her eyes, from her skin. The woman went to the stern helped by the man. Did she go there to have a look at Venice, now enshrouded in the evening dusk? And the man, did he help her to feel lightning flashes in his blood on his side?’—Mind, it is all unhuman, and don’t look for accuracy. I may make skips, too.”
“I won’t mind a bit, Sensei; you may add in something of your own if you like.”
“‘The woman was leaning against the gunwale by the side of the man, with a distance between them narrower than her ribbons, which the wind was playing with. The Doge of Venice was now vanishing in light red like the second sunset....’”
“What is the Doge, Sensei?”
“It doesn’t matter what that means. However, it is the name of the man who long ago ruled over Venice. I don’t know how many Doges succeeded one another. Anyhow their palace has outlived them and may still be seen in Venice.”