kind of entertainer.
“Monnosuke is the only one I fell in love with. When we split up, I heard he was complaining that Oriku had abandoned him, but really, he was too old for that.”
“But didn’t Monnosuke keep coming to the restaurant, even afterwards?”
“Yes, he kept coming till he died. He was two or three years older than me, but in personal matters he treated me as a sort of elder sister and would always come to talk them over with me. I made him a lot of fans, too; and two years after we parted he turned up with a very unusual problem.”
Oriku was in her fifth year of business, the economy was prospering, and the Shigure Teahouse was doing very well. Every day was a whirl of activity. She left the cooking to the chef, but she looked after the chazuke herself, kept a sharp eye on the size and quality of the clams, and personally made sure the tea was exactly as it should be. As she worked she was dripping with perspiration, the trailing length of her kimono sleeves tied up out of the way so she could get on with the job. Then, one day, in came Monnosuke, looking glum. Normally, whenever he turned up he was taken straight to the Paulownia annex.
“I wish you hadn’t come just now,” she told him, without even untying her sleeves. “I’m too busy. I have no time to talk to you.”
“I’m glad you’re busy, but surely you needn’t be so greedy as to take it this far. You’re making yourself a nice enough living already.”
“What are you talking about? If the restaurant didn’t do well I wouldn’t make a living at all!”
“Now, don’t talk nonsense. You have the Yoshiwara behind you. They wouldn’t want you to suffer.” He spoke with the gentleness of an onnagata.
Monnosuke, like everyone else, assumed that even after signing over the Silver Flower to the former owner’s daughter and her husband, Oriku still received support from them, so that the Shigure Teahouse was just an amusement for her, and whether or not it did well was beside the point. Such talk enraged Oriku.
“That’s enough of your wild guesses! You’ve no idea what you’re talking about! Once I left I was just like anyone else to them—I would never look to them for any help! No, if this place lost its popularity, there’d be nothing for me to do but hang myself.” As so often with him, she flared up and gave him a good piece of her mind.
“I see. So you get no support from the Silver Flower?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t take it even if it were offered. Instead the Silver Flower built me this place. I worked fifteen years there, after all. That was fair enough.”
“Well, I don’t see why you have to get so angry about it.”
“Angry? Of course I’m angry! Here I am, working my head off, and people imagine the Yoshiwara is supporting me! I can’t stand it!”
“Sorry. I should watch my tongue.”
“Well, look out—you might do it again.”
Between the two of them, it was impossible to tell just from their manner which was the woman and which the man. In fact, it was always like that. That’s how it was with the gentle, feminine Monnosuke and the quick-tempered Oriku, every time they were together.
“I came today, you see,” Monnosuke said timidly, “because there’s something I simply have to ask you.”
“Something outlandish, I’m sure. Well, I still have two parties of guests to look after. You can wait till I’m done with them.”
Back she went to the kitchen, and untied her sleeves only after the two parties were properly taken care of. The kitchen was of a generous size, since the building was a remodeled farmhouse, and its polished wood floor shone. The hearth was set into the floor at the base of the main pillar. Oriku sat and gave directions from there, and also personally made the tea.
Once the last two parties were gone and her sleeves were untied, Oriku washed her face and returned to the Paulownia. Monnosuke was drinking gloomily by himself.
“You look terribly depressed. Has something happened?” She sat down. Their affair might be over, but they understood each other and could talk about anything.
“I just don’t know what to do. I can’t tell anyone else, so I thought I might at least get you to listen to the story.” He had none of his usual cheerfulness.
“If it’s that bad, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“You’re right, I’d much prefer not to trouble you with it, but you see, it concerns Mr. Matsushima of Kayabachō.”
“Mr. Matsushima? He’s your benefactor, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s been my benefactor for ages. When I took my present name, he’s the one who provided the curtain for the event. I can’t tell you how much he’s done for me. When he wants something of me, I simply can’t refuse.”
“What does he want of you, then? Surely a man like that wouldn’t be unreasonable.”
“I’m afraid he’s asking a lot, though. You see, he has this maid named Ohisa. You probably don’t know her—she hasn’t been with him that long.”
“No, I don’t know him well enough to know his maids. Are you saying you’ve gotten this Ohisa pregnant, or something?”
“Goodness no! And if I had, do you really think I’d come to you about it? No, the one who’s gotten her pregnant is Mr. Matsushima himself.”
“Oh dear, that’s poor, knocking up one of his own maids. It isn’t like him.”
“It certainly isn’t. It seems his wife gets after him about everything. She doesn’t know yet, so apparently so far, so good; but he’ll really be in for it if she ever finds out. On top of all that, Ohisa is getting big, and she’s left the shop to go back to her parents.”
“Why are you carrying on to me this way about somebody else’s love troubles? I’m busy, and you could spare me this nonsense.”
“No, no, I haven’t even gotten to the real problem yet.”
“What? You’re impossible! For pity’s sake, then, just get on with it! What is this all about?”
“Mr. Matsushima wants me to marry Ohisa.”
“He what? Just like that? Big belly and all?”
“Yes. He wants me to marry her and treat the child as mine.”
“Well, that’s a good one.”
“I think so too.”
“That’s what you get for messing about so long as a bachelor.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly why I asked you to marry me. But you wouldn’t, would you!”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Me, at my age, an actor’s wife! The idea!”
“Yes, that’s why you said you didn’t want me. So it’s your fault, too.”
“It’s
