Part 8 (1/2)

”Shall we get out and explore, sweetheart?” suggested Geoffrey. They pa.s.sed under the low gate, up a pebbled pathway through the sweetest fairy garden to the entrance of the tea-house, a stage of brown boards highly polished and never defiled by the contamination of muddy boots.

On the steps of approach a collection of _geta_ (native wooden clogs) and abominable side-spring shoes told that guests had already arrived.

Within the dark corridors of the house there was an immediate fluttering as of pigeons. Four or five little women prostrated themselves before the visitors with a hissing murmur of ”_Ira.s.shai_!

(Condescend to come!).”

The Barringtons removed their boots and followed one of these ladies down a gleaming corridor with another miniature garden in an enclosed courtyard on one side, and paper _shoji_ and peeping faces on the other, out across a further garden by a kind of oriental Bridge of Sighs to a small separate pavilion, which floated on a lake of green shrubs and pure air, as though moored by the wooden gangway to the main block of the building.

This summer-house contained a single small room like a very clean box with wooden frame, opaque paper walls, and pale golden matting. The only wall which seemed at all substantial presented the appearance of an alcove. In this niche there hung a long picture of cherry-blossoms on a mountain side, below which, on a stand of dark sandalwood, squatted a bronze monkey holding a crystal ball. This was the only ornament in the room.

Geoffrey and his wife sat down or sprawled on square silk cus.h.i.+ons called _zabuton_. Then the _shoji_ were thrown open; and they looked down upon Nagasaki.

It was a scene of sheer enchantment. The tea-house was perched on a cliff which overhung the city. The light pavilion seemed like the car of some pullman aeroplane hovering over the bay. It was the brief half-hour of evening, the time of day when the magic of j.a.pan is at its most powerful. All that was cheap and sordid was shut out by the bamboo fence and wrapped away in the twilight mists. It was a half-hour of luminous greyness. The skies were grey and the waters of the bay and the roofs of the houses. A grey vapour rose from the town; and a black-grey trail of smoke drifted from the dockyards and from the steamers in the harbour. The cries and activities of the city below rose clear and distinct but infinitely remote, as sound of the world might reach the G.o.ds in Heaven. It was a half-hour of fairyland when anything might happen.

Two little maids brought tea and sugary cakes, green tea like bitter hot water, insipid and unsatisfying. It was a shock to see the girls'

faces as they raised the tiny china teacups. Under the glaze of their powder they were old and wise.

They observed Asako's nationality, and began to speak to her in j.a.panese.

”Their politeness is put on to order,” thought Geoffrey, ”they seem forward and inquisitive minxes.”

But Asako only knew a few set phrases of her native tongue. This baffled the ladies, one of whom after a whispered consultation and some giggling behind sleeves, went off to find a friend who would solve the mystery.

”_Nesan, Nesan_ (elder sister)” she called across the garden.

Strange little dishes were produced on trays of red lacquer, fish and vegetables of different kinds artistically arranged, but most unpalatable.

A third _nesan_ appeared. She could speak some English.

”Is _Okusama_ (lady) j.a.panese?” she began, after she had placed the tiny square table before Geoffrey, and had performed a prostration.

Geoffrey a.s.sented.

Renewed prostration before _okusama_, and murmured greetings in j.a.panese.

”But I can't speak j.a.panese,” said Asako laughing. This perplexed the girl, but her curiosity prompted her.

”_Danna San_ (master) Ingiris'?” she asked, looking at Geoffrey.

”Yes,” said Asako. ”Do many Englishmen have j.a.panese wives?”

”Yes, very many,” was the unexpected answer. ”O Fuji San,” she continued, indicating one of the other maids, ”have Ingiris' _danna San_ very many years ago; very kind _danna san_; give O Fuji plenty nice kimono; he say, O Fuji very good girl, go to Ingiris' wit him; O Fuji say, No, cannot go, mother very sick; so _danna san_ go away.

Give O Fuji San very nice finger ring.”

She lapsed into vernacular. The other girl showed with feigned embarra.s.sment a little ring set with gla.s.sy sapphires.

”Oh!” said Asako, dimly comprehending.