十六

I was still attending school as before. Yet the lectures delivered from the podium reached my ears as though they came from some far-off place. My studies were much the same. The printed characters that entered my eyes would dissipate like smoke before they could seep down to the depths of my heart. On top of that, I grew taciturn. Two or three friends misunderstood this and told the others that I must be lost in meditation. I made no effort to correct the misunderstanding. Rather, I counted myself fortunate that someone had lent me a convenient mask to wear. Even so, there were times when I suppose my conscience was not entirely easy, for I would suddenly be seized by a fit of restlessness and agitation that startled them.

The household where I lodged saw few visitors. They seemed to have little in the way of relatives. The young lady's school friends would occasionally come to call, but they invariably spoke in such hushed voices, as if they might or might not even be there, and then went home. It never occurred to me—dull as I was—that this was out of consideration for me. For the men who came to see me were none of them especially rough sorts, yet not one of them was the type to stand on ceremony with the family. In that respect, I, the lodger, was like the master of the house, while the young lady herself was effectively in the position of a guest.

But this is merely something I happened to recall and set down; in truth, it is of no consequence. There was, however, one matter there that was far from insignificant. From the sitting room, or else the young lady's chamber, a man's voice would suddenly be heard. Unlike the voices of my own visitors, it was exceedingly low. So I could not make out at all what was being said. And the less I could understand, the more it stirred a peculiar excitement in my nerves. I would sit there and grow strangely fretful. I would wonder first whether he might be a relative, or merely an acquaintance. Then I would ponder whether he was a young man or someone of mature years. Sitting there, there was no way for me to know such things. Yet neither could I rise and slide open the shoji to look. My nerves, rather than trembling, afflicted me with great undulations that caused me suffering. After the visitor had gone, I would be sure to ask his name without fail. The young lady's and the mistress's replies were, again, exceedingly brief. I would show them a dissatisfied face, yet I lacked the courage to press my inquiry until I was satisfied. I had no right to do so, of course. I displayed before them, at one and the same time, a self-respect bred of an upbringing that taught me to prize my own dignity, and a hungry, covetous expression that in truth betrayed that very self-respect. They smiled. Whether that smile was born of mockery, or of goodwill, or of an intention to seem well-disposed, I was thrown so off my balance that I could find no room for instant interpretation. And after the matter was closed, for ever so long I would repeat to myself, over and over: I've been made a fool of—surely I haven't been made a fool of?

My person was free. Whether I quit school midway, or went elsewhere to live, or married whoever and from wherever—I stood in a position that required consultation with no one. Many times before then I had resolved to take the plunge and speak to the mistress about receiving the young lady's hand. But each time I hesitated, and in the end the words never left my mouth. It was not that I feared rejection. Had I been refused, my fate might have taken any turn, yet for that very reason I would have stood in a different direction from before, and gained the convenience of looking out upon a new world; such courage, if need be, I could have summoned. But I loathed being drawn in. To be played into another's hands was more galling than anything. Having been deceived by my uncle, I resolved that henceforth, come what may, I would not be deceived by anyone.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”