四十五

Having no intention of telling his wife what K had confided in me, after I said “No,” I immediately felt displeased with my own lie. Having no choice, since I had no recollection of being asked to do anything in particular, I corrected myself, saying it was not a matter concerning K. The wife said, “I see,” and waited for me to continue. I was now compelled to broach the subject. Suddenly I said, “Madam, please give me your daughter.” The wife did not appear as startled as I had braced myself to expect, but she seemed unable to reply for a moment, and silently gazed at my face. Having spoken as I had, no matter how long she looked at me, I could not afford to be bothered by it. “Give her to me, please, by all means,” I said. “As my wife, please give her to me,” I said. Being older, the wife was far calmer than I. “I could give her to you, but isn’t this rather sudden?” she asked. When I immediately answered, “I wish to have her at once,” she burst out laughing. Then she pressed, “Have you thought this through?” I explained in strong words that though my proposal was sudden, my consideration of it had not been.

There were two or three more exchanges after that, but I have forgotten them. Like a man in her decisiveness, the wife, unlike ordinary women, was a person with whom one could speak very comfortably in such a situation. “Very well, I shall give her to you,” she said. “It is not as though I am in a position to speak so grandly of giving her away. Please take her. As you know, she is a poor child without a father,” she later urged me herself.

The matter was settled simply and clearly. From beginning to end, it probably took no more than fifteen minutes. The wife raised no conditions whatsoever. She said there was no need to consult relatives, and that a later refusal would suffice. She plainly stated that even confirming the young lady’s own wishes was unnecessary. In such respects, I, with my education, seemed rather to be the one clinging to formality. When I noted that, relatives aside, it would be proper to speak with the person herself beforehand and obtain her consent, the wife said, “It will be fine. There is no way I would send that child to a place where she is unwilling.”

Back in my room, reflecting on how the matter had progressed with such absurd ease, I instead felt a strange sensation. So much so that a doubt—would it really be all right?—crept in from somewhere into the depths of my mind. Yet on the whole, the notion that my future destiny was thus decided renewed everything within me.

Around noon I went out to the sitting room again and asked the wife when she intended to convey that morning’s talk to her daughter. The wife said that as long as she herself agreed, it would not matter when it was spoken of. At this point the other party seemed somehow more manly than I, and I was about to withdraw. Then the wife stopped me, saying that if I preferred haste, today would do, and that upon the girl’s return from her lessons she would speak with her at once. I answered that this would be convenient, and returned to my room. But sitting silently before my desk, imagining myself listening from afar to the two of them whispering, I felt somehow unable to settle. At last I put on my hat and went outside. And again I met the young lady at the foot of the slope. She, knowing nothing, seemed surprised to see me. When I took off my hat and asked, “Just returning now?”, she wondered aloud if my illness was already cured. “Yes, cured, cured,” I answered, and strode off turning toward Suidobashi.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”