I still had something I ought to say afterward. But I held my tongue, fearing that the mistress might take me for a man who needlessly picked quarrels. The mistress, keeping her eyes fixed on me as I sat silent, gazing into the bottom of my emptied teacup, asked, "Shall I pour you another cup?" I at once handed the cup into her hands.
"How many? One? Two?"
Strangely enough, as the mistress pinched up a lump of sugar, she looked at my face and asked how many lumps to put in the cup. Her manner was not quite so far as to flatter me, yet it was full of a coquettishness that strove to gently erase her earlier harsh words.
I drank my tea in silence. Even after I had finished, I remained silent.
"You've fallen quite silent, haven't you," said the mistress.
"If I say anything, I'm afraid I'll be scolded for picking another quarrel," I answered.
"Surely not," the mistress said again.
Taking this as a opening, the two of us began to talk once more. And again we took up the subject of the master, in whom we both shared an interest.
"Madam, won't you let me continue a little from where we left off? It may sound to you like empty reasoning, but I am not speaking in such absentminded fashion."
"Then speak."
"If you were to suddenly disappear right now, could the master go on living as he does now?"
"I couldn't say, you know. There's nothing to be done but ask the master himself such a thing, is there? It's not a question to bring before me."
"Madam, I am serious. So you mustn't evade it. You must answer honestly."
"Honestly. Honestly, I don't know."
"Then how much do you love the master, madam? Since this is a question better put to you than to the master, I ask you."
"You needn't suddenly turn so blunt and ask me such a thing."
"There's no need to put on such a serious face. You mean to say it goes without saying?"
"Well, yes."
"You, who are so faithful to the master—if you were to suddenly disappear, what would become of him? The master, who seems to find no interest in anything in this world, whichever way he turns—if you were to suddenly vanish, what then? Not from the master's viewpoint. From yours. From your viewpoint, would the master become happy, or unhappy?"
"Well, from my viewpoint, it's clear. (The master may not think so.) If he were parted from me, the master would only become unhappy. He might even be unable to live. That may sound conceited, but I believe I am now making the master as happy as a human being can be. I am convinced that no matter who else there might be, no one could make the master as happy as I can. That is precisely why I can remain so composed."
"I think that conviction ought to be reflected favorably in the master's heart."
"That is a separate matter."
"Then you mean to say you are still disliked by the master?"
"I do not think I am disliked. There is no reason I should be disliked. But the master dislikes the world, doesn't he? Rather, of late, he has come to dislike human beings. So as one of those human beings, there is no reason I should be liked, is there?"
At last I grasped what the mistress meant by being disliked.
