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Updated: May 17, 2025
The most faithful of Asako's bodyguard was a countryman of her own, Viscount Kamimura, the son of a celebrated Japanese statesman and diplomat, who, after completing his course at Cambridge, was returning to his own country for the first time after many years.
She must cleanse her land of all its filth, and make it what it still might be the Country of the Rising Sun. Such was the message of Asako's father in his book, The Real Shinto. "We are not allowed to read this book," Sadako explained; "the police have forbidden it. But I found a secret copy. It was undutiful of your father to write such things.
The people passing by smiled at their grim unsightliness, and threw pennies to them, for which they scrambled and scratched like beasts. Asako's relatives spent the day in eating, drinking and gossiping to the rhythm of the interminable prayer. It was a perfect day of autumn, which is the sweetest season in Japan.
When the Harringtons had been enthroned, the host and hostess approached them with silent dragging steps and downcast faces. They might have been the bearers of evil tidings. A tall girl followed behind her parents. Mrs. Fujinami Shidzuyé and her daughter, Sadako, were the only women present. This was a compromise, and a consideration for Asako's feelings. Mr.
Her face was a delicate oval of the same creamy smoothness as Asako's But the chin, which in Asako's case receded a trifle in obedience to Japanese canons of beauty, was thrust vigorously forward; and the curved lips in their Cupid's bow seemed moulded for kissing by generations of European passions, whereas about Japanese mouths there is always something sullen and pinched and colourless.
The Japanese girl was on the point of starting to bow and smile the conventional apologies for the worthlessness of the gift, when she felt herself caught by a power unfamiliar to her, the power of the emotions of the West. The pressure on her wrists increased, her face was drawn down towards her cousin's, and she felt against the corner of her mouth the warm touch of Asako's lips.
"Asako dear," Countess Saito continued, "would you like to go to England?" Asako's heart leaped. "Oh yes!" she answered gladly. Her hostess sighed reproachfully. She had tried to make life so agreeable for her little visitor; yet from the tone of her voice it was clear that Japan would never be home for her.
"What is your name?" he asked Asako; "what is your age? your father's and mother's name? What is your address? Are you married? Where is your husband? How long have you known this man? Were you on familiar terms? Did you kill him? How did you kill him? Why did you kill him?" The questions buzzed round Asako's head like a swarm of hornets.
But Tanaka continued his ministrations; and Asako had not the strength to go on protesting. As a matter of fact, he was specially employed by Mr. Fujinami Gentaro to spy on Asako's movements, an easy task hitherto, since she had not moved from her room. "Where is the motor car, Tanaka?" she asked again. He grinned, as Japanese always do when embarrassed.
Asako's Catholic conscience, now awakening from the spell which Japan had cast upon it, became uneasy about its share in these pagan rites. In order to drive the echo of the litany out of her ears, she tried to concentrate her attention upon watching the crowd. Around her was a dense multitude of pilgrims, in their hundreds of thousands, shuffling, chaffering and staring.
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