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Updated: June 28, 2025
Asako could not get over her shock at the sea of wicked faces which surged below. "What class of people are these?" Geoffrey asked. "Oh, shop-people, I think, most of them," said Yaé, "and people who work in factories." "Good class Japanese don't come here, then?" Geoffrey asked again. "Oh no, only low class people and students. Japanese people say it is a shameful thing to go to the Yoshiwara.
But Yaé was not a nice girl; and when the music stopped with its hideous abruptness, it awoke her from a kind of trance in which she had been lost to all sensations except the grip of Geoffrey's hand and arm, the stooping of his shadow above her, and the tingling of her own desire. Geoffrey left his partner at the end of their second dance. He went upstairs to see his wife.
"Probably not; but then they are Japanese people living in Japan. That alters everything." "I don't think so," said Geoffrey; and he was conscious of having scored off his friend for once. Miss Yaé Smith had arrived on her daily visit to the courts. She was already surrounded by a little retinue of young men, who, however, scattered at Reggie's approach.
"Oh, damn!" he cried, "I must go over and beat a typewriter for two or three hours. I must therefore break my tryst. But I expect you to replace me like the immortal Cyrano, who should be the ideal of all soldiers. Will you take Yaé for an hour or two's sail? She likes you very much." "And if I drown your fiancée? I don't know anything about sailing." "I'll show you. It's very easy.
Yaé started up from the bed. For a moment she hovered on the edge, uncertain of her tactics. Geoffrey stared, one hand to his forehead. Then the girl darted across the room, fell at Reggie's feet, clasped his knees, and sobbed convulsively. "Reggie, Reggie, forgive me!" she cried. "It's not my fault. He's been asking me and asking me to do this ever since Kamakura and all the time here.
Beyond the brown sluggish river, the roofs and pinnacles of Asakusa were more fairy-like than a theatre scene. Asako was thinking of that first snow-white day, which introduced Geoffrey and her to the Embassy and to Yaé Smith. She shivered. Darkness was falling. A Japanese house is a frail protection in winter time; and a charcoal fire in a wooden box is poor company.
Yaé could watch almost within range of her lips the powerful profile of his big face, a soldier's face trained to command strong men and to be gentle to women and children. There was a delicious fragrance about him, the dry heathery smell of clean men. He did not look down at her. He was staring into the black shadows ahead, his mind still full of that sudden vision of Buddha Amitabha.
"That is the hospital," answered Reggie. "But why is there a hospital here?" she asked again. Yaé Smith smiled ever so little at her new friend's ignorance of the wages of sin. But nobody answered the question. There was a movement in the crowd, a pushing back from some unseen locality, like the jolting of railway trucks. At the same time there was a craning of necks and a murmur of interest.
Then they sat out a dance; and then they danced again. Yaé was tiny, but she danced well; and Geoffrey was used to a small partner. For Yaé it was sheer delight to feel the size and strength of this giant man bending over her like a sheltering tree; and then to be lifted almost in his arms and to float on tiptoe over the floor with the delightful airiness of dreams.
"Not yet, big captain," she expostulated; "I want to take you right to the far end of the lake where the bears live." "Very well," agreed Geoffrey, "to-morrow morning early, then; for the next day I really must go." He wrote to Asako a long letter with much about the lake and Yaé Smith, promising to return within forty-eight hours. At daybreak next morning Yaé was hammering at Geoffrey's door.
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