More Portmanteau Plays. Stuart Walker

on the unrest of humans. Their unhappiness is his food. He has to find misery in order to live, and win his way back once more to humanity. To different men he changes his shape at will, and sometimes is invisible.

O-SODE-SAN

      Quick, Katsu, let us go to the shrine—and pray—and pray.

O-KATSU-SAN

      Ay. There!

      [They go out. The Gaki appears.

THE GAKI

      Why did you sigh?

THE VOICE OF THE TREE

      O Gaki of Kokoru! My heart hangs within me like the weight of years on Obaa-San.

THE GAKI

      Why did you moan?

THE TREE

      The tree is growing—and it tears my heart.

THE GAKI

      I live upon your unrest. Feed me! Feed me!

      [The tree sighs and moans and The Gaki seems transported with joy.

THE TREE

      Please! Please! Give me my freedom.

THE GAKI

      Where then should I feed? Unless I feed on your unhappiness I should cease to live—and I must live.

THE TREE

      Someone else, perchance, may suffer in my stead.

THE GAKI

      I care not where or how I feed. I am in the sixth hell, and if I die in this shape I must remain in this hell through all the eternities. One like me must feed his misery by making others miserable. I can not rise through the other five hells to human life unless I have human misery for my food.

THE TREE

      Oh, can't you feed on joy—on happiness, on faith?

THE GAKI

      Faith? Yes, perhaps—but only on perfect faith. If I found perfect faith—ah, then—I dare not dream.—There is no faith.

THE TREE

      Do not make me suffer more. Let me enjoy the loveliness of things.

THE GAKI

      Would you have someone else suffer in your stead?

THE TREE

      Someone else—someone else—

THE GAKI

      Ay—old Obaa-San—she whom they call the grandmother.

      [The Tree moans.

THE GAKI

      She will suffer in your stead.

THE TREE

      No! No! She loves me! She of all the world loves me! No—not she!

THE GAKI

      It shall be she!

THE TREE

      I shall not leave!

THE GAKI

      You give me better food than I have ever known. You wait! You wait!

THE TREE

      Here comes Obaa-San! Do not let her suffer for me!

THE GAKI

      You shall be free—as free as anyone can be—when I have made the misery of Obaa-San complete.

THE TREE

      She has never fully known her misery. Her heart is like an iron-bound chest long-locked, with the key lost.

THE GAKI

      We shall find the key! We shall find the key!

THE TREE

      I shall warn her.

THE GAKI

      Try!

THE TREE

      Alas! I can not make her hear! I can not tell her anything.

THE GAKI

      She can not understand you! She can not see me unless I wish! Earth people never see or hear!

THE TREE

      Hai! Hai! Hai!

      [Obaa-San enters. She is old, very, very old, and withered and misshapen. There is only laughter in your heart when you look at Obaa-San unless you see her eyes. Then—

OBAA-SAN

      My tree! My little tree! Why do you sigh?

THE TREE

      Hai! Hai! Hai!

OBAA-SAN

      Sometimes I think I pity you. Yes, dear tree!

THE TREE

      Hai! Hai! Hai!

THE GAKI

      Now I am a traveller. She sees me pleasantly.—Grandmother!

OBAA-SAN

      Ay, sir!

THE GAKI

      Which way to Kyushu?

OBAA-SAN

      You have lost your way. Far, far back beyond the ferry landing at Ishiyama to your right. That is the way to Kyushu.

THE GAKI

      Ah, me!

OBAA-SAN

      You are tired. Will you not sit and rest?—Will you not have some rice?

THE GAKI

      Oh, no.—Where is your brood, grandmother?

OBAA-SAN

      I have no brood. I am no grandmother. I am no mother.

THE GAKI

      What! Are there tears in your voice?

OBAA-SAN

      Tears! Why should I weep?

THE GAKI

      I do not know, grandmother!

OBAA-SAN

      I am no grandmother!—Who sent you here to laugh at me?—O-Sode-San? 'Tis she who laughs at me, because—

THE GAKI

      No one, old woman—

OBAA-SAN

      Yes, yes, old woman. That is it. Old woman!—Who are you? I am not wont to cry my griefs to any one.

THE GAKI

      Griefs? You have griefs?

OBAA-SAN

      Ay! Even I—she whom they call Obaa-San—have griefs.—Even I! But they are locked deep within me. No one knows!

THE GAKI

      Someone must know.

OBAA-SAN

      I shall tell no one.

THE GAKI

      Someone must know!

OBAA-SAN

      You speak like some spirit—and I feel that I must obey.

THE GAKI

      Someone must know!

OBAA-SAN

      I shall not speak. Who cares?—What is it I shall do? Tell my story—unlock my heart—so that O-Sode-San may laugh and laugh and laugh. Is it not enough that some evil spirit feeds upon my deep unrest?

THE GAKI

      How can one feed upon your unrest when you lock it in your heart? (The voices of O-Sode-San and O-Katsu-San are heard calling to Obaa-San) Here come some friends of yours. Tell them your tale.

      [He goes out.

OBAA-SAN

      Strange. I feel that I must speak out my heart.

      [O-Sode-San and O-Katsu-San come in.

O-SODE-SAN

      Good morning, grandmother!

      OBAA-SAN (with a strange wistfulness in her tone)

      Good morning, O-Sode-San. Good morning, O-Katsu-San. May the bright day bring you a bright heart.

O-KATSU-SAN

      And you, Obaa-San.

O-SODE-SAN

      How is the weeping willow tree, grandmother?

OBAA-SAN

      It is there—close to me.

O-SODE-SAN

      And does it speak to you, grandmother—

OBAA-SAN

      I am no grandmother! I am no grandmother! I am no mother! O-Sode, can you not understand? I am no mother.—I am no wife.—There is no one.—I am only an old woman.—In the spring I see the world turn green and I hear the song of happy birds and feel the perfumed balmy air upon my cheek—and every spring that cheek is older and more wrinkled and I have always been alone. I see the stars on a summer night and listen for the dawn—and there never has been a strong hand to touch me nor tiny fingers to reach out for me. I have heard the crisp autumn