Mistress Oriku. Matsutaro Kawaguchi

was late autumn. The cherry leaves were yellowing, and there were few people about. Still, the Asakusa Kannon main hall and pagoda, the Shōden temple grove, and so on, seen from the embankment, looked the part of famous sights of Edo. In fact, the whole view could have been a Hiroshige print.

      “It’s always so beautiful out here!” Matsushima did not go straight in, but instead stood a while in the entrance and gazed around him. When he came down from the embankment, the reeds were so thick that he felt as if he were dropping down into a marsh. The gate was almost hidden by the reeds. Once he actually reached it, though, they turned out not really to be that tall. The winding little path quickly rose until suddenly the full, tranquil sweep of the Sumida River opened out before him, from Hashiba on the far bank to the torii of Masaki Shrine. To someone from Kayabachō the place seemed like a country villa. Out on the river the red-footed gulls were gathering in flocks, and sailboats were drifting lazily by. The autumn stream was especially clear.

      “You could live forever in a place like this.”

      “Not me, I’m afraid. I can’t just take it easy, the way you do.”

      “The way I do? What gave you that idea? It’s not like the old days anymore. There’s a lot of competition. I’m off to the market at three every morning. It gets hard, when you’re as old as I am.”

      “You’re still doing that?” “Still? How do you think my place would keep going if I didn’t? For Japanese food, everything depends on the raw materials. I can’t serve my customers anything I haven’t inspected myself.”

      “I’m impressed. That’s what makes your restaurant the place it is.”

      “And you—they say you go in person twice a year to Kuwana, which is why your clam chazuke is always so good. The quality goes down right away when you leave the marketing to other people.”

      They headed for the annexes, chatting about cooking. She took him to the Paulownia, where she and Monnosuke had talked. An original Hokusai painting hung in the tokonoma.

      “All right, auntie, what was it you wanted to discuss?” Matsushima had hardly sat down before he got right to business.

      “What do you mean, ‘auntie’? You’re being rude!” “When a woman’s over fifty, you know, auntie’s what she’s called.”

      “Well, not me. I’m only forty-five. If I’m ‘auntie,’ you’re ‘unk.’”

      “Ha, ha, ha! Wicked repartee, as ever!”

      He slipped out his tobacco pouch, while a maid brought in a tray of saké and two small dishes of wild greens. Matsushima was sufficiently fond of saké that it sometimes caused him problems. Apparently one of these problems was the maid Ohisa.

      “What I wanted to talk to you about, you see. . .” said Oriku, pouring for him, “is this business of Ohisa.”

      Dead silence. Matsushima put down his cup.

      “Monnosuke told me the whole story. It was a sudden shock for him, and he needed someone to talk it over with, so for one reason or another he came straight to me.”

      “He’s completely lost his mind!”

      “I don’t see the problem. You needn’t worry that I’ll let this go any further, but it certainly might have if he’d told someone less reliable.”

      “Well, I suppose you’re right, but I don’t see why he had to tell you.”

      “I didn’t want to hear about it, either, but now that I have, I’m concerned. You’re not just anybody to me, and Monnosuke knows that. That’s why he came to me.”

      “Does he know about you and me?”

      “He wouldn’t have come to me if he didn’t. He came because he knew that here he could safely wash your dirty linen in private.”

      “So he knows, does he, about you and me.”

      He gave the cup back to Ohisa. “I’m a sloppy drunk, you know. Even with Ohisa, it isn’t as if I had planned to get involved with her that way. Oh, I had my eye on her, it’s true, but she’s a good worker, and all I actually meant to do was be nice to her. It’s drink that got me into this mess.”

      “You’re always getting into trouble that way, aren’t you. I suppose I’m one of your little lapses, too.”

      “That was a long time ago. I’ve forgotten all about it.”

      “Not that long—it was just three years ago, you know, and now you’re asking me to dispose of a pregnant girl. Men are awful, they really are.”

      “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

      He slipped off his cushion, put both hands to the floor, and bowed his balding his head low before her. “Please,” he said, “I will be grateful for anything you can do to help.”

      For Oriku, Monnosuke and Matsushima were both partners in pleasure, and she had a bond with both. She could not very well abandon either.

      “Get Monnosuke and Ohisa together before anyone finds out about the baby, give them just enough of a wedding reception to keep up appearances, and buy them a little house—anything will do. Then, in exchange for Monnosuke’s taking on your child, look after him for the rest of his life.” Oriku laid down the conditions she had worked out beforehand.

      Matsushima accepted them as a matter of course. “I understand all that without your telling me. Obviously I’ll look after him, considering the burden involved. He’ll have a monthly allowance, too. You needn’t worry about that.”

      “Forgive me. I was sure you’d say that, knowing you as well as I do. Obviously, an actor works only half the year. His wallet’s thin, however brilliant a show he may make. To him, marriage means debt.”

      “I know, I know. Stop harping on it.”

      “Fine, I will. I gather Monnosuke would be glad to have the child, since it’s yours, even if he had to ask for it himself.”

      “Anyway, I’ll appreciate whatever you can do. It will be a relief to have you step in. I feel as though a great weight is off my shoulders.”

      “A woman from your past comes in handy at a time like this, doesn’t she. This isn’t the sort of thing you can discuss with family.”

      “You’re absolutely right about that.”

      “This is why it’s important to stay friends, so you can talk things over calmly, even after you split up. It’s no good for either the man or the woman to end up glaring at each other in silence. I’m the living proof of that. I’m sure it’s only because we were together once that we can talk this way.”

      She was repeating herself, but on this subject that was her way. She was always telling young people, too, how essential it was that if they had to part, they do so on friendly terms.

      For a man and a woman to cross the last barrier and sleep together, their bodies merged, creates a bond beyond the reach of any calculation, a bond achieved under the guidance of natural affection. Once that depth of relationship is reached, honor it forever! Such was the philosophy of love that Oriku had defined and upheld ever since the days when she managed the Silver Flower.

      Matsushima laughed. “All this heartwarming talk of yours just makes me want to get in bed with you again!”

      “You must be joking! There’s nothing more pathetic than relighting an old flame.”

      “As things are now, though, I’ll never be able to look you in the eye for the rest of my life. I just won’t feel right until I’ve gotten you where I want you again, in bed.”

      “And you think I’ll go along with that, to make you feel better?” Matsushima roared with laughter.

      So their talk ended in merriment on both sides, and it got things moving in the right direction. Ohisa became Monnosuke’s bride,