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THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
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[Illustration: Frontispiece]
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THE
HONORABLE
MISS MOONLIGHT
BY
ONOTO WATANNA
AUTHOR OF
“A JAPANESE NIGHTINGALE”
“TAMA” ETC.
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
M C M X I I
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BOOKS BY
ONOTO WATANNA
THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT. Post
8vo net $1.00
A JAPANESE NIGHTINGALE. Illustrated.
Crown 8vo net 2.00
A JAPANESE BLOSSOM. Illustrated in color.
8vo net 2.00
THE WOOING OF WISTARIA. Illustrated. Post
8vo net 1.50
THE HEART OF HYACINTH. Illustrated in color.
Crown 8vo net 2.00
TAMA. Illustrated. Japan tint paper. Crown
8vo net 1.60
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1912
H-M
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TO
J. W., L. W., AND E. McK.
IN REMEMBRANCE
OF KIND WORDS
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THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
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THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
CHAPTER I
THE day had been long and sultry. It was the season of little heat, when
an all-encompassing humidity seemed suspended over the land. Sky and
earth were of one monotonous color, a dim blue, which faded to shadowy
grayness at the fall of the twilight.
With the approach of evening, a soothing breeze crept up from the river.
Its faint movement brought a measure of relief, and nature took on a
more animated aspect.
Up through the narrow, twisting roads, in and out of the never-ending
paths, the lights of countless jinrikishas twinkled, bound for the
Houses of Pleasure. Revelers called to each other out of the balmy
darkness. Under the quivering light of a lifted lantern, suspended for
an instant, faces gleamed out, then disappeared back into the darkness.
To the young Lord Saito Gonji the night seemed to speak with myriad
tongues. Like some finely tuned instrument whose slenderest string must
vibrate if touched by a breath, so the heart of the youth was stirred by
every appeal of the night. He heard nothing of the chatter and laughter
of those about him. For the time at least, he had put behind him that
sickening, deadening thought that had borne him company now for so long.
He was giving himself up entirely to the brief hour of joy, which had
been agreeably extended to him in extenuation of the long life of
thralldom yet to come.
It was in his sole honor that the many relatives and connections of his
family had assembled, joyously to celebrate the fleeting hours of youth.
For within a week the Lord Saito Gonji was to marry. Upon this pale and
dreamy youth the hopes of the illustrious house of Saito depended. To
him the august ancestors looked for the propagating of their honorable
seed. He was the last of a great family, and had been cherished and
nurtured for one purpose only.
With almost as rigid care as would have been bestowed upon a novitiate
priest, Gonji had been educated.
“Send the child you love upon a journey,” admonished the stern-hearted
Lady Saito Ichigo to her husband; and so at the early age of five the
little Gonji was sent to Kummumotta, there to be trained under the
strictest discipline known to the samourai. Here he developed in
strength and grace of body; but, seemingly caught in some intangible
web, the mind of the youth awoke not from its dreams. His arm had the
strength of the samourai, said his teachers, but his spirit and his
heart were those of the poet.
There came a period when he was placed in the Imperial University, and a
new life opened to the wondering youth. New laws, new modes of thought,
the alluring secrets of strange sciences, baffling and fascinating, all
opened their doors to the infatuated and eager Gonji. With the
enthusiasm born of his solitary years, the boy grasped avidly after the
ideals of the New Japan. His career in college was notable. In him
professor and student recognized the born leader and genius. He was to
do great things for Japan some day!
Then came a time when the education of the youth was abruptly halted,
and he was ordered to return to his home. While his mind was still
engaged in the fascinating employment of planning a career, his parents
ceremoniously presented him to Ohano, a girl he had known from childhood
and a distant relative of his mother’s family. Mechanically and
obediently the dazed Gonji found himself exchanging with the maiden the
first gifts of betrothal.
Ohano was plump, with a round, somewhat sullen face, a pouting,
full-lipped mouth, and eyes so small they seemed but mere slits in her
face. She had inherited the inscrutable, disdainful expression of her
lofty ancestors.
Though he had played with her as a child and had seen her upon every
occasion during his school vacations, Gonji looked at her now with new
eyes. As a little boy he had liked Ohano. She was his sole playmate, and
it had been his delight to tease her. Now, as he watched her stealthily,
he was consumed with a sense of unutterable despair. Could it be that
his fairest dreams were to end with Ohano?
Like every other Japanese youth, who knows that some day his proper mate
will be chosen and given to him, Gonji had conjured up a lovely,
yielding creature of the imagination, a gentle, smiling, mysterious Eve,
who, like a new world, should daily surprise and delight him. As he
looked at Ohano, sitting placidly and contentedly by his side, he was
conscious only of an inner tumult of rebellion and repulsion against the
chains they were forging inexorably about him and this girl. It was
impossible, he felt, to drag him nearer to her. The very thought
revolted, stunned him, and suddenly, rudely, he turned his back upon his
bride.
The relatives agreed that something should be done to offset the gloom
of the first stages of betrothal. It was suggested that the bridegroom
have a full week of freedom. As was the custom among many, he should for
the first time be introduced to the life of gaiety and pleasure that lay
outside the lofty, ancestral walls, the better, later, to appreciate the
calm and pure joys of home and family.
In single file the jinrikishas had been running along a narrow road
which overlooked city and bay. Now they swerved into shadowy by-paths
and plunged into the heart of the woods. A velvety darkness, through
which the drivers picked their way with caution, enwrapped them.
For some time the tingling music of samisen and drum close by had been
growing ever clearer. Suddenly the glimmer of many lights was seen, as
if suspended overhead. Almost unconsciously faces were raised, excited
breaths drawn in admiration and approval. Like a great sparkling jewel
hung in mid-air, the House of Slender Pines leaned over its wooded
terraces toward them.
Gay little mousmés, rubbing hands and knees together, ran to meet them
at the gate, kowtowing and hissing in obeisance. The note of a samisen
was heard; and a thin little voice, sweet, and incredibly high, broke
into song. Geishas, with great flowers in their hair, fell into a
posturing group, dancing with hand, head, and fan. Gonji watched them in
a fascinated silence, noting the minutest detail of their attire, their
expression, their speech. They belonged to a world which, till now, he
had not been permitted even to explore. Nay, till but recently he had
been rigidly guarded from even the slightest possible contact with these
little creatures of joy. Soon he was to be set in the niche destined for
him by his ancestors. Here was his sole opportunity to seize the
fleeting delights of youth.
A laughing-faced mousmé, red-lipped and with saucy, teasing eyes that
peeped at him from beneath veiled lashes, knelt to hold his sake-tray.
He leaned gravely toward the girl and examined her face with a curious
wonder; but her smile brought no response to the somewhat sad and somber
lips of the young man, nor did he even deign to sip the fragrant cup she
tendered.
An elder cousin offered some chaffing advice, and an hilarious uncle
suggested that the master of the house put his geishas upon parade; but
the father of Gonji roughly interposed, declaring that his son’s
thoughts, naturally, were elsewhere. It was so with all expectant
bridegrooms. His father’s words awoke the boy from his dreaming. He
turned very pale and trembled. His head drooped forward, and he felt an
irresistible inclination to cover his face with his hands. His father’s
voice sounded in gruff whisper at his ear:
“Pay attention. You see now the star of the night. It is the famous
Spider, spinning her web!”
As Gonji slowly raised his head and gazed like one spellbound at the
dancer, his father added, with a sudden vehemence:
“Take care, my son, lest she entrap thee, too, like the proverbial fly.”
A hush had fallen upon the gardens. Almost it seemed as if the tiny feet
of the dancer stirred not at all. Yet, with imperceptible advances, she
moved nearer and nearer to her fascinated audience. Above her flimsy
gown of sheerest veiling, which sprang like a web on all sides and above
her, her face shone with its marvelous beauty and allurement. Her lips
were apart, smiling, coaxing, teasing; and her eyes, wide and very
large, seemed to seek over the heads of her audience for the one who
should prove her prey. It was the final motion of the dance of the
Spider, the seeking for, the finding, the seizing of her imaginary
victim. Now the Spider’s eyes had ceased to wander. They were fixed
compellingly upon those of the Lord Saito Gonji.
He had arisen to his feet, and with a half-audible exclamation—a sound
of an indrawn sigh—he advanced toward the dancer. For a moment,
breathlessly, he stood close beside her. The subtle odor of her perfumed
hair and body stole like a charm over his senses. Her sleeve fluttered
against his hand for but the fraction of a moment, yet thrilled and
tormented him. He looked at the Spider with the eyes of one who sees a
new and radiant wonder. Then darkness came rudely between them. The
geisha’s face vanished with the light. He was standing alone, staring
into the darkness, his father’s voice droning meaninglessly in his ear.
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