There is no more Ichi-dai-me Kimiko: she is only a remembrance. Kimika
was quite young when she called that Kimiko her professional sister.
"An exceedingly wonderful girl," is what Kimika says of Kimiko. To win
any renown in her profession, a geisha must be pretty or very clever;
and the famous ones are usually both--having been selected at a very
early age by their trainers according to the promise of such qualities.
Even the commoner class of singing-girls must have some charm in their
best years--if only that _beauté du diable_ which inspired the Japanese
proverb that even a devil is pretty at eighteen.[2] But Kimiko was much
more than pretty. She was according to the Japanese ideal of beauty;
and that standard is not reached by one woman in a hundred thousand.
Also she was more than clever: she was accomplished. She composed very
dainty poems--could arrange flowers exquisitely, perform tea-ceremonies
faultlessly, embroider, make silk mosaic: in short, she was genteel.
And her first public appearance made a flutter in the fast world of
Kyoto. It was evident that she could make almost any conquest she
pleased, and that fortune was before her.
[2] _Oni mo jiuhachi, azami no hana._ There is a similar
saying of a dragon: _ja mo hatachi_ ("even a dragon at
twenty").
But it soon became evident, also, that she had been perfectly trained
for her profession. She had been taught how to conduct herself under
almost any possible circumstances; for what she could not have known
Kimika knew everything about: the power of beauty, and the weakness of
passion; the craft of promises and the worth of indifference; and all
the folly and evil in the hearts of men. So Kimiko made few mistakes
and shed few tears. By and by she proved to be, as Kimika
wished--slightly dangerous. So a lamp is to night-fliers: otherwise
some of them would put it out. The duty of the lamp is to make pleasant
things visible: it has no malice. Kimiko had no malice, and was not too
dangerous. Anxious parents discovered that she did not want to enter
into respectable families, nor even to lend herself to any serious
romances. But she was not particularly merciful to that class of youths
who sign documents with their own blood, and ask a dancing-girl to cut
off the extreme end of the little finger of her left hand as a pledge
of eternal affection. She was mischievous enough with them to cure them
of their folly. Some rich folks who offered her lands and houses on
condition of owning her, body and soul, found her less merciful. One
proved generous enough to purchase her freedom unconditionally, at a
price which made Kimika a rich woman; and Kimiko was grateful--but she
remained a geisha. She managed her rebuffs with too much tact to excite
hate, and knew how to heal despairs in most cases. There were
exceptions, of course. One old man, who thought life not worth living
unless he could get Kimiko all to himself, invited her to a banquet one
evening, and asked her to drink wine with him. But Kimika, accustomed
to read faces, deftly substituted tea (which has precisely the same
color) for Kimiko's wine, and so instinctively saved the girl's
precious life--for only ten minutes later the soul of the silly host
was on its way to the Meido alone, and doubtless greatly
disappointed.... After that night Kimika watched over Kimiko as a wild
cat guards her kitten.
The kitten became a fashionable mania, a craze--a delirium--one of the
great sights and sensations of the period. There is a foreign prince
who remembers her name: he sent her a gift of diamonds which she never
wore. Other presents in multitude she received from all who could
afford the luxury of pleasing her; and to be in her good graces, even
for a day, was the ambition of the "gilded youth." Nevertheless she
allowed no one to imagine himself a special favorite, and refused to
make any contracts for perpetual affection. To any protests on the
subject she answered that she knew her place. Even respectable women
spoke not unkindly of her--because her name never figured in any story
of family unhappiness. She really kept her place. Time seemed to make
her more charming. Other geisha grew into fame, but no one was even
classed with her. Some manufacturers secured the sole right to use her
photograph for a label; and that label made a fortune for the firm.
But one day the startling news was abroad that Kimiko had at last shown
a very soft heart. She had actually said good-bye to Kimika, and had
gone away with somebody able to give her all the pretty dresses she
could wish for--somebody eager to give her social position also, and to
silence gossip about her naughty past--somebody willing to die for her
ten times over, and already half-dead for love of her. Kimika said that
a fool had tried to kill himself because of Kimiko, and that Kimiko had
taken pity on him, and nursed him back to foolishness. Taiko Hideyoshi
had said that there were only two things in this world which he
feared--a fool and a dark night. Kimika had always been afraid of a
fool; and a fool had taken Kimiko away. And she added, with not
unselfish tears, that Kimiko would never come back to her: it was a
case of love on both sides for the time of several existences.
Nevertheless, Kimika was only half right. She was very shrewd indeed;
but she had never been able to see into certain private chambers in the
soul of Kimiko. If she could have seen, she would have screamed for
astonishment.