When Zura appeared the following morning no reference was made to the
events of the night before. She was pale and coldly courteous. In her
sharp brightness there was no hint of an olive branch being hid about
her to be offered to me or presented to her grandfather when she
returned to his house that day, as previously arranged.
Once only did the girl's manner soften, and then neither to Jane nor to
me. Outside, from every glint of the sun on the new green of the pines
to the joyous call of the white sea birds, was the glad message of
spring, and spring in this lovely Island is no mere promise of things to
come, but an everlasting fulfilment of the glorious promises made in the
hour the great Artist dreamed it.
Zura looked through the window at the sea, gaily breaking its silvered
crests against the gray old rocks and, just above, the great patches of
rose-pink cherries streaking the blue haze of the mountains. As the
girl took in the tender beauty of the scene some memory seemed to touch
her. Her eyes filled, her lips trembled; but she quickly recovered
herself and soon after made her adieus.
I walked with her to the gate and watched her go down the long flight of
steps. Everything about her, from the poise of her head to the swing of
her body, courted conflict and prophesied disaster. I felt as if I had
snatched a bag of candy from a hungry child.
A week later Kishimoto San came to make the call customary on occasions
when any kindness had been done to him or his family. His gratitude for
my efforts to make some headway with Zura was very sincere. He
supplemented his thanks by a large box of cake. The gift was decorated
with a red string and a good-luck emblem and wrapped in a bright yellow
cloth. From the atmosphere, all concerned needed not only good luck, but
something the color of sunshine; one look into Kishimoto San's face
assured me it was neither springtime nor rosetime in the path he was
treading.
My visitor was a busy man of many affairs, and I a woman much occupied;
but custom said that a ceremonial visit must be just so long, and
Kishimoto would rather break his neck once a week than a rule of
etiquette once a life-time.
So we fell to talking of a recent trip he had made to Yokohama. He said
a great foreign fleet was visiting the port. The festivities and the
gaieties were unending. He had been only a looker-on, but a
deeply-interested observer.
He spoke of how his country had strained its every resource to give
welcome to this fleet, making a neighborly call, though armed to the
ship's last rail. He continued:
"The whole scene give me reminder of one very small boy who had grand
record of good fight, also he has the great exhaustion of strength from
last battle with tall giant. Small boy has poverty too, but he draw
forth his many ancient toy for guest to play. Makes big debt of money to
give him feast. He very much desire to keep face of big boy all covered
with smiles."
Then from the way my visitor half shut his eyes and looked at me, I knew
something more was coming.
"Americans are a great people, but disagree with their wonderfulness."
"You mean they are inconsistent?" I suggested.
Kishimoto San, being too much in earnest to search for the proper
English, dropped into Japanese--
"Yes, the old proverb fits them, 'A physician breaking the rules of
health.'"
"Why do you say that of my people?" I asked in a moment on the
defensive.
"Because you literally strain your bodies to hold very high a moral
standard for other nations, that you, yourselves fail to follow."
"What do you mean?"
He went on slowly:
"I was wondering if it is the custom in your country for ladies to smoke
and drink liquor in public places?"
"Ladies!" I repeated amazed. "American women smoke and drink in public
or other places! Certainly not," I declared emphatically. "Why do you
hint at such a thing?"
Thirty years' absence from my country had glorified my ideal of its
womanhood.
"Only this," said Kishimoto San, "several times while in Yokohama I had
occasion to visit the Ocean Hotel. On the broad veranda facing the sea
were seated numbers of great men and ladies together, many of them were
smoking and I could not count the number of cocktails they consumed."
"They were not American women," was my vigorous protest.
"Yes, madam, they were. First they were beautiful and sparkle with eyes
and tongue. All men bow down to them same as we bow to our Empress. Then
afterwards I examine register and clerk of hotel confirm my thought."
"Possibly what you say is true, Kishimoto San, but hasn't it a flavor of
littleness to label as a national habit the acts of a few exhilarated
travelers? What have you to say of the vast army of American women who
could not be forced into doing the things you mention?"
"Nothing. Except I was just wondering how America could spare so many
missionaries. You know we do not beg for their company."
"It is not well for you to forget what your country of all others owes
to the missionaries," I reminded him. "Though your beliefs are as far
apart as the Poles, your sense of justice can but acknowledge that the
unselfish service of the missionaries has led your people to heights
they never could have reached without them."
"True," he responded, "it was not of their work in this country I was
speaking, but the need of more work in their own. You have very good
story in your big book about the 'beam and mote.' Do not the morals of
your own country need uplifting before you insist on sending emissaries
to turn my people from the teachings of many centuries? Has your
religion and system of education proved so infallible for yourselves
that you must force it upon others? Ah, madam, America has led us far
and high, but the West is for the West and the East is for the East. So
far, on the road to progress they can march side by side. Further than
that, the paths divide and are separated by insurmountable differences,
because your country is ruled by the teachings of freedom which you
cannot practise. We are governed by the will of our divine Emperor, and
the spirit of our ancestors. And I pray the great Amida before my
country is stripped of her love and reverence for these, my poor spirit
will be annihilated. For if they are taken away, what can we put in
their places save the liberty of the Occident, which means license in
the Orient."
I heard him in silence, for while there was much truth in what he said,
many times we had argued ourselves into a fever over these questions and
never got anywhere. We could no more agree than we could worship the
same God.
For my part, whatever might be the erratic actions of a few of its
freakish individuals, my faith in my country and its people is my faith
in my God. I was old fashioned enough to believe every man his brother's
keeper. There was nothing more for me to say.
For him, intense loyal patriot that he was, his devotion to crumbling
old standards was making his fight against the new a bitter and hopeless
struggle. But I had never seen the man so stirred as he was this day. He
went on:
"What of the teachings for your young? They may do for your country, but
not for mine! So far as I can see, your boys and girls are left to grow
as weeds. They are as free as the foxes and learn their cunning without
their wisdom. They are without filial piety. They reverence neither
ancestors, the law, nor the great gods. Neither do they fear their own
devil, nor the evil spirits."
"How do you know this?" I inquired.
"I know because I have seen their comings and goings. I have heard their
free speech before the face of their parents and mothers-in-law. And I
have seen them as visitors in the temples. Because"--the man's voice
shook with feeling--"I have in my house a girl with the blood of the
East in her veins and the influence of the West in her life. She is
rebellious, rude and irreverent. Only this morning, when I gave warning
what vengeance the great Buddha would send upon her for impiety, did she
not toss her red head and laughingly scoff in my face." At this point I
arose and rang for tea and my visitor continued: "Ah, I tremble at her
daring. It is her foreign blood, her training. It will curse us yet."
I cheerfully assured him that I thought it would unless he could bring
himself to see that the girl was entitled to a few rights as well as
himself. I inquired how things had gone since Zura's visit to me. He
said she had not often referred to her visit; when she did it was in
pleasant terms. But her attitude to him and his household was as
disrespectful as ever and, he thought, more defiant.
He then spoke of a great Buddhist festival that had begun that week and
was to continue for several days. It was very important that each member
of his family should attend and take part in every service. So far Zura
had refused to go. With sketch-book in hand she disappeared from the
house every morning. While he had not seen or heard of her being with
the young officer man, he had no doubt she spent her time in his
company.
In as few words as possible I told Kishimoto of my interview with Mr.
Chalmers, and his promise not to come again nor to further complicate
matters.
My listener was more than pleased. "I thank you," he said impressively.
"You are a strong-minded woman."
When I remarked that Japan was no place for a weak-minded one he seemed
to think again about smiling, but changed his mind and asked me solemnly
if I would not honor him by coming to his house the following evening
and, with his family, attending the great festival on the last night.