stood a while looking into the interior. At last he heard footsteps from somewhere, and suddenly the frosted glass in front of him lit up. He noted the sound of a few steps made by garden clogs on the earthen floor, and one of the doors opened.
Keitaro had merely been standing there idly, having no particular curiosity about the look of the servant who would usher him in. Still, he had expected a houseboy wearing a cotton haori with a splashed pattern or a maid in a cotton-padded kimono to take his namecard and greet him with some show of respect. But the person who stood at the half-opened door was an older gentleman so elegantly dressed that Keitaro was jolted. With the electric light behind the man, his features were not distinctly visible, but his kimono sash of white silk crepe immediately caught Keitaro's notice. The moment Keitaro saw him, it flashed through his mind this had to be Sunaga's uncle Taguchi. The man's appearance so surprised Keitaro that he stood somewhat dazed, forgetting his greeting. Moreover, Keitaro, who thought himself a very young man, was not used to older people—whether in their forties, fifties, or sixties, they all looked ancient to him. Not only did he not have enough familiarity with his elders to distinguish a man forty-five years old from one fifty-five, but usually both seemed to him members of some alien and uncanny race, at least until he was accustomed to them. And so his confusion increased.
The other, however, seemed indifferent to his visitor. "What is it that you want?" he asked. There was neither courtesy nor contempt in the offhand way he uttered these words.
Slightly recovering his courage, Keitaro seized the opportunity to give his name and the purpose of his visit.
"Oh, oh, I see," said the older man as if just remembering. "Ichizo told me over the phone only a while ago. But I wasn't expecting you tonight."
Keitaro saw in these words the implication that he should not have come this soon, so he had to give the best explanation he could.
The man stood there in such a way that it couldn't be told whether he was listening or not. "Come again then," he said. "I'll be leaving on my trip in four or five days. If I find time to see you before I leave, I've got no objection."
Keitaro offered some courteous words and left through the gate. In the darkness he felt his thanks had been a little too polite.
As he learned much later from Sunaga, the master of the house had on that night been sitting alone at a go board in a Western-style drawing room adjacent to the entrance and had been alternately putting down white and black stones, immersed in one of the strategies of the game. He had been trying to solve a problem after having played go with a guest. Just at a vital point he had been interrupted by Keitaro's clamor at the door and felt as though he were being disturbed by some country bumpkin. His irritation had made him go out to the hall himself to get rid of the intruder in order to concentrate on the go problem. When Keitaro heard these details from Sunaga, he felt that his politeness toward Taguchi had been all the more excessive.
Two days later Keitaro phoned Taguchi and asked outspokenly if the time were appropriate for a visit. The party that answered seemed to have regarded Keitaro's language and manner as rather arrogant and consequently those of a man of considerable position.
"Please wait a moment, sir," the courteous voice said. "Let me ask if your visit is convenient, sir. I will soon bring a reply." But when he returned with the answer, his manner of speech had changed considerably: "You still there? Right now we've got a visitor, so we can't see you. If you want, you can drop in at one in the afternoon."
"Fine, I'll come around one. Remember me to your master." Keitaro put down the phone in disgust.
He had ordered the maid to bring lunch at noon sharp, but it had not come at the appointed hour. As if urged on by the noisy bell from the university tower, he
Keitaro had merely been standing there idly, having no particular curiosity about the look of the servant who would usher him in. Still, he had expected a houseboy wearing a cotton haori with a splashed pattern or a maid in a cotton-padded kimono to take his namecard and greet him with some show of respect. But the person who stood at the half-opened door was an older gentleman so elegantly dressed that Keitaro was jolted. With the electric light behind the man, his features were not distinctly visible, but his kimono sash of white silk crepe immediately caught Keitaro's notice. The moment Keitaro saw him, it flashed through his mind this had to be Sunaga's uncle Taguchi. The man's appearance so surprised Keitaro that he stood somewhat dazed, forgetting his greeting. Moreover, Keitaro, who thought himself a very young man, was not used to older people—whether in their forties, fifties, or sixties, they all looked ancient to him. Not only did he not have enough familiarity with his elders to distinguish a man forty-five years old from one fifty-five, but usually both seemed to him members of some alien and uncanny race, at least until he was accustomed to them. And so his confusion increased.
The other, however, seemed indifferent to his visitor. "What is it that you want?" he asked. There was neither courtesy nor contempt in the offhand way he uttered these words.
Slightly recovering his courage, Keitaro seized the opportunity to give his name and the purpose of his visit.
"Oh, oh, I see," said the older man as if just remembering. "Ichizo told me over the phone only a while ago. But I wasn't expecting you tonight."
Keitaro saw in these words the implication that he should not have come this soon, so he had to give the best explanation he could.
The man stood there in such a way that it couldn't be told whether he was listening or not. "Come again then," he said. "I'll be leaving on my trip in four or five days. If I find time to see you before I leave, I've got no objection."
Keitaro offered some courteous words and left through the gate. In the darkness he felt his thanks had been a little too polite.
As he learned much later from Sunaga, the master of the house had on that night been sitting alone at a go board in a Western-style drawing room adjacent to the entrance and had been alternately putting down white and black stones, immersed in one of the strategies of the game. He had been trying to solve a problem after having played go with a guest. Just at a vital point he had been interrupted by Keitaro's clamor at the door and felt as though he were being disturbed by some country bumpkin. His irritation had made him go out to the hall himself to get rid of the intruder in order to concentrate on the go problem. When Keitaro heard these details from Sunaga, he felt that his politeness toward Taguchi had been all the more excessive.
Two days later Keitaro phoned Taguchi and asked outspokenly if the time were appropriate for a visit. The party that answered seemed to have regarded Keitaro's language and manner as rather arrogant and consequently those of a man of considerable position.
"Please wait a moment, sir," the courteous voice said. "Let me ask if your visit is convenient, sir. I will soon bring a reply." But when he returned with the answer, his manner of speech had changed considerably: "You still there? Right now we've got a visitor, so we can't see you. If you want, you can drop in at one in the afternoon."
"Fine, I'll come around one. Remember me to your master." Keitaro put down the phone in disgust.
He had ordered the maid to bring lunch at noon sharp, but it had not come at the appointed hour. As if urged on by the noisy bell from the university tower, he
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