My friends at Nagasaki told me that I was foolish to marry a mousmé, especially as I was to return to England so soon.
“Why not hire one for the remaining period of your stay?” suggested Kotmasu, who dined with me at my little toy-like villa4 so often that he began to offer advice as a matter of course. “Misawa would find you a mousmé,” he continued, “whom you could put off as easily as an old glove. A real mousmé, not a geisha girl with a past, an ambiguous present, and a who-knows-what future.”
Others of my friends laughed till they made the paper partitions of my house shiver like the strings5 and parchment of the samisen. “You will tire of her,” said they.
Yet others with a knowing smile, “She will tire of you. They are all the same.[5] Butterflies that change with the day. Moths6 which the night-air of reality blows to pieces.”
But I would not be advised.
Advice is so cheap one seldom values it. Besides, had I not lived in Japan long enough to know what I was doing?
The only soul on earth who could have deterred7 me was Lou, that terrible sister who, before I had come out East, had formulated8 so many plans for my “settling down!” Who had selected—much as she would have a bonnet9 or a dress, and with almost as much care—several nice girls, any one of whom she had thought would make me a good wife. But Lou was thousands of miles away—how I revelled10 in that fact!—and would only be made wise after the event. Now as Mousmé is looking over me as I write—she knows as much English as I Japanese—I must set down how I met her.
[6]
It was one night at the Tea-house (chaya) of the Plum Grove11. I had come up there with Kotmasu. The djins, bare-legged, panting runners, had rushed us along in the inevitable12 rikishas to this suburban13 resort up the hillside.
The town, illuminated14 with thousands of lanterns hung outside even the smallest of the houses, became, as we climbed upwards15 to our destination, a fairyland of colour and delight, as it always did at nightfall. In the silent waters of the harbour this gay scene was repeated by reflection in the glassy surface.
Upwards we went, Kotmasu and I; he calling to me every now and then, as his rikisha, spider-like phantom16 of a vehicle, was momentarily lost in the gloom to reappear just as suddenly in the patch of light thrown by some paper lantern swinging to mark the gateway17 of a villa retired18 from the road.
[7]
A Japanese night! Balmy, delicious; intoxicating19 with the odour of the flowers which came sweeping20 down on us in the breath of the mountain air, or creeping in varied21 scents22 over the hedges or toy-like fences of the gardens we passed; so soothing24 that Kotmasu, more used to the jolting25 of the rikisha than I, felt drowsy26, and left off talking.
The sounds of the town, the music of guitars or samisens being played in the tea-houses or gaming-houses, had grown gradually indistinct and distant. Now scarcely any noise save the whirring chirp27 of the cicalas broke the still, sweet-scented air.
Soon we reached our goal, where I was fated to meet and be enslaved by the charms of Hyacinth—for so Mousmé was called. Above us, an inky mass against an indigo28 sky starred with points of light, rose the mountain, tree-clad, as I knew, on[8] whose sides gleamed here and there the beams of light emanating29 from paper lanterns or paper-shuttered casements30, marking the presence of houses or huts deep-set among the fantastic greenery of the woods.
“Will the sir get out?” exclaimed my djin respectfully, panting with the exertion31 of the ascent32. I climbed down into the darkness, almost falling over Kotmasu, who had already alighted, laughing at our adventure.
Beside us, just where our rikishas had drawn33 up, was the ghostly gateway marking the entrance to the tea-garden, which lay at the top of a narrow path sloping upward; this wooden gateway painted Indian red and white, the white timbers showing like some spectral34 skeleton in the dusky gloom.
“Up there, sir,” pointed35 my djin, who bowed low whilst acting36 as spokesman.
Telling them not to wait, because we[9] should, as Kotmasu put it, “be many hours,” we two entered the gateway, which marked the line of the palings of bamboo, and made our way up the narrow flower-bordered path to the chaya.
Through an avenue of sweet odours we walked, the mingled37 scent23 of tea-roses, gardenias38 and the soil making the atmosphere almost cloying39 with sweetness.
This wonderful garden of the tea-house, with its miniature ponds, bridges and grottoes, now all hidden in the darkness, was mysterious and even uncanny as all Eastern gardens are at dusk.
Set back a little from the path were serried41 ranks of sentinel-like sunflowers, of whose black, vacant faces, yellow-fringed, I felt conscious, staring at me out of the gloom.
A turn of the path and we were in a fairyland, whose existence none a hundred yards off would have suspected. Light[10] for darkness; sounds in the place of silence.
We made our way beneath the paper lanterns of many hues42, suspended in mid-air by slender, undistinguishable cords: dragons, green, yellow or red, as their bellying43 background of variegated44 paper demanded or the taste of the artist dictated45, are there; and cats, monstrous46 and eccentric-limbed, such as provoke memories of such things drawn on slates47 in childhood’s days.
There is a flood of yellow, orange, white and blue light on the paths and flower-beds stocked thick with asters, zinnias, strange fringed-edged ragged48 carnations49 and chrysanthemums50, whilst bushes clipped and trained into fantastic shapes form climbing stations, so to speak, for huge and lesser51 convolvuli.
Through the paper shutters52 of the house itself stream more light and sounds of music played upon the samisen.
[11]
Kotmasu, an habitué, knocks upon the lacquer panel of the big door, which is speedily drawn back in its grooved-way. The wife of Takeakira the proprietor54 appears at the opening, a queer little old woman, silhouetted55, with all the ugliness which so often comes with age, against a background of light; behind her a pretty attendant mousmé, just as if she was a figure taken from a vase. Both bow so low on recognising visitors that their faces touch the floor, and then they take off our shoes.
The mousmé conducts us upstairs, along a narrow passage, over the floor of which is stretched, stainless56 and wrinkleless, a matting of bamboo fibre, into a room which is bare and clean-looking almost to desperation and chilliness57.
“Shibaraku,” says the mousmé, addressing us both with a smile of welcome, as she leads the way, which speech Kotmasu[12] tells me is meant for him, as well as the smile and show of white teeth between pretty red lips. Perhaps it is, “What a long time since you have been here!” being obviously inapplicable to me on a first visit.
The paper walls of the room—spotlessly clean—into which we are eventually ushered58 with a great amount of ceremonious bowing, are just like those in my own little doll’s-house of a villa down in the outskirts59 of Nagasaki—mere60 sliding panels, each one in its own ingenious groove53. And these by some wonderful process all fit into one another and mysteriously disappear. It is here we have to wait; in this bare room, with its long verandah running in front of it, from which “The Garden of a Thousand Lights,” as its proprietor loved to call it, can be seen; and in the daytime the harbour, an irregular segment of the ocean beyond, calm, green,[13] but animated61 by the presence of sampans—gondola-like, graceful62, with indigo beaks63 and queer odd-shaped cabins—junks with sails of matting, traders of all nations, hulking colliers, and here and there a man-of-war belonging to a friendly or unfriendly Power.
We are given squares of matting on which to squat64, in lieu of chairs, by the ever-smiling mousmé, who then stands mute, awaiting our orders.
“Are there no other guests?” asks Kotmasu, with a quick glance at the little standing65 figure.
“Yes, several,” replies the mousmé, smiling. And, as though to verify her words, and dispel66 Kotmasu’s enigmatic and somewhat incredulous smile, we hear unmistakable sounds of hilarity67 arising from the room beneath our feet, and from a distant chamber68 on our right.
“But,” continued our mousmé, glancing[14] curiously69 at me, and adjusting her obi of some flower-sprinkled material with minute care, “the English sirs mostly like to feast alone.” Such was, at all events, Kotmasu’s translation of the remark.
Kotmasu orders our repast; it is to be ultra-Japanese.
Sometimes at my own villa I regale70 him and seek to revive my own gastronomic71 memories with pseudo-European fare, which he pretends to like, but in reality loathes72 because of its immense portions—in the estimation of my Japanese chef; at these I always laugh because the meal seems so grotesquely73 disproportionate to one’s needs—in Japan.
There is another reason than that so na?vely given—“the English sirs mostly care to feast alone”—by the almond-eyed mousmé; and Kotmasu explains it when the dainty little figure has disappeared through a sliding door to execute our[15] orders. I must not set it down here. What is common and picturesque74 in Japan, is so unspeakable in English. Kotmasu sits silent, thinking of the meal to come, perhaps, in which “teal duck,” raw spinach75, raw shrimps76, and even dog, were to find a place—all save the first, thank goodness, in minute proportions.
The sounds of revelry by night went on all the while that Kotmasu and I waited, coming to us softened77 and indistinct through chinks in the floor and through the paper panels forming the walls of the room—the voices of women and the accompanying music of the samisen, with its note of sadness. Then we heard the muffled78 sounds of the feet of geishas dancing, in their shoeless, gliding79 motions.
The strains of the monotonous80 music, punctuated81 with Japanese phrases, echoed in the bare passage outside.
[16]
Kotmasu got up and opened the door of grey paper leading on to the verandah, which had black and vermilion storks82 in flight across its two long panels.
We stepped out.
I for the first time; for Kotmasu I cannot answer. The sounds of the music became clearer, because the others had also slid back their paper doors, perhaps so that the sweet-scented air of the garden might enter, or a whiff of fresh night-wind from off the mountain come in to cool the breathless geishas.
The garden of a thousand lights, with its fountain of doll-like dimensions, in the lower and larger basin of which swim gold, silver and copper-hued fish, lies just beneath our verandah, and, after an artificial plateau, runs away down-hill into the darkness, following each side of the narrow, flower-edged path.
The paper lanterns with painted, bulging[17] sides, some round, some like two mortar-boards of college days which had taken each other into partnership83, some like elongated84 helmets of a Uhlan, and others like monstrous fishes, birds, or reptiles85 swimming and floating in ether, diffuse86 a soft, subdued87 light. A puff88 of air makes the whole lot swing to and fro so wildly, with a rustle89 of their paper emptiness, that Kotmasu and I are set wondering idly whether an immense lantern, meant to represent a gold-fish with vermilion fins90 and black vertebra, which is obviously troubled in its interior, will not flare91 up and hang, a blackened skeleton, amidst its gay companions.
A white cat flits ghost-like and silent-footed across the path and vanishes down it in answer to a dissonant92 call of its fellow, and in that moment the disaster happens. The gold-fish, which has regarded us with vacant vermilion-rimmed[18] eyes, is instantly a mass of flame, and then, in another instant, a blackened travesty93 of a fish.
There are trees in the garden, also fantastic; green grotesques94 tended and trained with the minute care of a singular taste. There are little nooks, little rockeries in which strange toads95 and reptiles hide in the fresh moss96 and darkened crannies, coming out occasionally, sometimes to slip unawares or through ungainliness into miniature lakes—toy ponds—frightening the lazy gold-fish and making the water-lily buds and blossoms nod and curtsey in the ripples97 caused by their immersion98.
The moon is rising, and the wall of blackness which begins where the lights of the garden end becomes gradually less inky, till at last, as the moon tops the mountain ridge40, like some laborious99 and persistent100 climber, and floods the harbour with her pale, silver light, the vastness of the scene is disclosed.
[19]
Down below in the streets of the town the lights of art are paling in that of Nature’s lantern. The harbour is a huge replica101 of the glass of frosted silver I bought last week in a curio-shop for twenty yen102. The ships at anchor are mere spectres, narrow lines of ink, some of them with dots of light along their sides; the shadow of the hills, over which the moon peeps with cold, white face, just the breath on the glass as when a woman looks too closely into it.
The sounds of singing and dancing appear fewer now it is less sombre. Why does darkness exaggerate noise?
A steamer is going out; it is the mail, a thin thing like the match P. and O. boats I often swam in a bowl when a boy—the lights of her saloon mere glow-worms at this distance. But my companion must have seen all this many times before. Of course he has. And being more interested[20] just now in “teal-duck” than the night side of Nature, he vanishes through the opened doorway103, and I hear him drumming with his stockinged heel upon the floor to summon the mousmé.
“Ayakou!” sings out Kotmasu, who has sung “Hi! hi!” till there came an answering voice from below.
I leave my post on the verandah and enter the room, and along the passage at the back comes the sound of a mousmé pattering barefoot, her quick, short steps making a gentle thud, thud on the matting.
The panel door is thrust aside, and our attendant enters with a bow, and many ingenious excuses for the delay.
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收听单词发音
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1
magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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3
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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4
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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5
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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6
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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7
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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9
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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10
revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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13
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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14
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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15
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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16
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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17
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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18
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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19
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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20
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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21
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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22
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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23
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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24
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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27
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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29
emanating
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的现在分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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30
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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31
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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32
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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33
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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34
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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35
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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36
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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37
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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38
gardenias
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| n.栀子属植物，栀子花( gardenia的名词复数 ) | |
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39
cloying
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| adj.甜得发腻的 | |
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40
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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41
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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42
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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43
bellying
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| 鼓出部；鼓鼓囊囊 | |
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44
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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45
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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46
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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47
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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48
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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49
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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50
chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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51
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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52
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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53
groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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54
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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55
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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56
stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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57
chilliness
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| n.寒冷，寒意，严寒 | |
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58
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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60
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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61
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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62
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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63
beaks
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| n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 )；鹰钩嘴；尖鼻子；掌权者 | |
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64
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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65
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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66
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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67
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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68
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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69
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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70
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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71
gastronomic
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| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
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72
loathes
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的第三人称单数 )；极不喜欢 | |
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73
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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74
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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spinach
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| n.菠菜 | |
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shrimps
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| n.虾，小虾( shrimp的名词复数 )；矮小的人 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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storks
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| n.鹳( stork的名词复数 ) | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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dissonant
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| adj.不和谐的；不悦耳的 | |
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travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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grotesques
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| n.衣着、打扮、五官等古怪，不协调的样子( grotesque的名词复数 ) | |
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toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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immersion
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| n.沉浸；专心 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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replica
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| n.复制品 | |
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yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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