Light and dark

[138]

AS THEY spoke, Tsuda encountered something in his companion’s thinking that had never occurred to him. Until now he had never questioned his assumption that keeping O-Nobu in the dark about Kiyoko was at once convenient for him and in accordance with Madam Yoshikawa’s wishes. But now it appeared, no matter what he may have thought about it, that Madam was hoping O-Nobu suspected something.

“I can’t imagine she doesn’t have some vague idea,” the lady said. Knowing O-Nobu’s personality made it that much harder for Tsuda to reply.

“Is that something important to know?”

“Absolutely.”

Tsuda couldn’t imagine why. He replied nonetheless.

“If it’s so important, should I talk to her?”

The matron laughed.

“At this late date that would ruin everything. You must play dumb until the bitter end.”

With this the lady came to a full stop and then began anew.

“Would you care to hear my conclusion? Clever as she is, I believe Nobuko-san must have sensed something already. I’m not saying she knows everything, and we’d have a time of it if she did. I think she knows and doesn’t know, which couldn’t be better. From what I observe, I believe that Nobuko-san is in exactly the place I’ve made to order for her.”

What else could Tsuda say but “Is that so?” To himself, however, he was thinking the lady had very little in the way of evidence to lead her to such a conclusion. But she spoke as if she had.

“Otherwise why would she feel she had to bluff?”

This was the first time she had characterized O-Nobu’s attitude as bluffing. He questioned her choice of words; on the other hand, how could he help affirming straight away the cynicism it conveyed? Nevertheless he was unable to accede without hesitating. Once again, Madam laughed carelessly.

“You needn’t worry. Even if it turns out she’s completely in the dark, there are any number of hands I can play.”

Tsuda waited in silence for the continuation, but there was none; the conversation abruptly turned back to Kiyoko.

“I imagine you still have feelings for Kiyoko-san?”

“Certainly not.”

“You feel nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s called a man’s lie.”

Tsuda hadn’t intended to lie, but now he noticed that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Do I appear to have feelings?”

“Of course not. Obviously!”

“Then why do you conclude I do?”

“For just that reason. Because they don’t appear.”

Her logic was the opposite of the expected. And yet somehow there was nothing outrageous about it. Now she expanded with evident self-satisfaction.

“Some people assume that what’s on the surface is what’s inside. As for me, precisely because those feelings of yours don’t emerge, I can’t help thinking you must be keeping them pent up inside.”

“That’s because you approach me with a preconception of how it must be.”

“And what’s so unreasonable about presuming that something is the way it must be?”

“It’s a bother to be arbitrarily interpreted that way.”

“When have I arbitrarily interpreted anything? I’m not sharing an interpretation; this is fact. I’m stating a fact known only to you and me. It’s a fact — you may be able to deceive others, but how can you expect to hide it from me when I know all about it? It would be one thing if it were a fact relating only to you, but this is a fact for us both, and until we’ve discussed it and buried it somewhere, so long as it lingers in memory, it’s not about to fade away.”

“Then let’s get on with the discussion part so we can bury it.”

“But why? Why must it be buried? Why not turn it to good use instead?”

“To good use? I prefer to stay far away from treachery.”

“Who’s talking about treachery? Have I suggested you should stoop so low?”

“But you—”

“You haven’t finished listening to what I have to say.”

Tsuda’s eyes burned with curiosity.