Light and dark

[162]

TSUDA SAW at once that it was the young man with long hair with whom Kobayashi had been conversing on the street corner, and he was further surprised. But not entirely: it was as if at the same time he had been expecting the youth. The fleeting feeling was a contradiction, a certainty amounting to a conclusion that no one like this would appear, and a presentiment that if anyone were to appear, it would have to be this young man.

The face illuminated in the headlight of the car as it turned the corner had struck him as odd. As he shifted his interior gaze from himself to Kobayashi and from Kobayashi to the young man, he had been sensible of the distance separating them in social standing, philosophy, profession, even dress. This required him to observe the young man as though from afar. But as he regarded him, however distantly, a vivid impression had burned into his mind.

So this is the sort of fellow Kobayashi keeps company with!

Reflecting at that moment on his own circumstances, which did not require him to associate with such people, and having felt, all in all, fortunate, Tsuda’s attitude toward the newcomer was unambiguous. The look on his face suggested he had been abruptly introduced to a disreputable character.

Holding his rumpled cap in his hand, the young man took a seat next to Kobayashi. He appeared to be feeling uneasy in Tsuda’s presence. The odd light in his eyes reflected nervously a tangle of hostility and fear and the untempered self-regard of someone unaccustomed to being in company. Tsuda felt increasingly repelled. Kobayashi turned to the young man.

“Take off your coat.”

The youth stood up again in silence. Throwing off the long mantle favored by art and music students, he threw it over the back of his chair.

“This is my friend.”

Kobayashi introduced the youth to Tsuda, who learned subsequently that his surname was Hara and that he was a painter.

“What happened? How did it go?”

This was Kobayashi’s next question. Before the artist could reply he immediately added, “No luck, right? How could it go well with a dullard like that? It would be an insult to you if he appreciated your work. Oh, well, relax and have something to eat.”

Kobayashi pounded on the table with the handle of his knife.

“Hey. Let’s get this man something to eat.”

In due course, the glass in front of Hara was filled with beer.

Tsuda had been observing in silence; finally he realized that the matter of business that had brought him here had been concluded. Just then Kobayashi suddenly turned to him.

“His paintings are wonderful. Why don’t you buy one? He’s having a tough time right now. How about it? Why not have him bring some work to show you on Sunday?”

Tsuda was surprised.

“I don’t appreciate paintings much.”

“I don’t believe that, do you, Hara? Anyway, take some work and show him.”

“Certainly, if it’s not a bother.”

It was, of course.

“I’m someone with no appreciation for paintings and sculpture and that sort of thing. So if you don’t mind—”

The young man looked wounded. Kobayashi came to his aid at once.

“I don’t believe it. There aren’t many people with tastes as refined as yours.”

Tsuda had to force a smile.

“There you go again — stop mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you; it’s a fact. I can’t believe that someone with an appreciation for women as keen as yours would just dismiss art. Any woman lover must also love art, wouldn’t you say, Hara? There’s no way you can hide that.”

Tsuda had arrived gradually at the limit of his forbearance.

“It seems you two have a lot to say to each other, so I think I’ll be on my way — Waitress. Check please.”

As the waitress rose from her chair, Kobayashi stopped her in a loud voice and turned back to Tsuda.

“It so happens Hara-kun has just finished something very special. He went to discuss a price with someone who said he wanted to buy it, and he happened to stop off here on his way back — it seems like a perfect opportunity — you should really buy it. The way I see it, he shouldn’t be selling to the kind of person who’s not ashamed to take advantage of an artist and bargains his price down as low as he can get it. So I volunteered to help him find an appropriate buyer and, to tell the truth, I suggested when we were talking on the corner that he should stop in here on his way back. So buy one, it’s nothing.”

“You expect me to agree to that before I’ve even seen the painting?”

“He’ll show it to you — didn’t you bring it back with you?”

“He asked for a little more time so I left it there.”

“You’re a fool. First thing you know, he’ll have wangled it for nothing.”

Hearing this, Tsuda sighed with relief.