Read Online Quicksand by Junichirô Tanizaki - Free Book Online Page B

What if you told her you wouldn’t come: she’d have to get out of it the best way she knew how.”
    â€œI thought about doing just that. But at first I couldn’t imagine what was going on, I was so startled by that tearful voice over the phone. And hateful as she was, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her, so when I suddenly pictured her there, naked and trembling, I felt a rush of pity. . . . That may seem ridiculous to you, Ume, looking at it from outside, but that’s exactly how it was.”
    â€œOh yes, I can see what you must have felt. . . .”
    â€œAnd then asking me to bring the man’s things too, not just things for herself, and whispering together right at the telephone, as if they wanted me to hear—how could she! She used to call me Sister in front of everyone, and said she’s never let anyone but me see her in the nude—I wonder how they looked, naked there together!”

    By then I was talking so wildly I hardly knew where we were. Apparently we had turned west off Sakai Avenue at Shimizucho; I remember seeing the lights of the Daimaru department store on Shinsaibashi beyond us, but before we got to it we headed south along the Tazaemon Bridge avenue, and the taxi driver said: “This is Kasayamachi—where do you want to get off?”
    â€œI’m looking for a restaurant called the Izutsu,” I said.
    We drove around for a while but couldn’t find it, and when we asked someone in the neighborhood, we were told it wasn’t a restaurant at all, it was really an inn.
    â€œAnd where is that?” I inquired.
    â€œDown the little side street just ahead.”
    Even though it wasn’t far from Soemoncho and Shinsaibashi Avenue, the whole area was dark and rather lonely. There were a number of geisha houses and little restaurants and inns, but they were all narrow, modest buildings, as quiet as private houses. From the entrance to the side street that had been pointed out to us, we could see hanging from one of the eaves a lamp with the words “Hotel Izutsu” in small characters.
    â€œWait here for me, Ume,” I said, and went on alone.
    Although it called itself a hotel, the Izutsu was a dubious-looking establishment at the end of the street. I hesitated a moment after opening its lattice door, but someone seemed to be busy on the telephone in the kitchen, and I called out over and over, with no response. Finally I shouted a loud “Hello!” and a maid came out. As soon as she saw me she seemed to know who I was. Before I could say another word, she asked me to come in and led me up a stairway to the second floor.
    â€œHere’s the lady you were expecting,” she announced, opening a sliding door. I went into a little three-mat antechamber and found a fair-skinned young man in his twenties sitting there on the floor in a formal posture.
    â€œExcuse me, but are you the lady who is a friend of Mitsuko’s?” he asked.
    When I said I was, he stiffened and then made a deep bow, all the way down to the floor.
    â€œI don’t know how to apologize for what happened tonight,” he said. “Mitsuko will have to give you her own explanation shortly. She says she can’t bear to face you, especially the way she looks now, so please wait until she has had time to put on the kimono you were good enough to bring her.”
    The young man had the sort of regular features and feminine good looks that were likely to appeal to Mitsuko; his slender eyebrows and narrow eyes gave an impression of slyness, but the moment I saw him I thought: What a handsome boy! He was supposed to have lost his clothes too, but he was wearing a neat unlined kimono of ordinary striped silk—later I heard he had borrowed it from one of the hotel employees.
    â€œHere’s the change of clothing I brought you,” I said, handing him the package.
    He accepted it politely. “Thank you very much,”