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two. And I guess that gave the neighbors something to talk about. A sewing teacher lives next door, and several young girls meet there. Naturally they like to gossip. Who'd be fool enough to hide a mistress in such a place?” He laughed contemptuously.
    Suezo's wife had listened carefully, and a glow came into her small eyes. “Well,” she said coquettishly, “maybe what you say's true, but you can't tell about visiting that kind of woman so often. I'm sure she'll give herself to any man for money.”
    â€œDon't talk as though you were stupid! Am I the kind of man who would make love to another woman when I have you for my wife? Can you point to a single time when I had anything to do with anyone else? We're too old to be jealous of each other. Isn't that so? Listen here! You'd better not go too far with this!”
    Suezo sang a song of triumph in his heart, for his explanation had been more effective than he had hoped.
    â€œBut I can't help worrying. Women like your type.”
    â€œNonsense! That's what people call adoring one's own idol.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI mean—you're the only one who likes me. Why! It's already past one. Come on, let's go to bed.”

Chapter Thirteen
    S UEZO ' S explanation, a mixture of truth and fiction, reduced his wife's jealousy temporarily, but since its effect was naturally only palliative, the gossip and grumbling never stopped as long as the woman lived at Muenzaka. Even the maid told Suezo's wife about the scandal, saying among other things at different times: “Today, so-and-so saw our master go there.” But Suezo was never at a loss for an excuse.
    â€œDo you have to work at night?” his wife often asked him doubtfully.
    â€œWho'd want to talk about loans in the early hours of the morning?” he retorted.
    â€œBut why,” she continued, “didn't that kind of thing go on at night before this?”
    â€œBecause now my business is bigger.”
    Formerly Suezo had managed all the transactions by himself. Now, however, in addition to an office near his home, he had set up a kind of branch office at Ryusenjimachi in order to save the students time by letting them borrow money there instead of taking the long walk to his home. If a student wanted some money for a licensed prostitute at Nezu, he ran to Suezo's main office, but if he desired a Yoshiwara woman, he went to the branch office. And later on, by contacting this office, a student who wished to spend a night of rioting at the Nishinomiya, a restaurant in the Yoshiwara, could do so without paying if he had Suezo's permission. It was, so to speak, a commissariat organized at the frontier of debauchery.
    About a month had passed without Suezo and his wife colliding into any battles. Until then his sophistry had been effective, but it was broken through from an unexpected quarter.
    One cool morning when Suezo remained at home, Otsune and her maid went shopping. But as they were returning, the maid, who had been following her mistress, suddenly pulled at Otsune's sleeve.
    â€œWhat are you up to?” Otsune demanded, her tone sharp and her eyes turning on the maid. But the servant stood silently and pointed to a young woman loitering in front of a shop on the left side of the street. Annoyed, Otsune looked in the direction indicated, but unconsciously she stopped short. At the some time the other woman turned around. She and Otsune stared at each other.
    At first Otsune thought she was a geisha. “If she is,” she said to herself as a first impression, “then no single geisha in Sukiya-machi can match her in beauty!” But a moment later Otsune noticed that this woman lacked something that every geisha has—something that she was unable to define herself. If it could be described, I might explain it as exaggerated behavior. A geisha may dress herself in excellent taste, but it is more or less excessive. And this added quality deprives her of a