Light and Dark

by Natsume Soseki

  Until this moment, her only thought had been of racing to her husband as if he were a safe haven; now she had to stop and reflect.

  The way things are, just visiting won’t suffice. What counts is what to do when I get there.

  She realized she had come this far with no idea of how she should behave. Determining an attitude that would be most effective in a meeting with Tsuda at this juncture now appeared to be critically important. She detected no internal voice insisting it was foolishness to deliberate about a visit to her husband as if he were a stranger; having decided that the wisest move would be to go home and collect herself before setting out again, O-Nobu turned back halfway down a side street that had already taken her to within just minutes from the clinic. Walking along a main boulevard planted with willows on both sides to a bustling thoroughfare, she boarded the first trolley.

  [ 144 ]

  THE LIGHT was failing as she reached home. Having walked the five blocks or so from the trolley stop in the chill of twilight mist, she craved the warmth of the brazier. Sitting down beside it as soon as she had removed her coat, she extended her palms toward the embers.

  But she managed to rest for scarcely a minute. No sooner had she seated herself than O-Toki handed her the letter from Tsuda. The text couldn’t have been simpler: in the same time it took her to open the seal, she read it at a glance. But having read it, she was no longer the same person. A mere three lines, the note affected her so powerfully it might have been an entire volume. Her heart was pounding in her chest; Tsuda’s message had ignited the mood she had brought home with her.

  Don’t come to the clinic today—what could that possibly mean?

  Even before the note, she had intended to set out for the clinic at once, and now she was too intent on leaving to waste another minute. As O-Toki came in from the kitchen carrying a dinner tray, she rose, surprising the maid.

  “I’ll eat when I get back.”

  Throwing over her shoulders the coat she had just now removed, she left the house. But as she approached the main street where the trolley ran, her feet stopped at the corner. For some reason she couldn’t bear to think of showing up. She was abruptly sensible of feeling that appearing now, with things in this state, would avail her nothing.

  Knowing Tsuda, I can’t even expect an honest explanation of his note.

  Standing on the corner despondently, she watched the streetcars passing to and fro in front of her. If she boarded the one to the right, it would take her to the clinic; the other, to the left, went to the Okamotos’. Even as she considered abandoning her original plan and dropping in on the Okamotos instead, she was able to imagine a difficulty that awaited her in that direction as well. Seeking counsel at her uncle’s house would oblige her to reveal herself. If she expected to get anywhere at all, she would have to expose intimate details of the relationship with her husband she had been concealing until now. In front of her uncle and aunt, she would have to admit to an undiscerning eye where Tsuda was concerned. But she decided that enduring such shame wasn’t called for yet. She had only contempt for indulging in the sort of honesty that would destroy one’s vanity before any sign of recovery was in sight.

  Unable to decide, she wavered between right and left. At that moment, oblivious of her quandary, Tsuda, sitting up on his mattress, was preparing insouciantly to sample the dinner the nurse had brought him on a tray. Even before the phone call from O-Hide, he had expected that O-Nobu would show up and had been quietly readying himself for her appearance on the heels of Madam Yoshikawa’s departure, but as his wife had turned back on her way, he had been waiting for the dinner hour in mild disappointment. Possibly because he was tired of waiting, he spoke to the nurse the minute she entered the room.

  “Food at last. When you’re alone, a day is so damn long.”

  The nurse was a small woman with a sallow complexion. But she had an unusual face that made it impossible for Tsuda to assess her age. The white uniform she always wore helped to distance her from the flock of ordinary women. Tsuda always wondered: When this woman wears a regular kimono, are the shoulders still gathered this way as if she were a child, or have they been let out? Once he had tried asking her the question seriously. She had replied with a grin, “I’m still an apprentice,” satisfying Tsuda’s curiosity in a vague way.

  Placing the tray next to his pillow, the nurse hadn’t gone back downstairs directly.

  “Are you bored?” she asked, grinning, and subjoined, “Your wife isn’t coming today?”

  “Not today.”

  His mouth already full of burned toast, this was all Tsuda could manage to say. The nurse was free to continue.

  “But you had some other visitors instead.”

  “You mean that old lady? She’s a chubby, isn’t she?”

  As the nurse showed no sign of joining him in deprecation, he had to carry the conversation himself.

  “If I had a bunch of younger, prettier visitors, I’d recover a lot faster,” he said, making the nurse laugh.

  “But everyone who comes to see you is a woman,” she teased back. “They must find you very charming.”

  It appeared she was unaware of Kobayashi’s visit.

  “That lady yesterday was very pretty.”

  “Not so pretty—she’s my sister. Do we look alike?”

  Without replying one way or the other, the nurse grinned as before.

  [ 145 ]

  IT HAD been an unexpectedly easy day for her. The doctor, confined to his house by a touch of diarrhea, had asked his friend to stand in for him; the friend had arranged to be there in the morning but had not returned for afternoon and evening hours.

  “He’s on call today so he can’t come in this evening.”

  With this explanation, the nurse took her time at Tsuda’s bedside as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Tsuda, pleased to have a perfect companion with whom to while away the time, rambled on. To amuse himself, he posed the nurse a variety of questions.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Tochigi Prefecture.”

  “Now that you mention it, I can see that. What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t say—”

  The nurse wouldn’t divulge her name. Enjoying the resistance he encountered, Tsuda repeated the question over and again.

  “In that case I’ll call you Miss Tochigi, Miss Tochigi Prefecture—will that be all right?”

  “Fine with me.”

  Her first name began with the letters “Tsu.”

  “Tsu-yu—Miss Mist?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Of course Mist wouldn’t be right. How about Tsu-chi? Miss Earth?”

  “Wrong again.”

  “Hold on a minute. If it’s not ‘mist’ and it’s not ‘earth’—I get it. It must be ‘luster.’ Or maybe ‘eternity’?”

  Tsuda continued nonsensically, and the nurse, grinning, shook her head at every guess. Each time she smiled, Tsuda pressed her again. When it became clear at last that her name was Tsu-ki, he joked about the unusual name.

  “Miss Moon, then? That’s a wonderful name. Who named you?”

  Instead of replying, the nurse countered.

  “What might your wife’s name be?”

  “Take a guess.”

  After proposing several female names, the nurse said, “Is it O-Nobu-san?”

  Was it a lucky guess? More likely she had heard the name and remembered it.

  “There’s no putting anything over on you, Miss Moon.”

  Just then, as Tsuda was enjoying himself largely, the actual O-Nobu appeared in the doorway, surprising the nurse, who picked up the tray and rose at once.

  “Here’s your missus at last.”

  Seating herself at the head of the mattress in the nurse’s place, O-Nobu turned her eyes instantly on Tsuda.

  “You must have been thinking I wouldn’t come.”

  “Not really. But it is late so I was beginning to wonder.”

  Tsuda wasn’t lying, and
O-Nobu could see it. But that served only to underscore the contradiction.

  “But you sent me a letter earlier.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You wrote that I mustn’t come to visit today.”

  “Today would have been a bit inconvenient.”

  “Why was that?”

  Tsuda finally came to attention. Observing O-Nobu closely, he replied.

  “It was nothing, really. A trivial matter.”

  “But you went to the trouble of having the letter delivered. Something must have been happening.”

  Tsuda tried to dissemble.

  “It was nothing serious. Why do you bother to get all worked up, you’re such a silly!”

  Tsuda’s attempt to beguile O-Nobu had the opposite effect. She arched her dark eyebrows. In silence, she withdrew the note from her obi.

  “Have another look at this.”

  Tsuda accepted the letter in silence.

  “What about it? It’s nothing so unusual.” Even as he spoke, he couldn’t help gainsaying his own words in his heart. It was a simple note. But it was more than sufficient to arouse O-Nobu’s suspicion. He realized that, already under suspicion, he had misstepped.

  “If it’s nothing unusual, why don’t I understand what it means? I think you might explain it to me since I came all the way over here.”

  “That’s why you came?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just for that?”

  “Yes.”

  No matter what, she wouldn’t budge. As he was realizing his companion was implacable, Tsuda stumbled on a convenient lie.

  “If you must know, Kobayashi was here.”

  The name was certain to have reverberated in O-Nobu’s heart. But that was hardly an end to it. To satisfy her, he had now obliged himself to provide an explanation.

  [ 146 ]

  “I ASSUMED you’d rather not run into Kobayashi. So as soon as I learned he was coming, I wrote you.”

  When it appeared that O-Nobu was still unsatisfied, Tsuda had no choice but to amplify his attempt to reassure her.

  “Even if you wouldn’t have minded, I would. Allowing a scoundrel like that to see you again. Besides, he was here on a nasty errand I didn’t want you to know about.”

  “Something I couldn’t be allowed to hear? So there’s a secret between you?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” Tsuda said and, observing O-Nobu’s small eyes fixed on him with a vigilance that would allow nothing to escape unnoticed, hastened to add, “He was here begging for money again, that’s all.”

  “And why couldn’t I have heard that?”

  “It’s not that you couldn’t. I’m saying I didn’t want you to.”

  “So warning me was just being considerate?”

  “You could say that—”

  The small eyes that had been trained on Tsuda narrowed further even as a faint laugh escaped O-Nobu’s lips.

  “How fortunate for me.”

  Tsuda was losing his composure, and with it the control he needed to avoid speaking imprudently.

  “But wouldn’t you have hated running into him anyway?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “What makes you say so?”

  “Because I heard that Kobayashi told you some things.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I’m saying you’d hate seeing him because of that.”

  “Do you have any idea what I heard from Kobayashi-san?”

  “I don’t. But since it’s him we’re talking about, it can’t have been anything pleasant. What the devil did he say?”

  Choking back the words that had risen to her throat, O-Nobu turned the question around.

  “What did Kobayashi-san tell you he said?”

  “He told me nothing.”

  “Now that’s a lie. You’re hiding something.”

  “I think you’re the one who’s hiding. I think Kobayashi fed you some nonsense and you took him at his word.”

  “Maybe I am. When you conceal things from me, what choice do I have?”

  Tsuda was silent. So was O-Nobu. Each waited for the other to speak. But O-Nobu’s forbearance gave out before Tsuda’s. Her voice was sharp.

  “Lies! Everything you say is lies! Kobayashi-san coming here meant nothing, but you cook up a story about it to deceive me.”

  “Cook up a story? Why would I go to the trouble when I have nothing to gain?”

  “But you do. You make a fuss about Kobayashi so you can hide a visit from someone else.”

  “Someone else? Who would that be?”

  O-Nobu glanced at the maple bonsai in the recessed alcove.

  “Who brought that, I wonder?”

  Tsuda knew he had stumbled. He regretted not having made a clean breast of Madam Yoshikawa’s visit right away. Not having mentioned her was a conscious decision. It would have been easy enough to do, but he was afraid to reveal the nature of their discussion and had decided, though his conscience bothered him, that, in the end, discretion was the best policy. Turning to look at the bonsai, he was on the verge of mentioning Madam Yoshikawa’s name, but before he could speak O-Nobu preempted him.

  “Yoshikawa-san’s wife was here, wasn’t she!”

  Tsuda spoke without thinking.

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s so obvious.”

  Tsuda had been watching O-Nobu carefully, and now he regained his courage.

  “Yes, she came. So your prediction came true.”

  “I even know that she took the streetcar.”

  Another surprise for Tsuda. Other than imagining that a car was probably waiting for her on the main street, he had paid little attention to Madam’s choice of conveyance.

  “Did you run into her somewhere?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  Instead of replying, O-Nobu posed a question of her own.

  “Why was she here?”

  Tsuda replied off-handedly.

  “I was just getting to that—but let’s be clear about one thing. Kobayashi was definitely here. He came first, and then she came. They arrived one after the other.”

  [ 147 ]

  O-NOBU REALIZED that she was more agitated than her husband. Having observed that launching herself against him in this state was not bringing him to ground, she veered before her own secret was exposed.

  “Is that so? That’s all very well. Because I couldn’t care less whether Kobayashi-san came or not. What I would like is to hear from you about Mrs. Yoshikawa’s errand. I know perfectly well she didn’t visit just to see how you were doing.”

  “You say that, but I’m telling you she wasn’t here about anything important. I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I imagine you’re going to be disappointed when you hear what it was.”

  “I don’t mind being disappointed; I just want to know the whole truth so I can put my mind at ease.”

  “Her main purpose was a get-well visit; the so-called errand was an afterthought.”

  “That’s fine. Either way.”

  Tsuda reported only that Madam had suggested he take himself to the hot springs after leaving the hospital. No less a tactician in his own way than O-Nobu was resourceful in hers, he delivered himself effortlessly of an explanation, deftly scoured of anything awkward, that would have sounded unembellished and plausible to anyone listening. On the surface this left no room for O-Nobu to interject so much as a word of protest.

  But their uneasiness was mutual. O-Nobu struggled to see through his simple explanation to what lay behind it. Tsuda was determined to keep it hidden no matter what. Beneath the placid surface they waged a silent battle in which courage was posed against courage, artifice against artifice. It was only natural, though, inasmuch as the defending husband was vulnerable, that the attacking wife should have been strengthened in proportion to his weakness. Accordingly, viewed from their positions in relation to each other, without consideration of their
inherent skill, O-Nobu was the victor before the battle had begun. Even judging by a standard of intrinsic right and wrong, reasonable and unreasonable, O-Nobu had won before the competition began. Tsuda certainly was aware of this. O-Nobu also had a general idea that it was so.

  A resolution of the battle would depend on whether the interior truth could be driven to the surface unaltered. If only Tsuda were able to be honest, this might be an unimaginably simple contest. By the same token, if even a vestige of dishonesty remained in him, it would be a fortress unimaginably difficult to breach. Unhappily for O-Nobu, she had not yet fashioned for herself a weapon adequate to driving him into the open. In circumstances such that her only option was finding a way to force open the gates to the fort, she was as good as helpless.

  Why couldn’t she content herself with a victory in her heart and make a clean break? Why must she give tangible shape to her song of victory to feel satisfied? At this moment she lacked the presence of mind to do otherwise. Battles more important than this one awaited her. With a second and a third objective still before her, she feared she would be helpless to move on unless she broke through the resistance confronting her now.

  In fact, the bout itself was not the most important thing. She was looking for the truth. Her principal aim was less defeating her husband than resolving her own doubts. For O-Nobu, who had made Tsuda’s love the object of her very existence, clearing those doubts was a matter of absolute necessity, a major objective in its own right. It thrust itself at her with an importance that transcended anything that could be deemed an approach or a means.

  Given the context of things, to the extent that deliberation would avail her, this was the enigma she must dedicate herself to dwelling on. This was her natural course. Unfortunately nature itself dwarfed her. It extended far above and beyond her. Impartial as the sun, it did not scruple to scorch her in her pitifulness.