Free After the Banquet by Yukio Mishima Page A

its usefulness. She had been surprised, however, to discover how unpredictably her heart had caught fire on meeting Noguchi, and she realized that one use still remained for her conviction.
    Later on, Kazu was often to be looked at with suspicion and misunderstanding by society, precisely because of the strange coincidence between her affections and her great conviction. But it would be unfair to say that Kazu’s love for Noguchi was utilitarian in nature or that her sole interest was in acquiring a distinguished name. Her love affair with Noguchi had in fact progressed so naturally that Kazu, acting as her inclinations led her and making no special effort to realize her dream, found that the dream had accomplished itself. She had hardly known what she was doing while she brewed the liquor, but when it was finally ready and she sampled it, she found it entirely to her taste. That was the whole story.
    The misunderstanding arose from the excessively innocent joy which the excessively honest Kazu displayed over her marriage to Noguchi. She should have accepted it a little more sadly.
    The night of March twenty-second was warm for the time of year. Noguchi came early and helped Kazu prepare for receiving the other guests. Even on such an occasion Noguchi was utterly self-composed. He sat in the dining room, Kazu beside him, and gave instructions, his face devoid of emotion.
    Kazu said as she showed Noguchi the menu, “Today there’ll be a special dish not on the menu. It’s connected with the Omizutori. Unfortunately, it’s rather heavy and if I serve it too late in the meal the guests won’t be able to eat it. I’d be sorry to have that happen. On the other hand, I suppose you’d prefer to make the announcement toward the end.”
    “What connection is there between what I have to announce and this special dish?” Noguchi asked, a suspicious note in his voice. He was idly manipulating the fire tongs to poke a hole in the beautifully raked hibachi ashes.
    “Don’t you see?” asked Kazu, stammering, afraid as always of Noguchi’s reaction. “If you make your announcement when this special dish has put everybody in a good mood, I think it’ll really be stylish and produce a wonderful effect.”
    “Are you asking me to play a part?”
    “No, nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve thought of an unusual effect. They try for unusual effects even at tea ceremonies, don’t they?”
    “There’s no need to play to the gallery. Can’t you see that? I intend to make the announcement only to my most trusted and congenial friends. You should have told me from the start if you’re trying for some fancy effect.”
    Kazu realized that her opportunity was slipping away. “Very well. I’ll do as you say. In consideration for the guests’ appetites I’ll serve the dish immediately before the soup.”
    At that moment a maid announced the arrival of the newspaper executive and the octogenarian reporter.
    Kazu welcomed these esteemed guests with a surprisingly radiant smile. The artistry with which she executed this instantaneous change from her pensive expression of a moment before and gaily sallied forth to meet the guests stunned Noguchi, but Kazu was too busy to notice.
    The old journalist, as always, carried a leather satchel in his hand. His beautiful white hair fell over his ears, and he looked an impressive sight as he strode, perfectly erect, into the dining room, attired in formal Japanese clothes. The newspaper executive acted as if he felt that when in the old man’s presence his only excuse for living was to play the part of the devoted retainer.
    “Hello there, Noguchi,” said the journalist. “That was quite a pleasant trip we took, wasn’t it?” He went unhesitantly to the place of honor and seated himself. It was inconceivable that anyone else would sit there. Hardly had he settled himself than the conversation leapt far from the trip to Nara. The subject turned to the lecture delivered yesterday by