O-Hide, beginning with her education, was entirely different. Books in the main had made her who she was. At least she had been taught to think that was how things ought to be. Having been educated by her uncle Fujii, whose connection to books was profound, had had an odd effect on her in both a good and a bad sense. She had come to place more importance in books than in herself. But that didn’t exempt her from having to live the best life she could independently of books. The result, perforce, was that she and books had gradually diverged. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that she had fallen into the unfortunate habit of promoting arguments that were at odds with her own nature. In view of her limited capacity for self-reflection, however, she had a considerable way to go before she would recognize that arguing for argument’s sake was foolishness. If she was obstinate, it was due to her outsized ego. Plainly put, it came down to this: despite the fact that this self of hers was her true essence, she would go out of her way to extract logic that did not accord with her essential self from the books she revered, and would then proceed to defend such logic with the power of the language on the page. From time to time this resulted in a comic spectacle, as though she were brandishing a cannon in place of a dagger.
Not surprisingly, the issue that surfaced now had been lifted from a magazine. The question posed by O-Hide, who had read views on love held by various writers that appeared in a monthly magazine, was actually of no special interest to O-Nobu. But when she admitted she hadn’t seen the article, her curiosity was abruptly piqued. She resolved to find an application of this abstract question that she could use to her own benefit.
O-Nobu understood well enough her companion’s tendency to be swept away by empty theories. And there was no weakness more likely than this to present an obstacle to what she purposed to do: confront an actual issue of some gravity. Better not to begin at all if she was to be argued with for the sake of argument merely. She would have to anchor her companion to the ground by any means available. Unfortunately her partner had already ascended. The love O-Hide was speaking of was neither Tsuda’s love nor Hori’s nor O-Nobu’s nor O-Hide’s nor anything of the kind. This was a love floating aimlessly high in the sky. O-Nobu’s task, accordingly, was to pull back down to earth the suspended balloon of O-Hide’s reflections.
When she discovered that O-Hide, already the mother of two children and more domestic than herself in every way, was, in regard to love at least, less grounded by far, O-Nobu, while she continued to nod in approval at everything her companion was saying, began to feel impatient and even aggravated. She wanted to say, “Put aside your words, join me naked in the sumo ring and let’s test our actual strength against each other!” and she considered what it would take to strip the clothes from this incorrigible debater. Presently she felt the dawning inside her of a crucial discrimination. To make use of this issue, she now understood, it would be necessary to sacrifice either O-Hide or herself, or things would never go her way. Sacrificing O-Hide would be a matter of small difficulty; breaking through her weakness from one direction or another was all that would be necessary. Whether that weakness was actual or hypothetical was of no concern to O-Nobu. Examining for its validity the stimulus she would apply in hopes of producing the reaction that was her goal seemed an unnecessary consideration. This was accompanied, however, by a commensurate danger. O-Hide would certainly be angered. To be sure, making O-Hide angry was O-Nobu’s purpose, and again not her purpose. She couldn’t help feeling conflicted.
Finally she saw an opportunity and seized it. By that time she had already resolved to sacrifice herself.
[127]
“I DON’T know what to say — I’m in a fog about whether Tsuda loves me or not. But goodness. Aren’t you lucky. When it comes to being loved, you’ve had a guarantee from the beginning!”
O-Nobu had known even before she was together with Tsuda that O-Hide had been chosen for her beauty. To women in general, and especially to a woman like O-Nobu, this fact was certainly a cause for envy. When Tsuda mentioned it for the first time, before she had laid eyes on O-Hide, O-Nobu was aware of feeling mildly jealous. Later, understanding that this fact was insubstantial as paper, she had even experienced, in addition to mild derision, the pleasure of having had her revenge. Thereafter, her attitude toward O-Hide where the question of love was concerned was always contempt. She was careful to make it appear that the other’s views were mutual and a source of delight, but that was of course mere flattery. Put less generously, it was a variety of ridicule.
Happily, O-Hide didn’t notice. There was a good reason why. Talk aside, where the actual experience of love was concerned, O-Hide was certainly no match for O-Nobu. With no experience of having loved ardently and no memory of having been the object of pure and unwavering love, she was a woman who remained ignorant of how large and powerful this gift could be at its grandest. She was at the same time a wife who was satisfied with her husband. In this regard at least, the maxim “ignorance is bliss” described her perfectly. Having accepted at the time of her marriage the stamp of love applied by her husband’s hand as a guarantee of her future and locked it away in her heart, her naiveté was such that she was able to accept O-Nobu’s appreciation at face value.
Having never identified the true shape of love, O-Hide’s idle, questionable pronouncements on the subject were a window that allowed keen-eyed O-Nobu to see into her heart. Apparently she was satisfied to derive from her own marriage her view of O-Nobu’s relationship to Tsuda. That much was apparent from the look of genuine surprise on her face when she heard O-Nobu’s remark. How could Tsuda’s love for O-Nobu be an issue now? And how could such a question be raised by his wife? And what in the world could she mean by saying such a thing in front of her husband’s sister? All this O-Nobu read in her companion’s expression.
In fact, what O-Hide actually saw was that O-Nobu was either too conceited to be satisfied with Tsuda’s love for her or a dissembler pretending not to realize that she held him in the palm of her hand.
“Gracious!” she exclaimed. “You want even more love than you have already?”
Normally this response would have been just what O-Nobu hoped for. The way she was feeling today, however, it couldn’t possibly have satisfied her. Somehow she must make herself clear. But that would require her to say candidly, “If Tsuda is still thinking of someone beside me, then how am I to be content with things as they are now?”
“But listen,” she had begun, and then hesitated and went silent, sensing that if she dared to lead this way, she would be sabotaging her own plan.
“Is there still something missing?”
As she spoke, O-Hide lowered her gaze to O-Nobu’s hand. The familiar ring was sparkling magnificently on her finger. But O-Hide’s sharp glance had no effect on O-Nobu. Her naiveté about the ring was unchanged from the day before. O-Hide was annoyed.
“It seems to me you’re the fortunate one. If you want something, it gets bought for you, and if you want to go somewhere, you get taken.”
“I suppose I am fortunate in that way.”
Accustomed to thinking how awkward it would be if, declining to assert to others her good fortune and happiness, she should happen to reveal her plight, O-Nobu had recourse now, as usual, to one of the set phrases she kept on hand. And once again she came to a stop. Only after she had repeated the very words she had said to Tsugiko when she visited the Okamotos the day after the theater did she realize it was O-Hide she was addressing. O-Hide’s expression appeared to be asking, “If you’re fortunate in that way, isn’t that enough?”