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it’s quite crowded. At that time it was still mid-May, and Mitsuko said: “I wish summer would come soon. I’d be over here every day to swim.” Then, looking around the room, she added: “When I’m married I want a bedroom just like this.”
    â€œYou’ll have a much grander bedroom. A girl like you will marry into a rich family, won’t you?”
    â€œYes, but once I’m married I expect I’ll feel like a bird in a gilded cage.”
    â€œI feel like that myself sometimes . . .”
    â€œBut isn’t this a private sanctuary for you and your husband, as a married couple? Won’t he scold you for bringing me up here?”
    â€œWhy should he object? You’re a very special visitor.”
    â€œAnyway, people say a couple’s bedroom is sacred. . . .”
    â€œThen it’s exactly the place to pose—a young girl’s body is sacred too. Hurry up and take your clothes off while the light is good,” I urged her.
    â€œCan’t someone look in from the ocean?”
    â€œDon’t be silly! What could you see from a boat offshore?”
    â€œYes, but these windows . . . I’d like you to close them and draw the curtains!”
    Although it was only May, the sun was so brilliant it hurt your eyes, and all the windows had been thrown open. But with the windows shut tight, the room was soon hot enough to have us dripping with sweat. Mitsuko said she wanted some kind of white cloth to put on as Kannon’s robe, so I pulled a sheet from the bed. Then she went behind the wardrobe cabinet, took off her sash and kimono, let down her hair, combed it out straight and smooth, and draped the sheet loosely around her naked body in the manner of a Kannon bodhisattva.
    â€œJust look!” she said, standing before the mirror on the door of the cabinet, absorbed in her own beauty. “Now don’t you think you’ve got to touch up your picture?”
    â€œMy, what an exquisite body!”
    No doubt I seemed to be accusing her, as if I wanted to know why she had concealed such a treasure from me all this time. I suppose the face in my picture was a good likeness, but it’s only natural that the figure wasn’t, since I had based it on Miss Y. Models for Japanese painting are chosen for their pretty faces, and Miss Y didn’t have an especially good figure—her skin, too, seemed rather rough and dark, almost muddy, so that to a trained eye it was as different from Mitsuko’s as ink from snow.
    â€œWhy have you kept such a beautiful body hidden!” I asked reproachfully. “It’s too much! It’s just too much!”
    Somehow my eyes filled with tears. Embracing Mitsuko from behind, I nestled my tearful face against her white-robed shoulder, and we peered into the mirror together.
    Mitsuko seemed disconcerted.
    â€œReally, what has come over you?” she asked, as she saw my tears reflected in the mirror.
    â€œAnything so beautiful makes me want to cry,” I said, holding her tight. I didn’t try to wipe away my tears.

6
    â€œ THERE, THAT OUGHT TO DO ,” said Mitsuko. “Now I’m getting dressed.”
    â€œNo, no you mustn’t!” I shook my head petulantly. “Let me look at you some more!”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous. I can’t just stay here naked like this, can I?’
    â€œOf course you can! And you’re not really naked! You’ve got to take this off—” As I spoke I snatched hold of the sheet that was draped around her, but she struggled to hang on to it, screaming: “Let go! Let go!” Finally I heard the sheet begin to tear.
    That drove me into a frenzy, and now my eyes filled with angry tears. “All right then, never mind! I didn’t think you were such a coward—this is the end of our friendship!” And I bit a fold of the sheet, sinking my teeth into it and pulling hard, tearing it all