The Wild Geese Read Online Free PDF

At last he agreed to give both father and daughter the necessary clothing. When he had further time to reason out his actions, he comforted himself, saying: ‘Since I'll have to take care of the father eventually when I get the daughter, I'm only doing in advance what I'll have to do later.”
    In such situations the customary procedure was to send the other party a definite sum of money to cover expenses. But Suezo had his own methods. He knew what was appropriate for the occasion, so he confided all the details to his tailor and ordered him to make adequate kimonos for the father and daughter. At the same time the go-between rushed off to ask Otama their measurements.
    After the crone had left, Otama said to her father: “At least the man is considerate.”
    â€œNot sending the money shows he respects us,” said the old man.
    These were their reactions to Suezo's shrewd, penny-pinching methods.

Chapter Seven
    S INCE fires seldom break out in the vicinity of Ueno Square and since the Matsugen hasn't burned down as far as I can remember, I think you can still find the room where the two parties met.
    â€œI want something small and quiet,” Suezo had said when he made the reservations, and on the appointed day he was led from the south entrance through a straight corridor that turned left into a room with an area of six mats.
    When he was alone, he sat down on the cushion with his back to the alcove, which was adorned with an ukiyoe on a small scroll and a vase with a single twig of jasmine in it. He looked about with his usual care, examining everything.
    Outside he saw a wooden fence that shut off the view of the pond. Perhaps he should have taken an upstairs room. But in an upstairs room they might have been seen from the street. Some years later the area around the pond was ruined and made into a race track, and then again, by one of those unusual transformations of the world, into a bicycle track. A long thin strip of land lying between the room and the fence was too narrow for a garden. From where he sat he could see a few paulownia trees, their trunks as smooth and glossy as if they had been polished with oiled rags. He also noticed a stone lantern and some small cypresses planted at intervals. In the busy street white clouds of dust rose, kicked up by the passersby, but here inside the enclosure the servants had sprinkled water over the moss to give the green an added freshness.
    A maid came into the room carrying tea and an incense burner to drive away the mosquitoes. Placing the items before him, she asked: “And what dishes would you like served?”
    â€œI'll tell you when my guests come,” he said, dismissing her.
    Once more alone, he took out his pipe. On entering, he had thought the room too warm, but after some time he put down the soiled fan the maid had given him, for occasional drafts of cool wind came through the corridors along with faint yet distinct odors from the kitchen and the toilets.
    Leaning against the pillar of the alcove, Suezo watched the smoke drift. He thought of the earlier Otama, the pretty girl he had caught glimpses of as he passed her house. A pretty girl, yes, but really a child. What kind of woman had she changed into? What would she look like in her new kimono? A shame that the old man was coming with her! How long would he stay? Could he be sent home, removed somehow or other?
    Suezo was startled out of his daydreaming by a samisen's being tuned in the room above him.
    Then he heard the footsteps of two or three persons along the corridor.
    â€œYour guests,” said the maid, thrusting her face into the room.
    â€œCome now! Step in! Let's not have any distance between you! Our master's open-minded!” said the go-between in a voice as noisy as a cricket's.
    Suezo got to his feet and hurried out to the corridor. He saw the stooped figure of the old man as he hesitated near the corner wall and, behind him, Otama. She stood calmly, not at