To the Spring Equinox and Beyond Read Online Free PDF

dark and slender, her neck graceful, and by no means looking like someone who should be carrying on her back an infant under a short coat, though Keitaro thought it had to be her own child. He was even more puzzled when he further observed that she wore under her short apron a rich checkered kimono of silk crepe. It had been a rainy day, and each of the five or six passengers held a closed umbrella in one hand like a cane. Hers was a black janome, which she propped beside her seat, apparently averse to touching the cold and wet lacquered ribs. Near the top of the closed umbrella, Keitaro noticed three Chinese characters, Ka-ru-ta, written in red lacquer.
    The woman, whose background was difficult to ascertain, whether as a professional geisha or an ordinary housewife; the baby whose legitimacy seemed dubious; the white complexion and downcast eyes under slightly slanted dark eyebrows; the kimono of silk crepe and the distinct characters on the janome denoting the woman's geisha-like name—these alternately came to excite Keitaro's imagination and to remind him suddenly of the woman Morimoto had spoken of—the woman who had once been married to him and who had borne their child. Bit by bit Keitaro recalled Morimoto's own words: "You'll laugh at my lingering attachment to her after this length of time, but she was rather good-looking with those dark eyebrows of hers that often slanted when she spoke." Keitaro gave renewed attention to the owner of the umbrella with the name written on it. Presently the woman got off the streetcar and disappeared in the rain, leaving him recalling Morimoto's face and bearing and thinking of the destiny that had taken him to he knew not where. When Keitaro returned to his boardinghouse, he found on his desk a letter, the sender's name missing from the envelope.

    His curiosity aroused, Keitaro tore open the anonymous envelope. His eyes were drawn first to the "My dear Tagawa" on the first line of the ruled foreign-style paper and then to the end of the same line, where "from Morimoto" was written. Keitaro immediately picked up the envelope again and tried reading the postmark, scrutinizing it from various angles, but it was so thinly inked he could not make it out. Giving up, he returned to the contents of the letter, which ran as follows:
My sudden disappearance must have surprised you, I dare say. If not you, certainly the Marten and the Owl. [Morimoto had been in the habit of calling the landlord and his wife by these nicknames.] Frankly, I was somewhat in arrears with my rent. I thought if I told them my intentions, they would make things difficult, so I said nothing and acted on my own. The things I left in my room—clothing and other items all packed in a wicker trunk—will, I hope, bring them a considerable sum when they are disposed of. Please tell them they can sell these things or use them in whatever way they wish. But the Marten—you know what an old fox he is—may have already done whatever he wished without my permission. Furthermore, made bold by peaceful attitude, he may, I fear, get you into trouble by asking you, quite preposterously, to make up for the loss of my rent. In that case, take no heed of what he says. Beware of fellows such as the Marten who attempt to prey on persons like you who have emerged into the world fresh from seats of learning. Uneducated though I am, I know how bad it is to bolt without paying one's debts. I really intend to pay up this coming spring. I'll feel very sad if my odd career has led you to doubt my honesty, for it would mean to me the loss of a dear friend. Therefore, let there be no misunderstanding because of what fellows like the Marten say about me.
    Morimoto next stated that he was employed as caretaker of the amusement grounds of the Electric Park in Dairen and that he would be in Tokyo next spring to buy some motion pictures, so he was looking forward to seeing Keitaro after this long absence. After that bit of news he cheerfully