CHAPTER XV
A FACE IN THE CROWD
They rode to the parade-ground--Barbara and Patricia with theAmbassador, behind his pair of Kentucky grays--along wide streets grownfestive overnight and buzzing with _rick'sha_ and pedestrians. Everygateway held crossed flags bearing the blood-red rising-sun, and coloredpaper lanterns were swung in festoons along the gaudy blocks of shops,as wide open as tiers of cut honeycomb.
In their swift flight the city appeared a living sea of undulations, ofimmense green wastes alternating with humming sections of trade, ofabrupt, cliff-like hills, of small parks that were masses ofcherry-bloom and landscapes of weird Japanese beauty. Patricia quotedone of Haru's quaint sayings: "So-o-o many small village got such alonesomeness an' come more closer together. Tha's the way Tokyo born."Occasionally the Ambassador pointed out the stately palace of someinfluential noble, or the amorphous, depressing front of theforeign-style stucco residence of some statesman, built in thatdifferent period when the empire took first steps in the path ofworld-powers, with its low, graceful Japanese portion beside it.
Everywhere Barbara was conscious of the flutter of children--of littlegirls whose dress and hair showed a pervasive sense of care andadornment; of faces neither gay nor sad looking from latticed windowsthat hung above open gutters of sluggish ooze; of frail balconiesadorned with growing flowers or miniature gardens set in earthen trays;of doorways hung with soft-fringed, rice-straw ropes and dotted withpaper charms--the talismanic _o-fuda_ seen on every hand in Japan. InYokohama what had struck her most had been the curious composite, thejumbled dissonance of East and West. Here was a new impression; this wasreal Japan, but a Japan that, if it had taken on western hues, hadeverywhere qualified them by subtle variations, themselves oriental.Past the carriage whirled landaus bearing Japanese _grandes dames_ innative dress, with pomade-stiff coiffures against which theirrice-powdered faces made a ghastly contrast; between the rear springs ofeach vehicle was fixed a round flat pommel on which a runner stood,balancing himself to the swift movement. A Japanese military officer inkhaki, with a row of decorations on his breast, rode by on a horse toobig for him, at a jingling trot. Two soldiers passing afoot, facedsidewise and their heavy cowhide heels came together with a thud, asthey saluted. Their arms had the jerky precision of a mechanical toy.
Through all there seemed to Barbara to strike a sense of the tenacity ofthe old, of the stubborn persistence of type, as though eyes behind amask looked grimly at the mirror's reflection of some outlandish and buthalf-accustomed masquerade. It was the shadow of the old Japan of castesand spies and censors, of homage and _hara-kiri_, of punctilio andporcelain. Trolley cars rumbled past; skeins of telegraph wire spunacross the vision. Yet when stone wall gaped or green hedge opened, itwas to reveal the curving tops of Buddhist _torii_ in quaint vistas ofstraight-boled trees, gliding Tartar contours of roof between clumps ofpalm, or bamboo thickets with shadows as black as ink; while from thelazy scum of the wide, moat-like, stone gutters, open to theall-putrefying sun, rose thick, marshy odors suggesting the vast languorof a land more ancient than Egypt and Nineveh.
The carriage stopped abruptly at a cross street. A _Shinto_ funeral_cortege_ was passing. Twelve bearers, six on each side, clad inmourning _houri_ of pure white, bore on their shoulders the hearse, likea shrine, built of clean unpainted wood, beautifully grained, and withcarven roof and curtains of green and gold brocade. Priests in yellowrobes, with curved gauze caps and stoles of scarlet and black, walked atthe head, fanning themselves now and then with little fans drawn fromtheir girdles. Coolies, dressed in white like the hearse bearers,carried stiff, conical bouquets, six feet long, made of flowers ofstaring colors, and clumps of lotos made of _papier mache_ covered withgold and silver leaf. The chief mourner, a woman, rode smiling in a_rick'sha_. She wore a silver-gray _kimono_ and a tall canopied cap ofwhite brocade with wide floating strings like an old-fashioned bonnet.
"Well, of all things!" said Patricia, in an awe-struck whisper. "What doyou think of that?" For the file of _rick'sha_ following her carried acurious assemblage of mourners. In each sat a dog, some large, somesmall, with great bows of black or white crepe tied to their collars.Taka, the driver, turned his head and spoke:
"Dog-doctor die," he said. "All dog very sorry."
"It's the 'vet.,' father," Patricia cried. "He is dead, then--and allhis old patients are attending the funeral! See, Barbara! They are linedup according to diplomatic precedence. That French poodle in frontbelongs to the Japanese senior prince. The Aberdeen is the BritishAmbassador's. And there's the Italian Embassy bull-terrier and theSpanish _Charge's_ 'chin.' The foreigners' dogs have black bows and theothers white. Why is that, I wonder?"
"I presume," said the Ambassador, "because white is the Japanesemourning color."
"Of course. How stupid of me!" She sat suddenly upright. "Of all_things_! There's our 'Dandy'!" She pointed to a tiny Pomeranian on theseat of the last _rick'sha_. "I wondered why number-three boy waswashing him so hard this morning! It's a mercy he didn't see us, or he'dhave broken up the procession. Please take note that he's thetail-end--which shows my own unofficial insignificance."
"There's a tourist at the hotel," said the Ambassador, "who should haveseen this. I was there the other day and I overheard her speaking to oneof the Japanese clerks. She said she had seen everything but a funeral,and she wanted him to instruct her guide to take her to one. The clerksaid: 'I am too sorry, Madam, but this is not the season for funerals.'"
The horses trotted on, to drop to a walk, presently, on a brisk incline.High, slanting retaining walls were on either side, and double rows ofcherry-trees, whose interlacing branches wove a roof of soft pink bloom.Along the road were many people; _inkyo_--old men who no longer labored,and _ba-San_--old women whom age had relieved from household cares--bentand withered and walking with staves or leaning on the arms of theirdaughters, who bore babies of their own strapped to their backs;children clattering on loose wooden clogs; youths sauntering with_kimono'd_ arms thrown, college-boy fashion, about each other'sshoulders; a troop of young girls in student _hakama_--skirts of deeppurple or garnet--laughing and chatting in low voices or airily swingingbundles tied in colored _furoshiki_. Midway the wall opened into aminiature park filled with trees, with a small lake and a _Shinto_monument.
"Why, there's little Ishikichi," said Patricia. "I never saw him so farfrom home before. Isn't that a queer-looking man with him!"
The solemn six-year-old, Barbara's window acquaintance of the morning,was trotting from the inclosure, his small fingers clutching the hand ofa foreigner. The latter was of middle age. His coat was a heavy,double-breasted "reefer." His battered hat, wide-brimmed andsoft-crowned, was a joke. But his linen was fresh and good and hisclumsy shoes did not conceal the smallness and shapeliness of his feet.He was lithe and well built, and moved with an easy swing of shoulderand a step at once quick and graceful. His back was toward them, butBarbara could see his long, gray-black hair, a square brow above anaquiline profile at once bold and delicate, and a drooping mustache shotwith gray. Many people seemed to regard him, but he spoke to no one savehis small companion. His manner, as he bent down, had somethingcaressing and confiding.
At the sound of wheels the man turned all at once toward them. As hisgaze met Barbara's, she thought a startled look shot across it. At sideview his face had seemed a dark olive, but now in the vivid sunlight itshowed blanched. His eyes were deep in arched orbits. One, she noted,was curiously prominent and dilated. From a certain bird-like turn ofthe head, she had an impression that this one eye was nearly if notwholly sightless. All this passed through her mind in a flash, evenwhile she wondered at his apparent agitation.
For as he gazed, he had dropped the child's hand. She saw his lipscompress in an expression grim and forbidding. He made an involuntarymovement, as though mastered by a quick impulse. Then, in a breath, hisface changed. He shrank back, turned sharply into the park and was lostamong
the trees.
"What an odd man!" exclaimed Patricia. "I suppose he resented ourstaring at him. He's left the little chap all alone, too. Stop thehorses a moment, Tucker," she directed, and as they pulled up she calledto the child.
But there was no reply. Ishikichi looked at her a moment frowningly,then, without a word, turned and stalked somberly after his companion.
"What an infant thunder-cloud!" said Patricia as the carriage proceeded."That must be where our precious prodigy gets his English. Poor mite!"she added. "He was the inseparable of the son of Toru, the flower-dealeropposite the Embassy, Barbara, and the dear little fellow was run overand killed last week by a foreign carriage. No doubt he's grieving overit, but in Japan even the babies are trained not to show what they feel.I wonder who this new friend is?"
"I've seen the man once before," said the Ambassador. "He was pointedout to me. His name is Thorn. His first name is Greek--Aloysius, isn'tit?--yes, Aloysius. He is a kind of recluse: one of those bits of humanflotsam, probably, that western civilization discards, and that drifteventually to the East. It would be interesting to know his history."
So this, thought Barbara, was the exile of whom Daunt had told her, whohad chosen to bury himself--from what unguessed motive!--in an orientalland, sunk out of sight like a stone in a pool. When he looked at hershe had felt almost an impulse to speak, so powerfully had the shadow inhis eyes suggested the canker of solitariness, the dreary ache ofbitterness prolonged. She felt a wave of pity surging over her.
But the carriage leaped forward, new sights sprang on them and thefleeting thought dropped away at length behind her, with the overhangingcherry-blooms, the little green park, and the strange face at itsgateway.