 | Purple-Eyes |  |
II THE SHADOW OF THE SHOJI
And he went to sleep that night, when sleep came, on a floor that was as dainty as any bed, in a huge wadded overcoat called a futon, on a wooden pillow that rocked and screeched a little (as if afraid to screech more) when he turned. An andon burned dimly behind a screen, and he was aware of the slumberous aroma Japonica, as he characterized it. But he could not sleep of course not. For, less than six feet away, behind the translucent walls of paper, he could hear the melodious dithyrambics of the three voices. He could catch a sleepy word now and then, which he knew came from the blue-eyed one. They were much fewer than those of the other two. Some vague picture of those eyes, patiently sad, as he had conceived them, kept itself between him and sleep, until finally it was sudden morning, and the splendid light of Japan, subdued by the shoji, was shining in his face.
He lay indolently awake for a long time, Presently a noise not much greater than the alighting of a fly upon a stretched screen drew his attention. He perceived a dampened finger slowly working against the other side of the shoji, until presently the paper parted, and the finger came through. It was very pink at the tip. Slowly it reamed the hole larger, then disappeared, to be replaced by an eye. And the eye was blue. Garland nearly laughed aloud, until he remembered that he was the objective of the eye. Then unconsciously he arranged his hair a little, and began to pose. But the humor of it came down upon him again, and he laughed. The eyes instantly disappeared, and he could see the shadow of its owner gliding away. In a panic of regret, Garland called out:
"Don't go, Purple-Eyes!"
The shadow hesitated, and then returned.
"How you know tha' 's Purple-Eyes?"
"By her own confession now."
Her pretty laugh sifted through the shoji.
"You want me come unto you?" asked the voice beyond. "Tha' 's what I dunno."
Garland was (in his own phrase again) quite paralyzed. He might have thought, but he did not, that she was only tendering the offices of the servant they did not have; but he called out, with a mixture of bravado and trembling which alarmed them both:
"Yes; come in!"
The damaged shoji slid haltingly aside, and she entered very slowly and softly; and he thought of the pictures of the returning Sun-Goddess as she came through the opening and down the burst of light it let in. As she prostrated herself Garland noticed that her hair had been newly dressed (an operation of several hours), and that she wore a dainty blue kimono, too gay for any but a geisha to wear. But it became her royally.
"You look more than ever like a picture on a fan," greeted Garland, with even more admiration in his eyes than in his voice.
Instead of being pleased, as any other Japanese girl would have been, Purple-Eyes slowly shook her head.
"Alas! you naever see no picture on fan lig unto me."
"But I have," insisted Garland.
She shook her head again.
"Well, then, if not, why not?"
"They got not those purple eye an' pink face an' flaming hair "
She sighed, and looked askance at Garland. He seemed fully to agree with her. She changed her tone to one of resigned solicitude and ceremony.
"You sleeping well all those night?"
"Well, by the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress, if I were a Japanese artist, that is the kind of eyes and face and hair they should all have! Yes, sir! every blamed one of them!"
The girl caught her breath, and something flamed up her face and lighted her splendid eyes anew. She dared to look at him. It had all sounded quite true. Wistfully she dissembled this at least was truly Japanese.
"You sleeping well all" she lost her purpose for a moment "all those night all?"
"Blue eyes for me, every day in the week."
"You sleeping well?" Joy was all too plainly in her voice now irrepressible joy.
He laughed, and caught her hands rapturously. She did not deny him, and he kissed them.
"Oh, you are delightful!" said he.
"Me? I don' sleep moach."
"You look as fresh as new porcelain."
"Yaes; I been fix up,"
She consciously let him look her over.
"No; I didn't sleep at first. I was listening to your voice," Garland confessed, quite without reservation.
The girl was confused a little.
"You don' lig be annoy with those voice?"
"Why, it is divine!"
A white shaft of fear crossed her face.
"Tha' 's jus' fun I egspeg?"
"Tha' 's ver' earnest," he gayly mocked.
He was pleasing her now. She even went with his mood a little way. Joy was such a beautiful and tempting and elusive thing!
"Lig goddess, mebby?"
Garland nodded seriously.
"Tha' 's nize for me."
"An' for me" in quite her own manner.
"But not the goddesses?"
They laughed together, and she drew confidently a little closer to him.
"Listen; I go 'n' tell you a thing. You not in fun not?"
"I mean every word," declared Garland, "and more than I have words to mean."
"An' you lig be tell?"
"That is what I am waiting so impatiently for to be tell."
"Tha' 's nize. Eijinsan 'most always fun. Nobody but you aever lig those hair an' eye. Aeverybody hate me. Why? Account they say I b'long pink-face people. Account my fadder he sei yo jin a west-ocean mans. I di'n' do so unto those hair an' eye! I can not help. Me? When I see you got those purple eye lig unto me, an' also those yellow hairs, an' all pink in the face, I thing mebby you go'n' lig me liddle lig I was brodder an' fadder with you. Also, I thing mebby you go'n' take me away with you beyond those west-ocean, where pink-face people live. Me? Don' you thing those pink-face people lig me liddle if I come unto them?"
"God bless you yes," said Garland, with something suspiciously tender in voice and eyes. He still had her hands, delighting in them, caressing them. The girl's face was irradiated. She poured out all her soul for him.
"Me? Listen 'nother time. Before I know you' eyes purple an' you' hair yellow lig unto me, I lig you? Me? Sa-ay I lig jus' your picture!" She laughed, confused, and shifted a little closer. "You don' hate me account I doing those?"
"No," said Garland, guiltily "no, I don't hate you."
"Sa-ay you go'n' take me at those pink-face people?"
Garland was silent.
"If you don', I got go myself. Me? I got go!"
Garland nodded, and she understood him to have assented. This was wrong. But her joy was superb, and Garland had a very soft heart.
"Oh how that is nize! Me? I got so. I dunno all times seem lig I b'long 'cross west-ocean. Seem lig I different from aeverybody else. Me? I got have somebody lig me somebody touch me hole my hands so so so!" She illustrated fervidly.
Garland, alarmed at her dynamic emotion, released them. She returned them to him.
"But nobody don' wish. Others Japan people they don' lig be ligued. But me? I got be else I got pain in my heart an' am ill. You aever have those pain at you' heart lig you all times falling down down down? Tha' 's mos' tarrible. Tha' 's lone-some-ness. Me? I thing I go'n' die sometime account that. Tha' 's lone-some-ness to cross west-ocean to pink-face people. Yaes; tha' 's why I got do those. Oku-Sama tha' 's my modder she saying 'most all times, 'Jus' lig pink-face people. Always got be lig by 'nother touch by 'nother speak sof' by 'nother.' An' tha' 's you yaes! You lig me, an' you touch me, an' you speak sof' unto me the ver' first time I seeing you. Me? I know, those time I first seeing you, that you don' hate me account I got those pink face upon me."
"No," admitted Garland, seriously.
"How that is nize! It make something rest go 'sleep inside me. I got that peace. Jus' when you touch my hand at first I got some happiness. But now I got that peace."
She began regretfully to detach herself. Garland detained her. She was very dainty and very confiding very wise. She had unconsciously got very close to him. And Garland had vanquished his alarm of her.
"Me? I don' wish; but I got git you somethings eat. Soon you starve. I got."
But Garland would not let her go and she was a willing captive, though she dissembled an urgent necessity.
"Where is Black-Eyes and your mother?" asked Garland.
The girl seemed reluctant, but told him that they all worked in the neighboring silk-mill, the pulsations of which he had heard in the night.
"Never mind. I'd rather famish," said the impulsive Garland, with a strange remorse. "Will you assist?"
"Yaes," laughed the girl. "Me? I been famish many times."
"Heavens!" breathed Garland, inventorying all her daintiness once more. "How much do your mother and sister earn?"
The girl seemed quite indifferent as to this.
"Sometime fi' sen; sometime ten fifteen; one times, twenty-two."
"And you?"
"Me? Oh, jus' liddle."
She earned more than the other two.
"And what does it cost you to live?"
"Live? Half those fi' ten fifteen sen."
"And you save the rest? That is very prudent."
The girl looked bewildered; then she explained:
"Other half sen' Brownie."
He suddenly let her go. She leaned over him bewitchingly.
"Firs' some breakfas'; then I go'n' help you famish all day! What you thing?"
She came back in a moment. The sleeves of her kimono were tucked out of the way, and there was rice-flour on her pretty arms.
"You go'n' to naever tell 'bout those fi' ten fifteen sen, an' all those?"
"No," said Garland; "I will never tell."
"Else they go'n' kill me," she threatened gayly.
"I prefer to have you live," he laughed, as brightly as he could.
"Tha' 's secret among jus' you an' me?"
"Yes," said Garland.
She started away, then came back.
"Me? I lig I lig have secret among jus' you an' me." With a radiant face she fled.
And here was Brownie's poor little skeleton stripped naked. He had lived at the university like a gentleman. He was still living in Philadelphia like a gentleman. Garland wondered whether it would make any difference in Philadelphia if it were known that it was the pitiful "fi' ten fifteen sen'" that his mother and sisters earned each day that supported him. A great disgust for Brownie and a great pity for Purple-Eyes were the immediate postulates. And is not pity akin to love?
| Purple-Eyes | |