The House of the Sleeping Beauties (6 page)

"Why, you're exactly right. You've hit the nail on the head. It was on my way with a friend, and them I got called here."

"All right." he said, avoiding the cold, watery tongue. "Be on your way again. The drums are coming from a shrine, I suppose."

"But the woman here will scold me."

…

The girl tonight was perhaps two or three years older than the other, and her body was more a woman's. The great difference was that she had been put to sleep and would not awaken. If festival drums were echoing tonight she would not hear them.

Straining his ears, he thought he could hear a faint late autumn wind blowing down over the hills behind the house. The warm breath from the girl's small parted lips came to his face. The dim light from the crimson velvet curtains flowed down inside her mouth. It did not seem to him that the girl's tongue would like the others's, cold and watery. The temptation was still strong. This girl was the first of the 'sleeping beauties' who had shown him her tongue. The impulse toward a misdeed more exciting than putting a finger to her tongue flashed through him.

But the misdeed did not take clear shape in Eguchi's mind as cruelty and terror. The affairs with the Kobe woman and the fourteen year old prostitute, for instance, were of but a moment in a long life, and they flowed away in a moment. To marry, to rear his daughters, these things were on the surface good. But to have had the long years in his power, to have controlled their lives, to have warped their natures even, these might be evil things. Perhaps, beguiled by custom and order, one's sense of evil went numb.

Lying beside a girl who had been put to sleep was doubtless evil. The evil would become clearer were he to kill her. It would be easy to strangle her, or to cover her nose and mouth. She was asleep with her mouth open, showing her childlike tongue. It was a tongue that seemed likely to curl around his finger, were he to touch it, like that of a babe at its mother's breast. He put his hand to her jaw and upper lip and closed her mouth. When he took it away the mouth fell open again. In the lips parted in sleep, the old man saw youth.

The fact of her being so very young nay have caused the impulse to flash through him. But it seemed to him that among the old men who secretly came to this 'house of sleeping beauties', there must be some who not only looked wistfully back to the vanished past but sought to forget the evil they had done through their lives. Old Kiga, who had introduced Eguchi to the house, had of course not revealed the secrets of the others guests. There were probably only a few of them. Eguchi could imagine that they were worldly successes. But among them must be some who had made their successes by wrongdoing and kept their gains by repeated wrongdoing. They would be among the defeated, rather… victims of terror. In their hearts as they lay against the flesh of naked young girls put to sleep would be more than fear of approaching death and regret for their lost youth. There might also be remorse, and the turmoil so common in the families of the successful. They would have no Buddha before whom to kneel. The naked girl would know nothing, would not open her eyes, of one of the old men were to hold her tight in his arms, shed cold tears, even sob and wail. The old man need feel no shame, no damage to his pride. The regrets and the sadness could flow quite freely. And might not the 'sleeping beauty' herself be a Buddha of sorts? And she was flesh and blood. Her young skin and scent might be forgiveness for the sad old men.

Old Eguchi quietly closed his eyes as these thoughts came to him. It seemed a little strange that, among the three 'sleeping beauties' he had been with, the one tonight, the smallest and youngest, quite inexperienced, should have called them up. He took her in his arms, enveloped her. Until then he had avoided touching her. Drained the strength, she did not resist. She was pathetically slight. She may have felt Eguchi even from the depths of sleep. She closed her mouth. Her hips, thrust forward, came against him roughly.

What sort of life would she have, he wondered. Would it be a quiet and peaceful one, even though she achieved no great eminence? He hoped that she would find happiness for having given comfort to the old men here. He almost thought that, as in old legends, she was the incarnation of a Buddha. Where there not old stories in which prostitutes and courtesans were Buddha incarnate?

He took her loose hair lightly in his hand. He strove to quiet himself, seeking confession and repentance of his misdeeds. But it was the woman in his past, that floated into his mind. And what he remembered fondly had nothing to do with the length of his affairs with them, their beauty, their grace and intelligence. It had to do with such things as the remark the Kobe woman had made: 'I slept as if I were dead. I really slept as if I were dead.' It had to do with women who had lost themselves in his caresses, who had been frantic with pleasure. Was the pleasure less a matter of the depths of their affections than of their physical endowments? What would this girl be like when she was fully grown? He extended the arm that embraced her and stroked her back. But of course he had no way of knowing. When on his previous visit he had slept with the witchlike girl, he had asked himself how much of the depth and breadth of sex he had known in his sixty seven years, and he had felt the tought as his own senility. And it was strange that the small girl tonight seemed to bring sex back from the past. He touched his lips gently to her closed lips. There were no taste. They were dry. The fact that there was no taste seemed to improve them. He might never see her again. By the time the small lips were damp with the taste of sex, Eguchi might already be dead. The thought did not sadden him. Leaving her mouth, his lips brushed against her eyebrows and eyelashes. She moved her head slightly. Her forehead came against his eyes. His eyes were closed, and he closed them tighter.

Behind the closed eyes an endless succession of phantasms floated up and disappeared. Presently they began to take on a certain shape. A number of golden arrows flew near and passed on. At their tips were hyacinths of deep purple. At their tails were orchids of various colors. It seemed strange that at such speed the flowers did not fall. Eguchi opened his eyes. He had begun to doze off.

He had not yet taken the sleeping tablets. He looked at his watch, beside them. It was twelve thirty. He took them in his hand. But it seemed a pity to go to sleep tonight, when he felt none of the gloom and the loneliness of old age. The girl was breathing peacefully. Whatever she had taken or had an injection of, she seemed to be in no pain. Perhaps it was a very large dose of sleeping medicine, perhaps it was a light poison, Eguchi thought that he would like at least once to sink into such a deep sleep. Getting quietly out of bed, he went to the room next door. He pressed the button, thinking to demand of the woman the medicine the girl had been given. The bell rang on and on, informing him of the cold, inside and out. He was reluctant to ring too long, here in the secret house in the depths of the night. The region was a warm one, and with red leaves still clung to the branches. But, in a wind so faint that it was scarcely a wind at all, he could hear the rustle of fallen leaves in the garden.

The waves against the cliff were gentle. The place was like a haunted house in the lonely quiet. He shivered. He had come out in a cotton kimono.

Back in the secret room, the small girl's cheeks were flushed. The electric blanket was turned low, but she was young. He warmed himself against her, her back arched in the warmth. Her feet were exposed.

"You'll catch a cold." said Eguchi. He felt the great difference in their ages. It would have been good to take the small girl inside him.

"Did you hear me ring last night?" he asked as the woman of the house served him breakfast. "I wanted the medicine you gave her. I wanted to sleep like her."

"That is not permitted. It's dangerous for old people."

"You needn't to worry. I have a strong heart. And I wouldn't have any regrets if I went."

"You're asking a lot for someone who has been here three times."

"What is the most you can get by with in this house?"

She stared back at him, a faint smile on her lips.

The grey of the winter morning was by evening a cold drizzle. Inside the gate of the 'house of sleeping beauties', Eguchi noticed that the drizzle had become sleet. The usual woman closed and locked the gate behind him. He saw white dots in the light pointed at his feet. There was only a scattering of them. They were soft, and melted as they hit the flagstones.

"Be careful." said the woman. "The stones are wet." holding an umbrella for him, she tried to take his hand. The forbidding warmth from the middle aged hand seemed about to come through his glove.

"I'm all right." He shook her away. "I'm not so old yet that I need to be led by the hand."

"They're slippery." The fallen maple leaves had been not swept away. Some were withered and faded, but they glowed in the rain.

"Do you have them coming here half paralyzed? Do you have to lead them and hold them up?"

"You're not to ask about the others."

"But the winter must be dangerous for them. What would you do if one of them had a stroke or a heart attack?"

"That would be the end of things." she said coldly. "It might be paradise for the gentleman, of course."

"You wouldn't come through undamaged yourself."

"No." Whatever there might have been in the woman's past to account for such composture, there was no flicker of change in her expression.

The upstairs room was as usual, save that the village of the maple leaves had been changed for a snow scene. It too was without doubt a reproduction.

"You always give such short notice." she said as she made the usual good tea. "Didn't you like any of other three?"

"I like all three of them too well."

"Then you should let me know two or three days in advance which you want. You're very promiscuous."

"Is it promiscuous, even with a sleeping girl? She doesn't know a thing, It could be anyone."

"She may be asleep, but she's still flesh and blood."

"Do they ever ask what short of old man was with them?"

"They are absolutely forbidden so. That's the strict rule of the house, You needn't worry."

"I believe you suggested it wouldn't do to have a man too fond of one of yours girls. Do you remember? We spoke about promiscuousness, and you said to me exactly what I said to you tonight. We've changed places. Very odd. Is the woman in you beginning to show through?"

There was a sarcastic smile at the corners of her thin lips. "I would imagine that over the years you've made a great many women weep."

"What an idea!" Eguchi was caught off balance.

"I think you protest too much."

"I wouldn't be coming here if I were that kind of man. The old men who come here still have their attachments. But struggling and moaning won't bring anything back."

"I wonder." There still was no change in her expression.

"I asked you last time. What is the worst they can get by with?"

"Having the girl asleep, I should think."

"Can I have the same medicine?"

"I believe I had to refuse you last time."

"What is the worst thing an old man can do?"

"There are no bad things in this house." She lowered her youthful voice, which seemed to impose itself upon him with a new force.

"No bad things?"

The woman's dark eyes were calm. "Of course, if you were to try to strangle one of the girls, it would be like wrenching the arm of a baby."

The remark was distasteful. "She wouldn't even wake up then?"

"I think not."

"Made to order if you wanted to commit suicide and take someone with you."

"Please do, if you feel lonely about doing it by yourself."

"And when you're too lonely even to suicide?"

"I suppose there are such times for old people." As always, her manner was calm. "Have you been drinking? You're not making a great deal of sense."

"I've had something worse than liquor."

She glanced at him briefly. "The one tonight is very warm." She said as if to make light of his words. "Just right for a cold night like this. Warm yourself with her." And she went downstairs.

Eguchi opened the door to the secret room. The sweet smell of woman was stronger than usual. The girl lay with her back to him. She was breathing heavily, though not quite snoring. She seemed to be a large girl. He could not be certain in the light from the crimson velvet curtains, but her rich hair may have had a reddish cast. The skin from the full ears over the round neck was extraordinarily white. She seemed, as the woman had said, very warm, and yet she was not flushed.

"Ah!" He cried out involuntary as he slipped behind her.

She was indeed warm. Her skin was so smooth that it seemed to cling to him. From its moistness came the scent. He lay still for a time, his eyes closed. The girl too lay still. The flesh was rich at the hips and below. The warmth less sank into him than enveloped him. Her bosom was full, but the breasts seemed low and wide, and the nipples were remarkably small. The woman had spoken of strangulation. He remembered now and trembled at the thought, because of the girl's skin. If he were to strangle her, what sort of scent would she give off? He forced upon himself a picture of the girl in the daytime, and, to subdue the temptation, he gave her an awkwardness gait. The excitement faded. But what was awkwardness in a walking girl? What were well shaped legs? What, for a sixty seven year old man with a girl who was probably for the one night only, were intelligence, culture, barbarity? He was but touching her. And, put to sleep, she knew nothing of the fact that an ugly old man was touching her. Nor would she know tomorrow. Was she a toy, a sacrifice? Old Eguchi had come to this house only four times, and yet the feeling that with each new visit there was a new numbness inside him was especially strong tonight.

Was this girl also well trained? Perhaps because she had come to think nothing of the sad old men who where her guests, she did not respond to Eguchi's touch. Any kind of inhumanity, given practice, becomes human. All the varieties of transgression are buried in the darkness of the world. But Eguchi was a little different from the other old men who frequented the house. Indeed he was very different. Old Kiga, who had introduced him, had been wrong when he thought Eguchi like the rest of them. Eguchi had not ceased to be a man. It might therefore be said that he did not feel the sorrow and happiness, the regrets and loneliness, as intensely as the others. It was not necessary for him that the girl remain asleep.

There had been his second visit, when, with that witch of a girl, he had come close to violating the rule of the house, and had pulled himself back in his astonishment at finding that she was a virgin. He had vowed then to observe the rule, to leave the sleeping beauties in peace. He had vowed to respect the old mens's secret. It did seem to be the case that all the girls of the house were virgins. And to what sort of solicitude did that attest? Was it the wish if the old men, a wish that approached the mournful? Eguchi thought he understood, and he also thought it foolish.

But he was suspicious of the one tonight. He found it hard to believe that she was a virgin. Raising his chest to her shoulder, he looked into her face. It was not as well put together as her body. But it was more innocent than he would have expected. The nostrils were somewhat distended, and the bridge of the nose was low. The cheeks were broad and round. A widow's peak came low over her forehead. The short eyebrows were heavy and regular.

"Very pretty." muttered old Eguchi, pressing his cheek to hers, It too was smooth and moist. Perhaps because his weight was heavy against her shoulder, she turned face up. Eguchi pulled away.

He lay for a time with eyes closed, for the girl's scent was unusually strong. It is said that the sense of smell is the quickest to call up memories. But was this not too thick and sweet a smell? Eguchi thought of the milky smell of a baby. Even though the two were utterly different, were they not somehow basic to humanity? From ancient times old men had sought to use the scent given off by girls as an elixir of youth. The scent of the girl tonight could not have been called fragrant. Were he to violate the rule of the house, there would be an objectionably sharp and carnal smell. But was the fact that it came to him as objectionable a sign that Eguchi was already senile? Was not this sort of heavy, sharp smell the basis of human life? She seemed like a girl who could easily be made pregnant. Although she had been put to sleep, her physiological processes had not stopped, and she would awaken in the course of the next day. Is she were to become pregnant, it would be quite without her knowledge. Suppose Eguchi, now sixty seven, were to leave such a child behind. It was the body of woman that invited man into the lower circles of hell.

She had been stripped of all defenses, for the sake of her aged guest, of the sad old man. She was naked, and she would not awaken. Eguchi felt a wave of pity for her. A thought came to him: the aged have death, and the young have love, and death comes once, and love comes over and over again. It was a thought for which he was unprepared, but it calmed him… not that he had been especially overwrought. From outside there came the faint rustle of sleet. The sound of the sea had faded away. Old Eguchi could see the great, dark sea, on which the sleet fell and melted. A wild bird like a great eagle flew skimming the waves, something in its mouth dripping blood. Was it not a human infant? It could be. Perhaps it was the specter of human iniquity. He shook his head gently on the pillow and the specter went away.

"Warm, warm." said Eguchi.

It was not only the electric blanket. She had thrown off the quilt, and her bosom, rich and wide but somewhat wanting in emphasis, was half exposed. The fair skin was slightly tinged in the light from the crimson velvet. Gazing at the handsome bosom, he traced the peaked hairline with her finger. She continued to breathe quietly and slowly. What sort of teeth would be behind the small lips? Taking the lower lip at its center he opened it slightly. Though not small in proportion to the size of her lips, her teeth were small all the same, and regularly ranged. He took away his hand. Her lips remained open. He could still see the tips of her teeth. He rubbed off some of the lipstick at his fingertips on the full earlobe, and the rest on the round neck. The scarcely visible smear of red was pleasant against the remarkably white skin.

Yes, she would be a virgin. Having had doubts about the girl on his second night, and having been startled at his own baseness, he felt no impulse to investigate. What was it to him? Then, as he began to think that it indeed was something to him, he seemed to hear a derisive voice.

"Is it some devil in there trying to laugh at me?"

"Nothing as simple, I'm afraid. You're making too much of your own sentimentality, and your dissatisfaction at not being able to die."

"I'm trying think for old men who are sadder than I am."

"Scoundrel. Someone who puts the blame on others is not fit to be ranked with the scoundrels."

"Scoundrel? Very well, a scoundrel. But why is a virgin pure, and another woman not? I haven't asked for virgins."

"That's because you don't know real senility. Don't come to this place again. If by a chance in a million, a chance in a million, a girl were to open her eyes… aren't you underestimating the shame?"

Something like a self interrogation passed through Eguchi's mind. But of course it did not establish that only four times, he was puzzled that all four girls should have been virgins. Was it the demand, the hope of the old men that they should be?

If the girl should awaken… the thought had a strong pull. Of she were to open her eyes, even in a daze, how intense would the shock be, of what sort would it be? She would probably not go on sleeping if, for instance, he were to cut her arm almost off or stab her on the chest or abdomen.

"You're depraved." he muttered to himself.

The impotence of the other old men was probably not very far off Eguchi himself. Thoughts of atrocities rose in him: destroy this house, destroy his own life too, because the girl tonight was not what could have been called a regular featured beauty, because he felt close to him a pretty girl with her broad bosom exposed. He felt something like contrition turned upon itself. And there was contrition too for a life that seemed likely to have a timid ending. He did not have the courage of his youngest daughter, with whom he had gone to see the camellia. He closed his eyes again.

Two butterflies were sporting in low shrubbery along the stepping stones of a garden. They disappeared in the shrubbery, they brushed against it, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. They flew slightly higher and danced lightly in and out, and another butterfly appeared from the leaves, and another. Two sets of mates, he thought… and then there were five, all whirling about together. Was it a flight? But butterflies appeared one after another from the shrubbery, and the garden was a dancing swarm of white butterflies, close to the ground. The down swept branches of a maple waved in a wind that did not seem to exist. The twigs were delicate and, because the leaves were large, sensitive to the wind. The swarm of butterflies had so grown that it was like a field of white flowers, The maple leaves here had quite fallen. A few shriveled leaves might still be clinging to the branches, but tonight it was sleeting.

Eguchi had forgotten the cold of the sleet. Was that dancing swarm of white butterflies brought by the ample white bosom of the girl, spread put here beside him? Was there something in the girl to quiet the bad impulses in an old man? He opened his eyes. He gazed at the small pink nipples. They were like a symbol of good. He put a cheek to them. The back of his eyelids seemed to warm. He wanted to leave his mark on the girl. Of he were to violate the rule of the house, she would be in dismay when she awoke. He left on her breasts several marks the color of blood. He shivered.

"You'll be cold." He pulled up the quilt. He drank down both of the tablets at his pillow. "A bit heavy in the lower parts." He reached down and pulled her toward him.

The next morning he was twice around by the woman of the house. The first time she rapped in the door.