Page:Modern Japanese Stories.pdf/67

 by Nagai Kafū

Walking through Komagome one day, I stepped inside a temple gate and came upon him quite by chance: a samisen player, Tsurusawa Sōkichi by name, from whom I had once taken lessons. It must have been twenty years before. Tsurukidayū was still alive, I remember, and appearing occasionally on the variety stage.

“An odd place to meet you,” I said. “I see you’ve managed to keep well.”

“Very well, thank you, sir. I’ve often thought how kind you were in the old days, and I’ve been meaning to stop by.”

“Is it true that you’ve given up the samisen?”

“Yes, sir. I saw that the end was in sight, and decided to quit while I could.”

“Good. And what are you doing now?”

“Oh, I have a shabby little geisha house out on the edge of Yotsuya.”

“That’s much better than trying to make your way as a musician. People don’t get ahead by talent these days. Very far-sighted of you.”

“It’s good of you to say so. There were all sorts of reasons. At first I hardly knew what to do next, but now I can see that I was right to make the change.” 63