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Lafcadio Hearn - Kokoro
wedding-day.
In the period of the eighth moon, Kimiko ceased to be playful, and told her reasons very gently but very
firmly: - "It is time that I should say what I have long delayed saying. For the sake of the mother who
gave me life, and for the sake of my little sister, I have lived in hell. All that is past; but the scorch of the
fire is upon me, and there is no power that can take it away. It is not for such as I to enter into an honored
family, - nor to bear you a son, - nor to build up your house.... Suffer me to speak; for in the knowing of
wrong I am very, very much wiser than you.... Never shall I be your wife to become your shame. I am
your companion only, your play-fellow, your guest of an hour, - and this not for any gifts. When I shall
be no longer with you nay! certainly that day must come! - you will have clearer sight. I shall still be dear
to you, but not in the same way as now - which is foolishness. You will remember these words out of my
heart. Some true sweet lady will be chosen for you, to become the mother of your children. I shall see
them; but the place of a wife I shall never take, and the joy of a mother I must never know. I am only
your folly, my beloved, - an illusion, a dream, a shadow flitting across your life. Somewhat more in later
time I may become, but a wife to you never, neither in this existence nor in the next. Ask me again-and I
go."
In the period of the tenth moon, and without any reason imaginable, Kimiko disappeared, - vanished, -
utterly ceased to exist.
V
Nobody knew when or how or whither she had gone. Even in the neighborhood of the home she had left,
none had seen her pass. At first it seemed that she must soon return. Of all her beautiful and precious
things-her robes, her ornaments, her presents: a fortune in themselves - she had taken nothing. But weeks
passed without word or sign; and it was feared that something terrible had befallen her. Rivers were
dragged, and wells were searched. Inquiries were made by telegraph and by letter. Trusted servants were
sent to look for her. Rewards were offered for any news - especially a reward to Kimika, who was really
attached to the girl, and would have been only too happy to find her without any reward at all. But the
mystery remained a mystery. Application to the authorities would have been useless: the fugitive had
done no wrong, broken no law; and the vast machinery of the imperial police-system was not to be set in
motion by the passionate whim of a boy. Months grew into years; but neither Kimika, nor the little sister
in Kyoto, nor any one of the thousands who had known and admired the beautiful dancer, ever saw
Kimiko again.
But what she had foretold came true ; - for time dries all tears and quiets all longing; and even in Japan
one does not really try to die twice for the same despair. The lover of Kimiko became wiser; and there
was found for him a very sweet person for wife, who gave him a son. And other years passed; and there
was happiness in the fairy-home where Kimiko had once been.
There came to that home one morning, as if seeking alms, a traveling nun; and the child, hearing her
Buddhist cry of "Ha - i! ha - i!" ran to the gate. And presently a house-servant, bringing out the
customary gift of rice, wondered to see the nun caressing the child, and whispering to him. Then the little
one cried to the servant, "Let me give!" - and the nun pleaded from under the veiling shadow of her great
straw hat: "Honorably allow the child to give me." So the boy put the rice into the mendicant's bowl.
Then she thanked him, and asked: - "Now will you say again for me the little word which I prayed you to
tell your honored father?" And the child lisped: - "Father, one whom you will never see again in this
world, says that her heart is glad because she has seen your son."
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