Quicksand by Junichirô Tanizaki Read Free Book Online Page A

up any doubts either, so when I visited them I always tried to ingratiate myself. She became a great admirer of “Mrs. Kakiuchi” and told Mitsuko: “I’m glad you’ve made such a good friend.” As things stood, nothing kept me from telephoning or visiting their house every day . . . but besides her mother there was her maid, Ume, the one mentioned in the letter, and other prying eyes. It wasn’t the same as being at my house.
    â€œThis won’t do after all,” Mitsuko declared. “Now that my mother trusts you, it’ll be a shame if we spoil it.” Then she had a suggestion. “I know! How about the new hot-spring resort at Takarazuka?”
    So we went off to Takarazuka. As we were going into one of the private baths there, Mitsuko said: “You’re so unfair, Sister! You always want to look at me naked, but you never show yourself to me.”
    â€œI’m not being unfair,” I protested. “Your skin is so beautiful I’m embarrassed to let you see how much darker mine is. I just hope it won’t disgust you.”
    And in fact when I bared myself completely to her for the first time, I did feel uncomfortable beside her. Not only was Mitsuko’s skin a flawless creamy white; she had a slender, superbly proportioned body. By comparison, my own body suddenly seemed ugly. . . .
    â€œYou’re beautiful yourself, Sister!” she told me. “We’re really no different.” Later I came to believe her and thought nothing of it. But that first time I felt myself shrink back.

    Well, as you saw in Mitsuko’s letter, I went to pick strawberries with my husband one Sunday. Actually, I’d been hoping to go to Takarazuka again, but he wanted to take me out to Naruo, since it was such a fine day. Thinking I’d better humor him for once, I reluctantly agreed. But my heart was still with Mitsuko, and I couldn’t enjoy the outing. The more I longed for her, the more my husband’s efforts at conversation irritated me, even angered me, to the point that I would hardly reply to him. I spent the whole day moping. Apparently that was when he decided he’d have to do something about the situation. As usual, though, he only looked glum, and since he wasn’t the kind of person to show his emotions, I had no idea he was so infuriated with me.
    When we came home that evening I learned I’d missed a telephone call, and began fuming at everyone in the house. The next morning Mitsuko’s reproachful letter arrived. I called her up immediately and arranged to meet at the Hankyu Umeda station. We went directly to Takarazuka, without even stopping off at school. Every day from then on, for the rest of the week, we went to Takarazuka. That was when we got our matching kimonos, and had the souvenir photo taken that I showed you. . . .
    Then one afternoon a little past three, while we were talking together in the bedroom again, almost a week after the strawberry-picking excursion, our maid, Kiyo, came rushing upstairs to announce that the master had just returned.
    â€œReally, at this hour?” I exclaimed, all in a fluster. “Hurry, Mitsu!” I’m sure we both looked nervous as we went down to greet him.
    Meanwhile, my husband had changed from his suit into a light serge kimono. He frowned slightly when he saw us, but then remarked casually: “I had nothing to do today, so I left the office early. You two seem to be cutting classes yourself.” And he added, to me: “How about a cup of tea and some cakes, since we have a guest?”
    With that, the three of us settled down to polite talk as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But I was startled when Mitsuko absent-mindedly called me “Sister.”
    â€œDon’t be too intimate,” I used to tell her. “It’s better for you to call me Sono, rather than Sister. If you get into the wrong habit, you’ll