PART V

Search for the whereabouts of Tokubey, made at large and at length by his henchmen, had proved quite fruitless. Ashizawa admitted to the inquiry that he had wounded the man, who, however, took to his heels with his two companions. Tsuya’s account was that the three of them, while fleeing in fright of officers’ possible pursuit, lost one another on the way; he had not been seen since then. Even if he had made his way out of trouble, she opined, there would be very little chance of his surviving the wounds he had suffered.

Abiding in their luck, which was little short of the devil’s own, the couple had neatly pulled the wool over the eyes of the world. Nothing more to check them, they plunged into a life of gaiety and laughter. Her methods were oft subject to whispered comments, and yet the name of Somékichi continued to rise in fame. To the girl at the zenith of her career, life seemed to be a cup never to be drained.

One morning, about half a month or so after the night of the last murderous deed, the front lattice door of the Tsuta-ya was opened and admitted, on a voice of morning greeting, a caller who was of all callers the least expected, Kinzo of the Narihira-cho. Shinsuké who was just then seated over a brazier and a bottle of drink for his morning repast in the adjoining room, sped upstairs the instant he caught the sound of his voice.

A parley ensued downstairs between Tsuya and Kinzo. “I know no man of that sort,” she retorted, insisting on her ignorance in a manner that was more brusque than it was tart.

“If you will say he is not here, I am not going to waste my time or yours, about that. When the man himself is disposed that way, it would do him little good, even if I got him by forcing a search through your house. So, I’m going to say to you a good morning; but here is something, Somékichi san, that I’d wish you to tell to this man Shinsuké, should you fall upon him by any chance. Tell him this straight and right, please, that my word is always good, I would never break what was sealed with a true man’s words,—even if he broke his part of the promise. He can put himself at ease, because nothing will ever leak through my lips. But tell him that, if he wants so much to live, I want him to live straight and right, not to disappoint the man who trusted him, not to do anything that means cropping his own life,—in a word, to change himself into a new man. I think he’s been doing little good, since going away from my place. I wish he would take himself in hand from this on, at least, and turn his back upon the way he has been following. It’s my honest wish and you will tell him, as straight from my heart, just to oblige this old man.—My regret for taking up so much of your time, and my wish for a good day to you.” And Kinzo took his leave.

“Shin san, it went off fine!” Tsuya came upstairs, proud of the way she had dispatched the matter. But when she found him glum and cheerless, she suggested: “If you are so worried, what of doing away with that old man, too?”

“Thought of it myself; but to kill him, that man of all men,—I think God’s vengeance would be too heavy!” he shook his head, heaving a sigh.

It was a fact that his mind had become, these days, a prey to haunting ideas wherein the killing of a man and the taking of his money invariably loomed prominent. The man and woman whose lives were welded in much blood and crime seemed to feel themselves alive only to a filmed sense of life, without new stimulation of bloody intensity. He could not cast his eyes on a man’s face but he conjectured a vision of the same being laid low in a hideous corpse. He could not overcome the ominous presentiment that there were yet to be one or two more lives to be dispatched at his hands, somehow.

Just about this time, the business of the boatman Seiji began to bring him into the professional life of Tsuya. What with his thriving business, and with unaccountable earnings of illicit description, he prosperously carried him on all the year round. A new house had replaced the old. He had won his way into recognition as one of the opulent folk of the Takabashi way. Having attained such circumstances of fortune where he commanded homage and servility amongst his own numbers, with little fear of Tokubey who was dead to all appearances, only too ready to feel anew the old fire that he had neither lived out nor forsaken, and not without other obvious reasons, he took it upon himself to wait upon the pleasure of the woman who had knowledge of his dark secret. Perhaps, no more dragged by his guilty conscience than spurred on by his freshened gusto, he sought patiently to please and win her over, though he found her whims and fancies quite costly.

Nursing a design in her heart from the start, Tsuya’s reception of the man was calculated never to be discouraging or cold. He was to be led on and be made to dance to her music, until she should be ready to cast aside his fleeced remains, after he had been drained to her satisfaction.

“If all that sweetness you tell is true, I can’t deny that it warms up my heart toward you. But, while you are with your Ichi san, I wouldn’t quite relish the idea.” It was the refrain with which she would always parry his advance beyond a certain point. Ichi was the boatman’s third wife; she herself had been a geisha in the Yoshi-cho quarter until two or three years ago, when Seiji bought her out to be kept as his mistress. On the death of his last wife, he took her into his own family. Not a woman of so much attractiveness, she had nevertheless an accountably strong hold upon the man. Moral slips on his part or any little things suggestive of such an eventuality, if smelt out, were sure to expose him to a connubial tirade, often accompanied by a muscular display of much vehemence. However strongly he might covet Tsuya, the idea of driving out this woman seemed to be the one thing he was never likely to buckle himself to.

“Little difference if the old woman was with me,” he would say expediently. “Why, there are a lot of ways so she would never be the wiser.” To such she would retort, “If it suits you, it won’t suit me. If you love me truly, there is to be no other woman,—and no wife but myself.” If her thrust thus driven home to him was meant as an idea to thwart him, it was as effective as it was intended to be.

“Listen, Seiji san, you say you are in love with me, but you don’t know what you talk about, do you? If you love me so much, why shouldn’t you make a quick work of your woman who is wise to your doings?” At last, she saw her chance on one occasion, and pushed her argument thus far.

“A man like yourself who ♦would kill Shin san in cold blood who had no fault except he loved me, wouldn’t stop at a little thing like that, would he?—”

♦ “woud” replaced with “would”

“It’s Santa’s work, and I had no hand in it.—By the way, you’ve become a woman of wonderful mettle, nowadays, and no mistake, either!”

On this expression of startled admiration, he dismissed the subject; but he appeared to have allowed his mind to be considerably swayed by her pregnant words.

“A little more time—and Seiji and his woman shall be caught in the same ♦noose! We will settle our old score with him!”—such were the words oft whispered between the loving pair, as they found themselves alone, in each other’s company, in that room upstairs in the Tsuta-ya, to sweetly enjoy those hours of bedtime. They would yet await their chance; and they treasured their hopes of vengeance. At each of his workaday passages to and from the house, by day or at night, Shinsuké’s mind was scrupulously employed not to expose himself to sight a whit more than necessary.

♦ “nooze” replaced with “noose”

Their chance came, at length, in July of the same year, when the summer was at its height. Through the arrest of one of his gang, a series of convicting cases had begun to be brought to light against Seiji, driving him to the decision that he should shut up his house, and sneak off into the country where to lie low in hiding for some while. This should be his chance to do away with Ichi, and this would be done to clear the way for them; for he wished Tsuya to accompany him on this flight into his life to open anew. He would, of course, bear away all the money on hand. It was suggested that they should steal away by boat under cover of night.—When this was whispered into her ear, Tsuya gave a ready assent, forcing down her heaving bosom.

The fourth hour of a night, a few days after the Buddhist festivity on the fifteenth of July, was set for the time of dispatching his woman Ichi and their departure from town. The day before the appointed night found Seiji all but completed in his preparations; his hired hands, many in number, had been discharged, furniture and household sundries all sold off,—not a soul or a thing remained save his wife, Ichi, whom he assured he would take as his sole companion on his flight. To Tsuya was sent the message that she should walk in by the kitchen entrance on the stroke of the fourth hour of the night, as Ichi would be removed by that time.

Having reassured herself of Shinsuké’s part of the concert, alone and covering her face partly in a ♦wimple, Tsuya walked in through the kitchen door of the boatman’s house, sharp at the appointed hour.

♦ “whimple” replaced with “wimple”

“Here! Here I am!” hailed Seiji, who was discovered in the back room, standing in the light of a sleep-room lantern, a figure gaunt and drawn to its height. Lying at his feet with two hands outstretched and stark, was all that remained of his woman.

“I’m just through with it,—a heap of trouble she gave!”

He was still fighting hard for his breath.

“What does she look like? Let me take a peep.”

Mistress of the situation, she calmly fed up the wick in the oil, and looked down into the woman’s face. Presumably because of blood having been sent up to the head upon strangling, her complexion looked fresh and pretty as in life. An expression of agony that lingered over her features appeared as if it trailed into the whisper of a mirthful grin. Her eyes fixed in a soulless glare on the ceiling were the only objects of grim terror.

“There is the boat all ready, out there. We’ll take this carcass along and sink it down, somewhere in the offing.—Now, about money, here is what I’ve raked up—.” Seiji almost dropped before her a weighty looking bag of straw matting, in which there was five hundred “ryo” in gold pieces, he explained. In this moment, the door at the kitchen entrance was noiselessly opened for a second time; Shinsuké stole in.

“Seiji san, my greetings to you after such a long time. I’m obliged to you for all that you’ve been doing for my Tsuya.”

“What? You Shinsuké san?”

Seiji’s face instantly paled. Before his eyes loomed forth a man, now uncovered of the hand towel in which he had come concealing his face, dressed in a light thing of blue and white, a sash of blue stripes, his glossy hair combed fresh and neat. Though now presented in the attire of loud colours and garish patterns, much after the taste of a sporting man, it was no other than Shinsuké himself.

“You said it right. I’m the same Shinsuké, at your service;—though, perhaps, a thing or two wiser than when you used to know me. And be it my pleasure to report to you that both your wife and Santa were killed at my hands.”

A brief altercation led straightway to a scuffle. Without a weapon at hand, Sejii was soon at bay. Tsuya’s arm swiftly shot out from behind his back, and clapped fast over his mouth about to cry for help. Shinsuké was given sufficient time to complete his work.

* * * * *

The bag of five hundred “ryo” that they brought back from this sally was lavished in their orgies of reckless abandon, and cleaned out toward the close of the same year. Their hideous love had now spanned over a full year’s time.

“I really wish something nice were drifting our way soon, or we’ll be wishing each other a pretty sorry sort of New Year!” They would oft whisper between them in such complaint of fortune, as it kept sinking lower and lower. However, there was nothing forthcoming to bring them a smile or a windfall. There was but one course to be reckoned with, and Tsuya followed it with a vengeance. She brought into play the best that was in her against the men answering to her siren call, and her terms of capitulation were of relentless rigor.

The love of Shinsuké for her grew more intense, as he sped farther downward. Her explanation that she had been “at the old game again” was good enough as far as it went; but, some nights when her return home was late, he would strike out into expression of his mind tinged with veiled mistrust, and chafing with jealous fears.

“What am I to do with my baby boy? Can’t you see how deeply in love I am with you? It doesn’t seem possible that I should ever think of another man, does it? If I were to suit you like that, I might as well kiss a good-bye to my business.” She would invariably dismiss it as if his case merited little more than a flippant laugh.

However, the case of the woman who was oft late to come home had to go still farther. For, now she would fail sometimes to return before the morning, keeping him awake all night long. In face of anything he might say from his mistrustful mind in such events, she would remain in supreme composure, ♦unembarrassed. “There are so many turns and twists to the geisha’s business, and she must be wise to them if she expects to do well. Especially, when she has irons in the fire, it is more than likely that she should have to act,—and act in many foolish ways; sometimes, pretending she’s too drunk to hear the man or to wait on his pleasure, and sometimes, she has to keep this make-believe up until the next morning. It’s all part of her game, and a girl who isn’t capable of that gets the worst of it, to say nothing of fleecing a billy lamb.” This she would hold forth in her effort to confirm her faith with him and the chastity of her conduct. A man of an unsuspecting, frank turn of mind, though with gruesome records against him now, Shinsuké had scarcely initiated himself into the inner knowledge of that peculiar world of the geisha which, for all appearances to the contrary, was really bound fast to an accepted code of honour. What he knew of the geisha or the world she lived in was through Tsuya only. For all his occasional fits of jealousy, therefore, he would always end by his complacent acceptance of her reassurance.

♦ “unembarassed” replaced with “unembarrassed”

It began to seem that Tsuya stayed out over night more frequently. What was more strange, she never came back from such absences but that she was ready with a full account for the night, going, as she had never done before, into such length and detail in offering her explanation, all the while her bearing betrayed a restive, uneasy mind. One who was of a suspicious bent might have laid to her charge that hers was the manner of one trying to keep to the self a happiness that was almost too ♦uncontrollable.

♦ “uncontrolable” replaced with “uncontrollable”

One night she came back in a very bad condition, leaning against the shoulder of a guest who escorted her to the house door.

“Shin san, this is the gentleman who’s been very good to me, the best master I have in business now. He is not quite a stranger to you, either. Now, come out and make up with the gentleman for what’s gone before,—and thank him much for me!”

There lurked in her tone a trace of a note that was spiteful. The man who was announced as her master was the same Ashizawa, the officer, who was remembered for his deadly fight with the late Tokubey. The impression Shinsuké had carried away from what little was seen of him on that night, was but confirmed now that he was brought face to face with the officer, a man in proper attire of the honoured class, handsome features in lines of refined delicacy, an air of dignity about him that graced his profession and compelled respect of others. “So, this might be the man in the case—” Shinsuké thought instinctively.

“Shinsuké, my greetings and my wish to you that we should consign our memory of that night to the stream of oblivion, and we should be agreeable with one another. You shall be a welcome guest at my country villa of Terashima-mura, and you should accept my invitation when you are so disposed.” And Ashizawa’s thin lips, associable with sharp wits, curled in a slight smile of benevolence. He was seen in a condition scarce better than his escort.

Whilst the flames of jealous anger were consuming him, Shinsuké thought he should hold himself in check and silence, until he should fall upon conclusive proof. Imprudent charge would but give her a chance to make him ridiculous. He was now bent upon catching her red-handed. After continuing his work for one month,—secretly tracing her moves every night, gathering gossip from tea-houses through bribing young ones serving in Tsuya’s employment, Shinsuké was able to confirm himself that he had not erred greatly in his first surmise. However, all that he had procured so far was naught but indirect information that had taken him little way beyond where he was at the start; he had worked in vain to grasp such a chance as he needed. Tsuya, so sure of her own self and of his docile mind, would never fail, on her return from calls, to carry it off, on each occasion, with superb confidence, glib of tongue and full of the memories of people and places that were conspicuous for their absence. She would freely talk of this master and that guest, comment now on one tea-house and again on another; but her time was really spent only in the company of Ashizawa. As Shinsuké began to see it through the veil she meant to draw over his eyes, exasperating because done with self-confidence that was well-nigh a taunt, Shinsuké found himself yielding to the passions of his outraged heart, until he could bear the situation no longer. In the evening of the third day of the New Year, though acting on such weak evidence as he had as a result of his investigation, he brought her to confront the shafts of his examination.

“Now that you speak of it, I might as well tell you. I see you are improving, though perhaps you don’t know it;—you haven’t lived all this time with me for nothing—”

Where he had anticipated a downright denial, she flung her retort straight to his face. Her eyes were vivid with stinging scorn, as she went on—

“—It is a fact I have sold myself to Ashizawa, if you would have it that way. But, Shin san, if you expect to have a geisha for a sweetheart, you ought to be wise to the game, and don’t fool yourself about it. I may be as good—at those things—as many others; but you can’t expect me—or anybody else, for that matter,—to manage to put it over for hard cash by only palming off sugar pills to them. If I didn’t tell you everything straight and open, you ought to have seen what’s what, all the same. And if you knew that I was doing all this not for the love of the thing,—but for you,—your comfort and pleasure in life,—you ought to be saying to me something nicer than that. It’s for you to keep your eyes and mouth shut.—Now that we are at it, I may as well open your eyes now as later. There were times when I gave myself not only to Tokubey, but to Seiji, too. If you didn’t know it, that means no credit to you!”

Her taunting abuse thrown to his face, Shinsuké flew into a rage. Had it been but a matter of broken faith, the chastity of her body, he might have ♦forborne and reconciled himself to the truth of it. In none of the words she uttered was seen a trace of truthfulness. Her real intention was, to all appearances, that she should drive him into a passion and, once a wedge was driven in between them through this idea, should turn her back upon him and go her own way.

♦ “forborn” replaced with “forborne”

“It’s no credit to me, and you are right! I never thought for a moment that there should be so much rottenness in your heart. And now take this for deceiving me all this time!”

Swiftly, he took her by her hair at the back of her head, brought her down under his knees. His hand flew to a clothes hanger lying near by; his blows were many and none too sparing.

Even the while he dealt out punishment, he became conscious of a sharp feeling of desolation, as of a child forsaken by its parents, rising to fill his heart. That his examination of this night should come to this—to this dismal abomination, had been quite beyond his ken. Where he had hoped to take her unawares, he found himself confronted by the other even more prepared in mind than he himself was. What was he to do should she leave him now?—but his mind refused to be harrowed thus far.

“Beat!—beat me as much as you want! I do really love that man Ashizawa, as you supposed! For a long time I’ve had enough of a dolt like you!”

It was not a taunt that he was not exactly prepared for; none the less, flaunted to his face with such open boldness, it stunned him; he was so stunned as to relax, in spite of himself, his hold on the rod. Gone too far beyond his help;—the thought darted through his mind, and he was assailed by an unbearable and abject misery.

“I am sorry for what I said, and I say no more! Never will I worry you again with my foolish thoughts; so forgive me, and smile again! Think of me—of us, I beg you, and love me as you used to do!” Shinsuké repeated himself to such effect time and again, as he went on the knees before her, his head bowed low. To which insistent entreaty, Tsuya’s answer continued to be one and unchanged:—“I have to take care of myself, too; give me a couple of days or so to think it over, before I know what to tell you.”

* * * * *

The case of what was known as “The Killing of O-Tsuya” took place two or three days after this. Generally, a woman of stout heart and dauntless courage, Tsuya seemed to have lost her grip on herself, and stood in strong dread of the worst the man might dare at the last. She had therefore carried on her preparations in the dark; on the third day, at a late hour in the night, she betook herself from a party at a tea-house, and thence effaced herself. Shinsuké who had been on the alert did not neglect to keep himself informed. When he was informed at the call station of her departure from the house, he set off at once for Mukojima.

On the river bank of Mukojima, near the gateway to the Mimeguri shrine, she was overtaken and dragged out of the palanquin. Tsuya held back his arm; and, with, a gesture of prayer, said—.

“For mercy’s sake, Shin san, let me see Ashizawa san one second, before you kill me!”

She fled about to elude and dodge the slashing blows, the while she kept calling out for help. And it was the name of Ashizawa who had lastly claimed her heart that she went on crying,—even unto her last.

A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Junichiro Tanizaki was born in Tokyo in 1886. Upon his graduation from the Secondary School in 1905, he entered the First Higher Preparatory School where he took a course in law. “Swayed by the desire, unforsakable and strong, to take up literary pursuit,” to quote his own words, he changed for the course in English Literature two years later, giving up what little ambition he may have had in legal line. Next year, he advanced to the literary course in the Imperial University, Tokyo. In 1909, he was one of those youthful aspirants to venture upon the publication of a monthly magazine, “Shin Shichyo” (New Thought Current.) His interest and activity in the literary work had grown so intensive, by this time, that he was willing to give up his collegiate career. His trips to China, first in 1918 and second in 1926, were productive of travel sketches marked by keen power of observation and broad sympathy.

When the Taisho Eiga Kaisha (Taisho Moving Picture Company) was founded in 1920, Tanizaki engaged himself as advisor to the Scenario Department, which duty, however, he held only for a year. Brief as his connection was with the motion picture industry, he was responsible for some productions worked by a distinct literary quality.

Since then he has been devoting himself to his literary work, steadily contributing to monthly publications serials, short stories, plays and essays.

Junichiro Tanizaki Is the author of _The Tattoo Artist and Kirin_, 1909; _The Youth_, 1910; _Atumono_, 1912; _O-Tsuya Koroshi_ 1915; _O-Sai To Minokichi_, 1915; _Sorrows of a Pagan_, 1916; _Sickbed Images_, 1916; _Fears of a Certain Boy_, 1919: _A Shark Man_, 1920; _A Story of A and B_, 1921; _Honmoku Nights_, 1922; _Between God and Man_, 1923; _The Heart of a Dolt_, 1924; _All For The Love_, 1921; _Light, Shade and Love_, 1924; _Shanghai Sketches_, 1926; and others.

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昭和二年七月五日印刷 昭和二年七月十五日發行

英譯現代日本文藝叢書 定價　金貳圓五拾錢 英譯　お艶殺し

譯者　岩堂全智

東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 　ジャパン・タイムス社 發行者　不破瑳磨太

東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 印刷者　北村東一

東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 印刷所　ジャパン・タイムス社印刷部

* * * * *

東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 發行所　ジャパン・タイムス社出版部

振替口座　東京　大四八四八番 販賣所　全國各書店

ジャパン・タイムス社出版部 英譯現代日本文藝叢書

THE JAPAN TIMES SERIES MASTERPIECES OF CONTEMPORARY JAPANESE FICTION

* * * * *

During the eras of Meiji and Taisho (1868–1926) the literary life of Japan was enriched by a wealth of atheneum of the world.

As literature is the mirror of a living age in which is reflected the life of the people and through which, more than any other medium, the students of the present and future eras may more readily gain an insight into the characteristics and the life of the people, the publishers are convinced that the placing before the world, of representative Japanese literature, will render an inestimable service by bringing to it fuller and better understanding of Japan and the Japanese.

* * * * *

お艶殺し 谷崎潤一郎作 A SPRING TIME CASE (OTSUYA KOROSHI) By Jun-ichiro Tanizaki rendered by ♦Zenchi Iwado.

♦ “Zench” replaced with “Zenchi”

* * * * *

戲曲 井伊大老の死 中村吉藏作 THE DEATH OF II TAIRO (_DRAMA_) (Ii Tairo No Shi) By Kichizo Nakamura rendered by Mock Joya.

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草枕 夏目漱石作 UNHUMAN TOUR (KUSAMAKURA) By Soseki Natsume rendered by Kazutomo Takahashi.

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Published by THE JAPAN TIMES HIBIYA PARK, TOKYO, JAPAN Price Yen 2.50 Each Postage Domestic 18 sen. Foreign 30 sen. _Sent to Any Address on Receipt of the above Cost._

Footnotes

[1] “Cho”, generally translated as “street,” is used in designating a particular locality of town, including a street line and, often, its neighbourhood.

[2] “O-Tami don” is one of familiar ways of addressing people. “O”, one of the honorific terms, carries often an endearing tone. “Don,” placed after one’s name, is used generally among people of working or servant classes in greeting one of their own number.

[3] The value of gold pieces is hard to ascertain, as there were in circulation coins minted in different ages, and their qualities were of as different grades. However, one “ryo”, as the larger gold money was termed, is about equivalent to a hundred yen according to the present scale of currency and its purchasing power, or it is, at least, an approximation as near as needed for our present purpose.

[4] “Chan” is used in accosting a person in an endearing way. “Tsu”, an abbreviation for “Tsuya” as “Shin” is for “Shinsuké”, is an instance of shortening a name in familiar speech.

[5] The “Bon” holidays which fall on the middle of the seventh month are observed in honor of the return of the dead souls to their former earthly abode. It is still kept to this day not so much for general religious fervor as a convenient time to mark off the first half portion of the year. It is at this time and also just before or during the New Year’s holidays, twice in a year, that people exchange presents as greetings of the season. One who receives a call at such time by a man below oneself generally acknowledges the same with small or large tips.

[6] Incorrectness in the manners or conduct of a man in a lower level of culture or intellect, if not ill meant and not pushed too far, is generally taken as a matter of course more or less, and treated as such. Benevolence and understanding have always been regarded by the Japanese as so much of virtue as well as the prerogative of a man in a more favoured position of life. Thus it is seen why the boatman’s manners, above described, coming so openly and frankly from a man who knew no better, were accepted as a well-meant effort to amuse the company at the expense of nobody but himself.

[7] In old times the theatre generally opened at about 10 o’clock in the morning, continuing until about 9 o’clock in the evening. What of the distance to cover on foot and of this early performance, theatre-goers had to leave their homes early and made a complete day and evening of it.

[8] When the succession of a family line was considered paramount, no parents would agree to their heir or heiress marrying out of their family. The eldest son succeeded to the family name and estate. In case of a daughter being the only one to succeed, a man was chosen to marry her and take her family name, so that it would not pass out for the absence of a male child.

[9] In old time the geisha was not permitted to wear foot-cover in company of her guests, an idea to keep herself low out of her respect for their lordly patronage. However, the custom was often looked on as a privilege for a woman of dainty feet to indulge in.

[10] “San”, used after one’s name, is an honorific term used in more formal language and the one most used in accosting people.

[11] Ten o’clock.

[12] The 8th year of Bunsei was 1825 A.D.

[13] “Hatamoto”, the Shogun’s bodyguards; therefore, the most honoured amongst the “samurai” under the Shogunate regime.

[14] It is customary that the husband calls his wife’s name without any honorific term, whilst the wife addresses to him in a more honoured way.

[15] “Saké”, drink made from rice and the most common drink among the Japanese.

[16] “Samisen” or, often pronounced “shamisen”, is a musical instrument of three strings. It plays invariably a chief part in the music entertainment given by the geisha.

[17] “Katobushi”, a distinct musical product of “Yeddo civilization,” is one of those tunes which are played secondary to the chanted words often telling a dramatic episode or a tale complete in itself.

Transcriber’s Notes

1. Misspelled words have been corrected. Obsolete and alternative spellings have been left unchanged (e.g. atheneum, dingey, fulness, kidnaping, nitch, staid). Spelling and hyphenation have otherwise not been standardised. Grammar has not been corrected.

2. Punctuation has been silently corrected.

3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.

4. Illustrations are indicated by: [Illustration: caption or descriptive text].

5. Horizontal rule lines are indicated by “* * * * *”.

6. Thought breaks (extra blank vertical white space) are indicated by “* * * * *”.

7. The Japanese copyright information was originally written in vertical text.

8. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the Levenshtein Distance.

Japanese data (from end of book):

Title: お艶殺し Otsuya Koroshi (lit: “O-Tsuya Murder”)

Author: 谷崎潤一郎 Tanizaki, Junichiro

Translator: 岩堂全智 Iwado, Zenchi

Publisher (person): 不破瑳磨太 Fuwa, Samata

Printer (person): 北村東一 Kitamura, Tōichi (surname and given name)

Print date: 昭和二年七月五日 Shōwa (era) year 2 July 5 (i.e. 5 July 1927)

Printing site: ジャパン・タイムス社印刷部 東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 Japan Times Company Printing Department Tokyo City Kōji-machi Uchisaiwai-chō 1-chōme 5-banchi

Publication date: 昭和二年七月十五日 Shōwa (era) year 2 July 15 (i.e. 15 July 1927)

Publication site: ジャパン・タイムス社出版部 東京市麴町區内幸町一丁目五番地 Japan Times Company Publication Department Tokyo City Kōji-machi Uchisaiwai-chō 1-chōme 5-banchi

Sales site: 全國各書店 Nationwide various book stores

Fixed Price: 金貳圓五拾錢 2 yen 50 sen

Corrections:

pg(s) Source Correction Edit Distance i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, viii, x TANISAKI TANIZAKI 1 iii translatin translation 1 viii, ad ZENCH ZENCHI 1 xi trafficed trafficked 1 xii generalties generalities 1 xv Shinsuke Shinsuké 1 xvi two too 1 6 paraphenalias paraphernalia 2 11 detatch detach 1 12 buldging bulging 1 21 wainscoated wainscoted 1 23 (new paragraph) 0 27 (missing text) PART II 1 40 aganst against 1 43 (new paragraph) 0 43 insistly insistently 3 43 inspite in spite 1 49 again against 2 78 himslef himself 2 82 purposedly purposely 1 83 waned wanted 1 83 do to 1 91 beltch belch 1 100 scare scarcely 3 101 effect affect 1 112, 141 nooze noose 1 129 resistent resistant 1 129, 147 uncontrolable uncontrollable 1 140 woud would 1 142 whimple wimple 1 146 unembarassed unembarrassed 1 151 forborn forborne 1