een parties besides, I was forced instead to sit in the okiya practicing 
dance and shamisen just as though nothing in my life had changed from the year before. 
When Hatsumomo walked past me down the corridor in her full regalia, with her white 
makeup glowing above her dark robe just like the moon in a hazy night sky, I'm sure that 
even a blind man would have found her beautiful. And yet I felt nothing but hatred, and heard 
my pulse hissing in my ears. 

I was summoned to Mameha's apartment several times in the next few days. Each time I 
hoped she was going to say she'd found a way around Hatsumomo; but she only wanted me 
to run errands she couldn't entrust to her maid. One afternoon I asked if she had any idea 
what would become of me. 

"I'm afraid you're an exile, Sayuri-san, for the moment," she replied. "I hope you feel more 
determined than ever to destroy that wicked woman! But until I've thought of a plan, it will do 
you no good to follow me around Gion." 

Of course I was disappointed to hear it, but Mameha was quite right. Hatsumomo's ridicule 
would do me such harm in the eyes of men, and even in the eyes of women in Gion, that I 
would be better off staying home. 

Happily, Mameha was very resourceful and did manage to find engagements from time to 
time that were safe for me to attend. Hatsumomo may have closed off Gion from me, but she 
couldn't close off the entire world beyond it. When Mameha left Gion for an engagement, she 
often invited me along. I went on a day trip by train to Kobe, where Mameha cut the ribbon 
for a new factory. On another occasion I joined her to accompany the former president of 
Nippon Telephone & Telegraph on a tour of Kyoto by limousine. This tour made quite an 
impression on me, for it was my first time seeing the vast city of Kyoto that lay beyond the 
bounds of our little Gion, not to mention my first time riding in a car. I'd never really 
understood how desperately some people lived during these years, until we drove along the 
river south of the city and saw dirty women nursing their babies under the trees along the 
railroad tracks, and men squatting in tattered straw sandals among the weeds. I won't 
pretend poor people never came to Gion, but we rarely saw anyone like these starving 
peasants too poor even to bathe. I could never have imagined that I-a slave terrorized by 
Hatsu-momo's wickedness-had lived a relatively fortunate life through the Great Depression. 
But that day I realized it was true. 


Late one morning I returned from the school to find a note telling me to bring my makeup and 
rush to Mameha's apartment. When I arrived, Mr. Itchoda, who was a dresser just like Mr. 
Bekku, was in the back room tying Mameha's obi before a full-length mirror. 

"Hurry up and put on your makeup," Mameha said to me. "I've laid a kimono out for you in 
the other room." 

Mameha's apartment was enormous by the standards of Gion. In addition to her main room, 
which measured six tatami mats in area, she had two other smaller rooms-a dressing area 
that doubled as a maids' room, and a room in which she slept. There in her bedroom was a 
freshly made-up futon, with a complete kimono ensemble on top of it that her maid had laid 
out for me. I was puzzled by the futon. The sheets certainly weren't the ones Mameha had 
slept in the night before, for they were as smooth as fresh snow. I wondered about it while 
changing into the cotton dressing robe I'd brought. When I went to begin applying my 
makeup, Mameha told me why she had summoned me. 

"The Baron is back in town," she said. "He'll be coming here for lunch. I want him to meet 
you." 

I haven't had occasion to mention the Baron, but Mameha was referring to Baron Matsunaga 
Tsuneyoshi-her danna. We don't have barons and counts in Japan any longer, but we did 
before World War II, and Baron Matsunaga was certainly among the wealthiest. His family 
controlled one of Japan's large banks and was very influential in finance. Originally his older 
brother had inherited the title of baron, but he had been assassinated while serving as 
finance minister in the cabinet of Prime Minister Inukai. Mameha's danna, already in his 
thirties at that time, had not only inherited the title of baron but all of his brother's holdings, 
including a grand estate in Kyoto not too far from Gion. His business interests kept him in 
Tokyo much of the time; and something else kept him there as well-for I learned many years 
later that he had another mistress, in the geisha district of Akasaka in Tokyo. Few men are 
wealthy enough to afford one geisha mistress, but Baron Matsunaga Tsuneyoshi had two. 

Now that I knew Mameha would be spending the afternoon with her danna, I had a much 
better idea why the futon in her bedroom had been made up with fresh sheets. 

I changed quickly into the clothing Mameha had set out for me-an underrobe of light green, 
and a kimono in russet and yellow with a design of pine trees at the hem. By this time one of 
Mameha's maids was just returning from a nearby restaurant with a big lacquer box holding 
the Baron's lunch. The foods inside it, on plates and bowls, were ready to be served just as 
in a restaurant. The largest was a flat lacquer dish with two grilled, salted ayu poised on their 
bellies as though they were swimming down the river together. To one side stood two tiny 
steamed crabs of the sort that are eaten whole. A trail of streaked salt curved along the black 
lacquer to suggest the sand they had crossed. 

A few minutes later the Baron arrived. I peeked out through a crack at the edge of the sliding 
door and saw him standing just outside on the landing while Mameha untied his shoes. My 
first impression was of an almond or some other kind of nut, because he was small and very 
round, with a certain kind of heaviness, particularly around his eyes. Beards were very 
fashionable at that time, and the Baron wore a number of long, soft hairs on his face that I'm 
sure were supposed to resemble a beard, but looked to me more like some sort of garnish, 
or like the thin strips of seaweed that are sometimes sprinkled onto a bowl of rice. 

"Oh, Mameha . . . I'm exhausted," I heard him say. "How I hate these long train rides!" 

Finally he stepped out of his shoes and crossed the room with brisk little steps. Earlier in the 
morning, Mameha's dresser had brought an overstuffed chair and a Persian rug from a 


storage closet across the hall and arranged them near the window. The Baron seated himself 
there; but as for what happened afterward, I can't say, because Mameha's maid came over 
to me and bowed in apology before giving the door a gentle push to slide it the rest of the 
way closed. 

I stayed in Mameha's little dressing room for an hour or more while the maid went in and out 
serving the Baron's lunch. I heard the murmur of Mameha's voice occasionally, but mainly 
the Baron did the talking. At one point I thought he was angry with Mameha, but finally I 
overheard enough to understand that he was only complaining about a man he'd met the day 
before, who'd asked him personal questions that made him angry. At last when the meal was 
over, the maid carried out cups of tea, and Mameha asked for me. I went out to kneel before 
the Baron, feeling very nervous-for I'd never met an aristocrat before. I bowed and begged 
his favor, and thought perhaps he would say something to me. But he seemed to be looking 
around the apartment, hardly taking notice of me at all. 

"Mameha," he said, "what happened to that scroll you used to have in the alcove? It was an 
ink painting of something or other- much better than the thing you have there now." 

"The scroll there now, Baron, is a poem in Matsudaira Koichi's own hand. It has hung in that 
alcove nearly four years." 

"Four years? Wasn't the ink painting there when I came last month?" 

"It wasn't . . . but in any case, the Baron hasn't honored me with a visit in nearly three 
months." 

"No wonder I'm feeling so exhausted. I'm always saying I ought to spend more time in Kyoto, 
but . . . well, one thing leads to another. Let's have a look at that scroll I'm talking about. I 
can't believe it's been four years since I've seen it." 

Mameha summoned her maid and asked her to bring the scroll from the closet. I was given 
the job of unrolling it. My hands were trembling so much that it slipped from my grasp when I 
held it up for the Baron to have a look. 

"Careful, girl!" he said. 

I was so embarrassed that even after I'd bowed and apologized, I couldn't help glancing at 
the Baron again and again to see if he seemed angry with me. While I held the scroll up, he 
seemed to look at me more than at it. But it wasn't a reproachful stare. After a while I realized 
it was curiosity, which only made me feel more self-conscious. 

"This scroll is much more attractive than the one you have in the alcove now, Mameha," he 
said. But he still seemed to be looking at me, and made no effort to look away when I 
glanced at him. "Calligraphy is so old-fashioned anyway," he went on. "You ought to take that 
thing in the alcove down, and put up this landscape painting again." 

Mameha had no choice but to do as the Baron suggested; she even managed to look as if 
she thought it was a fine idea. When the maid and I had finished hanging the painting and 
rolling up the other scroll, Mameha called me over to pour tea for the Baron. To look at us 
from above, we formed a little triangle-Mameha, the Baron, and me. But of course, Mameha 
and the Baron did all the talking; as for me, I did nothing more useful than to kneel there, 
feeling as much out of my element as a pigeon in a nest of falcons. To think I'd ever 
imagined myself worthy of entertaining the sorts of men Mameha entertained-not only grand 
aristocrats like t