then excused himself to use the toilet. I led him to the same hallway 
Nobu and I had visited earlier. Now that evening had come, I could hardly see the objects 
because of overhead lights reflected in the glass of the display cases. But Dr. Crab stopped 
at the case containing the swords and moved his head around until he could see them. 

"You certainly know your way around the Baron's house," he said. 

"Oh, no, sir, I'm quite lost in such a grand place. The only reason I can find my way is 
because I led Nobu-san along this hallway earlier." 

"I'm sure he rushed right through," the Doctor said. "A man like Nobu has a poor sensibility 
for appreciating the items in these cases." 

I didn't know what to say to this, but the Doctor looked at me pointedly. 

"You haven't seen much of the world," he went on, "but in time you'll learn to be careful of 
anyone with the arrogance to accept an invitation from a man like the Baron, and then speak 
to him rudely in his own house, as Nobu did this afternoon." 

I bowed at this, and when it was clear that Dr. Crab had nothing further to say, led him down 
the hallway to the toilet. 

By the time we returned to the small banquet room, the men had fallen into conversation, 
thanks to the quiet skills of Mameha, who now sat in the background pouring sake. She often 
said the role of a geisha was sometimes just to stir the soup. If you've ever noticed the way 
miso settles into a cloud at the bottom of the bowl but mixes quickly with a few whisks of the 
chopsticks, this is what she meant. 

Soon the conversation turned to the subject of kimono, and we all proceeded downstairs to 
the Baron's underground museum. Along the walls were huge panels that opened to reveal 
kimono suspended on sliding rods. The Baron sat on a stool in the middle of the room with 
his elbows on his knees-bleary-eyed still-and didn't speak a word while Mameha guided us 
through the collection. The most spectacular robe, we all agreed, was one designed to mimic 
the landscape of the city of Kobe, which is located on the side of a steep hill falling away to 
the ocean. The design began at the shoulders with blue sky and clouds; the knees 
represented the hillside; below that, the gown swept back into a long train showing the blue-
green of the sea dotted with beautiful gold waves and tiny ships. 

"Mameha," the Baron said, "I think you ought to wear that one to my blossom-viewing party 
in Hakone next week. That would be quite something, wouldn't it?" 


"I'd certainly like to," Mameha replied. "But as I mentioned the other day, I'm afraid I won't be 
able to attend the party this year." 

I could see that the Baron was displeased, for his eyebrows closed down like two windows 
being shut. "What do you mean? Who has booked an engagement with you that you can't 
break?" 

"I'd like nothing more than to be there, Baron. But just this one year, I'm afraid it won't be 
possible. I have a medical appointment that conflicts with the party." 

"A medical appointment? What on earth does that mean? These doctors can change times 
around. Change it tomorrow, and be at my party next week just like you always are." 

"I do apologize," Mameha said, "but with the Baron's consent, I scheduled a medical 
appointment some weeks ago and won't be able to change it." 

"I don't recall giving you any consent! Anyway, it's not as if you need to have an abortion, or 
some such thing . . ." 

A long, embarrassed silence followed. Mameha only adjusted her sleeves while the rest of us 
stood so quietly that the only sound was Mr. Arashino's wheezy breathing. I noticed that 
Nobu, who'd been paying no attention, turned to observe the Baron's reaction. 

"Well," the Baron said at last. "I suppose I'd forgotten, now that you mention it ... We certainly 
can't have any little barons running around, now can we? But really, Mameha, I don't see 
why you couldn't have reminded me about this in private ..." 

"I am sorry, Baron." 

"Anyway, if you can't come to Hakone, well, you can't! But what about the rest of you? It's a 
lovely party, at my estate in Hakone next weekend. You must all come! I do it every year at 
the height of the cherry blossoms." 

The Doctor and Arashino were both unable to attend. Nobu didn't reply; but when the Baron 
pressed him, he said, "Baron, you don't honestly think I'd go all the way to Hakone to look at 
cherry blossoms." 

"Oh, the blossoms are just an excuse to have a party," said the Baron. "Anyway, it doesn't 
matter. We'll have that Chairman of yours. He comes every year." 

I was surprised to feel flustered at the mention of the Chairman, for I'd been thinking of him 
on and off throughout the afternoon. I felt for a moment as if my secret had been exposed. 

"It troubles me that none of you will come," the Baron went on. "We were having such a nice 
evening until Mameha started talking about things she ought to have kept private. Well, 
Mameha, I have the proper punishment for you. You're no longer invited to my party this 
year. What's more, I want you to send Sayuri in your place." 

I thought the Baron was making a joke; but I must confess, I thought at once how lovely it 
would be to stroll with the Chairman through the grounds of a magnificent estate, without 
Nobu or Dr. Crab, or even Mameha nearby. 

"It's a fine idea, Baron," said Mameha, "but sadly, Sayuri is busy with rehearsals." 


"Nonsense," said the Baron. "I expect to see her there. Why do you have to defy me every 
single time I ask something of you?" 

He really did look angry; and unfortunately, because he was so drunk, a good deal of saliva 
came spilling out of his mouth. He tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but ended 
up smearing it into the long black hairs of his beard. 

"Isn't there one thing I can ask of you that you won't disregard?" he went on. "I want to see 
Sayuri in Hakone. You could just reply, 'Yes, Baron,' and be done with it." 

"Yes, Baron." 

"Fine," said the Baron. He leaned back on his stool again, and took a handkerchief from his 
pocket to wipe his face clean. 

I was very sorry for Mameha. But it would be an understatement to say I felt excited at the 
prospect of attending the Baron's party. Every time I thought of it in the rickshaw back to 
Gion, I think my ears turned red. I was terribly afraid Mameha would notice, but she just 
stared out to the side, and never spoke a word until the end of our ride, when she turned to 
me and said, "Sayuri, you must be very careful in Hakone." 

"Yes, ma'am, I will," I replied. 

"Keep in mind that an apprentice on the point of having her mizuage is like a meal served on 
the table. No man will wish to eat it, if he hears a suggestion that some other man has taken 
a bite." 

I couldn't quite look her in the eye after she said this. I knew perfectly well she was talking 
about the Baron. 

Chapter twenty-two 

At this time in my life I didn't even know where Hakone was-though I soon learned that it 
was in eastern Japan, quite some distance from Kyoto. But I had a most agreeable feeling of 
importance the rest of that week, reminding myself that a man as prominent as the Baron 
had invited me to travel from Kyoto to attend a party. In fact, I had trouble keeping my 
excitement from showing when at last I took my seat in a lovely second-class compartment-
with Mr. Itchoda, Mameha's dresser, seated on the aisle to discourage anyone from trying to 
talk with me. I pretended to pass the time by reading a magazine, but in fact I was only 
turning the pages, for I was occupied instead with watching out of the corner of my eye as 
people who passed down the aisle slowed to look at me. I found myself enjoying the 
attention; but when we reached Shizuoka shortly after noon and I stood awaiting the train to 
Hakone, all at once I could feel something unpleasant welling up inside me. I'd spent the day 
keeping it veiled from my awareness, but now I saw in my mind much too clearly the image 
of myself at another time, standing on another platform, taking another train trip-this one with 
Mr. Bekku-on the day my sister and I were taken from our home. I'm ashamed to admit how 
hard I'd worked over the years to keep from thinking about Satsu, and my father and 
mother, and our tipsy house on the sea cliffs. I'd been like a child with my head in a bag. All 
I'd seen day after day was Gion, so much so that I'd come to think Gion was everything, and 
that the only thing that mattered in the world was Gion. But now that I was outside Kyoto, I 
could see that for most people life had nothing to do with Gion at all; and of course, I couldn't 
stop from thinking of the other life I'd once led. Grief is a most peculiar thing; we're so 
helpless in the face of it. It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room 
grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little 
less; and one day we wonder what has become of it. 


Late the following morning I was picked up at the little inn overlooking Mount Fuji, and taken 
by one of the Baron's motorcars to his summer house amid lovely woods at the edge of a 
lake. When we pulled into a circular drive and I stepped out wearing the full regalia of an 
apprentice geisha from Kyoto, many of the Baron's guests turned to stare at me. Among 
them I spotted a number of women, some in kimono and some in Western-style dresses. 
Later I came to realize they were mostly Tokyo geisha-for we were only a few hours from 
Tokyo by train. Then the Baron himself appeared, striding up a path from the woods with 
several other men. 

"Now, this is what we've all been waiting for!" he said. "This lovely thing is Sayuri from Gion, 
who will probably one day be 'the great Sayuri from Gion.'You'll never see eyes like hers 
ag