having been wounded. He told us that, as he gazed through the willow-branches from the muddy bank of the river where he was lying, he saw most vividly in the sky, visions of his mother’s skirt, a woman’s foot, and a field of blooming sesame.”
Major Kimura threw away his cigar, and after helping himself to a cup of coffee, his eyes turned to the pink plum-blossoms on the table. He seemed to be meditating. Then he went on.
“He told me that when he saw those visions, he felt heartily ashamed of the life he had been leading hitherto.”
“Yet no sooner did the war end than he became a thorough scoundrel again! It shows that we can put little reliance upon men!” said Mr. Yamakawa, flinging himself back in his chair and stretching his legs. In cynical silence he puffed at his cigar.
“By what you say, do you mean that he acted like a hypocrite?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid I can’t agree with you. I feel sure that what he said at the time was sincerely meant. Also, if I may be permitted to quote the newspaper, when ‘his head suddenly fell,’ perhaps for a moment he saw similar visions again. I should explain his death in this way: As he was drunk he was quite easily knocked down. The suddenness of his fall had opened his old wound, and with the long pig-tail hanging from it, his head came off and fell with a thud upon the floor. Perhaps he again beheld his mother’s skirt, a
