ertheless he did not not yet seem to be entirely at his ease, and wishing to banish his fears and to concentrate his attention on something else, I began jestingly to reproach him for never having narrated to me any uncanny stories and mysterious incidents with which every little street we passed through must be enlivened for the inner sight of a native.
»We are now in the district of Shitaya, and that neighbors on Asakusa, where you were born and have lived your life so far« I laughed, »You certainly must know the history of every stone in this part of town. Oh, you could talk if you would.«
He cast a furtive glance at me, which with him meant that he turned his dark glasses in my direction for the fraction of a second with quaint ostrich-like secretiveness, »What folly.« he exclaimed at length. “Old women’s tales. We modern people take no notice of them. It is sad enough that the masses are still submerged in them to such a degree.”
I exerted myself to explain to him why exactly such stories interested me. Nor did I neglect to mention Lafcadio Hearn, whom “such folly” made famous in America and England. I wished to follow many paths in order to penetrate to the soul of the people in the end; and such an intelligent young man as he, Kumamoto, surely would comprehend that some of these paths must lead through the phantom realm of the popular imagery.
He thought for a moment, slackening his pace. Then suddenly he came to a decision. “All right, then, I will take you to my house. I don’t live far. Up till now I didn’t take the liberty of inviting you because my wretched dwelling is not suitable to receive you. But today we have been disappointed and . . . I do not know where else to take you. I shall show you my garden, if you will condescend to pay me a visit.” “Your garden.” I cried in surprise, for I remembered his having complained several times of the inconveniences of his lodging, which was hemmed in on all sides by the small houses of a poor district and by various odours.
He laughed “Yes, I shall show you my Garden of Fulfilled Desire, and relate to you a trifling story which is connected with it. It is trifling, I repeat . . . nevertheless, but for it I would not be here. So much I can acknowledge regardless of my opinion on the whole matter . . .”
“What a charming name your garden has.” I wondered. “Do you know, my dear friend, that already now I am very much contented with what you call our disappointment? I have seen hundreds of temples all over Japan, but nobody ever offered to show me a Garden of Fulfilled Desire. Fulfilled desires usually disappoint; but
