Before that, however, she will have risen at least
three times to smoke: having yawned like a cat,
stretched herself, twisted in every direction her
little amber arms, and her graceful little hands, she
sits up resolutely, with all the waking groans and
half words of a child, pretty and fascinating enough:
then she emerges from the gauze tent, fills her little
pipe, and breathes a few puffs of the bitter and unpleasant
mixture.
Then comes pan, pan, pan, pan, against the
box to shake out the ashes. In the resounding
sonority of the night it makes quite a terrible noise,
which wakes Madame Prune. This is fatal.
Madame Prune is at once seized also with a longing
to smoke which may not be denied; then, to the noise
from above, comes an answering pan, pan, pan, pan,
from below, exactly like it, exasperating and inevitable
as an echo.
More cheerful are the noises of the morning:
the cocks crowing, the wooden panels all round the
neighborhood sliding back upon their rollers; or the
strange cry of some little fruit-hawker, patrolling
our lofty suburb in the early dawn. And the grasshoppers
absolutely seem to chirp more loudly, to celebrate
the return of the sunlight.
Above all, rises to our ears from below the sound
of Madame Prune’s long prayers, ascending through
the floor, monotonous as the song of a somnambulist,
regular and soothing as the splash of a fountain.
It lasts three-quarters of an hour at least; it drones
along, a rapid flow of words in a high nasal key;
from time to time, when the inattentive Spirits are
not listening, it is accompanied by a clapping of
dry palms, or by harsh sounds from a kind of wooden
clapper made of two discs of mandragora root; it is
an uninterrupted stream of prayer; its flow never
ceases, and the quavering continues without stopping,
like the bleating of an old nanny-goat in delirium.
"After having washed the hands and feet" say
the sacred books, "the great God Ama-Terace-Omi-Kami,
who is the royal power of Japan, must be invoked;
the manes of all the defunct Emperors descended from
him must also be invoked; next, the manes of all his
personal ancestors, to the furthest generation; the
Spirits of the Air and Sea; the Spirits of all secret
and impure places; the Spirits of the tombs of the
district whence you spring, etc., etc."
“I worship and implore you,” sings Madame
Prune, “Oh Ama-Terace-Omi-Kami, royal power.
Cease not to protect your faithful people, who are
ready to sacrifice themselves for their country.
Grant that I may become as holy as yourself, and drive
from my mind all dark thoughts. I am a coward
and a sinner; purge me from my cowardice and sinfulness,
even as the north wind drives the dust into the sea.
Wash me clean from all my iniquities, as one washes
away uncleanness in the river of Kamo. Make me
the richest woman in the world. I believe in
your glory, which shall be spread over the whole earth,
and illuminate it forever for my happiness. Grant
me the continued good health of my family, and above
all, my own, who, oh Ama-Terace-Omi-Kami, do worship
and adore you, and only you, etc., etc.”
