The Lady and Sada San: A Sequel to the Lady of the DecorationLittle, Frances
History
The Lady and Sada San: A Sequel to the Lady of the Decoration
Little, Frances
Japan -- History -- Meiji period, 1868-1912 -- Fiction
Coming across the country to San Francisco, her train was wrecked.
In the smash-up a rude chair struck her just south of the belt line
and she fears brain fever from the blow. The alarm is not general,
for though just freed by kind death from an unhappy life sentence
of matrimony she is ready to try another jailer.
Whether he spied Dolly first and hoped that the gleam from her many
jewels would light up the path in his search for Truth and a few
other things, or whether the Seeker was sought, I do not know.
However the flirtation which seems to have no age limit has
flourished like a bamboo tree. For once the man was too earnest.
Dolly gave heed and promptly attached herself with the persistency
of a barnacle to a weather-beaten junk. By devices worthy a
finished fisher of men, she holds him to his job of suitor, and if
in a moment of abstraction his would-be ardor for Sada grows too
perceptible, the little lady reels in a yard or so of line to make
sure her prize is still dangling on the hook.
To-day at tiffin the griefless widow unconsciously scored at the
expense of the Seeker, to the delight of the whole table. For
Sada's benefit this man quoted a long passage from some German
philosopher. At least it sounded like that. It was far above the
little gray head he was trying to ignore and so weighty I feared
for her mentality. But I did not know Dolly. She rose like a
doughnut. Looking like a child who delights in the rhythm of
meaningless sounds, she heard him through, then exclaimed with
breathless delight, "Oh, ain't he fluid!"
The man fled, but not before he had asked Sada for two dances at
night.
It is like a funny little curtain-raiser, with jealousy as a
gray-haired Cupid. So far as Sada is concerned, it is admiration
gone to waste. Even if she were not gaily indifferent, she is too
absorbed in the happy days she thinks are awaiting her. Poor
child! Little she knows of the limited possibilities of a Japanese
girl's life; and what the effect of the painful restrictions will
be on one of her rearing, I dare not think.
Once she is under the authority of Uncle, the Prince, the Seeker,
and all mankind will be swept into oblivion; and, until such time
as she can be married profitably and to her master's liking, she
will know no man. The cruelest awakening she will face is the
attitude of the Orient toward the innocent offspring in whose veins
runs the blood of two races, separated by differences which never
have been and never will be overcome.
In America the girl's way would not have been so hard because her
novel charm would have carried her far. But _hear me_: in Japan,
the very wave in her hair and the color of her eyes will prove a
barrier to the highest and best in the land. Even with youth and
beauty and intelligence, unqualified recognition for the Eurasian
is as rare as a square egg.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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