Neither Takao nor Ruriko of course had any idea of the peculiar relationship between their grandfather and mother. Yet the grandfather who took her to the theater and department stores and bought her whatever she wanted was for Ruriko in her innocence far more to be loved and revered than the father who was always so irascible and self-willed. Next to her grandfather, she fancied that it was her eldest brother Takao whom she revered the most. Although both her father and her mother spoke contemptuously of Takao as ‘the eccentric,’ his sullenly taciturn, moody-looking face inspired in Ruriko a kind of trusting affection that made her prefer him by far to the more affable Kazuya, her elder brother by the same mother. The only thing that made her diffident with Takao was his difficulty in expressing himself and the infrequency of his smiles, which convinced her that this brother did not like her.

‘They say Mother will never get well … The doctor and everybody else say so, but I don’t believe it. Takao – you don’t know what your real mother looked like, do you?’

‘No, of course not. You know she died giving birth to me.’

‘Then I think you’re lucky. It’s better than having your mother die when you’re grown-up like me.’

‘You just can’t say either “lucky” or “unlucky.” ’

‘Yes, but …’ She looked up at Takao as though to protest, when a black shadow brushed past their faces.

‘Oh! It’s those butterflies again!’ she cried shrilly, beating at the air with the fan with a lacquered handle that she had in her hand.

There were two butterflies as before, black swallowtails, flitting about together as though they were mates, near the pillar at the corner of the room.

‘Surely they’re the ones that were fluttering about near you over by the pampas grass, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, they are. They’ve been following me around ever since I went out into the garden. Takao – those butterflies are horrid, they’re like evil spirits. Evil spirits dressed in black, bringing me ill fortune.’

Takao laughed in his desiccated voice.

‘Look, look – they’re back again! Takao – catch them, can’t you?’

‘How can I? They move faster than I do!’ He took the painted fan from Ruriko’s hand as he spoke and made a great sweep at one of the butterflies as it fluttered past, whereupon it skimmed along the floor and flew up again close to Ruriko’s cheek.

‘Ah! Do something! Takao!’

With a shrill cry like a small girl she pressed her face against Takao’s chest. The hair spilled in waves down her back and her shoulders trembled like a small bird. An indescribably pleasant fragrance rose from her body as she pressed against him, and gently, almost unconsciously, his bony hand stroked the frail shoulders that looked as if they could be crushed at will in his grasp.