Читать книгу Broken Butterflies онлайн

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He fumbled with his chopsticks. He had almost forgotten the art of using them. The geisha gently took them from him, smiled engagingly, showed him how to use them. "So desho."

He thanked her in Japanese. Her finely formed hands, small like a child's, came up in surprise. "But you can't use chopsticks; you are new in Japan; and still you speak Japanese. Bikuri shimashita. I am surprised."

The spirit of the thing swept over him. He felt as if he had played with geisha all his life. "It is true. I have just come. But I looked into your bright eyes, and see, the words have come to me. It is a gift."

"I think you lie." She eyed him dubiously. Japanese girls are disposed to take literally even the unbelievable. "Kikuchi-san, he lies, doesn't he?"

But Kikuchi smilingly upheld him. "It is true. He has just come. You know, these foreigners are truly wonderful people."

"It is wonderful." She clapped her hands delightedly, called over other girls that they might share in the marvel. They twittered like birds. Kent suddenly found himself the center of attention, enjoyed the exhilaration of flashing jeu de mots, though he found that his childhood's vocabulary served only haltingly in the bright thrust and parry repartée with the geisha.