Sak`e arrived. The maid was young, perhaps ten, not pretty but deft and silent. Raiko poured, first for Andr`e and then Tyrer, then herself. She sipped, Andr`e drained the tiny cup and held it out for more. Tyrer did the same, finding the taste of the warm wine not unpleasant but insipid. Both cups were immediately filled and drained and refilled.

More trays and more flasks.

Tyrer lost count but soon he was enveloped with a pleasing glow, forgot his nervousness and watched and listened and understood almost nothing the other two said, just a word here and there. Raiko's hair was black and shining and dressed with many ornate combs, her face thick with white powder, neither ugly nor beautiful just different, her kimono pink silk with interweaving green carp.

"A carp is koi, usually a sign of good luck," Andr`e had explained earlier.

"Townsend Harris's mistress, the Shimoda courtesan the Bakufu arranged to distract him, called herself Koi, but I'm afraid it didn't bring her luck."

"Oh? What happened?"' "The story told amongst courtesans here is that he adored her and when he left he gave her money, enough to set herself up--she was with him for about two years. Shortly after he returned to America, she just vanished. Probably drank herself to death or committed suicide."

"She loved him that much?"' "They say that in the beginning when the Bakufu approached her she adamantly refused to go with a foreigner--an unheard-of aberration, don't forget he was the first ever to be actually allowed to live on Japanese soil. She begged the Bakufu to chose someone else, to allow her to live in peace, said she would become a Buddhist nun, she even swore she would kill herself. But they were equally adamant, begging her to help them solve this problem gai-jin, pleading with her for weeks to be his consort, wearing her down by what means no one knows. So she agreed and they thanked her. And when Harris left they all turned their backs on her, Bakufu, everyone: Ah so sorry, but any woman who has gone with a foreigner is tainted forever."

"How awful!"

"Yes, in our terms, and so sad. But remember, this is the Land of Tears. Now she is legend, honored by her peers and by those who turned their backs, because of her sacrifice."

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I, nor any of us. But they do.

Japanese do."

How strange, Tyrer thought again. Like this little house and this man and woman, chattering half in Japanese, half in pidgin, laughing one with another, one a madam the other a customer, both pretending they are something else. More and more sak`e.

Then she bowed and got up and left.

"Sak`e, Phillip?"' "Thanks. It's quite nice, isn't it?"' After a pause, Andr`e said, "You're the first person I've ever brought here."

"Oh? Why me?"' The Frenchman twisted the porcelain cup in his fingers, drained the last drop, poured some more, then began in French, his voice soft and filled with warmth, "Because you're the first person I've met in Yokohama with... because you speak French, you're cultured, your mind is like a sponge, you're young, not far off half my age, eh?

You're twenty-one, and not like the others, you're untainted and you'll be here for a few years." He smiled, spinning the web tighter, telling only part of the truth, molding it: "Truly you're the first person I've met who, alors, even though you're English and actually an enemy of France, you're the only one who somehow seems to merit the knowledge I've acquired." An embarrassed smile.

"Difficult to explain. Perhaps because I've always wanted to be teacher, perhaps because I've never had a son, never married, perhaps because soon I have to move back to Shanghai, perhaps because we've enemies enough and perhaps... perhaps you could be a firm friend."

"I would be honored to be your friend," Tyrer said at once, enmeshed and under his spell, "and I really do think, I really have always thought we should be allies, France and Britain, not enemies and--"' The shoji slid back. Raiko, on her knees beckoned Tyrer. His heart surged.

Andr`e Poncin smiled. "Just follow her, and remember what I told you."

As in a dream Phillip Tyrer got up unsteadily and padded after her, down a corridor, into a room, across it and along a veranda, into another empty room where she motioned him in, closed the shoji, and left him.

A shaded oil lamp. Charcoal brazier for warmth. Shadows and darkness and patches of light.

Futons--small square mattresses--laid out as a bed on the floor, a bed for two. Downy coverlets. Two yukatas, wide sleeved, patterned cotton gown for sleeping in. Through a small door a bathhouse, candle-lit, tall wooden tub filled with steaming water.

Sweet-smelling soap. Low, three-legged stool. Diminutive towels. Everything as Andr`e had foretold.

His heart was beating very fast now and he pushed his mind to remember Andr`e's instructions through the sak`e haze.

Methodically, he began to undress. Coat, waistcoat, cravat, shirt, woolen vest, each article meticulously folded and nervously placed in a pile. Awkwardly sitting, then pulling off his socks, reluctantly his trousers and standing up once more. Only his woolen long johns remained. Weaving a little, then an embarrassed shrug and he took them off and folded them, even more carefully. His skin prickled into goose bumps and he walked into the bathhouse.

There he scooped water from the barrel as he had been told and spilled it over his shoulders, the warmth pleasant. Another and then sound of the shoji opening and he glanced around. "Christ Almighty," he muttered.

The woman was beefy with huge forearms, her yukata brief, nothing under except a loincloth and she strode purposefully towards him with a flat smile, motioned him to squat on the stool.

In absolute embarrassment he obeyed. At once she noticed the healing scar on his arm and sucked in her breath, said something that he could not understand.

He forced a smile. "Tokaido."

"Wakarimasu." I understand. Then, before he could stop her she poured water over his head-- unexpectedly and not part of his forewarning--and began soaping and washing his long hair, then his body, her fingers hard, expert and insistent, but taking care not to hurt his arm. Arms legs back front, then offering him the cloth and pointing between his legs. Still in shock he cleansed those parts, meekly handed the cloth back. "Thank you," he muttered.

"Oh, sorry, domo."

More water took away the last of the soap and she pointed to the tub. "Dozo!" Please.

Andr`e had explained: "Phillip, just remember that unlike with us, you have to be washed and clean before you get into the bath, so others can use the same water--which is very sensible, don't forget wood is very expensive and it takes a long time to heat enough--so don't piss in it either, and don't think of her as a woman when you're in the bathhouse, just a helper. She cleans you outside, then inside, no?"' Tyrer eased himself into the tub. It was hot but not too hot and he closed his eyes not wanting to watch the woman making the bath tidy. Christ, he thought in misery, I'll never be able to perform with her. Andr`e's made a vast mistake.

"But... well, I, er, don't know how much I, er, pay, or do I give the girl the money first or what?"' "Mon Dieu, you should never actually give money to any girl, anywhere, that's the height of bad manners, though you can barter savagely with the mama-san, sometimes with the girl herself, but only after tea or sak`e. Before you leave you'd put it discreetly in a place she would see it. In the House of the Three Carp, you give no money, it's a special place--there are others like it--only for special customers, one of which I am. They'll send you a bill, two or three times a year. But listen, before we go there you have to swear by God that you'll pay the bill the moment it's presented, and that you will never, never introduce anyone else there or talk about it."