THREE: "Dancing and singing girls are to be counted by the thousand, and they certainly have the most gorgeous toilets I have seen in the country. They are engaged to sing and dance at dinner parties, just as we have bands[Pg 293] of music to play for us at large banquets in America, and no Japanese gentleman who was giving a dinner to a friend or friends would think he had done the proper thing unless there were 'geishas' to sing and dance for them. The other evening Doctor Bronson ordered a dinner for us at a Japanese restaurant in the true style of the country; he told the manager to get it up properly, and the answer was that it should be perfect. When we went there, we found the dinner ready; and there were two singing geishas, and two dancing ones, to entertain us. I can't say that I considered it much of an entertainment after the novelty had gone, as the music was monotonous, and we couldn't understand a word of the singing. Their dancing consisted of sliding about the room, and taking a variety of postures with their arms and hands, and it wasn't a bit like what we call dancing. But it was all perfectly proper and nice, and the girls behaved like real ladies. They are educated for dancers or singers, as the case may be, and some of them are great favorites and get high wages. But if I were to have my way, and have them dress to my taste, I should make them put less paint on their faces; they consider that the one who can put the most paint on her face and neck is the prettiest, and so they cover themselves till they look as though they were veneered. One of those that danced for us had her face covered so thickly that she couldn't smile without cracking the varnish, and so she didn't smile at all.As I say, I slept. The door between me and the hall had a lock, but no key; another door, letting from my room to the room in front of it, had no lock, but was bolted. I slept heavily and for an hour or more. Then I was aware of something being moved--slowly--slyly--by littles--under my pillow. The pillow was in a case of new unbleached cotton. When I first lay down, the cotton had so smelt of its newness that I thought it was enough, of itself, to keep me awake. Now this odor was veiled by another; a delicate perfume; a perfume I knew, and which brought again to me all the incidents of the night, and all their woe. I looked, and there, so close to the bedside that she could see my eyes as plainly as I saw hers, stood Coralie Rothvelt. In the door that opened into the hall were two young officers, staff swells, in the handsomest Federal blue. The moonlight lay in a broad flood between them and me. It silvered Miss Rothvelt from the crown of her hat to the floor, and brightened the earnest animation of her lovely face as she daintily tiptoed backward with one hand delicately poised in the air behind her, and the other still in the last pose of withdrawing from under the pillow--empty!
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