CUPID AND THELAW
CUPID AND THE LAW
Therehas been great rejoicing in the little village of Hingyan, when Ito and Hatsu were married. Ito had money, and he spent it lavishly on his feast. No one could honestly say that the host had been niggardly with his sweetmeats or that there had not been enough sake to go around. On the contrary, the villagers declared that never before had they attended such a sumptuous feast.
Ito was a rice planter. He owned the largest rice plantation in the village and had the largest stock of buffaloes in the entire district. But one day he did not come to his noonday meal, and when he arrived at evening he seemed very much depressed in spirit.
“What is troubling my beloved one?” asked his wife, who had never, since she had been married, sat down to such a solemn meal. Usually Ito was jovial and meal time was an event to which Hatsu looked forward with eagerness.
Ito tried to look pleasant as his wife spoke, but failed, as he replied, “I fear that we are to have a terrible drought this season. It has not rained even in the mountains, and the water supply is very, very low.”
“I will go to the temple tomorrow and offer up a sacrifice to the Rain God. Perhaps he will hear my prayers and send us an abundance of rain.”
“I fear that he will not,” replied her husband; “I have been daily to the temple this week, and as yet there are no signs of rain.”
“Without rain the crops will fail?”
“Most assuredly. The rice is now in the stage where it requires a large supply of water. Unless we have rains this week or next week at the latest, we shall have no rice until next year;” and Ito sadly shook his head.
“Shall you lose so very much money if the crops fail?”
“Yes. I have been buying up all the available lands owing to the fact that I needed more to cultivate rice to supply the Maji contract. Unless it rain, I shall become a poor man, as there is a heavy bond connected with this contract.”
“A heavy bond?”
“Yes. If at the end of the season I fail to produce the required number of bags, I shall be obliged to forfeit more than two thousand yen.Besides, I mortgaged my lands when we got married. Things look very dark for us. I am afraid we shall be poor; very poor indeed.”
“I care not for the luxuries of life. The necessities with my husband, are enough for me.”
Ito kissed his wife fondly and was silent.
True to her promise, Hatsu went to the temple and offered a bowl of rice to the Rain God. Muttering a little prayer for rain, she left the temple. “It will surely rain this week,” she said; “the rice was of the best.”
But it did not rain that week, neither did it in the next. And the rice crops became a failure, and, true to his prophecy, Ito became a poor man. The change of fortune left him a small house and lot which had been formerly used by his head planter. Ito barely eked out a living by raising soy beans.
Finally, Ito called his wife and said, “We cannot live in this miserable condition any longer. I have decided to go to America and see what I can do. They tell me that America is a land wherein the poor man may become rich. Raising the soy bean is not hard. I will leave you here to tend to it. In three years or, maybe, two, I shall send for you, and together we shall live in what will resemble former days. If I fail, I shall return.”
In vain did Hatsu protest that she was just as happy now in the days of want as she had been in the days of plenty. Ito had decided to go to America, and he went.
It was a sad leave-taking, but Ito cheered his wife saying, “It is only for a few years. I shall soon be able to send money for you to come to me.”
Arriving in San Francisco, Ito found work on a railroad, digging a tunnel which the company had ordered made. He lived in a large apartment house which the company furnished its working men—all Japanese, who, like himself, had come to the promised land to make their fortunes.
Accustomed to low wages in their own country, they live accordingly. Coming to America, with its higher wages, they keep their old methods of living and save money. It was not surprising, then, that at the end of two years Ito had nearly a thousand dollars in the bank. By careful investments at the end of the third he was the owner of a sum which would accredit him a rich man should he go back to Japan. Should he go back to Japan, or should he remain in America and have his wife come to him? Letters had been but few between them, as Hatsu could neither read nor write.When he “turned in” at night, the last question which flashed through his brain was, “Shall I go back to Japan?” and the first question which greeted him on his awakening was, “Shall I send for my wife?”
When he had decided finally to do the former, go back to Japan, his foreman came to him and said: “Ito, my boss section man sick; go back to Japan. I give you the job; raise you five dollars.”
After hearing this he resolved to stay, and wrote a letter to his wife that night, telling her to come to him. He would mail her a bank note in the morning. Then they would be together, and the old times and scenes would be reacted.
Bright and early did he rise the next morning, for he had important work to do. As he walked to the bank where he had his savings, a countrywoman of his passed, and, bowing, asked to be directed to a certain street. Ito directed her. Long did he gaze after her, and not until a policeman had told him to “move on” did he leave the spot.
“What a beautiful woman,” he muttered. By the way which the young woman arranged her hair Ito knew that she was unmarried. A wild thought flashed through his brain; why not try to get this young woman for his wife? He had forgotten the faithful and patient Hatsu, forgottenthe little baby which he had never seen, forgotten everything connected with his past life, save that he had fallen in love with this beauty. So the money remained in the bank, and the letter was destroyed.
By degrees Ito became acquainted with the beauty. Soon, from a mere acquaintance, a warm friendship sprang up between the two, and finally this friendship ripened into love, and one day Ito announced to his comrades that he was to be married. They congratulated him warmly when they saw his wife, and Ito thought himself a fortunate man.
“It is strange, my pet,” said Hatsu one morning, “it is strange that your father has not written to us. It has been nearly two years since we last heard from him. He said that three years at the most would be enough to earn money to send for us. And now it is nearly five. I wonder if—no, I will not think such a thing of the most noble Ito.”
But she did think, and the more she thought the more she became convinced.
At last she could bear the suspense no longer; she would go to America and seek her husband. So, selling the little house to enable her to get passage money, all she brought from the old home was Ito’s few but precious letters.
Eventually she, too, arrived at San Francisco, but was refused admission.
“But my husband is here,” she told the interpreter.
“If that is the case,” the official replied, “you may come in, but first you will have to have your husband come to the station to prove that you are his wife.”
By some mere chance Ito was passing the Immigration Station. “There he is now,” cried Hatsu, and she rushed forward to greet her husband.
Ito was called inside and was asked, “Who is this woman?”
Ito looked and saw Hatsu trembling with suppressed emotion. Surely, oh surely, he would say the word that would cease all troubles and end all separation.
For an instant Ito paled. Like a flash there came before him the view of a woman toiling patiently among the soy vines, waiting daily for a letter telling her to come to America.
He had been in the States long enough to know that Uncle Sam laid a heavy hand on people who had offended in the way that he had, so he answered, “I do not know her.”
With a cry of anguish, Hatsu sprang forward. “Ito,” she cried. But Ito was deaf.
“Are you sure that you do not know this woman?” asked one of the officials. He hadseen many shams, but this looked to him to be the real thing.
“My wife live with me on Fillmore street,” was the answer.
“Yes,” said a bystander, “I sabe her. Her number one pretty woman. Ito too much lucky.”
Ito left the room, but the officials were far from satisfied.
“I believe that he is this woman’s husband,” said one of the commissioners who was present.
“So do I,” was the interpreter’s response.
“Tell her that I am taking a special interest in her case. Ask her if she can prove that he is her husband.”
Taking from her finger a small circlet of gold, she said: “This ring was his great grandmother’s. There is none like it anywhere. When he sees it, watch his face. That in itself will be sufficient proof.”
The interpreter took the ring, and the next morning Ito received a warrant, ordering his appearance in court immediately.
The prosecuting attorney handed him a ring, saying: “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Ito took the ring and sank sobbing into a chair.
“I gave it to Hatsu the day we were married in Japan,” he confessed. He was sentenced on his own evidence and was led away to jail.
Poor Hatsu was broken-hearted. She dearly loved Ito, and to think that he had played her false was more than she could believe.
“Take me back to Dai Nippon,” she said; “take me back. I go to die in the land of my fathers.”