The Japanese art of cultivating these tiny trees is a weird and unhealthy practice, akin to vivisection, but without its excuse. It is like the Chinese custom of dwarfing their women's feet. The result is pleasing to the eye; but it hurts the mind by its abnormality, and the heart by its ruthlessness.
Asako's admiration, so easily stirred, became enthusiastic as Countess Saito told her something of the personal history of her favourite plants, how this one was two hundred years old, and that one three hundred and fifty, and how another had been present at such and such a scene famous in Japanese history.
"Oh, they are lovely," cried Asako. "Where can one get them? I must have some."
Countess Saito gave her the names of some well-known market gardeners.
"You can get pretty little trees from them for fifty to a hundred _yen_ (£5 to £10)," she said. "But of course the real historical trees are so very few; they hardly ever come on the market. They are like animals, you know. They want so much attention. They must have a garden to take their walks in, and a valet of their own."
This great Japanese lady felt an affection and sympathy for the girl who, like herself, had been set apart by destiny from the monotonous ranks of Japanese women and their tedious dependence.
"Little Asa Chan," she said, calling her by her pet name, "take care; you can become Japanese again, but your husband cannot."
"Of course not, he's too big," laughed Asako; "but I like to run away from him sometimes, and hide behind the _shoji_. Then I feel independent."
"But you are not really so," said the Japanese, "no woman is. You see the wisteria hanging in the big tree there. What happens when the big tree is taken away? The wisteria becomes independent, but it lies along the ground and dies. Do you know the Japanese name for wisteria? It is _fuji_--Fujinami Asako. If you have any difficulty ever, come and talk to me. You see, I, too, am a rich woman; and I know that it is almost as difficult to be very rich as it is to be very poor."
Captain Barrington and the ex-Ambassador were sitting on one of the benches of the terrace when the ladies rejoined them.
"Well, Daddy," the Countess addressed her husband in English, "what are you talking about so earnestly?"