From there, Sanshirō went on to Yanaka, traversed Nezu, and returned to his Hongō lodgings in the evening. He realized that this half day had been his most enjoyable in a long while.
The next day there was no sign of Yojirō at the university. Sanshirō thought he might show after lunch, but he didn't. He tried the library, but no luck there either. From five to six there was a lecture assembly for the entire literature department. Sanshirō attended. It was too dark to take notes. And it was too early for the electric lighting. At this hour of the day, the branches of the zelkova tree outside, visible through the tall and narrow windows, gradually wrapped their surroundings in darkness. Within the hall, the face of the lecturer and the faces of the listeners faded to gray in a similar fashion. The effect was intriguingly mysterious, akin to eating a bean-jam bun in the dark. Sanshirō realized with amusement that he wasn't following the lecture. Listening with his chin propped on his hand, he felt his senses dull and his attention drift away. It was worth attending just to achieve this state. Then the lighting came on and all reverted to clarity. This triggered a sudden urge to go home and eat dinner. The professor, sensing the mood of the room, concluded his lecture punctually. Sanshirō hurried back to Oiwake.
Changing out of his kimono and sitting down to dinner, Sanshirō found that a letter had been placed on his tray alongside the bowl of egg custard stew. From the outer seal, he could see that it was from his mother. He had to admit that he hadn't thought of her at all over the past several weeks. From the day prior, with anachronisms, the personality of Mt Fuji, and his intriguing lecture experience, even the image of the young lady had not entered his thoughts. Sanshirō found this satisfying. He decided to read his mother's letter later at leisure. In the meantime, he finished his dinner and smoked a cigarette. As he watched the smoke rise, he thought back on the evening's lecture.