"These are Tōkyō Imperial University students."
"Be that as it may, when it comes to money, most of them are just as loose as you yourself."
"If they can't, in good faith, make payment, then the Literary Society won't raise a fuss. No matter how many tickets are sold, it's a given that they'll never cover their costs."
Sanshirō, pressing the matter, questioned if this was Yojirō's personal opinion or that of the Society. Yojirō answered that it was, of course, his own. To his advantage, however, he also asserted that the Society supported his view.
According to Yojirō, anyone not at the upcoming performance would feel himself a fool. His sales pitch ensured that. It wasn't at all clear, however, if Yojirō's passion was for the performance or just for selling tickets. Or maybe he was simply out there to flatter himself, flatter his clients, talk up the performance while at it, and liven up the general mood of the world. His pitch was compelling, but ambiguity of motive hindered its effect.
He would start by detailing the intensity of the rehearsals. If one took him at his word, most of the players would be rehearsed out and have nothing left for the big day. Then he'd describe the backdrops. They were something special. The best young artists in Tōkyō had all come together and applied their respective skills, holding nothing back. Next he'd talk about the costumes. All the costumes, from the head to the tips of the toes, were constructed as full period pieces. He extolled the scripts, too. All were freshly written and highly engaging. And he would go on and on from there.