"Do you think the professor knows?"
"There was nothing in our paper. That's why even I didn't know. However, the professor reads various papers at the school, and even if he doesn't see these himself, someone's bound to say something."
"So he probably does know."
"I suppose he does."
"He hasn't said anything to you?"
"He hasn't. We've hardly had time to talk, so he hasn't had a chance. I've been running around these days, morning to night, busying myself with the performance. -- Ah, that performance. Who cares anymore? Maybe I ought to give it up. Where's the interest in powder-faced drama?"
"When you talk to the professor, I expect he'll have harsh words for you."
"I expect he will. I can handle harsh words - I've got it coming. I feel bad for the professor. I meddled in his affairs, and now I've landed him in trouble. -- He's a man of no indulgence. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke ..." Yojirō broke off mid sentence. The volume of philosophical smoke that rose from the professor's nostrils, if summed over a month, was by no means modest.
"He may smoke a lot, but that's it. He doesn't fish, he doesn't play 'go,' he doesn't enjoy a family life. That's the worst of it. If only he had children. He's a bona fide ascetic." Yojirō paused and folded his arms.
"I try, just once, to pull some strings on his behalf, and this is the result. You should call on him too, to lift his spirits."
"Forget about lifting spirits. I have some hand in this as well. I'll go and apologize."
"You don't need to apologize."
"Then I'll go and clear the air."
At that, Yojirō took his leave. Sanshirō retired, but he tossed and turned in his bed. He'd slept much better, he felt, back home in the country. Fabricated stories - Professor Hirota - Mineko - the dashing gentleman who'd come for Mineko - all raced through his mind.