The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

about the two of us. Some awful person who hasn’t
shown himself has heard about me or maybe seen
me from a distance, and he’s lost his senses over me,
and he’s hired someone to spy on me, and wipe out a
man he thinks might be fond of me. Insane love is
coming nearer and nearer. I’m terrified. What will I do
if harm comes to you through no fault of your own, just
because I’m so beautiful? There’s a conspiracy of
some sort, I know it. A conspiracy hatched up by
hopeless love. Some man is so rich and powerful that
it’s terrifying, and as ugly as a toad, and he’s stalking
me from way off, and he’s out to get you.”
Not pausing for breath, she was trembling like a
leaf.
One blue-denim leg across the other, Tōru was
smoking a cigarette. He was wondering what the
point to it all might be. Kinué’s dramatic imaginings
quite aside, he was certain that someone was
investigating him. Who would it be? And why? The
police? But he was guilty of no offense more serious
than smoking while still a minor.
He would think the problem over by himself; and in
the meantime he would help the imaginings by giving
them a logical turn.
He spoke solemnly. “Probably it is as you say; but I
would have no regrets at all if I were to be murdered