The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

with old people.
Back at the breakfast table he kept Tsuné on duty
to pour his coffee. He had her put in sugar. He
complained about the toast.
It was a sort of superstition that the success of a
day depended upon a smooth beginning. The
morning must be an unflawed crystal. He had been
able to endure the boredom of life at the signal station
because observation did not damage self-respect.
Once Tsuné said: “The manager of the coffee shop
used to call me Asparagus. Because I am long and
white, he said.”
Tōru replied by pressing his lighted cigarette
against the back of her hand. Stupid though she was,
Tsuné thereafter minded her words. Especially when
she served him at breakfast. The four “maids” took
turns on duty. Three of them looked after Tōru, Honda,
and Kinué, and the fourth was off duty. The one who
served Tōru his breakfast was the one he received in
his bed at night. When he had finished with her she
was dismissed. No one was permitted to spend the
night with him. They thus enjoyed his favors once
every four days, and were allowed to leave the house
once a week. Honda secretly admired the tightness of
the control and the want of dissension. The maids
followed Tōru’s orders as if to do so were in the