The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

her knees and tugging at her short skirt, “the good
thing about you is that you’re the only one who never
makes a pass at me. Of course you are a man, and I
can never be too sure. I must warn you. If you ever do
make a pass at me I won’t come and see you any
more. That will be the end. You promise that you at
least never will?”
“I vow it most solemnly.”
Tōru raised a hand in pledge. He had to be very
earnest in such matters when he was with Kinué.
Every conversation was preceded by the pledge.
Once it was made, her manner changed. She threw
off uneasiness, her seated figure relaxed. She
touched the gardenia in her hair as if it were
breakable. She smiled from its shadow, and, with a
sudden, deep sigh, began talking.
“I’m so unlucky I could die. I doubt if I can ever
expect a man to understand what it means for a
woman to be too beautiful. Men do not respect
beauty. Every man who looks at me has the most
contemptible urges. Men are beasts. I might have
more respect for them if I hadn’t been born so
beautiful. The minute a man looks at me he turns into
a beast. How can I respect a man? A woman’s beauty
is tied right away to the ugliest things, and for a
woman there is no worse insult. I don’t like to go