The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

it to withdraw.
“How the memories come back. As you can see, I
am so old that I cannot be sure of lasting the night.”
He took courage from the fact that she had read his
letter. The words came more easily.
The Abbess laughed and seemed to sway gently.
“Your interesting letter seemed almost too earnest.”
Like the steward, she spoke the West Country dialect.
“I thought there must be some holy bond between us.”
The last drops of youth leaped up within Honda. He
had returned to that day sixty years before, when he
had pleaded youthful ardor to the Abbess’s
predecessor. He discarded his reserve.
“Your revered predecessor would not let me see
you when I came with Kiyoaki’s last request. It had to
be so, but I was angry. Kiyoaki Matsugae was after all
my dearest friend.”
“Kiyoaki Matsugae. Who might he have been?”
Honda looked at her in astonishment.
She might be hard of hearing, but she could not
have failed to hear him. Yet her words were so wide
of the mark that he could only believe he had been
misunderstood.
“I beg your pardon?” He wanted her to say it again.
There was no trace of dissimulation as she
repeated the words. There was instead a sort of