No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

85
But the situation took an unexpected turn, one
very much for the worse.
"I've had enough," Horiki said with a scowl.
"Not even a lecher like myself can kiss a woman who
looks so poverty-stricken."
He folded his arms and stared, seemingly in
utter disgust, at Tsuneko. He forced a smile.
"Some liquor. I haven't got any money." I spoke
under my breath to Tsuneko. I felt I wanted to drink
till I drowned in it. Tsuneko was in the eyes of the
world unworthy even of a drunkard's kiss, a wretched
woman who smelled of poverty. Astonishingly, incredibly
enough, this realization struck me with the
force of a thunderbolt. I drank more that night than
ever before in my life, more . .. more, my eyes swam
with drink, and every time Tsuneko and I looked in
each other's face, we gave a pathetic little smile. Yes,
just as Horiki had said, she really was a tired,
poverty-stricken woman and nothing more. But this
thought itself was accompanied by a welling-up of a
feeling of comradeship for this fellow-sufferer from
poverty. (The clash between rich and poor is a hackneyed
enough subject, but I am now convinced that it
really is one of the eternal themes of drama.) I felt
pity for Tsuneko; for the first time in my life I was
conscious of a positive (if feeble) movement of love
in my heart. I vomited. I passed out. This was also the