They passed into a large room like a concert hall with a stage at one end.  There were several men squatting on the floor round hibachi smoking and drinking beer.  They looked like black sheep browsing.

These were joined by the mutes who followed the Barringtons.  All of these people were dressed exactly alike.  They wore white socks, a dark kimono almost hidden by the black cloak upon which the family crest—­a wreath of wisteria (fuji) foliage—­shone like a star on sleeves and neck, and by the fluted yellowish skirt of heavy rustling silk.  This dress, though gloomy and sacerdotal, was dignified and becoming; but the similarity was absurd.  It looked like a studied effect at a fancy dress ball.  It was particularly exasperating to the guests of honour who were anxious to distinguish their relatives and to know them apart; but Ito alone, with his European clothes and his purple tie, was conspicuous and unmistakable.

“He is like Mrs. Jarley,” thought Geoffrey, “he explains the waxworks.”

In the middle of the room was a little group of chairs of the weary beast of burden type, which are requisitioned for public meetings.  Two of them were dignified by cushions of crimson plush.  These were for Geoffrey and Asako.

Among the black sheep there was no movement beyond the steady staring of some thirty pairs of eyes.  When the Harringtons had been enthroned, the host and hostess approached them with silent dragging steps and downcast faces.  They might have been the bearers of evil tidings.  A tall girl followed behind her parents.

Mrs. Fujinami Shidzuye and her daughter, Sadako, were the only women present.  This was a compromise, and a consideration for Asako’s feelings.  Mr. Ito had proposed that since a lady was the chief guest of honour, therefore all the Fujinami ladies ought to be invited to meet her.  To Mr. Fujinami’s strict conservative mind such an idea was anathema.  What!  Wives at a banquet!  In a public restaurant!  With geisha present!  Absurd—­and disgusting! O tempora!  O mores!

Then, argued the lawyer, Asako must not be invited.  But Asako was the clou of the evening; and besides, an English gentleman would be insulted if his wife were not invited too.  And—­as Mr. Ito went on to urge—­any woman, Japanese or foreign, would be ill-at-ease in a company composed entirely of men.  Besides Sadako could speak English so well; it was so convenient that she should come; and under her mother’s care her morals would not be contaminated by the propinquity of geisha.  So Mr. Fujinami gave in so far as concerned his own wife and daughter.

Shidzuye San, as befitted a matron of sober years, wore a plain black kimono; but Sadako’s dress was of pale mauve color, with a bronze sash tied in an enormous bow.  Her hair was parted on one side and caught up in a bun behind—­the latest haikara fashion and a tribute to the foreign guests.  Hers was a graceful figure; but her expression was spoiled by the blue-tinted spectacles which completely hid her features.