Ito produced from his pocket a translation of this oration.

“Now please say a few words in reply,” he directed.

Geoffrey, feeling acutely ridiculous, scrambled to his feet and thanked everybody for giving his wife and himself such a jolly good time.  Ito translated.

“Now please command to drink health of the Fujinami family,” said the lawyer, consulting his agenda.  So the health of Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro was drunk with relish by everybody, including the lady and gentleman honoured.

“In this country,” thought Geoffrey, “one gets the speechmaking over before the dinner.  Not a bad idea.  It saves that nervous feeling which spoils the appetite.”

An old gentleman, with a restless jaw, tottered to his feet and approached Geoffrey’s table.  He bowed twice before him, and held out a claw-like hand.

“Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke, the father of Mr. Fujinami Gentaro,” announced Ito.  “He has retired from life.  He wishes to drink wine with you.  Please wash your cup and give it to him.”

There was a kind of finger-bowl standing in front of Geoffrey, which he had imagined might be a spittoon.  He was directed to rinse his cup in this vessel, and to hand it to the old gentleman.  Mr. Fujinami Gennosuke received it in both hands as if it had been a sacrament.  The attendant geisha poured out a little of the greenish liquid, which was drunk with much hissing and sucking.  Then followed another obeisance; the cup was returned, and the old gentleman retired.

He was succeeded by Mr. Fujinami Gentaro himself, with whom the same ceremony of the sake drinking was repeated; and then all the family passed by, one after another, each taking the cup and drinking.  It was like a visiting figure in the lancers’ quadrille.

As each relative bent and bowed, Ito announced his name and quality.  These names seemed all alike, alike as their faces and as their garments were.  Geoffrey could only remember vaguely that he had been introduced to a Member of Parliament, a gross man with a terrible wen like an apple under his ear, and to two army officers, tall clean-looking men, who pleased him more than the others.  There were several Government functionaries; but the majority were business men.  Geoffrey could only distinguish for certain his host and his host’s father.

“They look just like two old vultures,” he thought.

Then there was Mr. Fujinami Takeshi, the son of the host and the hope of the family, a livid youth with a thin moustache and unhealthy marks on his face like raspberries under the skin.