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"Things of great import will always be treated with great import. But a maid in the night with a man is without import."

"I do not consider thee without import."

"I thank thee. I say that equally. But a maid in the night with a man is private and without import. It is a gift from her to him and, sometimes, from him to her. Nothing more."

"Never?"

"Sometimes. But this private pillow matter does not have this vast seriousness of thine."

"Never?"

"Only when the woman and man join together against the law. In this land."

He reined in, finally comprehending the reason for her denial. "I apologize," he said. "Yes, thou art right and I most very wrong. I should never have spoken. I apologize."

"Why apologize? For what? Tell me, Anjin-san, was this girl wearing a crucifix?"

"No.

"I always wear it. Always."

"A crucifix can be taken off," he said automatically in Portuguese. "That proves nothing. It could be loaned, like a perfume."

"Tell me a last truth: Did you really see the girl? Really see her?"

"Of course. Please let us forget I ever-"

"The night was very dark, the moon overcast. Please, the truth, Anjin-san. Think! Did you really see the girl?"

Of course I saw her, he thought indignantly.

God damn it, think truly. You didn't see her. Your head was fogged. She could have been the maid but you knew it was Mariko because you wanted Mariko and saw only Mariko in your head, believing that Mariko would want you equally. You're a fool. A goddamned fool.

"In truth, no. In truth I should really apologize," he said. "How do I apologize?"

"There's no need to apologize, Anjin-san," she replied calmly. "I've told you many times a man never apologizes, even when he's wrong. You were not wrong." Her eyes teased him now. "My maid needs no apology."

"Thank you," he said, laughing. "You make me feel less of a fool. "

"The years flee from you when you laugh. The so-serious Anjin-san becomes a boy again."

"My father told me I was born old."

"Were you?"

"He thought so."

"What's he like?"

"He was a fine man. A shipowner, a captain. The Spanish killed him at a place called Antwerp when they put that city to the sword. They burned his ship. I was six, but I remember him as a big, tall, good-natured man with golden hair. My older brother, Arthur, he was just eight .... We had bad times then, Mariko-san."

"Why? Please tell me. Please!"

"It's all very ordinary. Every penny of money was tied into the ship and that was lost . . . and, well, not long after that, my sister died. She starved to death really. There was famine in '71 and plague again. "

"We have plague sometimes. The smallpox. You were many in your family?"

"Three of us," he said, glad to talk to take away the other hurt.

"Willia, my sister, she was nine when she died. Arthur, he was next - he wanted to be an artist, a sculptor, but he had to become an apprentice stonemason to help support us. He was killed in the Armada. He was twenty-five, poor fool, he just joined a ship, untrained, such a waste. I'm the last of the Blackthornes. Arthur's wife and daughter live with my wife and kids now. My mother's still alive and so's old Granny Jacoba - she's seventy-five and hard as a piece of English oak though she was Irish. At least they were alive when I left more than two years ago."

The ache was coming back. I'll think about them when I start for home, he promised himself, but not until then.

"There'll be a storm tomorrow," he said, watching the sea. "A strong one, Mariko-san. Then in three days we'll have fair weather."

"This is the season of squalls. Mostly it's overcast and rainfilled. When the rains stop it becomes very humid. Then begin the tai-funs. " I wish I were at sea again, he was thinking. Was I ever at sea? Was the ship real? What's reality? Mariko or the maid?

"You don't laugh very much, do you, Anjin-san?"

"I've been seafaring too long. Seamen're always serious. We've learned to watch the sea. We're always watching and waiting for disaster. Take your eyes off the sea for a second and she'll grasp your ship and make her matchwood."

"I'm afraid of the sea," she said.

"So am I. An old fisherman told me once, 'The man who's not afraid of the sea'll soon be drownded for he'll go out on a day he shouldn't. But we be afraid of the sea so we be only drownded now and again.'" He looked at her. "Mariko-san . . ."

"Yes?"

"A few minutes ago you'd convinced me that - well, let's say I was convinced. Now I'm not. What's the truth? The honto. I must know."

"Ears are to hear with. Of course it was the maid."

"This maid. Can I ask for her whenever I want?"

"Of course. A wise man would not."

"Because I might be disappointed? Next time?"

"Possibly. "

"I find it difficult to possess a maid and lose a maid, difficult to say nothing...."

"Pillowing is a pleasure. Of the body. Nothing has to be said."

"But how do I tell a maid that she is beautiful? That I love her? That she filled me with ecstasy?"