I think I have won.
Even if Mary gives birth to a child who is not her husband’s, if she has a shining pride, they become a holy mother and child.
I disregarded the old morality with a clear conscience, and I will have as a result the satisfaction of a good baby.
I presume that since last we met you have been continuing your life of decadence or whatever it is called, drinking with the ladies and gentlemen to the tune of “Guillotine, guillotine.” I have no intention of suggesting that you give that life up. It will, after all, most likely be the form your last struggle takes.
I no longer have the desire to say, “Give up your drinking, take care of your health, lead a long life, carry through your splendid career,” or any of the other hypocritical injunctions. For all I know, you may earn the gratitude of later people more by recklessly pursuing your life of vice than by your “splendid career.”
Victims. Victims of a transitional period of morality. That is what we both certainly are.
The revolution must be taking place somewhere, but the old morality persists unchanged in the world around us and lies athwart our way. However much the waves on the surface of the sea may rage, the water at the bottom, far from experiencing a revolution, lies motionless, awake but feigning sleep.
But I think that in this first engagement, I have been able to push back the old morality, however little. And I intend to fight a second and a third engagement together with the child who will be born.
To give birth to the child of the man I love, and to raise him, will be the accomplishment of my moral revolution.
Even if you forget me, and even if on account of drink you destroy your life, I believe I shall be able to go on living healthily, for the sake of the accomplishment of my revolution.
Not long ago I learned from a certain person in considerable detail about the worthlessness of your character. All the same, it is you who have given me this strength, you who have put the rainbow of revolution in my breast. It is you who have given an object to my life.
I am proud of you and I trust I shall make the child who is to be born feel proud of you.
A bastard and its mother.
We will live in perpetual struggle with the old morality, like the sun.
You, too, please try to continue to fight your struggle.
The revolution is far from taking place. It needs more, many more valuable, unfortunate victims.
In the present world, the most beautiful thing is a victim.
There was another little victim.
Mr. Uehara.
I do not feel like asking anything more of you, but on behalf of that little victim I should like to ask your indulgence in one thing.
I should like your wife to take my child in her arms—even once will do—and let me say then, “Naoji secretly had this child from a certain woman.”
Why do this? That is one thing which I cannot tell anyone. No, I am not even sure myself why I want it done. But I am most anxious that you do this for me. Please do it for the sake of Naoji, that little victim.
Are you irritated? Even if you are, please bear with me. Think this the one offense of a deserted woman who is being forgotten, and please, I beg you, grant it.
To M.C. My Comedian.