Prevod

This, too, is a tale of long ago. In Tsukushi there lived a man called Sadashige the Taifu, grandfather of Norishige, the present Taifu of Hakozaki. When Sadashige was about to travel to the capital, he wished to take gifts for the late Lord of Uji and to show his regard for various friends of his own as well. He therefore borrowed goods worth some six or seven thousand hiki from a Chinese merchant, leaving ten swords as security. He went up to the capital, presented his gifts to the Lord of Uji, and distributed things among his friends just as he had intended. Then he set off home. At Yodo he boarded a boat, where a meal had been prepared for him. While he sat eating cormorant-caught fish and other dishes, traders came alongside in little boats, calling, “Will you buy this? Will you buy that?” Among them was one who called, “Will you buy a pearl?” No one paid him any attention, but a man serving as Sadashige’s attendant, who was standing by the side of the boat, said, “Bring it here and let me see.” The seller took from the waistband of his hakama an akoya pearl about the size of a large bean and handed it over. The attendant took off the suikan he was wearing and said, “Will you exchange it for this?” Thinking he had made a fine bargain, the pearl seller snatched up the garment, hastily pushed his boat away, and left. The attendant wondered whether he had paid too much, and, seeing how quickly the man had fled, regretted his purchase. Still, he wrapped the pearl in the waistband of his hakama and put on another suikan. After some days they reached Hakata. As soon as Sadashige stepped ashore, he went to the Chinese merchant who had lent him the goods, intending to say something about how generous the loan had been when the security was so small. The merchant welcomed him warmly and gave him wine, and they sat talking. Meanwhile, the attendant with the pearl met a Chinese servant and asked, “Will you buy a pearl?” He took it from his waistband and handed it over. The Chinese took it, laid it on his palm, and shook it lightly. At once an astonished look came over his face. “How much do you want for it?” he asked. Seeing how eager the man was to have it, the attendant said, “Ten kan.” The Chinese hurriedly replied, “I will buy it for ten kan.” “In fact, I mean twenty,” said the attendant. The Chinese was just as quick to agree to that. The attendant began to suspect that the pearl must be very valuable, and asked to have it back. The Chinese was reluctant to part with it, but the attendant pressed him so insistently that he had no choice but to return it. “I shall find out its proper value before I sell,” said the attendant, wrapping it in his waistband and walking away. At a loss what to do, the Chinese went over to the ship’s master, who was sitting with Sadashige, and chattered away in his own tongue. The ship’s master nodded, then said to Sadashige, “There is a man among your attendants who has a pearl. Might I ask you to obtain it for me?” Sadashige summoned someone and said, “Is there a man in my company who has a pearl? Find him and bring him here.” At this, the Chinese who had been chattering ran outside, caught the attendant by the sleeve, and led him in, crying, “Here he is! This is the man!” Sadashige asked, “Is it true that you have a pearl?” The attendant reluctantly admitted that he did. “Come, give it here,” said Sadashige. The man took it from his waistband, and Sadashige had one of his retainers pass it over. The Chinese merchant sitting opposite him received it, turned it in his hand and shook it lightly, then sprang up and hurried into the house. While Sadashige was wondering what was happening, the merchant had all ten swords brought out—the swords Sadashige had pledged for seventy kan. Sadashige could only sit there dumbfounded. Something bought for a single old suikan had thus been exchanged for so great a sum. It was astonishing indeed. Yet it is nothing new to say that a pearl’s value may know no bounds. There was a man in Tsukushi called Tōshi Shōsu, who told the following story. Once, while he was on his way somewhere, a man called out to him, “Will you buy a pearl?” He drew from his breast a pearl wrapped in a scrap of wastepaper and handed it to him. Shōsu examined it and found that it was smaller even than a soapberry seed. “How much is it?” he asked. “Twenty bolts of silk,” replied the man. Astonished, Shōsu abandoned his errand and took the pearl seller home with him. There he gave him all the silk he had—sixty bolts. “This is not something you ought to part with for a mere twenty bolts,” he said. “I felt sorry to hear you ask so little, and that is why I am giving you sixty.” The man went away delighted. Shōsu took the pearl with him when he sailed to China. Though the voyage was perilous, he never let it leave his person, but wore it about his neck like an amulet. When a foul wind arose, the Chinese said that, on meeting dangerous winds and waves, it was their custom to cast the most precious treasure aboard into the sea. They proposed throwing in Shōsu’s pearl. Shōsu said, “If I throw this pearl into the sea, there will be no point in my remaining alive. If you must throw it in, throw me in with it.” He clutched it to himself and would not let go. Even so, they could hardly cast a man overboard. While they argued back and forth, the wind died down—perhaps the pearl was fated not to be lost—and, to his great joy, it was spared. The chief ship’s master also possessed a large pearl, but it was somewhat flattened and inferior to Shōsu’s. When they reached China, the ship’s master sent Shōsu with his pearl to a man who had offered to buy it. On the way, Shōsu dropped it. Distraught, he retraced his steps and searched, but could find it nowhere. At last, in despair, he took his own pearl to the ship’s master and said, “I have lost your pearl, and now there is nothing I can do. Please take this one in its place.” But the ship’s master replied, “My pearl was inferior to this. It would be a grievous sin for me to accept yours in exchange for it,” and gave it back. In this, at least, he was unlike the people of our country. Would anyone here have refused it? While Shōsu was still grieving over the lost pearl, he went to visit a courtesan. As they talked, she laid a hand on his chest and asked, “Why is your heart beating so?” “I lost a certain man’s pearl,” he said, “and when I think what a serious matter it is, my heart pounds.” “That is only natural,” she replied. About two days after he had returned from her house, a message came from the courtesan: “There is something important I wish to tell you. Come at once, without delay.” Wondering what it could be, he hurried to her. Instead of admitting him by the usual entrance, she called him in through a secluded doorway. He went in, still wondering what was afoot. “Could this perhaps be the pearl you lost?” she asked, bringing it out. When he looked, there was no mistaking it: this was the very pearl. “How did this happen?” he asked in amazement. “Someone came past here offering a pearl for sale,” she replied. “I remembered what you had told me and called him in to look at it. When I saw how large it was, I thought it might be yours, so I kept him here and sent for you.” His gratitude was beyond words. “Where is the man who had it?” he asked. “He is sitting over there,” she said. Shōsu called the man over and took him straight to the pearl’s owner. “This is the pearl I lost at such-and-such a place, in the circumstances I told you of,” he said. The man could not deny it and admitted, “I found it there.” They gave him a small reward and sent him away. After Shōsu had returned the pearl, he sold his own for five thousand lengths of Chinese figured silk. In China, a single length of this silk is said to pass for about five bolts of Mino cloth. Consider its value: a pearl bought here for sixty bolts of silk had been sold for the equivalent of fifty thousand kan. Seen in that light, it was hardly surprising that Sadashige’s pearl should have redeemed the swords he had pledged for seventy kan. So the story was told.