Nothing is stranger than stories. Years passed before this one was clear to me – I pieced it together from fragments, like a shattered ancient relic, and not until after Senator Pinkerton’s death did I believe I had it complete – but in memory it seems that everything was revealed to me on that night of the Blood Red Ball. Later I saw the story as a succession of scenes unfolding, vivid with the passions, but not quite real, like Japanese woodblocks come weirdly to life. The place is Nagasaki: a house on Higashi Hill, overlooking the harbour. White screens slide back and a dark polished terrace juts into lush gardens. Goro, the nakodo – the marriage broker – shows his latest client the house. Exotic, is it not? So very Japanese! The perfect love nest for Pinkerton-san! Lieutenant Pinkerton is a dashing fellow, big and handsome, filled with bonhomie and bent on pleasure. A local geisha girl has bewitched him with her charms.
