Confessions of a Mask Read Online Free

delighted with fancies in which those body-revealing tights worn by the princes were associated with their cruel deaths? There is a Hungarian fairy tale that I particularly remember in this connection. For a long time my heart was captivated by an extremely realistic illustration to this story.
    Printed in primary colors, the illustration showed the prince dressed in black tights and a rose-colored tunic with spun-gold embroidery on the breast. A dark-blue cape that flashed a scarlet lining was flung about his shoulders, and around his waist there was a green and clear-cut agony, not fuzzy remorse; it was like being forced to look down from a window at a reflection of fierce summer sunlight that is dividing the street into a glaring contrast of sun and shadow.
    One cloudy afternoon during the rainy season I happened to be walking through Azabu on an errand. This was a section of the city I had seldom been in. Suddenly, from behind me, someone called my name. It was Sonoko. Upon looking around and catching sight of her I was not as surprised as I had been that time on the streetcar when I had mistaken another girl for her. To me this chance encounter seemed perfectly natural, as though I had foreseen it all along. I felt as though I had known everything about this instant since long before.
    She was wearing a simple dress, with a flower pattern like that of chic wallpaper, and no ornament other than some lace at the V of the neck; there was nothing about her to proclaim that she was now a married woman. She was probably returning from drawing rations as she was carrying a bucket and was also followed by an old servant woman carrying another bucket. She sent the woman on home and walked along talking with me.
    "You've become a little thin, haven't you?"
    "Ah, thanks to studying for the exams."
    "So? Please take care of your health."
    Then we fell silent for a time. Soft sunlight began gold belt. He was equipped with a helmet of green gold, a bright-red sword, and a quiver of green leather. His left hand, gloved in white leather, grasped a bow; his right hand rested upon the branch of one of the ancient trees of the forest; and with a grave, commanding countenance he was looking down the terrifying throat of the raging dragon that was about to set upon him. On his face was the resolve of death. If this prince had been destined to be a conqueror in his engagement with the dragon, how faint would have been his fascination for me. But fortunately the prince was destined to die.
    To my regret, however, his fate of death was not perfect. In order to rescue his sister and also to marry a beautiful princess, seven times did this prince endure the ordeal of death and, thanks to the magical powers of a diamond that he held in his mouth, seven times did he rise from death, finally living happily ever after.
    The illustration showed a scene just prior to death number one—being devoured by a dragon. After that he was "caught by a great spider and, after his body had been shot full of poison, was eaten ravenously." Again, he was drowned, roasted in a fire, stung by hornets and bitten by snakes, flung bodily into a pit completely lined with there is no saying how many great knives planted with their points up, and crushed to death by countless boulders that came falling "like a torrential rain."
    His death by being devoured by the dragon was described in particular detail:"Without a moment's delay, the dragon chewed the prince greedily into bits. It was almost more than he could stand, but the prince summoned all his courage and bore the torture steadfastly until he was finally chewed completely into shreds. Then, in a flash, he suddenly was put back together again and came springing nimbly right out of the dragon's mouth. There was not a single scratch anywhere on his body. The dragon sank to the ground and died on the spot."
    I read this passage hundreds of times. But the sentence "There was not a single scratch anywhere on his body"