THE
Gold Demon
I
By KOYO OZAKI
& - '
Re-irri&cn in JKngli*
By
A. .nd M. LLOYD.
i
*
<r\
r
* -
*
TOKYO
SEIBUNDO
1917
Traiiklutcd froni Konjikl Yiuthn ' piilillnh<>H by sbunyfldo.
(SoutcntS
TRANSLATORS' PREFACE i
$oof Our.
PACT
Chapter I.
THK NIGHT SCENE ix THE CITY OF
TOKYO i
Ch-ipter II.
MR. MINOWA'S HOUSE 7
Chapter 111.
THE LARGE DIAMOND 12
Chapter IV.
THE GAME OF CAKUS 19
Chapter \ .
THE WALK; HOME .... .26
Chapter VI.
A RETROSPECT 31
CJiaptcr VII.
CONFIDENCES 37
[ i J
ftmtattJ
I'AOI
Chn per \\\\.
THE JJEGi.NNiNG OF TKO -jiLKS ... 42
Chapter IX.
PERPLEX i riEs . . . . . .... 50
Chapter X.
THE FATHER'S RKOUEST ..... 55
Chapter XI.
ATAMI ......... . 65
Chipter XII.
THE UNWELCOME VISIT ...... 74
Chapter XIII.
A PAINFUL INTERVIEW .... 77
C/uipler XIV.
KVVANICHI REPROACHES MIYA. ... 83
Chapter I.
IN THE TRAIN ........ 93
Chapter II.
CREAM BEAUTY USURER . ... 99
Chapter III.
OLD AQUAINTANCE ..... 106
Chapter IV.
SAKE ........... II2
L ii 1
Chapter V.
KWANICHI TELLS HS STORY . . . . IIQ
Chapter VI.
THE VISCOUNT PHOTOGRAPHER . . . 127
Chapter VII.
UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCES 135
Chapter VIII.
O' MINE'S PROPOSITION 141
Chapter IX.
IN SEARCH OF THE USURER .... 146
Cliapter X.
THE FIGURE IN THE GARDEN .... 149
Chapter XI.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 156
Chapter XII.
THE CAMERA 164
Chapter XIII.
INVITATION TO SUPPER ...... 1 68
Chapter XIV.
AN CLO FKIEND WITH A NEW FACE. . 173
Chapter XV.
TETE A TETE WITH THE USURER . . . 180
Cliapter XVI.
A Hor ARGUMENT 185
[iii ]
Konteuta
Cliapter XVII.
THE JujUTbU MET.IODS 193
Chapter XVIII.
Tin: B )\i) 202
Ch.i PL-,- XIX.
TIIK ("joi.n DIIMON 207
67*//>/<r XX.
AN ATTACK: 212
Soof Ztno.
Chapter XXT.
TIIK USURER'S SON 217
Chapter XXII.
Tin-: ARGUMENT ... .... 224
a^/^/- xxiii.
Tin-; WORLD'S DESIRE 229
Chapter XXIV.
THE WORLD'S' DESIRE (continued) . . 235
Chapter XXV.
Too LA IE 240
Chapter XXVI.
L<>VK AND HATE 244
Chapter XXVII.
A SNOWV DAY 248
[ iv]
ttoittrut*
ter XXVIH.
MlVA AND HER M >THER 255
6'/u/Y,r XXIX.
Tin- RKAI. Csusi: OF MIVA'S HAD
If; ALTH 260
Ck-tptcr XXX.
AN L'.NWhi COMI: VISITOR 268
Ch,p'cr xxxr.
\\ T O\ n MAN'S ADVICE 276
Chapter XXXIF.
TUF. LAW OF INGWA 284
C/uptcr XXX III.
THI-: OI.IVK I5KANCH 291
Chtptcr XX XIV.
MIT.^UE'S KUSE 296
Chapter XXX\".
THE LUMATIC 301
Chapter XXXVI.
TRAPS OF THE MoNiiY-LSNDERS . . . 308
Chapter XXXVII.
Tin; KIRK 316
Cltapter XXXVIII.
KWANICHI MI UK^S 1(22
Chap!.;- XXXIX.
TAOAMICHI'S KEQUESI 328
v I
GonttntI
Chapter XL.
TADAMICHI'S REQUEST (continued) . . 334
Boot
Chapter XLI.
AT THE END OF THE YEAR. . . . 339
Chapter XLIT.
A STRANGE ENCOUNTER ..... 347
Chapter XLIII.
A STRANGE ENCOUNTER (Continued) . 354
Chapter XLIV.
Ar SL-PPER .......... $ 6 *
Chapter XLV.
CONCERNING TAOATSUGU TOMIYAMA. . 3 6 3
Chapter XLVI.
I low MIYA SPENDS HER MORNING. . 379
Chapter XLVII.
Tin: WANIBUCHI INHERITANCE. . . 3^4
Cliapter XLVIII.
THE FIRST VISITOR ....... 3 88
[vj
Chapter XLIX.
THE PARTING OF TWO FRIENDS. . . 39 6
CJuiptcr L.
AN UNREASONABLE MAN .... 49
[vi]
(vontent*
PAGK
Chapter LI.
FAITHFUL LOVE . 416
Chapter LI I.
QUESTIONINGS 425
Ch.iptcr LIII.
Tin-: SUPPLIANT 429
Chapter LIV.
DESPERATION .13 '3
Chapter LV.
THE RIVALS 441
Chapter LVI.
MITSUE WAITS 452
duplcr LVII.
A PLEA FO:< LOVE 462
Chapter LVIII.
THE IJREAM ......... 473
Chapter LIX.
DESPAIR. 491
Ck-ipter LX.
THE JOURNEY 494
Chapter LXI.
AT SHIOBAUA 499
7*i//v LXII.
THE COMPANION 506
Chiptcr LXIII.
A LOVERS' QUARREL 514
r vii
CJiapttr LXIV.
Til:'. IMI'OKTUNATK SUITOR. .... $22
Chapter LXV.
KWANICHI INTERVENES 52?
Chapter I.XVI.
VAMA'S STORY 53 i
LXVII.
MIVA'S DIARY 54
LXVIII.
O'Smzu AND KWANICHI 547
\pter I .XIX.
O'Siuzu's viEu.s ox Lo.i: 553
LXX.
THE I'Ao OF MIVA'S DIARY .... 559
(THE Kxo).
f viii
MR. OZAKl KOYO the author of the
Xovol " Konjiki Yasha" \vhich is
herewith presented to the English-speaking
public is English dress, though not exact-
ly in an English translation, was born on
Dec mber 16, 1866, in Shiba Katamonzen
Clio, in Tokyo.
Me was thus a true son of Yedo. More
than that he was a child of Shiba, of that
quarter of the Imperial City which more
than all others has been noted lor the high
spirit and lively ways of its inhabitants. All
the world knows that Shiba lies by the sea-
shore, and its inhabitants, very many of
whom are fishmongers, or otherwise connect-
ed with the fishing industry, seem to have
imbibed a sti\ng predilection for liberty
L -i 1
from the remnants of the fresh st-
that find their way to them across the
dreary mud-Hats of Shinagawa Bay. The
purity of the sea-breezes may perhaps be
doubted, but the Shiba love of liberty is
above all suspicion. The district contains,
does it not? that bulwark of a nation's
liberties, the great Keiogijuku, and if that be
not sufficient I would point my reader to the
fact that whereas in other, more submissive,
districts of the city, the barbers have made
an unholy combine for the purpose ot put-
ting up, and keeping up, the price of that
necessity of human life a morning shave ,
the freedom-lovers of the Shiba district have
always succeeded in ass'erting their lawful
freedom. What you have to pay ten,
twelve, or even fifteen, sen for in their parts
of the town, you can get a Shiba barber to
do for half the price. Indeed I am told that
you can be shaved in some parts of Shiba
for three or four sen.
Ozaki's education was begun at a tera-
[ il J
koya, or a temple-school, one of those " go-
as-you-please : ' institutes of learning which
nourished in the days before Meiji, and which
in many places contrived to linger on into
the Meiji era itself. At this school the
innate " Shiba spirit " was fostered and
developed. He was a ' pickle ', and a
fighter, and carried with him to his death a
scar on the forehead, the memorial of a
stone-throwing battle of his early days.
In 1873 the terakoya was changed into a
public school, and Ozaki remained as one of
its students, faithful in spite of the changes
of system and name which the Institution
underwent. He remained, in fact, till some-
where in 1880, when he had learned all that
there was to learn, and was turned out ot
the school, a finished article, as far as the
powers of the school were able to go.
He was now fifteen years of age, and his
father, who wished to see his son prosper in
the world, began to urge him to begin the
stu.ly oi English, then, as now, one of the
nfcuction
great high roads leading to success. He did
so. but he did not like it. His text-book
\Vcbster s Spelling Book. It is quite
possible that he did not find his studies in
iish wildly exciting.
Hut it he disliked learning English, he
disliked mathematics more. He tells us in
a short memoir of himself, which he once
composed, that his mind was by constitution
as much averse to mathematics as his
stomach was to tofu t the insipid bean cake
which enters so much into Japanese
cookery.
diematics and English were in those
taple articles of education
mathematics taught out oi English text-
Looks, and English taught by die Jiensoku
method which discarded all sounds and
appealed to the eye not the ear ! It is not
to be wondered at that a boy ot Ozaki's
temperament became restless, nor yet that
he changed schools rapidly and eagerly.
He went from school to school, trom College
3ntroTmction
to College, seeking- intellectual sustenance,
and getting intellectual tofn.
Then on: day, in a circulating library, one
of thos.i mean-looking stalls, contain!
few do/ens ot torn, tattered, and well-thumb-
ed Japanese novels in gaudy covers, which
you can borrow lor a tew rin, he found a
romance by Tamcnaga the well-known
novelist of Tokugawa period and in that
book he lound his vocation. The literature
of his own country, the thoughts, the pas-
sions, the hopes ot his own compatriots, the
sentiments, noble and otherwise, that had
their roots in the history of his own people,
these were the things which appealed un-
consciously to him. He tells us in his notes
and memoirs that he felt that, with these
treasures opend to- him in his own language,
he felt that he could dispense, for a time at
with the delights of the "Spelling
Book ", and he now became a constant and
ireqcenter of the lending library
in the next street.
[ v
3n!rot>iution
It is true that his father did not approve
of these studies ; but stolen fruit is always
the sweetest, and the difficulties that stood
in the way of his favoured studies only add-
< d to the zest with which he pursued them.
The novels stood on his bookshelf all day
safely disguised in a false cover which bore
the inscription " Chinese History " : in the
evening, as soon as the hour came when
serious studies might safely be laid aside,
when the futons were spread, and the family
retired to sleep, the beloved friends came
forth from their hiding-place, and night was
turned into day under the dim flicker of the
lamp that stood by his pillow.
In this way Ozaki gained for himself a
good knowledge of Japanese fiction, especi-
ally of the works oi" Tamenaga and Famba
and the comic writings of Kyoden. Romance
did not appeal to him. A few paragraphs
here and there of the masterpieces of Fakin
and Tanehiko sufficed to satisfy his curios'ty:
: and Inaka Genji he only skin>
[ vi J
introduction
med, contenting himself with gathering the
story from the illustrations. What he was
searching for was something actual, some-
thing realistic, and whatever literature of
this kind he came across he devoured with
avidity.
From reading to writing was but a step.
After attending various schools, he entered
the Imperial University, first the College of
Law, then that of Literature, but at neither
College did he bring his studies to their
natural termination. He left without a
degree, after three years in all at the
University. But he had in the meantime
entered on the field of literature. In 1888,
.in connection with his two friends, Ishibashi
Shian and Yamada Binyo, he started a
magazine named Garakuta (Bunko which
procured for him some reputation as a
writer. Two years later, in 1890, he was
appointed Literary Editor of the Yomiurt
-.bun, and it was for this paper, and for
Koki: . that he wrote most of
[ vii ]
;}ntrolwrttott
the novels for which lie became so famous.
lu July 1902, he joined the staff of the
A;;v..v JV . hut only as a doomed
man. Three months later, in October 1902,
he died of the cancer in the stomach which
had troubled him for some time. His best
known novels are " Kyara Makura"
11 S,: .arazu livazn" 11 J.
rasaki" " T.ro Takon" and " h
Yasha " or the Gold Demon.
Ozaki may claim, with Professor Tsubo-
uchi, the honour of having been the founder
I modern school of fiction. The romantic
school of Bakin lingered on right into the
Meiji Period, and its latest representa-
tives were Kanagaki Robun, and Jon<> Sai-
kiku who r< uprcme during the early
:fs of the present era. Pr< Tsubo-
uchi took the novel of Kuropc as ;i model for
imitation, and Ozaki followed in Tsubouchi's
steps, making his novels realistic both
in incident and in i ;ul attempting
uialyse and depict for his fellow-country-
[ viii J
Stntrofiurtion
men the psychological workings of the
human mind.
In his early d;iys, as we saw, he had turn-
ed from the study of English. In his later
days he came back to it ; for Japanese
fiction-literature did not contain enough to
satisfy his mind, and he had to turn to
European fiction for intellectual food. He
learned not only English but French and
translated Moliere's Avare into Japanese.
" His work," says the Japan Times, in
an obituary notice of his death, " possesses
a unique charm. He was the first among
Japanese novelists to attempt to depict psy-
chological phenomena, and apart from this
innovation, the,' delicate art with which lie
succeeded in blending tragedy and comedy
of a high order was reminiscent of Dickens at
his best. He excelled both as tragedian
and jester.
He translated Moliere's " L' Avare, ' which
repeatedly reproduced by Mr. Kawa-
kami's troupe with brilliant success. Assist-
amroDurtton
ed by a Russian scholar he translated
Tolstoi's " Kreutzer Sonata '', and every
number of the Kokumin-no-tomo, the maga-
zine which published it in serial form, was
impatiently awaited by his readers.
He wrote an enormous quantity of origin-
al matter, which chiefly appeared in the
Shimbun, to which he contribut-
ed for more than ten years. But he was
never a quick writer. His copy was always
black with corrections, and as he wrote a
very illegible hand, though connoisseurs pro-
nounced it beautiful, his manuscript was
invariably hailed with anathemas in the
composing room. But like many other
famous productions that have been the result
of infinite pains, his work, when it appeared
in print, read with a smooth and easy flow
that promptly carried the reader with it and
held him a willing prisoner to the end. 1 1 is
pathos may be studied in the impressive
scenes of the " Konjiki Yasha " (The Gold
Demon), " Tajo Takon," and some others.
3ntroourtton
The veneration and affection in which he
was held in literary circles, however, were in
no small measure due to his earnest solici-
tude for the welfare of his disciples. It is to
his example and encouragement that we
owe the presence of such brilliant craftsmen
as Kyoka, Fiiyo, Sazanami, and others, the
first-named of whom at least is already in
the foremost rank of Japanese novelists.
When his condition was reported to be
critical these beloved disciples gathered
around Mr. Koyo and asked him whether
he had anything to say to them. He answer-
ed no, but urged them to cooperate loyally
and strive to rise still higher in their profes-
sion. " Had I seven lives to live," said the
dying man, " I would devote them all to
literature." He then ordered his pupils to
come under the light, as it was night, that he
might see their faces one by one for the last
time."
" He was also," says the Japanese Mail,
in a similar notice, " a renowned composer
Sntrofcttrttou
'laikwai (\\\Q 1 7-ideograph stanza) and
on his death-bed he wrote the lines
Shinaba aki
Tsuyu no hinu ma zo
Omoshirc.
The verselet is an admirable example of
Japanese impressionist poetry. Freely ren-
dered it reads, " Let me die in autumn
before the dew dries ; ' words which recall,
though they do not express, the familar idea
of the dew-drop evanescence of life in Budd-
hist eyes, and of the shining of night-pearls
on the petals of the autumn flower, the
morning glory, " The dew-drop slips into
the silent sea."
The Gold Demon in its English dress has
been re-written rather than translated. A few
of the earlier chapters are translations, but
the rest are abbreviated reproductions of the
original. Ozaki's greatest charm is his
language, and that charm cannot possibly
be reproduced. His immense power and
LUty of language enables him to take the
Japanese reader through mazes of minute
description which, under the guidance of a
less skilful pen, would be tedious in the ex-
treme. We have therefore deemed it best
to curtail the descriptions, to condense the
soliloquies in which his heroes rejoice, in a
word, to make the book a little more An^lo-
o
Saxon. We hope the reader will pardon us
for these liberties.
A. LLOYD.
g (Dec. 1905.
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
Scene itt
of
EVERY gate way was decorated with its New _
Year's pines, and every one was shut,
though it was yet early in the night. The long
broad street, running from East to West, looked
as if it had been swept perfectly clean : there was
not even a shadow on it. -The noisy rattle of the
solitary' wheels that broke the silence of the
lonesome city was probably some belated traveller
too busy or too drunk to get home earlier from his
round of New Year's visits. In the distance could
be heard the fitful sound of the sliishi dancers'
tambourine, so melancholy that it seemed to be
mourning over the approaching end of the Festive
Season. It was the evening of the third of
January who can tell how many little hearts had
[I]
Thf (olB Tfmon.
been broken as they listened to its sorrowful
tones ?
The new diaries, begun on the first of the New
Vear, had hitherto recorded the weather in an
unbroken- monotone. " ist January, fine " " 2nd
January, fine," " 3rd January, ditto "; but now,
toward evening a cold winter blast had bustled
out through the city, as though angry because the
sweet song of children's voices at play had ceased
its burden of
" Wind, wind, cease to blow !
This is not the time to blow ! "
And now he was playing havoc all by himself
among the pine-tree decorations, and the dried
leaves of the withered bamboos, and performing
all manner of antics to demonstrate his strength.
The sky had been overcast, but now the wind
seemed to have awakened it, and it was twinkling
with innumerable stars, like the silver shimmer on
a piece of nashi-ji lacquer. It was a cold bright
light that the twinkling stars threw over the street,
indeed, they seemed to have frozen everything
with their intense cold.
Let our reader place himself in thought in such
a dreary scene as this Would his thoughts
suggest the contemplation of humanity, or society,
w
ninljt 8tenf in tftr tTitt) of lofljo.
of cities or towns ? It seemed that the nine heav-
ens and the eightfold earth had but just emerged
from chaos, that Nature had not yet finished her
creative work, that the wind was just making its
first attempt to blow, that the stars had just
begun to twinkle the scene suggested a vast
wilderness, without meaning, order, or beauty
nothing but a dreary void. All day long thr
people had thronged the streets, singing, drinking,
joking, rejoicing, smiling, chattering. The wonder
was where they had gone to ; why had they dis-
appeared like the gnats at the end of summer ?
A silence of hours ensued : then in the distance
the clapping of a watchman's rattle struck the
ear : and as soon as this sound died away, a
lantern would come into sight at the end of the
street, and after a few wavering motions across
it, disappear from sight and leave nothing but
the cold wind blowing wildly against the dreary-
stars.
The bath house in a side street was closing its
doors : the water from the bath was discharging
itself through a drainpipe which projected from
the weatherboards, sending up columns of steam
and filling the air with a disagreeable hot v
which conveyed a sense of impurity to the nostrils.
[3]
Ifif Wolb Irmon.
Suddenly a jinrikisha drawn by two men came
dashing round the corner so rapidly that its
drawers had no time to avoid the column-; of
vapour, but took their fare right through the
midst of it.
" Poof! What a foul smell ! " exclaimed a voice
from the jinrikisha. Its owner was smoking a
cigar, the end of which he threw away, still alight,
into the gutter. " It is very early," he continued,
" for them to be emptying the bath."
" Yes, sir," answered the coolie. " We are
still " within the pines " 1} and the baths are
always closed earlier now."
When the jinrikisha man had spoken, there was
again a silence, and the wheels rattled on apace.
The gentleman gathered the sleeves of his cloak
tightly round him, and buried his face above the
ears in the deep sealskin collar. There was a
fur rug spread beneath him on the seat of the
carriage, with its end hanging down over the
back : and across his knees lay a handsome
striped rug of fuiva-ori cloth. The lantern was
decorated with a device of two capital T's in-
tertwined. At the other end of the lane the
i) /'"'', a phrase denoting the New Year's
holidays.
[4]
r
fl ninftt tfttf in tfie (Fiti) of Toti)d.
wheels turned abruptly to the north, and emerged
in a rather wide street which they followed for a
little while. Then they turned down a blind alley
to the west, across which was suspended a gate
lamp bearing the name of Minowa painted on it,
and rattled with an air of importance through the
gateway festively decorated with stakes of pointed
bamboo.
Lights could be seen through the paper window
slides within the porch, but the outer lattice-gate
was locked, so the men had to rattle, and knock
and shout for admittance ; but for some time in
vain, as there was much noise of merriment
within.
At length, a louder shout and a more persistent
knocking attracted the attention of the inmates,
and some one came out to attend to them.
It looked like the mistress of the house, a lady
of some forty years of age, small, spare and of a
pale complexion, with her hair done in a maru-
mage chignon. She wore a dress of fine ito-ori
silk, the colour of tea, with a haori of lioslio-
tsumngi stuff, decorated with the badge of her
family. She hastily opened the lattice gate to
receive her guest, and the gentleman was about to
enter, when he noticed that the whole floor inside
[5]
Xemon.
the porch was covered with shoes and foot-gear so
closely packed that there was no room even to
push a walking stick between them. The lady
instantly divined his thought, and courteously
stepping down from the raised floor on which
she stood, pushed the foot-gear aside to make
room for the honoured guest. Presently his geta
were singled out from the others by being put in
a place of honour inside the paper shoji of the
entrance room.
CHAPTER II
A T the back of the Minowa's house were two
** parlours, one often, and the other of eight
mats, thrown into one by the removal of the
partition-screens, and lighted with ten brass candle-
sticks containing each a half-pound candle which
shone like a fishing boat light in the offing on
a dark night. From the ceiling in either room
hung a metal lamp which cast a light, as bright
almost as the sun over the faces of the assembled
guests. There were some thirty young people of
both sexes assembled, divided into two companies
and eagerly playing the favourite Japanese game of
ntagaruta, or poem-cards. The flaming candles,
the heat of the charcoal brazier, and the human
warmth of the assembled company, all combined to
make the room peculiarly close and stuffy, and the
smoke of tobacco curling up and mingling with
the fumes of lamps, candles, niv 1 . charcoal only
increased the oppressive heat of the atmosphere.
Everybody's face was flushed and red : some of
the ladies had lost the powder which the}' had
worn in abundance at the beginning of the
[7]
(Bolb Utmon.
evening, the locks of others h;ul become dis-
ordered, and again others had had their dresses
disarranged by the eagerness with which they
joined in the game of skill and chance. Of
course, the ladies showed more signs of disorder,
because there was more about them to become
disarranged, but the men bore signs of the fray
also. One man was sitting in his shirtsleeves,
quite unconscious of the rent in his shirt. An-
other had his girdle untied and was exposing his
person in his eagerness to snatch the winning
card. Yet a third had four of his fingers
wounded and bound up with paper to stop the
bleeding. No one seemed to be conscious of the
close stuffiness of the room, so madly were they
absorbed in the exciting game it was a scene of
shouting merriment and boisterous laughter, of
romping, snatching, shrieking, lawlessness it v.
as if hell had been let loose and all notions of
order and decorum reversed.
It is said that, when a ship is overtaken by a
storm, a few gallons of oil poured on the trouMed
waters will suffice to calm the waves and b
the vessel from shipwreck. In that law'..
tempest of excited players there was one who
ruled like a queen over the excited company, ai.d
[8]
OTr. ffflinottm'* ou$e .
acted as oil upon the waters. The men, how-
ever lawless and noisy they might be, felt the
magic of her presence and voice, and were hushed
into an admiration which was almost worship ;
the women were afraid of her, and their fear was
not untinged by jealousy. It was a young girl,
sitting by one of the pillars in the middle of the
room : her hair was elaborately tied up with a
" bonnie blue ribbon," her upper garment of a quiet
gray crape, and out of her large clear eyes, she
looked with interest and dignity upon the wild
scene around her. She was so beautiful and so
charming that those who saw her for the first
time suspected her of being a lady of the dcnii
monde, especially invited to add grace to the feast
by her presence and dress : the game had not
proceeded very far before the whole company
were talking amongst themselves about the charms
of " Miya." There were many other young
ladies present. Some of them were so homely
that they looked like nurse-maids dressed out in
suits of borrowed finery, or like the caricatured
peeresses whom our farce-writers delight to
represent in awkward situations : but others again
were so well dressed that they would have gained
full marks, or even more, in a contest of elegance
[9]
Tfie (olb $rmon.
and beaut}-. There was, for instance, the daughter
of a well-known member of the House of Peers, as
homely a girl as can well be imagined, but
d in the height of elegance, in a " three-fold
suit " of mon-omcshi silk crape, with a light
purple cli of s/tic/tin, beautifully embroidered in
gold with crossed lilies, so dazzling was her
finery that everybody puckered up their eyes and
looked in admiring silence to take it all in. liy
the side of all this grandeur Miya's dress was
like the morning star paling before the sun in his
early glory ; but then her complexion was fairer
than any there, her face more symmetrically
beautiful than any textile design. Just as no amount
of ornamental dressing will make an ugly woman
beautiful, so in Miya's case no simplicity of dress
could spoil her charms.
Sitting by a liibacJii in a corner of the room
were two persons engaged in a quiet conversation,
peeling oranges the meanwhile, and casting sur-
reptitious glances at the beautiful damsel. At last
one of them, unable to restrain his feelings,
;ed out :
" Yes, indeed. She is pretty, beyond a doubt.
It may be true that " the trappings make the
horse," but a true beauty needs no dressing.
[10]
Beauty is personal and inherent : any dress wovild
be becoming or no dress."
" Yes indeed," assented the other, " I should
like to see her naked ! "
He was an art student
CHAPTER III
THE gentleman who had arrived lately in the
jinrikisha with two men was now ushered in
by the mistress of the house. With them came in
also the master of the house, Mr. Minowa Ryosuke,
who had taken refuge from the noise by shutting
himself up in his own room, but now came out to
greet the new comer. Everyone else was too
eagerly engrossed in the card-contest to observe
the entrance of this fresh group of persons : only
the two who had been sitting by the hibachi in
the corner turned to look at the gentleman with
critical curiosity.
As they stood at the entrance to the parlour,
the lamp-light shone full on them. A nervous
twitch was playing round Mrs. Minowa's small
thin lips, and the husband's half-bald head shone
red in the glare. He was a strange contrast to his
small thin wife, for he was a big fat man with
a face as jolly as that of Hotei the god of Fortune,
whilst his consort was extremely thin and nervous.
The visitor was a man of some twenty-six or
-seven years of age, t\ll. fairly fat, with a
Zftt
smooth shiny skin, cheeks reddish, a deep fore-
he. id, a large mouth with big jaws, and a square
face. His well-oiled hair, which had a gentle
in it, was parted on the left side. His
moustache was not very thick, and he wore on
his nose, which was somewhat prominent, a pair
of gold-rimmed pince-nez spectacles His upper
garment was a haori of fine black s/tiose silk with
five crests on it, underneath was a long garment
of rich material which reached down to his feet,
and was girded around with a six-inch obi of
shicJiin in which he wore a gold watch attached
to a handsome and conspicuous gold chain. He
was indeed a superb sight, as he looked round
with an air of dignified patronage on the assembled
company. There was no handsomer man, and no
one better dressed than he was in the whole room
" Who is he ? " asked one of the two men by
the Iiibaclii, in a spiteful whisper.
" A disagreeable beast ! " replied the other
promptly, turning his face away as though to spit
in disgust.
Just at that moment the mistress beckoned to
her daughter. " A moment, Shun," she said, and
the girl turning at the voice and seeing the new-
comer, left the players and joined her mother She
lilt Wolfi Xemon.
was not a very pretty girl, but had something of
her father's good-natured look in her face, which
gave her a certain charm. I Icr hair was done in
the aristocratic taka shimada style, and her deli-
cate pink haori had tucks at the shoulder which
seemed to denote her youth. She flushed a little
as she went up to her visitor, and kneeling before
him made him the customary polite salutation, to
which he replied with a somewhat stiff and distant
bow.
" Please come in," she. said, and made as though
she would lead him to join the players. He
nodded, but did not seem to wish to do so.
" My dear," said her mother, with a nervous,
hesitant twitch on her lips, " such a nice New
Year's present has just come for you."
The girl gave another respectful bow, and this
time the gentleman answered with a responsive
smile.
" Please, do go in," urged the host, whilst Mrs.
Minowa nudged her daughter to conduct their
guest to the Jtibachi which stood near the place of
honour by the alcove. She herself accompanied
him thus far, the two critics, who were taking in
every word and gesture of the newcomer, wonder-
ing why tlie ho^t and hostess should show him
[M]
such politeness. As he walked past them, through
the groups of players to gain his seat, his left side
only was turned towards them, but they caught a
glimpse of something brilliant on his ring-finger,
which dazzled them for a moment and attracted
their curiosity. It was a large diamond set in a
handsome gold ring, the biggest diamond they
had ever seen, and he for his part, seemed
quite anxious to let every one know that he
" held in his hand the brightest star of heaven."
When O Shun got back to her place among the
players she touched the girl that sat next to her
and motioned something with her lips. The
girl at once began to stare at the gentleman,
but what riveted her attention was not the man
but his ring.
" What a ring ! " she exclaimed. " Is it a
diamond ? "
" Yes."
" It's a very big one."
" They say it cost three hundred yen," said
O Shun, and the other, with a cold shiver of
jealousy rising in her heart, added :
" I can quite understand that. It is a beauty."
Her heart throbbed like the drum of an ancient
warrior as she suddenly recollected how often she
Us]
Tl)f WolD Xtmou.
had begged for a ring with a pearl in i
small as a sardine's eye, and always in vain
and while she \vas gazing she became so much
absorbed in her thoughts tint she allowed a neigh-
bour to snatch a card from right under her nose.
" My dear," said O Shun, giving her a vicious
slap on the thigh, " what's the matter with
you ? "
" Oh nothing, nothing ! " she replied. " It
shall not occur again."
She had now awaked from her day-dream,
and tried to concentrate her mind on the
game, but in vain. The diamond would come
flashing across her mind as well as her eyes, and
she was but a poor ally for O Shun.
Meanwhile it flashed from one and another in
quick succession :
" It's a diamond."
" So it is ! What a diamond ! "
" Why, bless me ! What a splendid diamond it
is ! "
" It must have cost a pot of money. Three
hundred yen, at the very least "
rybody concluded that the owner of the ring
must be a very rich man and one much to be
envied, and the t ultimate gentleman seeing himself
[i6J
the cynosure 01 all eyes, smoked his cigar with a
nonchalant air, with his right hand hidden in the
wide sleeve of his garment, and his left resting
conspicuously against the alcove pillar in the in-
tervals between his puffs.
Of course every one wanted to know his name,
and presently it went round the room (having prob-
ably leaked out from O Shun's lips) that his name
was Tomiyama Tadatsugu, that he was the son of
a nonvcau riche who lived in Shitaya, who had
founded the Tomiyama Bank with his own capital,
and whose name, Tomiyama Juhei, was well
known also in connection with the Municipal
Council.
The men were all talking about Miya, the
name of Tomiyama was now to be heard on the
lips of all the chattering girls, and many a gentle
heart was fluttering with the hope that in the next
round of cards its owner might be on the side of
the rich gentleman, and so obtain a nearer view of
the precious diamond a double blessing indeed,
inasmuch as proximity to the diamond also im-
plied proximity to the fragrant and delicate odor
of violet with which the gentleman was perfumed.
So engrossed were the ladies in this new theme of
thought and conversation, that the gentlemen
Xftc (DoiD Xrmoii.
Ivcs neglected, and they
grew sullen, jenlous, and bad humoured.
Miya alone showed no sign of emotion. Her
eyes were cool, and shone with a cautions
brightness which seemed to vie with the lustre of
the diamond though apparently unconscious of its
presence, and which thereby encouraged her
worshippers in the hope that with such a Queen to
lead them, a sovereign ot beauty whom they had
always appreciated, and who had never yet
deceived them, they would be able in the next
contest to worst this proud upstart, possibly even
to take his distinguishing badge from him. Thus
it came to pass that Tomiyama and Miya became
like the sua and moon in that firmament of youth
;md beauty. Who would be on Miya's side ?
Who would be on the side of Tomiyama ?
CHAPTER IV
(Dante P
^T^HK lots were drawn, and the result was one
* which no one expected. Tomiyania and Miya
were on the same side, with three others, and the
rest of the guests were against them ; for whereas
there had hitherto been two sets of players and
two games, all the players in the other set joined
in this new set, and all combined against Tomi-
yama and Miya. It was as if the sun and moon
were trying to shine in the heavens together, and
the game was- somewhat confused in consequence.
Soon after the game commenced, the players
sitting in the vicinity of Tomiyania and Miya,
who, as partners, were sitting together, formed
themselves into a party which they called the
" Socialists," with discontent as its principle and
destruction as its aim. They organized them-
selves, that is, with the deliberate intention o
forcibly interfering with the fortunes and peace ot
mind of a certain person of whom they did not
approve. Opposite to this party was another
smaller party composed of one woman whose
work it was to secure internal peace, whilst four
[19]
I(jr (Moll) Tfinoi:.
strong men, two on either side, stood to defend
her against the "Ilavockers" and " Trample rs "
their opponents whose almost openly avowed
intention it was to break the nose of the man they
called the " Diamond." The result could have
been foreseen ; the smaller party was ignominiously
defeated, the proud gentleman was humbled,
the beautiful lady was so put out of countenance
that she could scarce retain her seat. The party
broke up in confusion after one fierce contest, and
when the confusion was over the gentleman had
disappeared. Then the other men cheered, and
the ladies felt that the light had gone out of their
lives.
The fact was the gentleman had been so
savagely torn and trampled upon by his adversaries
that he had come to the conclusion that the game
was scarcely a civilized one, anc, had retired for
refuge to his host's sitting room.
His hair, till now so smooth and shiny, was like
a " turk's head" broom. The cords of his Jiaori
hung down loose, reminding the on-looker of the
celebrated picture of the ape reaching to catch the
moon, for the knot was not untied, but one of the
metal fasteners had come off. The host was con-
fusedly apologetic.
[20]
WOKU of (Sr.iM.
"I hope there is nothing serious the matter with
you," he said. " Dear me ! your hand is bleed-
ing!"
As he said this, he laid down his pipe hastily
and rose to give what aid he could
" Good gracious ! What ruffians ! Would noth-
ing satisfy them but the use of lorce ? Why, it
would need a suit of fireman's clothes to bring
a man in safety through a scrimmage like that.
The rude fellows ! I got two knocks on the head
myself."
Tomiyama took the cushion that was specially
placed for him, and began with a rueful face to
suck the blood from his wounded hand. It was
a cushion of reddish brown crape, placed by
the side of an elliptical Jiibachi of cloisonne ware
standing by a gold-lacquered table. Minowa clap-
ped his hands for a domestic, and ordered a bottle
of sake and something to eat.
" You're hurt quite badly. There are no
wounds elsewhere, are there ? "
" I don't think I Could stand any more of
them. "
The distracted host gave a helpless smile. " I'll
get you some plaster in a minute. Don't mind
their rudeness. They are only students, you know,
[-0
Ifjc WolD Xrmou.
and boys will be boys; but 1 am beyond all measure
distressed to think that you should have come on
my special invitation. You had better not join
in the tray again. Please imke yourself as
comfortable as you can, h.
" I want to go in there once more, though."
" Once more ? Do you really ? "
Tomiyama's answer was a broad grin on his
expansive jaws. The host understood his mean-
ing and replied with a knowing smile, screwing
up his eyes until they became like cuts made by
cularia grass.
" Some one took your fancy ? (Tomiyama only
smiled. " I was sure of it. You could not help
being struck."
" Why ? "
" Why ? Oh, everyone is agreed on that point.
Is it not so ? "
Tomiyama nodded pensively.
" I suppose you are right," he mused.
" You think her pretty, don't you ? "
" Yes, she's passable."
" Then, Sir, let us have a cup ol sake together.
When a severe critic like yourseli says a girl is
passable, she must be pre-eminently fair. And
indeed the girl is a rare beauty."
[22]
ante of Curb*.
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by
the hurried entrance of Mrs. Minowa, who
had been in the kitchen giving directions to the
servants, and knew nothing oi the fray.
" I did not know you were here," she said.
" Yes, i took refuge here from the rioters."
" Refugees like yourself are always welcome."
said the hostess with a nervous twitch of the
mouth. Then she gave a sudden start and ex-
clamation of surprise. One of the fasteners of the
haori strings had been lost, and the remaining one
was of gold.
Tomiyama stopped her carelessly .
" Please don't trouble, Mrs. Minowa. It's all
right."
" No, it'o not all right. Pure gold is valuable."
" Oh no ! I assure you it's all right."
But Mrs. Minowa refused to listen and hurried
away to look for it.
" By the way," resumed Tomiyama, when she
had gone, " what is her family ? "
" Nothing very much, but "
" But what ? "
" Well, there's nothing much to tell you about
them. "
" I thought as much. Tell me what you know."
[23]
Irmon.
" \\'cll, the father was a civilian, an official in the
Department of Agriculture and Commerce, but
now the family seems to be living on an income
derived mainly from house rents. And he must
have some money put by. His name is Shigisawa
Ryuzo, he lives in the next street an economical
family, but very respectable."
" Their means, you say, very limited ? "
As he said this, Tomiyama rubbed his chin and
looked very wise. The diamond was flashing
brightly.
" I should think it would do quite nicely. But
will they give her in marriage, do you think ? Is
not she the heir of the family ? "
" Yes. I think she is the only daughter."
" That's where the rub comes in, doesn't it ? "
" I don't just know how things stand, but I will
enquire. "
A few seconds later the hostess returned with
the missing fastener, which had been flattened out
as straight as an ear-pick. None of the company
had been able to tell how it had been done In
answer to her husband's enquiries she told Tomi-
yanri all she knew of Miya's family and their
circumstances, and promised that she would try to
glean further particulars from her daughter when
(Soiut of
the guests had gone. Would not Mr. Tomiyama
have another cup of sake ?
Tomiyama Tadatsugu had come that evening to
the Minowa's neither for a New Year's visit, nor
yet for a game ot cards, but because the party
assembled there gave him a good chance of look-
ing about him.
He had returned from England a little more than
a twelve-months since, and had been looking for a
wife. But he had as yet failed in spite of all his
trying. Nothing but a tiptop beauty would satisfy
him. and he had rejected a score of suggested
brides already. The new house built for him in
Shiba Park was still empty, though it began to
shew signs ot age. And the aged caretakers talked
only of the past in their gloomy chamber at the
back.
T
ClIAl'TKR V
IT was about midnight when the game ot cards
came to an end, for though since ten o'clock
guests had been taking their departures by ones
and twos, a small band of zealous players, about
two thirds of the whole number, kept steadily
playing on with uncliminished eagerness. They
did not know that Tomiyama had merely with-
drawn into another room, but thought that the
warmth ot his reception had sent him home in
disgust. In the meantime Tomiyama, chatting
familiarly with his host, was talking of Miya as if
she were already his own, and remarking th-at the
number of those who had remained might have
been reduced by two thirds had Miya but gone
home earlier. For Miya was still with the
ph\
Miya's admirers (and they were many) were all
waiting for the chance 01 escorting her home, as
the hour was now too late for her to go alone.
They did not know that she was already provided
with an escort a student in the uniform of the
High School, whose evident familiarity with Miya
[26J
TIjr 20olt
had attracted almost as much attention as the
diamond ring. Saving this one fact there was
nothing conspicuous about him : he was quiet and
reticent, and seemed purposely to keep himseu
rather in the background. It was not until the
end of the evening that he asserted his intention of
seeing the young lady home himself, an assertion
which took all by surprise, as he had hitherto taken
too little notice of Miya to allow any one even to
conjecture that he had the right to be her escort.
Miya's head was wrapped in the dove-coloured
wrapper which Japanese ladies use in cold or
rainy weather, whilst over her shoulders she had
thrown a large blue woollen shawl of a gay pattern.
The student had on a brown overcoat, and stood
outside in the dark, hugging himself to keep out
the cold blast, and waiting for Miya to join him.
No sooner load Miya groped her way to him than
he began his remarks :
" Miya San," said he, " what did you think o
that fellow with the diamond ring? I thought
him a most affected snob-"
" I can hardly say. I felt very sorry for him :
everybody was so rude to him. And as I was
sitting next to him, I came in for some of the
rudeness myself."
1*7]
Thf Wolto Tcmon.
" ( )ne could not help being rude to him, he gave
himself such airs. Indeed, I don't mind owning
that I had a whack or two at him myself."
" I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself.
It was outrageous, the way you all behaved."
" I don't know how you women feel about
him, but we men just feel that we could spit at
him whenever we look at him. I wonder how
any girl can like him."
" I can't s;iy I like him myself."
"With his disgusting scent, and his flashing
diamond, for all the world, as though he were
. i feudal lord Just the fellow to take a girl's
fancy!" And the student gave a disdainful laugh.
" Well," said the girl in a deprecating tone,
" I have told you that I don't like him."
" But, if you disliked him, how came you to
play on his side ? "
" 1 low could I help it ? We drew lots for
partners."
" True, but you did not look as if you disliked
the partnership "
" What rubbish you talk."
" There was something more in the diamond
ring than just a mere lot."
" Perhaps so," was the girl's defiant answer, as
[28]
Xbf 20n!f tfonif.
she drew the folds of her shawl closely round her
shoulders.
" I'm cold ! " said the student, coming close to
her and taking hold of her by the shoulder. Miya
said nothing, but walked on.
1 I'm cold ! " he repeated ; but Miya made no
reply.
" I tell you, I'm cold," he said for the third
time in a peremptory tone. Miya turned towards
him-
" What's the matter with you ? " she asked.
" I'm cold, I tell you."
'' Are you ? I am very sorry for you."
" I'm beastly cold. Give me a bit."
" A bit oi what ? "
" A bit of your shawl."
" I can't It would be too awkward."
Without further ado, the man snatched the
corner of the shawl out oi her hands, and squeezed
himself into it. Miya was giggling so that she
could scarcely walk.
" Don't, dear," she expostulated between her
giggles. " We can't walk in this absurd fashion.
Hush ! Someone's coming."
On what footing did this couple stand to each
Xtmon.
other, that the one should behave in so indecorous
a manner, and the other allow him to take such
liberties ? Kwanichi I !a/.am.i had for many
lived as a ward with the Shisjisawa family, and it
was understood that lie was to many Miya as
soon a-, h<- entered the University the following
summer.
CHAPTER VI
IV'WANICHI Ha/ama had for ten years been a
1^- dependent on the kindness of Mr. Shigisawa,
having had no one else to look to. I lis mother
had died when he was an infant, and his father had
followed her to the grave before the boy had
finished his Middle School course ; and then
Kwanichi's troubles had commenced in real
earnest. It had been a hard task before to procure
doctoring and medicine for a sick father, to say
nothing of tuition fees, which were squeezed out
like blood from a poor body : from now, the lad,
who had become the head of the family at the age
of fifteen years, had to face the problem of provid-
ing for the tuncral expenses of his parent, as well
as for his own future schooling, and the family
income was so small that the most rigid economy
would not suffice to make both ends meet.
Kwanichi could have done nothing if it had not
been for the timely assistance and care bestowed
upon him by Ryuzo Shigisawa. The elder
Hazama had in days gone by been Shigisawa's
benefactor, and Shigisawa, mindful of benefits
[31]
2fof Wolb lemon.
received, had not only aided his friend during his
Lost illness, but had on more than one occasion
advanced money for Kwanichi's tuition. Thus the
lad, in losing a poor parent, gained a generous
patron, for Mr. Shigisawa ielt that his indebtedness
to the elder Hazama could never adequately be
!, and his gratitude, mingled with his com-
i, led him to take the son into his own
house and provide him with an education worthy of
the honorable family from which he was descended.
Kwanichi's father had been proud of being a
samurai, and his ambition for his son had led him
to formulate the desire of seeing the la-', as a
University graduate, rise to a position higher than
that ol" any of the four classes into which Japanese
society was at one time divided.* He had fre-
quently spoken, in melancholy tones, of his ambi-
tion both to his son Kwanichi, and his friend
, and \vhcn his premature death prevented
the accomplishment Oi a plan which he would in
any case have found somewhat difficult of execu-
tion, Shigisawa had resolved to look upon his
friend's wishes in the light of a last will and
testament to be scrupulously fulfilled.
* Saintirai, fanners, artisans, and merchants.
[3=0
Kwanichi's position in the Shigisawa household,
therefore, was not exactly that of a poor relation
or dependent hanger on. 1 ho.-e who knew all
the circumstances of the case considered that his
lot was a more fortunate one even than that ot the
adopted son in his new family : tor he was treated
with all the consideration and affection which the
Shigisawas considered to be due to him as the
son of their former benefactor. Many of their
friends at once jumped to the conclusion that they
designed Kwanichi as the future husband of their
only daughter, Miya : but such was not their
original intention. It was not until they saw
what a diligent and promising student he was, and
how well he had acquitted himself in his examina-
tions at the High School, that they resolved to
act upon the suggestion which more than one of
their friends had made to them
It made them happy to think of the excellent
husband they were providing for their daughter.
Kwanichi was diligent, upright, and a man of pure
life, and if these qualifications were crowned by the
possession of a University degree it did not seem
that there was anything more left for them to
desire from their prospective son-in-law. As for
Kwanichi, his satisfaction was even greater than
[33]
Ihr (Holfc fmon.
that tclt by tin- Shigisawas. It is true that,
according to Japanese custom, he would have to
abandon his own name and family, and become &
member of his wife's house, a step which to
many a young man of spirit looks almost like a
humiliation, but in his eyes the prospect of pos-
sessing Miya, whom he really loved, more than
compensated for the humiliation involved in aband-
oning his own family, which, after all, was not a
very desirable one from the standpoint of this
world's goods.
Miya, too, was fond of Kwanichi, though,
truth to say, her affection for him was only about
one half of his love for her. Miya was a beauty,
and she knew it. She also knew what her beauty
was worth, and that with her personal charms she
might aspire to something higher even than a
University graduate. She had known of many
instances of successful beauties. She saw that
poor girls with pretty faces often secured wealthy
husbands, that wealthy husbands often turned
from their homely wives and consoled themselves
with more comely concubines. A man, she
argued, has his intelligence and ability to rise in
the world with ; a woman's chances of preferment
lie in her beauty, and her mirror told her that
[34]
many of the ladies who had risen in the world
were not half so comely as herself. She felt, too,
that she was not reckoning absolutely without her
host. When she was about seventeen years old
the German Professor of the Violin at the Musical
Academy which she attended had made her a
declaration of his love, accompanied by a proposal
of" honourable marriage, and even the Director
of that Institution, a man of over forty years of
age, and holding an honoured place in society,
who had recently lost his first wife, had proposed
to her.
When that proposal was made her little heart
had beat furiously, partly indeed from bashfulness
and modesty, but more on account of the pro-
spects which the fact of such a proposal having
been made opened before her. She knew that she
might aspire not only to the Professor of Violin or
the Director of the Musical Academy, but from
the way in which the male-students in the next
class-room stared at her through the fence that
separated the playgrounds she knew that she
might, if she wished, make her selection from a
wide circle of admirers.
The Professor and the Director were, either of
them, more desirable lovers lhan Kwanichi with
[35]
oIU Xtnton.
his University degree and the Shigisawa in-
heritance : and she concluded that she had better
be prudent and wait a little before she allowed
herself to be irrevocably tied to the man whom
her parents had chosen and, as it were, thrust upon
her. She thought that if she played her cards
well she might still be married " in a carriage of
gems " to a wealthy husband, who could afford to
keep her in wealth and luxury.
Yet, in spite of the coldness which she assumed
out of policy, she was far from disliking Kwanichi.
Indeed, she was really very fond of him, in spite of
all her hopes of making a better match ; and he
poor soul, was quite sure that there was nothing
in Miya's heart excepting only love for himself.
[36]
CHAPTER VII.
(SoitfifcenceS,
THE alarum-clock in Kwanichi's study struck
ten, and the room was as black as pitch.
Kwanichi had gone that afternoon to a New Year's
Feast at the Yaomatsu Restaurant in Mukqjima,
and had not yet come back.
As the clock struck, Miya came in, a lamp in
her hand, from a room at the back of the house,
and having lighted the lamp, proceeded to ring
the bell for the servant to bring some charcoal for
the brazier, which was quite cold.
" And please," she added, as the servant came
in with a small scuttle full of charcoal, " bring
the iron kettle from the back parlour, and put it
on this fire. The others are going to bed soon,
and it will be more convenient."
The cold in the study was intense, and seized
on Miya's body like a friend that had long been
fasting. With a shiver, she put out her hands to
the Jubachi, and looked up at the clock which was
busily ticking on Kwanichi's bookshelf As she
did so, the light of the lamp fell upon her lovely
young face.
[37]
WolD Xemon.
It was still " within the pine." The Xc\v Year's
decorations were still -up, and the pine-trees were
;;till standing at the gate as omens of the pros-
perous year that was dawning. Miya was there-
fore still in her gala attire, with her face powdered
and her hair elegantly arranged after the fashion
of Japanese beauty ; her very shadow on the wall
behind her seemed fragrant with her youthful
charms.
Her bright eyes were fixed on the clock, her
slender white hands were outstretched over the
brazier, her little heart, beating eagerly under the
folds of her simply elegant dress, was anxiously
expecting the home-coming of the man whom
that night she knew she loved. Presently, she
moved away from the brazier and took her seat
on Kwanichi's own cushion, a cushion her own
hands had made for him. It was a pleasure for
her to sit for a while in his favourite place.
Presently, the sound of a jinrikisJia was heard
approaching. It was drawn by two men, for
Mukqjima is a long way off, and as it rattled up to
the door, Miya started up, and went hurriedly to
the little porch with its latticed gate to welcome
the returning one. The maid stood behind her,
carrying a lamp.
[38]
Goufibencef.
Kwanichi was flushed and excited, and not at
all like his usual quiet self. He was as a rule a
most abstemious man, and rarely touched a drop
of sake. This evening it was quite evident that
he had been dining well, and yet there was some-
thing more than mere sake in his demeanour.
He was flushed with happiness quite as much as
with wine, and as he threw himself down on his
seat by the JiibacJii he squeezed Miya's hand with
demonstrative affection.
" I don't know how the thing leaked out," he
said to her. " No one but Arao was in the secret
of our engagement, and Arao is such a discreet
man that he is not likely to have let it out. And
yet think how I was taken aback when a score
of congratulatory cups were offered me by my
friends, \vho would take no refusal, but insisted on
drinking to the happiness oi my engagement."
Miya, softly, smiling, was listening with a keen
interest.
" I told them that their congratulations were
premature, but it was no use. They answered
that if I would not accept their cups as tokens of
congratulation, they must offer them as tokens of
the envy they felt of me, for being so lucky as to
live under the same roof with a girl like yourself,
[39]
(Rolft emon.
\vhctlier engaged to you or not. They then went
on to tell me that, if I were a man, I should do all
that lay in my power to get you as my wife. It
I allowed any other man to rob me of you, they
said, it would be a disgrace, not only to myself,
but to the whole High School, and that all my
class mates would feel themselves involved in the
disgrace. And then they laughed and offered
their cups as a libation to the god of marriage,
who would punish me if I failed in my duty."
After a pause of awkward and constrained silence,
Kwanichi continued.
*' It would be a terrible thing to bring disgrace
on the High School. I look to you for your kind
assistance."
" I wish you would not talk to me like that,"
replied the girl, " you know there is no need."
" But I don't want people to twit me with not
being a man, as they will do, if our informal
engagement should come to nothing now, after
people have begun to talk about it."
" I thought everything was settled. Why
trouble yourselt about it ? "
" I can't help feeling anxious at times. I have
noticed a great change lately in your parents'
manner towards me."
[40]
(fonfiftftttfS.
. " Nonsense ! That's just a silly fancy of yours."
" I am not so sure. After all, what does it
matter, so long as I have you on my side ? "
" You may be quite easy on that score."
" May I ? "
" May you ? How unkind you are to doubt
me ! "
Kwanichi could restrain himself no longer. He
seized the girl in his arms, pressed his burning
cheeks against hers, and poured forth his love in
that universal language which is common to every
nation and which needs no word to express it.
In a few moments Miya tore herself from his
embrace and left the room. The pair had been
for a brief second in Paradise, and as the girl
slipped out and closed the s/idji behind her she
knew that come what might her heart was wholly
Kwanichi's.
[41]
CHAPTER VIII
of
ONE day Mrs. Minowa came to call on the
Shigisawas. Her daughter O Shun had been
at school with Miya, but the two families had never
visited with each other, even in those days ; and
since their school days had come to an end, the
girls had seen very little of one another. It came
therefore in the nature of a shock when Mrs.
Minowa, apparently without rhyme or reason,
made an unexpected call on the Shigisawas, and
neither Miya nor her mother seemed able to
conjecture why she came.
It was a long visit that Mrs. Minowa paid, and
when she went away after explaining the business
that had brought her, the Shigisawas were still more
astonished. It was a fortunate thing that Kwan-
ichi had been out that afternoon, and knew
nothing about the visit. Assuredly, he would
have been angry had he known the nature of the
visit, and Miya felt that she dared not tell him.
So two days past, and three, and still Kwanichi
was left in the dark, while Miya became restless
and distraite, and lost both sleep and appetite,
of
and her parents were constantly having long and
anxious discussions by themselves about some
matter that was evidently troubling them.
Kwanichi had no means of discovering the
secret 01 the visit which had taken place during
his absence, nor did he know anything about the
private conclaves of the elder Shigisawas ; but he
could not help noticing the change that had
come over Miya, and her sad smile and listless
behaviour made him feel worried and anxious
about her.
There was a room in a quiet part of the house.
It could not exactly be called " Miya's room " but
it contained her bureaux and all the little personal
effects that a girl of any nationality is fond of
treasuring. It contained also a Kotatsu in which
a fire could be lighted, so that it was a favourite
place of resort in winter for all the women folk o!
the tamily. It was to this room that Miya retired
with her sewing or hor Koto, and the willow-
artistically arranged in the flat bronze flower-
stand lu.d been evidently placed there by her
hands. The light came into the room from a
large window overlooking the garden, and Miya
had spread a large piece of stout paper on the floor
[43]
Wo'.b tmon.
to keep her work clean. She had unpicked a s : lk
garment, and was engaged in mending the lining,
but the needle had dropped from her ha:id and she
was leaning on the frame ot the Kotatsn in a
ndent mood.
During the List fe\v days the poor girl had
frequently retired to this room to think, and her
parents, who knew what was robbing her of sleep
and appetite, suffered her to retire thither undis-
turbed, whenever she was so minded.
But on this particular day, Kwanichi had come
home earlier than was his wont. It was the first
day of Term, and the students had been dismissed
after a short opening ceremony. He found no
body downstairs, but he heard one cough coming
from Miya's room, and stole upstairs to see her.
The shoji were just a little apart, and through the
opening he could watch Miya unobserved. She
was evidently under ihc influence of some strong
emotion, sighing and groaning and looking around
her with eyes full of pain, as though her agony
were too great lor words. At last she laid her
head upon the frame of the Kotatsu and sobbed,
while Kwanichi tor a few moments gazed silently
upon her, supporting himself against the pillar of
the room. For he, too, was trembling with
[44]
Xlje Sffliuniiifl of Trouble.
sympathetic emotion as he witnessed Miya's
evident disiress.
Presently, a lacquer comb, such as nearly every
Japanese woman wears, fell out of Miya's head and
fell with a niule against the irame of the Kofatsn.
The sound caused her to lift her head, and she
met Kwanichi's puzzled eyes.
" 1 low you startled me, dear ! " she said, trying
to conceal her emotion, "I did not know you had
come home."
" I have just got back."
" Ah ! " she murmured, and a moment after,
as though to protect herseh from his looks, she
sftided : " Why are you staring at me so ? I don't
like it. I "
But Kwanichi kept his eyes on Miya's face.
" Why, Miya," he said, " what is the matter with
you ? Tell me, dearest."
Miya bent her head and looked down as though
looking for a needle in her work-box. " There's
nothing the matter with me. Why do you
ask ? "
Kwanichi sat down by Miya, with his elbow
on the No fat MI, anil looked her full in the face.
" I have always told you that you were not
open with me, though you always deny it, and call
[45]
Ttmon.
me nervous and suspicious Xo\v I tliink you are
proving that I am right."
" I low so ? There's nothing the matter."
"Do you call it nothing, when you are so
anxious and distressed as you have been for the last
few days, and as I have seen you to be just now
with my own eyes ? If you are ill or in trouble,
won't you tell me dear, and let me try to help you?"
Miya could make no answer, but fumbled
awkwardly with the silk lining that lay on her
lap.
" Are you ill? " asked Kwanichi after a pause.
She shook her head gently.
" Then you have something on your mind ? "
^lin her head shook.
" Then what is it ? "
Miya knew not what to answer. Her breath
came thick and last, and she felt as though she were
concealing a crime.
" Did you not hear me ask you what was the
matter ? ''
Kwanichi's tones were peremptory. He was
irritated by her prolonged silence.
" I dont know what is the matter with me," he
stammered at last "But the fact is that dur-
ing the last few days I have been ttvliiuj strangely
[46]
JPffliitHiuji of XrouGfe.
moody and melancholy, and that every thing has
been looking black and miserable "
K \vanichi listened with all his ;
" What miserable beings we poor mortals are !
Here to day, gone to morrow; ;ir d even when
we are here, and ought to be happy, lull of grief
and sorrow. These thought are constantly with
me, I know not why Do I look ill ? "
Kwanichi contracted his brows, as if in deep
study.
" I am sure you are ill," he said presently.
Miya looked down at her work. Presently she
answered.
" But there is nothing to worry about. You
quite understand, don't you? "
" I understand your meaning. I won't worry
about that," he said. And then, after a short
pause, he went on.
" I am sure you are ill. Your brain mui,'. be
affected. It you go on like this you will go melan-
choly mad, and never smile again. The world is
a poor wretched place, I know quite well, but we
must not always be thinking about that. If we did,
the world would be filled with churches, monas-
teries, and hermits' cells, and then it would be
worse. No, no, Miya, you must try to look at the
[47]
oib Xrmoti.
bright side of things I .MII sure that you have
many happy things in your life, have you not ? "
Miya lifted her beautiful eyes plaintively to his
lace.
" Arc you sure that you have none ? " he said
She smiled a pained smile.
" XOIK- ? " lie laid his hands on her shoulder
and tried to turn her towards him, but she still
bashfully kept her face averted.
" Tell me ! Have you ? or have you not ? " he
cried, shaking her vehemently in his excitement.
Miya felt as though an iron hammer had struck
her.
" You rude man." she cried with sudden
indignation ; and then, apprehensive lest she had
offended him, she turned to watch his face. But
his countenance bore no signs of anger and there
was a smile playing about his lips as he went on.
" You know, I have a pleasure in life, a pleasure
that by itself makes life worth living, and it is only
for the sake of that one pleasure that I live from
day to day. Take away that pleasure, and I cease
to live; but no\v I have the pleasure and am happy.
Don't you envy me, Miya ? "
Miya shuddered as he spoke, and her blood
seemed to freeze within her. But she plucked up
11): !Pcfliu:iiiifl of Trouble.
courage in her f.iint heart, and forced herself to
reply :
" I do emy you."
" Well, you can share my pleasure with me if
you like."
; May I ? There is nothing I should like better."
" Come on then. I will give you everything."
As he spoke, he took a paper bag of bonbons
out of his pocket, and laid it on the Koiatsu.
The jerk caused the bag to burst, ar.d the sweet
iv.rats rolled all over the floor. They were the
sweeties that Miya loved best of all.
T49]
CII.\PTI-:K IX
*TT*\VO days later Miya was persuaded by Kwan-
* ichi to consult a doctor who after due
examination told the girl she was suffering from
indigestion and gave her some medicine ; this
somewhat comforted Kwanichi, and the patient,
although knowing the fallacy of the treatment,
obediently followed the physician's orders ; but
naturally no result ensued, and the girl, worn out
with her conflicting emotions, looked worse than
ever and was scarcely able to go about.
\Yas not Kwanichi the one she loved ? and yet
now she was afraid of seeing him. Yet if lie were
absent she longed for his presence : every tender
word he addressed to her cut to the heart ; and
at this time, when he saw her ill and suffering,
ioubled his tenderness, so that the poor girl
felt this state of affairs could not continue. So
one day she appealed to her mother, and si.
after, mother and daug: it have been seen
getting into jinrikishas while the accompaniment
of a large travelling trunk evidently told of a pro-
longed absence.
[50]
The house scenic* i \vry empty, and its mastet
felt very lonely. Shigisawa was not yet sixty but his
hair and beard were nearly white : he looked what
he was, a kind hearted gentle old man. When
Kwanichi returned he found the old man pondering
over a chess problem, and to his astonishment
alone. On further inquiry Mr. Shigisawa stroking
his beard reflectively said :
" After reading the morning paper my wife and
Miya hit on the idea that they would go to Atami,
and they packed and started at once ; perhaps
the doctor advised the hot springs for Miya. It
was quite a sudden idea you see, they got off by
the 12.30 train. I feel very lonely, stop and have
a cup of tea with me."
Kwanichi could hardly believe his ears.
" But how sudden ! it is like a dream" he stam-
mered.
" Well yes," returned Shigisawa " I feel like
that too."
" However a hot spring is very good. How
long will they stay there ? "
" Oh I suppose four or five days, they just went
as they were, no preparation. I expect they will
soon get tired of it. I wonder if they will even
hold out four or five day.-,. Home is best after
Ls'i]
olfc Teuton.
all." Kwanichi retired to his room to change his
clothes : he looked round hoping to find a letter
but there was none : the searched in Miya's room it
she had left something for him, but in vain : he
then told himself he could not reasonably expect
one as they had started in such a hurry : the letter
would come the next day. But somehow he did
not feel happy. Me had returned home after six
hours' hard work at school, longing for a sight of
the lovely girl, and now she was gone.
" She is falsehearted " he said to himself, " she
ought to have left me a word, even if she were in
a hurry ; but to go away for four or five days,
ought I not to have been told of this trip ?
Sudden idea indeed ! A sudden idea need not
!)< carried out instantly : they could have waited
till I returned, and after talking it over, might have
started to-morrow. She is of course quite indiffer-
ent whether she sees me or not for four or five days."
The more Kwanichi thought, the more irritated
he became.
" They say women have warmer affections than
men, but Miya's character has always been cold,
even as a child ; but not so cold as she is now I
think : coldness would naturally increase as she got
older. I can't help doubting her."
He rose from his seat, and paced the room.
" On the other hand what about myself? I love
this girl with all my strength, I am really infat-
uated with her. Yes it is an infatuation I must
own, and don't know why. And for all this
love I lavish on her what return does she render ?
She goes off to-day without a word. Could she
have done that if she really loved me ? I could
almost hate her when I think of it."
He sat down again and leaned his head on his
hand.
" It reminds me of the novel by Bakin I read the
other day," he said to himself; but that Hamaji
came to see her lover Shino at the dead of night,
when she knew he was to be sent away that is real
love strange, my situation and Shino's are much
alike. I too was left an orphan and have lived
under the care of the Shigisawas and am
engaged to their daughter yes, it all fits in.
But 11 ly Hamaji is different, she makes her Shino
anxious is that right conduct ? Shall I write and
tell her of it ? No, she is ill, and a sick person must
not be worried."
He began again, " Perhaps she despises me. I
am only a hanger on, she is the daughter of the
house and the heiress ; she is always angrv when
[53]
2rtiioit.
i lliis; perhaps I am suspicious without
rause ; hut this much is certain, that her love for
me is but a lukewarm thing."
.in and again he went over these arguments
in his mind, as was his custom when he iiad a
problem t< >at this problem would not be
solved by these means.
[54]
ClI.U'TKk X
'T^HKRK \vas news irom Atami the next day,
but it was only a post card telling of a safe
journey and giving the address of the house the
travellers were lodging in ; it was in Miya's
writing and addressed jointly to Shigisawa and
Kwanichi. The latter in his disappointment tore
the card instantly to pieces. 1'crhaps if Aliya
had been there his anger would have melted, for
he could never be angry with her except when
she was absent.
That evening Shigisawa asked Kwanichi to re-
main and drink lea with him. The old man
was, probably feeling lonely, and wanted to chat with
some one : he noticed Kwanichi's depression and
asked him the reason, but the latter was ashamed
to own his foolish anger, and tried to control his
thoughts and talk as usual with Shigisawa on
ordinary topics. He was not very successful, how-
ever, lor his thoughts wandered so much that he
often did not hear what Shigisawa said.
If only he had a nice long letter irom Miya full
of little details, how happy he would have felt : it
[55]
(Wolb Xtmon.
would h;ivc been almost better than seeing her
every clay ; sh , to feel how disappointed he-
would be, especially after leaving liim without
a word of farewell, It she loved him, she would write
to him ; therefore her silence proved her indiffe .
to him, so he told himself over and over again.
He was suddenly roused by something in Shigi-
sawa's voice, and pulling himself together heard
Shigisawa say " I have something to talk to you
about."
He looked up sharply, and was surprised t
a look of embarrassment in the old man's face.
" Yes, sir, I am listening."
Shigisawa stroked his long beard thoughtfully
and said slowly " It is about yourself."
1 1: -paused then resumed "You will graduate
from the High School this year I believe."
Kwanichi assumed a more respectful attitude, as
he leh Shigisawa was going to talk seriously with
him.
" This," continued the old man, " will be a
relief to my mind, and I shall feel I have partly
i to you the benefits I received in by-gone
irom your lather; but you must still study
d'ligently, for I shall not be satisfied till you have
graduated from the Unu iiul secured a
[56]
suitable position. In fact I am considering the
possibility of sending you abroad to further pro-
secute your studies. I do not intend to shake o5f
my responsibilities : on the contrary I intend to
strain every nerve to make you a distinguished
man, that I may be proud of you."
Kwanichi felt oppressed with the weight of these
benefits to be heaped upon him, and ashamed when
he thought how lightly and as a matter of course
he had accepted for ten long years all the good-
ness and kindness of this family, sometimes even
iorgetting how much he was indebted to them.
" Oh, Sir," he said, " I cannot find words to
thank you for all you have done lor me I don't
know what my father did for you, but certainly
not enough to merit all the kindness you have
shown me ; what would have become of me when
my father died it you had not taken pity on me ?
No matter what I do I can never sufficiently show
my gratitude towards you."
Tears filled Kwanichi's eyes when he thought
how he was left at his lather's death a poor boy of
fifteen with no means ot' livelihood, and now he
was a fine grown, well dressed, y/>ung man in a
short time to be married to the lovely daughter of
Ihe home, and in the f.ii-.ire to be its master.
L57]
21f Woia Xrmon.
What a contrast to the poor boy who used to go
out daily with a cloth to buy the small portion of
rice ijr himself and his father !
" I am very glad," said Shigisawa, "that you feel
grateiul : that encourages me to ask a favour of
you. Will you do it ? "
" What is it Sir. If it is anything I can do, I will
do it with pleasure." Kwanichi did not hesitate to
give this promise, although he felt a little nervous,
as he was sure it must be something important.
Shigisawa continued " It is about Miya. I am
thinking of giving her in marriage to an outsider
cing Kwanichi's look of astonishment, he
continued hurriedly, " I have been thinking the
matter over a great deal, and I have come to the
conclusion it will be better for Miya to marry
into another family ; and better for you to go
abroad for four or five years after you have taken
your University Course. What do you think 01
this plan ? "
michi could not answer: he had turned
:ly pale, and could only stare dumbly at his
ictor who had dealt this deadly blow to his
hopes.
Slr'gi.->awa looked disturbed, but continued, " I
mi extremely sony to break the engagement, but I
[53]
~Ijr
have given lull consideration to tin: nn'.ter, and
shall do nothing injurious to your interests ; under-
stand me, please, Miya will be given in marriage to
another family with your consent. Will you con-
sent to it ? "
He waited, but Kwanichi still was silent, so
Shigisawa continued the one - sided argument.
" You must not think unkindly 01 me. Even 11
you do not marry Miya you will still belong
to this family : you will be my heir, and
all I possess (not very much it is true.
come to you. Hence my idea ,-i' sending you
abrc
1 K- paused, " It may seem as if I were dissatis-
fied with you that I give Miya to another; but
that is not the case. I want you clearly to under-
stand this point. I have always thought it was
your great desire to distinguish yourseL, and il you
become a famous man ii will matter very little to
you if Miya is your wife or not. Perhaps you
do not agree with me. I was afraid 01 this ; but
this is the favour I ask of you."
Kwanichi bit his lips to conceal their trembling,
Mr.gely different ironi his usual one
/.ered out, " Then can you not possibly
Miya to me ? "
[59]
Wolfi Trmon.
" Well, I will not say I can't give her ; but what
do you think about it ? Do you still persist in
wishing to marry her, notwithstanding my re-
quest, even it the marriage necessitates breaking
off your studies, and prevents you going abroad?
I cannot think this of you."
Kwanichi's heart was full, so full that he dared
not speak, or he would say too much. Me re-
membered Shigisawa was his benefactor and his
tongue was tied. Shigisawa's reasoning was so
plausible, it sounded quite reasonable, and yet
Kwanichi felt he ought not to be expected to fall
in with the old man's plans. He thought even if
he, under the heavy burden of gratitude to his
benefactor, should resign himself to give up Miya,
would she agree to it ? She did not love him as
much as he wished, but he felt sure she would not
forsake him. Why need he then dread her
father's plan? He could rely upon her affection;
and thinking thus he endeavoured to calm himself,
and soften the bitter anger in his heart against her
lather. He had often doubted Miya's love for
him, this would be the test.
At last he could control his voice " When you
say you will give Miya in marriage to another
family, to whom are you going to give her ? "
[60]
" It is not yet definitely settled. You know the
Tomiyama Bank in Shitaya. It belongs to Mr.
Juhei Tomiyama whose son is looking for a wife,
and overtures have been made to me."
" Ah ! that fellow who made such a display with
his diamond ring," said Kwanichi scornfully.
He was surprised at this unexpected name, but
after all he thought he need not be surprised. \Yh<>.
seeing Miya, would not fall in love with her ? He
should rather be surprised at Shigisawa's conduct ;
it was not so easy to break a ten year's engagement,
and then who ever heard of giving the only child
to another family ? Shigisawa could not really
intend to do so. The Diamond, too, as he called
Tomiyama in his own mind, was he his rival ? he
need not fear him surely.
" Ah ! yes," he said, " Juhei Tomiyama is a mil-
lionaire, isn't he ? "
The colour mounted in the old man's face ; but
he took no notice of Kwanichi 's satirical remark,
but continued.
" There is of course the engagement to you, ami
the fact that she is the only child ; but considering
well the future of both of you, I think it is the best
plan. We are getting old and, as you know, wt- have
not many relations. And although you are } oung
[61]
XflHOU.
and .strong it will help to you to be
connected with such a respectable family as the
Tomiyama's. It is entirely f . .r your luturc
that I hav-. ' with much sorrow to break the
at and give our only child in marriage
to another family."
" The Tomiyainas," he continued, " have pressed
me much for my consent ; and as Aliya is my only
child, they have promised to consider our two
lamilies as one and do their best for the Shigi-
You see it is not a selfish motive that
actuates me : I am really doing the best tor both
.i, thr Tomiyama connection will also help
you to get on. It you agree to my 1 will
make arrangements for you to go abroad at the
end of this year, as soon as you have graduated ;
and instead of marrying Miya and relieving us of a
;nxiety, you will rejoice our hearts much more
legrce at a toreign university."
Shigisawa continued piling up his arguments,
Kwanlcln saw the n iearly : it wa.s all words,
words, to cover his i^ons, whereas it might
have been summed up in one word Sell-in
13ut would it not be a e for Kwiaichi to
purchase to hiirscli a degree \>_ uiture
[62]
lit? ivalfKr'S 9tqft.
Kwanichi felt contused, his world seemed topsy-
turvy. What was good and what was right ? lie
had always looked upon his benefactor as a good
man ; had he not in gratitude for a small benefit con-
ferred on him, repaid it a hundred times by taking
him. Kwanichi into his house and bringing him up
as his own son. And now, was it that Shigisawa was
mean, or was he, Kwanichi, stupid ? He could not
understand it. I le thought oi Miya, his love for
her : death itseli could not rob him oi this : her
love for him ? was it not brighter than the largest
diamond that ever an emperor owned ? Com-
foriing himself with this reasoning he turned again
to Shigisawa.
,d does Miya know of this matter? "
" Yes, she knows a little about it."
" Then you have not yet inquired if she agrees
to it
" Well, I li.ive inquired a little."
"What (lit. 2 "
"Si. .he will leave the r o her
parents She has no objection -herself, and \\
:ed the circumstances to her she seemed to
agree with us."
Kwanichi believed this to be a lie, his heart '
uly. " You .< ; consented ?"
[63]
Tfjr olt> Tfiiion.
" She made no objection, so I hope you will do
the same. When you think it over you will I ani
sure find it a reasonable plan ? If you see my point
you will consent, won't you ? " A doubtful yes
from Ku-anichi " later on we will discuss it more
fully, for the present, consider it well." Kwanichi
replied " I will do so."
[64]
CHAPTER XI
ALTHOUGH only the middle of January, the
plum woods of A:ami with their 2,000
trees were in full bloom, (for Atami is at least
ten degrees warmer than Tokyo), the sun was
shining and a delightful fragrance from the plum
blossoms filled the air. There were no other trees
among the plums ; bui: a back ground of ever-
green pines and cedars showed up the delicately
tinted blossoms.
The ground was smooth with now and then low
irregular stones, and a clear stream dashing rapidly
through the wood threw its sparkling bubbles like
gems across the path. There wa> no wind, but
the blossoms were falling incessantly, floating
gently to the ground, to the accompaniment of the
song of the bushwarblcr.
Miya and her mother came slowly saunter-
ing through the wood towards one of the many
benches invitingly placed for visitors. Miya's
face, which she had slightly powdered, was still
pale, her step was heavy, her look downcast
except now and then, when she looked up at the
[651
Xtmon.
flowers, as if remembering she must not show her
sion It was her habit to bite her lip when
pensive, and at present she did so frequently.
"Mother dear, what shall I do?" said she.
Her mother, who had been gazing at the flowers,
turned her eyes on her daughter : " What
shall ;. that depends entirely on yourself;
it AV.IS you that caused these difficulties by say-
ing you would like to marry into the Tomiyama
family." "I know all that"- returned Miya,
" but I can't help being anxious about Kwanichi.
Do you think Father has already spoken to
him ? "
" Yes, I aui quite sure he has."
Miya bit her lip : " Mother I cannot face
Kwanichi. I feel too much ashamed to see him
it' I am to many, I wish I could be
married without seeing him again. < 'ould'r
manage it for me mother <
Her eye., filled with tears and as she wiped
them away, she remembered that the handkerchief
had been given her by the man she was afraid or
ashai ; tin.
" My <! lied her mother, " if you think
1 Kwanichi, why did \
: ry another ? It" you are so unsettled, what are
we to d > ? Tnc nurri.i /,< iiegotiati.os a;
sing every day, and you mast make up your mind
one way or the other. We have not the slu
desire to compel you to marry against your wish ;
but if we decline this mi'.ch we must scad word
at once, though how we shall do it now, I "
" It is ail right," interrupted Miya, " I will go
on with it ; but when I think of Kwanichi I can't
help feeling unhappy."
As Miya's mother was feeling herself very
uncomfortable, it even disturbed her sleep--
whenever Kwanichi's name was mentioned, she
had not much comfort to offer her daughter ; but
she still tried to gloss over the sorrow she could
not but know Kwanichi would feel.
" When your father has spoken to him and ob-
tained his consent, things will be more settled," said
she, " and you will be able to help him in getting on
by marrying into another family ; moreover men are
more prompt in decision than we are, and when your
father talks to him he will s'ee the point and agree,
so there is no need for you to be so anxious about
him. You s y you would like to be married without
seeing him again, but, my dear, that will not
all ; the right way is for you to meet, and
after discussing the matter, agree to break off the
XI)t @olt> Xmion.
engagement honourably ; you ought to be like
brother and sister after this."
Mrs. Shigisawa paused and then said cheerfully,
" We may expect news any day now, and then we
must return home and begin preparations for the
wedding."
Miya sat on the bench, half listening and haL
following the current of her own thoughts, dreamily
biting one blossom after another as they fell into
her lap, and half conscious of the murmur of the
stream, and the intermittent notes of the bush-
warbler.
Raising her eyes, she saw the form of a man
moving among the trees : looking more attentively,
she recognised him and whispered his name to her
mother, who, rising from the bench, walked forward
five or six steps, when the man, seeing who it was,
called out, " You are there ? "
The voice resounded through the quiet woods,
and Miya hearing it shrunk back involuntarily.
Mrs. Shigisawa however replied, " Yes, we are very
-lad you have come too."
Our readers \\ill have guessed that the new
arrival was the possessor of the large diamond.
Me carried a cane as white as ivory with a green
gem set in the knob.
[63]'
Striking back the lower branches of the trees so
that the blossoms fell to the ground he called
out :
" I went to your house in Tokyo, but being told
you were here, I started off at once. What
lovely weather, and how warm it is."
Miya raised her eyes at last, and rising, bowed
politely. He acknowledged it with an expression
of pleasure and condescension.
"Did you indeed? It was very kind of you,"
Miya stammered. " It is so fine that we came out
for a walk. Will you not sit down ? "
Her mother dusted the bench, and Miya stood
aside to let him pass.
" Will you not sit down too ? " he urged. " I
have had a letter from Tokyo this morning,
asking me to return at once on urgent busi-
ness. The fact is I am going to establish a
company for exporting lacquer ware to foreign
countries. I am the Director of the company,
so you see I am very busy, and they want
me back. I have to leave here to-morrow
morning."
" Dear me, th.it is very short nocice."
" Yes, cannot I persuade you to return with
me?" He gave a stealthy look at Miya, but
pt to ;ins\vcr, her n;
replied, " Tha^k
" Do you intend to remain her t you find
a hotel very dull . J I imy build a villa here next
think of buying a lar oimd :
then I shill often com: hen- for a change from
Tok;
" That will be delightful," said Mrs. Shi^i
" What do you think, Miss Miya ?" he said. " Do
you like a quiet place in the country? "
Miya only smiled, so her mother answered,
" She likes any place where she has a good
time."
Tomiyama laughed, "We are all alike in that ;
then iet me give her a good time. She shall goto
Tokyo, Kyoto, the country, wherever she likes.
Hoes she dislike travelling by sea ? No ? she does
not dislike the water at all ? Then a trip to China
or America would be interesting."
" Will you no: visit me at my villa in Akasaka ? "
aunued, " 1 have a beautiful plum garden
with about 200 t plum trees, all old
trees. These ing compared to them, they
are all wild plums. It's qur .heir calling it
Atami Hum Garden. Do come and see mine
some day ; what if Mi.-:s Miya fond of? "
[76]
Sltnmi.
lie really wanted to have a talk with Miya, but
she remained silent, only smiling bashfully.
lie began again, 'When are you going
home? won't you return wiih me to-monou
morning ? "
" Thank you," .sa : d Mrs. Shigisawa, " but we are
expecting news from home and we cannot leave
till then."
Tomiyama was staring r.p \vards in his usual
haughty manner. He suddenly took out a white
silk handkerchief from his pocket, and shaking it
out diffused a very strong perlume of violets.
" I think I shall take a walk along the stream. I
don't know this place, but they tell me the
Lxncry is very fine. I am afraid it would be too
far tor you Mrs. Shigisawa, but if you will lent!
me Miss Miya, a walk will do her good, as she is
suffering from indigestion."
" Thank you. Will you go with him, Miya ? "
Seeing Miya's hesitation he rose from the bench
saying, " Come, it will do you good, you must not
inactive."
i Ic touched her gently on the shoulder and
Miya col>uivl a ! as if she could not
make up her mind what to do. She did not
diblike tin- man for h : s darin-.; to be so familiar,
[71]
fflo'.ft Triuon.
even before her mother, but \vt she felt ashamed ;
she could not tell why.
Tomiyama was delighted with these signs of
bashfulness, which he attributed to his own
charms, and thought how delightful it would be to
wander alone through the fields holding the hand
of the lovely blushing girl, and thinking thus he
was impatient to start.
" Let us go, it is all right as your mother
permits it."
Mrs. Shigisawa turned to the confused girl.
" Will you go ? what will you do ? "
Tomiyama said, " You should not say, will you
go ? please command her to go." Miya and her
mother laughed at his earnestness, and he laughed
too.
There was a sound of footsteps approaching.
Was it a visitor to the plum wood, or only one of
the villagers passing through ?
" You will come, won't you? please do," in a
pleading voice.
Miya, in a low voice, said, " Mother, come with
us, won't you ?"
" I ? " said her mother, " not I, but you."
Tomiyama, feeling the mother's presence would
v t >oil his pleasure, made up his mind to prevent
[72]
tttnmf.
it ; " It would be too far for your mother and the
road is bad. We will return as soon as you are
tired, so let us start."
By this time the sound of the footsteps had
ceased, not that the man had passed on, but because
he was stealthily watching this little scene from
behind the trees. He wore the uniform of the
High School with a brown overcoat, and carried
an old leather handbag. It was Kwanichi.
The footsteps were heard again, and this time
quite near. The three looked towards the place
whence the sound proceeded. Kwanichi suddenly
appeared and removing his cap said, " Here I am*"
[73]
ClIAi'TK! 1 . XII
ttittuclcotitc
astonishment of Miya and her mother may
be imagined. Mrs. Shigisawa in her Surprise
stared at Kwanichi and seemed as if she could not
take !: off him, while poor Miya felt that if
;rth would open and swallow her, she would
-1'ul.
In their confusion, the mother in a foolish
manner said, " You are here ; " but Miya, to hide
-toot! behind a tree, with her handkerchief tc
h.T momh to conceal her hurried breathing. It was
painful to her to look at Kwanichi, and yet
painful nut to look : and she was equally anxious
as to what Tomiyama might think.
As for the latter he knew of r, f<r their
agitation: he merely thought the hanger-on ofthr
: awa's had arrived, and awaited events calmly,
hing his cane in the hand adorned with the
! looking up at the blossoms.
Kwaiii'-hi un< ituation : he recognised
Tomiyama, and had probably overheard the in-
; : s mind to control him-
. >oks to betray tin
[74]
Zljr Utitneleomf $Fiitor.
of his feelings. So with a bitter effort at a smile he
said, " And how is Miss Miya's illness ? "
Miya was hardly able to control herself. She bit
her handkerchief, while her mother, now recover-
ing from her surprise, said : " She is much better .
we intend to return in a few days ; but I am
surprised to see you. Have you no school?"
" Our class-rooms had to be repaired, so we
have three days' holiday."
The hopeless situation of Mrs. Shigisawa between
Tomiyama and Kwanichi was like the old man in
the fable, who having fallen into the water in a lone-
ly field and clutching a tuft of grass to prevent
sinking further, finds a rat gnawing it. She was
puzzled what to do, but finally said : " As this
young man has come from our home, we will return
to the hotel with him. I hope you won't think
me very rude. I shall call on you again later."
" Certainly," said Tomiyama, " and may I hope
you will return with me to-morrow morning ? "
" Possibly ; it will, depend on what news I now
get from home. Anyhow I will let you know."
" I see. Then I will give up my walk, and return
to my hotel, and await your visit. Be sure
and come too, Miss Miya." He was about to
leave, but turned and coming close to Miya, said in
[75]
Xljr (ttolft Xemon.
a low tone, " You will come, won't you ?" Kwanichi
watched them without a sign, but Miya was so
embarrassed that she could not answer, and !
y.ima, thinking it was only shyness, stooped lo\vcr
and softly said again : " You must come : I shall he-
waiting for you."
Kwanichi's eyes flashed, and he glared at Miya ;
but she, guessing his thoughts, did not dare look at
him. Tomiyama had no suspicion about Kwanichi's
appearance, so reluctantly left them and returned
to his hotel.
Kwanichi watched his departure, and stood still
for a while, as if lost in thought. The two women
dared not speak, and held their breath waiting for
the storm to break. Kwanichi now turned towards
them : his face was deathly pale, but he tried to
smile and said, " Miya, is not that fellow the man
with the diamond we saw at the card party ?"
Miya did not answer, but bit her lip. The mother
pretended not to hear, and appeared to be listening
to the song of the bush-warbler.
Kwanichi went on scornfully : " When we saw
him by night, he was not so bad, but now by day-
light what a disagreeable looking fellow he is !
what a haughty face ! "
" Kwanichi," said the mother suddenly, " has my
[76]
III? llnturlcomf
husband told you of the matter we have in hand ? "
" Yes," he replied.
" Then I find it very unbecoming 01 you and
quite contrary to your usual habit to speak evil of
another in that way. You ought not to do so ; let
us go back to the hotel. You must be tired, so you
had better take a bath, and then have something
to eat." The three turned towards the hotel
Kwanichi felt something touch his shoulder ; he
turned his head quickly, and his eyes met Miya's :
" I brushed a flower offycur coat," she said.
" Thank you veiy much."
[77]
CHAPTER XIII.
painful Jntmnctu*
TI IKK K was a slight haze but the moon gave a
mellow and almost fragrant light, and the
sea, bathed in white sheen, lay extended like a
dream, its rippling waves breaking lazily over the
stones with a soporific wash, and a gentle breeze
exhilarating the languid scene.
Kwanichi and Miya were sauntering together
along the pebbly beach.
" I am so full of grief," said Miya, " that I can
scarcely find words to speak "
And then, after walking on a few paces, she
took courage to say, " Forgive me please."
" It is almost too late to apologize now," said
Kwanichi. " It is the eleventh hour, you know.
Hut, tell me, did this scheme originate with your
parents ? And was it done with your consent ?
That is all I want to know "
A pause ensued, and presently Kwanichi con-
tinued :
" Until I came here, I was quite convinced in
my beliei that your consent had not been given.
But tliis is a point about which there should be no
08]
91 Jintnful
uncertainty. We arc practically husband and wife,
and between us there should be no secrets."
Again a pause, and Kwanichi continued.
" Last night your father spoke to me about the
matter, and made a long explanation, ending up
with a request " (here Kwanichi's voice began to
tremble), " and as I have received so much kind-
ness from your parents, I feel it my duty to go
through fire and water to do whatever they wish
me to do. But this request is so unreasonable
that I cannot possibly give my consent, and I feel
terribly pained to think that your father should
have made me such a proposal And yet I
suppose he has good reason for what he pro-
poses."
" I wish he could have put it to me in some other
way. He said that if I would only consent he
would find the money for me to go abroad and
study in Europe. Ah ! I may be the poor
orphan child of a decayed gentleman, but he is
much mistaken if he thinks I am going to sell my
wife for a travelling allowance."
A sob here choked Kwanichi's utterance, he
turned his face to the sea to hide his emotion.
For the first time since they had been strolling
along the beach, Miya turned to him.
[79]
Zfct 9olt> Tf man.
" I 1 "' -d, " it. is all my fault.
me."
took hold of his arm, laid her head on his
shoulder, a;;d sobbed ; and they stood thus for a
few minutes with their shadows projected distinctly
in the moonlight against the white pebbles of the
beach. Kwanichi continued again, when he had
mastered his emotion.
" At last I concluded that the real situation must
have been somewhat like this. Your father under-
took to persuade me, whilst your mother brought
you down here in order the better to talk you over
to the scheme. I am not in a position to refuse
your father anything, so I had just to listen and
assent to what he said. But you are not in a
position of dependence as I am, and if you will
only be firm the thing will come to naught. That
is why they brought you down here to remove
you from my influence. When this thought came
to me I could rest no longer, for I feared that you
might be overpersuaded if left to yourself. So I
gave out that I was going to school as usual, and
came down after you to see what was going on
But after all what a fool I am. Here
am I, twenty-five years old, and yet fool enough
to have believed in. a woman's constancy."
[80]
'<'' painful
Miya so'>bed ; but she also trembled ; for Kwan-
ichi was evidenly working himself into a fury.
" Miya San ! " he continued impetuously, " how
could you deceive me like this ; you came here
on pretence of being ill ; but you came in reality
to meet Tomiyama."
" No, no," pleaded Miya, " You are wrong."
" Wrong ? How wrong ? "
" To harbour so cruel and so unjust a suspicion."
Kwanichi looked sternly at the girl.
" It is not I that am cruel, Miya. It is you. And 1
am a fool to allow myself to be so cruelly deceived."
" You gave your consent to this before you
came away Miya. Else, why go away without a
word of adieu, or even a letter of explanation. You
came down here to meet Tomiyama for aught
I know, you may have come down with him and
that is why you sneaked off without a word to me.
Miya, Miya, you are but a faithless wife."
' I faithless ? " retorted Miya. " Indeed, Kwan-
ichi, you are wrong. There was no arrangement
with Tomiyama. He came down of his own
accord, when he heard we were here."
" And what did he come for ? "
Miya was tongue-tied. Kwanichi waited for
her to reply, hoping that she would give some
[3,J
Jhe Wolfe lemon.
sign ot relenting, that she would ask his pardon
and return to the paths of duty and honour. But
he waited in vain for a word from the silent girl
that stood beside him, and as he waited his hopes
'died within him and the truth dawned upon him.
He had indeed been forsaken. In an agony of
grief and pain he threw himseli upon the beach
and lay there almost in a stupor.
[82]
CHAPTER XIV
&ummci)t
7^1 IYA had now no time to be frightened. She
* * knelt down beside the lover whom she was so
cruelly casting off, and tried by all sorts of endear-
ments to make up to him for the pain she had
caused him.
" Kwanichi, Kwanichi," she gasped, as she bent
over him, " What is it ? "
Kwanichi took her hand in his and suffered her
to wipe the tears from his face.
" Miya," he said, " this is the last time that we
shall be together. It is the i/th of January.
Where shall I be this time next year, when the
January moon shines on the beach at Atami?
Where shall I be this time ten years ? See, the
moon is getting cloudy, Miya. It will be so for
you and me, Miya, next year, and every year ..nd
when you see the moon of the I7th of January-
overcast with clouds, remember that I shall be
weeping for you, with tears of anger and resent-
ment."
Miya clung to him with hysterical sobs.
" Don't give way like this, Kwanichi, please
[83]
Jl (ttolft Xrmon.
don't. I can't tell you everything now, but \
have patience with me, and forbear. I can assure
you that, come what may, I shall never forget
you."
" But, if you arc not going to forget me, why
give me up ? I don't want to hear your assurances."
" But I have not given you up."
" Not given me up, when you are going to
marry another? Are you intending to have t*o
husbands ? "
" I have a plan in my head. Please have
patience with me. You will then have proof posi-
tive that I have not forgotten you."
" Rubbish ! Are you going to tell me that you
intend to act the part of a dutiful girl and sell
yourself for the support of your parents ?* There's
no need for you to marry out of the tamily. You
are the only child, and heir to at least 7000 yen, are
you not ? And you have a betrothed husband, have
you not ? ready to marry you a man with good
prospects in life before him, and whom you profess
to love. It not that so ? I can't for the life 01 me
see what you want with another lover, and a
marriage out of your family. There must be some
* Girls in Japan will sometimes sell themselves to prostitute
houses in order to provide maintenance for their parents.
[4'J
i vf|ironcf)r$ iflJlljn.
i for it that I do not understand
Kilher you are not satisfied with the man to whom
you are engaged, or else you want to marry for
lucre, Tell me, Miyu.you need have
no reserve, If you have the courage to throw
over the man to whom you are engaged, you have
surely the courage to tell him the truth." ^
" Forgive me, it has all been my fault," was all
that Miya found voice to reply.
" Then am I to understand that you are not
satisfied with the man you have promised to
marry ? "
'' How cruel you are, Kwanichi. If you doubt
me, I will give you any proof you like ot my
love."
" Then, if you are not tired of me, I suppose it
is the money that draws you to Tomiyama. It is
just for mammon and nothing else that I am to be
sacrificed I suppose I am right in concluding
that Tomiyama has your consent of course, if
you were unwilling to marry him, I could also find
a way to break oft" your connection with him. 1
could for instance But, there 1 shall do
nothing until I know from your own lips tha
wish to have me as your husband And I think
you really want to marry him, don't you ? "
[85]
iftf olt> Tr mon.
Miya said nothing, as Kwanicht paced by her
side, looking anxiously into her face.
" Very well," ho- said at last with a deep drawn
sigh, " I sec what you mean."
He started to leave her, and got some twenty
yards or so away. Then looking back, he saw the
girl standing desolately weeping by the sea-shore.
It seemed to him like a dream. He could not
understand that the girl, so graceful and so
desolate, was no longer his. He retraced his
steps towards her, scarce knowing what he did.
" What are you weeping for, Miya? You know
your tears are all sham."
" Say what you like," sobbed the girl in response.
" I used to believe, Miya," said Kwanichi, "that
you were like myself, and that you had a soul
above money. But now I see your mind and
understand that there, too, Mammon rules. I
suppose things will go well enough with you, you
will be rich and prosperous ; while for me there is
nothing but anger, hatred, sorrow. I could stab
you as you stand, so keenly do I resent the
thought of your being taken from me by another.
But my sorrow is nothing to you. I am only a
humble retainer of the family with whom you have
been diverting yourself. I mistook your kindness
[86]
for love; and presumed to love you in return, fool
that I was ! As if I could hope to stand a chance
against Tomiyama and his diamonds ! And yet I
am sure I love you more than a hundred Tomiyamas
could love you. Tomiyama's money won't make
you happy. A sparrow in a granary can't eat more
than what he wants to satisfy him. And I could
have given you enough, though I could not offer
you Tomiyama's millions. I "could offer you the
whole of my love, which is more than Tomi-
yama will give you. You know, his father keeps
a couple of mistresses to solace him when he
grows tired of his lawful wife. And when your
beauty begins to fade a little, the son will treat you
in the same way, and you won't find the life of a
millionaire's lady to be all joy. Miya, Miya,
marriage without love will not bring you happiness,
and you don't love Tomiyama. Won't you recon-
sider your decision ? I am sure I am pleading
with you for your best. Miya, can't you love
me?"
Kwanichi clung to the girl, as though he would
fain have protected her from danger. Miya sobbed
in his arms.
" What am I to do? Oh, Kwanichi, what will
you do, if I marry him ? "
[87]
Xbt $ulb rtmon.
Kwanichi threw her from him, like the wind
tears the boughs from a tree.
" So ! " he cried. " You mean to marry him
after all ! You faithless woman. You ! "
In an access of fury Kwanichi gave lier a
that sent her sprawling to the ground. And then,
standing over her prostrate form, he b[x>ke from
the great bitterness of his heart
" Lady Tomiyama, it was in your power to
make a man of me. You have killed my hopes
and made a madman of me instead. My ruin lies
at your door. I shall give up my studies, and
turn blackguard. You shall see me no more,
neither shall your parents. Give them my kind
regards, and tell them that I ought to have gone
back to bid them farewell, but that I could not do
so after what happened on the beach at Atami on
the i jth of January'."
Miya tried to rise in order to detain him. But
the bruises on-her thigh, where she had fallen on
the sharp stones, prevented her from doing so.
But she dragged herself along the ground and
clung sobbingly, to his knees.
"Kwanichi! Kwanichi! W-.v-w ..wait plea-,.-
Where aiv you going ? "
Kwanichi K.rned, and seeing the .-tains of Moor.
fttoaiiitfet
on her dress said with more tenderness than he
perhaps really felt.
" Are you hurt, Miya? "
" ! )on't touch me, Kwanichi," said Miya push-
ing him off. " 1 don't care about the cut and the
bruises. Hut I do want to know where you are
going to ? I want to tell you something, and I
want you to accompany me back to the Hotel.
Won't you do so ? "
" If you have anything to tell me, I will listen
to you."
" But I can't tell it you here."
" There is nothing you cannot tell me here.
Let go my legs."
" I won't let you go. Come back with me.
" Don't provoke me to use violence again."
" You may kick me again if you choose, but I
shall not let go."
Kwanichi however shook her off, and fled up
the low hill that lay between the beach and the
village
" Kwanichi ! Kwanichi ! " cried the miserable
girl as she tried to follow him. " I want to tell
you what it is : please, please, come back.
But K \vanichi did not come back. Only when
he reached the top of the ridge she saw his form
fed
(Wolb Demon.
standing distinctly in the moonlight, and heard his
voice from among the pine-trees, shouting " Miya
San, Miya San," and then he disappeared from
sight and went out of her life.
[90]
9wum.
BOOK II
CHAPTER I.
TIIK large clock at the Shinbashi Railway
Station hid just struck four ; the train for
the Tokai-do was ready to start, all the doors 01
the carriages were closed, thick smoke was pour-
ing from the smoke stack ot the engine, and the
windows of the long train of more than thirty
carriages reflected the brilliant colours of an
autumnal sunset. The railway porters were run-
ning to and fro shouting to two or three belated
passengers to hurry ; one, a stout elderly European,
who sauntered down the platform as if the train
was his special property, a Japanese young girl
with a gay parasol, then a woman rushing down
with a bundle in her arms and a child on her
back, so confused that she did not know what to
do as the doors were closed, til) the guard pushed
her hastily into a carriage, then one more old man
leading a child who was so unceremoniously
hustled into a carriage by a porter, that the sleeve
of his dress caught, and he had to call for help ;
his face expressing even before he started the
misery of a journey.
[93]
!f)f ffiolb Semon.
A company of five young men occupied one
corner of a second -class carriage. Only one of
them appeared to have any luggage, the rest
apparently only being bound for Yokohama. Two
were in Japanese dress, the rest in foreign, one
in a frock coat was putting away his hand luggage
in the rack, and some bottles ot wine and beer
with which he had been presented at the station ;
he shook the dust from his hands, put his head
out of the window as if looking for some one,
then looking up at the blue sky, said : " It has
cleared up, I think it will keep fine."
" It will be rather fun if it rains this evening,"
said the man in Japanese dress with a significant
smile ; " I say, Amakasu."
The man addressed also wore Japanese dress,
and was the only one with whistkers. Before he
could reply, Kazahaya, a very young man with a
voice too hoarse for his tender years, said.
" Fun for Amakasu, and desirable for yourself,
" I suppose."
" Nonsense, Amakasu knows, how to look after
himself."
The fifth inmate of the carriage, who was in a
handsome Japanese silk dress, suddenly sat up-
right and said :
[94]
3n tye Train.
" Kazahaya, you and I are being sacrificed I say
Saburi and Amakasu are wanting to go to Yoko-
hama, for they have discovered a snug little
establishment there I understand, and want to
drag us there to show us their find."
" Pshaw ! If you two call yourselves sacrificed
by the other two, I am a victim to all four of you.
In spite of my declining your offer to go as far as
Yokohama with me, you insisted on doing so, and
I felt quite sorry for you. But now I sec I was only
the pretext. It is abominable ol you ; for as I know
that even in your student days these were your
amusements I can't help being anxious about your
future ; you can only afford to do these things so
long as it does not affect your position, but you
must be on your guard."
Josuke Arao, who thus spoke, had been Kwan-
ichi's iriend four years before, the friend to whom
he had looked up to with deep affection. Arao
had taken his degree and was subsequently
appointed to the Home Department, and now he
had been promoted to the post of Councillor in
Aichi Prefecture, and was on his way to his new
office. His uprightness, prudence, and sincerity,
had caused him to be looked up to by his fellow
students. He continued, " This will be the last
[95]
Iftnon.
good advice I shall be able to give you, it will
be well if you pay attention to it."
The company, which had been in a rollicking
mood, felt somewhat depressed at these words 01
wisdom, and there was a silence, while they all
puffed vigorously at the cigarettes they were
smoking, till the carriage became full of smoke ; for
although the windows were open, it was driven
back by the wind.
After a short pause Saburi nodding his head
said ; " When you speak to me like this I feel cold
shudders, for the fact is I saw at the station the
Beauty Usurer. She always reminds me of the
poem ol the bird which sings so sweetly and yet
devours lizards ; it is really surprising how beauti-
ful she is at all times. She was exquisitely dressed
and she looks really a perfect lady she was
particularly got up to-day, she had probably some
new case on hand. When once you lall into her
s it is all up with you, she strangles you
wi Ji floss silk, as the play has it."
" I should like to see her," said the man dressed
in ( Jshima silk, " I have often heard 01 her."
" When Sakurai," interrupted Amakasu," was
. .\iK-llcd nv-m school, she was his principal
or ih' }' say; she is a rare beauty and
[96]
3 ihf Iroir.
wears any amount of ornaments, but cruel, and
devilish I suppose Saburi thinks himself very
adventurous in having to do with her, but he
ought to be on his guard, or lie will fall into her
snares."
"She must have some backer 1 think," said
another, " she must have a husband or lover or
somebody."
" There is quite a romance about it," interposed
the young man with the hoarse voice, " it is not a
lover, but she has a husband who has been a usurer
for ages ; hb name is Gonzaburo Akagashi and he is
a regular old skin-flint, and a well known libertine.
He takes advantage of people being in debt to
him, and it is said he has had liaisons with many
women, in quarters where you would not expect it
The Beauty Usurer, as she is called, was caught in
the same way. She was the daughter of a poor
gentleman, and was of unblemished reputation,
but the old villain cast a lustful eye on her and in
order to capture her lent the father a little money.
Upon the expiration of the term he could not pa}-, so
the bill was renewed three or four times with no
difficult)-. In due time, as they could not pay, he
proposed taking the girl into his h me as a h
keeper or some kind of a maid, even if the father
[97]
Zftf (Wfllb Ifmon.
had suspected his motive he could not refuse his
creditor, but the old wretch was almost sixty and
bald headed, the girl nineteen, it was almost six
years ago so no one thought anything of it He
had no real wife, and no one knew when she be-
came his mistress."
Anio, who had been listening with great interest
remarked nodding significantly, " Such is woman !"
Amakasu glanced at him, and said, " What a
remark for Arao to mike ! Who would have
thought Arao would solve the question of
[9*1
CHAPTER II
<vcrtiit
A T this point the train suddenly increased its
** speed. " Can't hear, can't hear," said the
wearer of the Oshima silk kimono, whom we will
designate as Oshima, " speak louder."
" Sit up closer please all of you," said Saburi,
" Arao, won't you open that bottle ? I am thirsty,
and I am coming to the interesting part of the
story."
" It is very hard on us to have to give these re-
fresh^ r.s," said Amakasu. " Kamata," said Saburi,
" you arc smoking some good tobacco, give me
a little. " Just listen," said Amakasu " I had
better put away my things."
" Have you a match, Amakasu ?
" I thought so : here you are, Sir."
Sipping the wine and enjoying the fragrance of
the Havana, Saburi proceeded calmly. " As the
delicate flowering cherry is often hurt by the heavy
branch of a pear tree, the poor girl Mitsue was
seduced by the old villain. Of course it was kept
secret from her father. At first she pined lor home,
but now was ashamed to go and see her father,
[99]
3HJf Wot* rcmon.
notwithstanding his repeated entreaties. By and
by, of course, the secret leaked out, and the lather,
with true Samurai spirit, got very angry, and at last
disowned his daughter. Then the old usurer pro-
posed that she should be properly registered as his
lawful wife, concluding that the girl's father was
angry at her being merely a concubine. But when
the father saw the daughter, he was most dissatisfied
and astonished at her request, " Please, dear father,
consent ;" and thought she must be crazy to want to
marry this old man, ten years older than her own
father. I lowever, he was obliged to consent.
Mitsue gradually got more and more in favour with
the old man, so that by degrees he entrusted her
with the management of his whole business. It was
of course expected that she would send pecuniary
help to her own family, but not a bit of it ; not a
sen more than was agreed upon at first ; this also
pleased the old man. Mitsue gradually became
inlected with his avarice, as soon as she began to
regard the property as hers. The love of money
became greater than her love for her father, and
the usurer's trade became a pleasure to her."
" I low strange!" murmured Arao with a dis-
gusted look.
" She must be a clever woman, I say," resumed
[100]
ffrrnm iPfouit) usurer.
the other. " Well, she trained herself in all the craft
and wiles of usury, and at last would go anywhere
on business as the old nun's deputy, or when he was
short of agents. Since the year before last he has
been unable to move about, as he has palsy ; but she
nurses him herself, and at the same time carries
on the business single-handed. I^ast year her father
died, miserably poor, so poor that his deathbed
was only a thin mat on the floor ; she would not
allow him to visit her before he became ill : isn't
it dreadful ? One can't really imagine what her state
of mind is. The people call her Bijin Cream, or
Beauty Usurer.
" Her age ? Tiny say twenty-five, but she looks
hardly more than twenty-two, and she has a lovely,
gentle, sweet voice, and is charmingly graceful ;
she manages her business so artfully, and when
she says to her victims in that sweet voice of hers,
' Please renew the bond,' or ' won't you make it into
a note ?' one might almost imagine that she fascinat-
ed them as the snake does the bird. I have been
fascinated by her about three times. Gentleness
controls roughness as the saying is, so a beauty
is very fit for the trade of a usurer. Give her a
country to rule and she would be a Cleopatra, she
is sure to bring ru'n in her train."
Kazahaya seemed tlTe most interested : " Then
you say that old man has been lying helpless in
bed since the year before last : surely she must have
some lover ; a woman like that is bound to have
some intrigue. I expect she affects to have IK me,
but has one secretly ; well, she is a great woman \ "
" I'm afraid she is too great! " laughed Saburi,
leaning back with his hands behind his head.
A general laughter followed ; ever since the time
when Saburi was in his second year at college he
had fallen into the clutches of usurers, and now
found himself in debt to the amount of 640 odd
yen, either in joint bills or promissory notes.
Then came Amakasu, with 400 yen of debt,
O.shima was 150 yen in debt previous to his gradua-
tion, and 200 yen after it. Kazahaya and Arao were
the only two of the party that were free from debt.
The train reached Kanagavva, where a passenger,
apparently a Yokohama merchant, alighted, with
>litc bow as if to thank them for the diversion
he had been so fortunate as to enjoy. While
the others were chatting together Arao looked
:iy, stared before him and at hst said :
" Have any of you ever heard any more of
I lazama ? "
" Do you me. ;:i K\\\;nichi Ilazama?" .said one.
[102]
Cream 9eautt) Ulurer.
" Oh ! who was it said that he was now a usurer's
clerk or something of that kind," said another.
" Yes, yes," laughed Kamata, " there was some
such rumour, but I am sure Hazama would never
make a usurer : he is too soft-hearted."
Arao nodded and looked gloomily from the
window. As Saburi and Amakasu had been in a
class higher than the others they had not known
Kwanichi.
" That rumour about usury must be unfounded, as
Kamata says he was too softhearted. It is a pit}', for
he had great talent. I wish he were with us now."
He heaved a deep sigh. " You would recog-
nise him if you were to see him, would you not? "
" Yes," said Kazahaya, " I remember him well.
Those deep scars are an unmistakable mark."
" I always thought " said Kamada " that, when
he was listening to a lecture, with his elbows on the
desk supporting his head, and his eyes downcast
like this, he resembled a picture I have seen of
Alfred the Great."
Arao looked up smiling, " You always say such
funny things. Alfred the Great! what a strange
association of ideas ! I will offer you a glass of
wine in gratitude for likening my friend to an
ancient hero."
[103]
Xftnon.
" Ah," said Kntmta, " you never forget him, for
you were like a brother i<> him."
" Yes," replied Arao, " I sorrow more for the
loss of Kwanichi than if my brother had died."
He hung his head sorrowfully; Oshinia bor-
rowed the glass which Kamata had just received,
and holding it out to Arao said, " Let us chink to
Kwanichi Hazama." Arao agreed joyfully and the
two glasses, brimming with wine, were held up,
then knocked together and drunk to the dregs.
Saburi on seeing this touched Amakasu's knee
saying, " Kamata is sharp, isn't he ? ugly as he is;,
he always manages to pick up something, a real
diplomat."
" It is very strange," said Arao, " but I feel sure
I saw Hazama at the station. I am almost sure it
was Ila/.ama "
Kamata, who had been drinking the latter's
health, looked surprised, and stared at Arao ;
" Humph, that's strange ! did he not recognise
you ? "
" I saw him first at the entrance to the waiting
room, and being surprised, I rose from the sofa
where 1 was sitting ; but he instantly disappear. <1 :
then, after a while, I looked round and saw him
[104]
G'rfnm ycnuttj IWitvtv.
" Quite a detective story " said Armkasu.
" '1 he moment he saw me get up," continued
Arao, " he vanished again. Then, as I walked down
the platform I looked back, and saw some one wav-
ing his black hat to me. And I am sure it was
Hazami."
The train ran into the station, and the cry of
' Yokohama, Yokohama,' was heard many times.
All was bustle and confusion, the crowd streaming
out looked like a box of toys upset, the noise of
Uie bell being heard above all.
[105]
CHAPTER III
2fit
A S Arao had surmised the man whom he had
** ' seen waving his hat at the station was indeed
Kwanichi Hazama, who for four long years had
vanished from the circle ot his friends. He had
been completely successful in concealing his where-
abouts : but during all that time he had kept
himself well informed as to his friend Arao's move-
ments. He knew that Arao had obtained the post
for which he was now starting, and also he had
managed to discover the time and day he was leav-
ing, and had come to Shimbashi railway station to
see him depart, with the marks of honour to
which Arao had attained.
But why had Kwanichi ceased to hold com-
munication with his friends? why did he not come
openly to bid farewell to one whom he had
evidently not forgotten ? If my readers will have
patience to follow this story a little farther, they
will be able to solve this riddle.
Kwanichi did not stand alone there watching
the train disappear : many others, old and young,
rich and poor, noble and peasant were assembled,
[106]
9ln C1B 'Acquaintance.
some with sorrow, some with joy, others anxious,
and many indifferent ; but after a lew moments the
crowd dispersed, and as Kwanichi turned with
heavy dragging footsteps, as if weighed down with
some burden, he was, with the exception of a few
railway porters occupied in cleaning the station,
the only person to be seen.
Kwanichi pulled himself together, as if surprised
at being the last, and was about to leave the station
when a voice, which he did not recognise, suddenly
called to him from the door of the waiting room.
" I lazanu-san "
lie turned round in surprise, and saw a woman
standing in the doorway, her hair dressed in
European style ; she pressed a silk handkerchief to
her lips, the .sleeve of her kimono tailing back
showed a heavy gold bracelet on her arm.
" One moment if you please."
She was exceedingly handsome, and smiled
graciously upon Kwanichi, but he did not reci-
procate ; on the contrary, as he recognised her the
tone in which he uttered her name, " Oh ! Aka-
gashi san," was decidedly cold.
" What a piece of luck to meet you here," said
she. " I want particularly to speak to you. Will
you come in here a moment? "
[107]
7 IK Wolfe temou.
.nan led the way, and K\vanichi with
L-nt reluctance followed. She seated herself on
ind motioned to him to sit beside her
" I want to speak to you about Ume Oguruma*
of the Insurance Company." She took a gold
watch from the folds of her obi and looking at it
said, " I think you cannot have yet taken your
ning meal, so I will take you to some Restau-
rant as we cannot talk here." The woman rose, it
was plain to see that Kwanichi was annoyed.
" Where ? " said he abruptly.
" Wherever you like, you are the best judge."
" I don't care where we go," was his rejoinder.
He was evidently reluctant to go with her, but
as she continued to press him, he did not: seem
able to shake her off, and rose unwillingly to
follow her. As he passed the door some one
entered hastily and trod heavily on his toes : look-
ing up in surprise, lie saw an old gentleman who
was looking with a leering glance at Kwanichi 's
charming companion, his eyes following them as
they pished out of the station. The two sauntered
towards Sh'nbashi bridge, evidently not knowing
where to direct their steps.
" Which way shall we go ? " said she again.
" I don't care where."
[I08J
flu Cia flrqunintanrt.
" If you keep saving that we shall never arrive
anywhere : let us settle it." The woman was quite
aware of Kwanichi's unwillingness, but as she had
determined to make him yield to her she was not
to be deterred by his coldness.
" Well then," said she after a pause, " do you
like eels ? "
k< Kels ? Oh yes, I like them well enough."
" Or do you prefer chicken ? "
" Either will do, I don't care," said he sullenly.
" How very amiable you are ! " said she sar-
castically.
Kwanichi looked full at her. Her beautiful eyes,
which could express so much, met his with a smile
disclosing her shell-like teeth, many of which were
filled with gold, and although he had often cursed
her in his heart from a knowledge of her character,
he could not but feel the charm of her beauty.
" It's all right," said she, with a brilliant smile.
" we will have chicken."
They turned the corner and walking about two
blocks further on, came to a little .sde street and
stopped at a house at which the character for
" tori " (chicken) was engraved on the glass
lantern hanging at the gate. The two entered :
apparently from the landlord's view they were
["ICQ!
Xfjc olfc Trmon.
not quite coinnie-it fanf, for he conducted them
into a small back room, which was only entered
by a zigzag verandah, so'tucked away that no one
would have suspected its existence.
Kwanichi did not feel very comfortable, but he
sat there with an air of circumspect reserve, prob-
ably assumed to hide his uneasiness at being in
the company of a woman in such a doubtful
place.
Mitsue quickly gave her orders for a dish or
two ; the tobacco box was placed between them,
and she turned to Kwanichi. " Hazama-san please
make yourself at home and sit more comfortably."
" Thank you, this suits me better."
" Don't say so Please sit more at ease."
" I always sit like this when I am at home."
" How can you tell such fibs ? "
Notwithstanding this Kwanichi continued to sit
upright. On taking out his cigarette case, he found
it was empty, and was about to clap his hands for the
servant, when Mitsue, leaning forward with her be-
witching smile, said : " Won't you smoke this as
a makeshift? "
The gold mouthpiece of the small pipe peeped
out from the end of the pipe case, and the tobacco
[no]
Vn Clti Acquaintance.
pouch which she offered him was of magnificent
brocade that would not have disgraced a palace.
" Gold teeth ! gold obi-fastener ! gold ring, gold
bracelet ! gold watch ! and now even the pipe is
of gold," said Kwanichi to himse.f ; " and of course
she thinks of nothing but gold."
Xo thank you," he said, declining the pipe,
" I don't care for Japanese tobacco."
Mitsue stared at him, " Although the pipe is not
dirty, I am sorry I did not think of it," So saying
she took out some paper, and wiped the mouth-
piece carefully.
" No, I did not mean that," said Kwanichi. " I
do not smoke Japanese tobacco I say."
Mitsue looked hard at him :
" If you have to tell lies, you ought to have a
better memory."
" What do you mean ? " he said.
" Were you not smoking it the other day when
I called on Wanibuchi-san ? With a pipe in the
shape of a gourd, and a piece of paper wound
round where the stem fits into the bowl ?
Me looked astonished, and Mitsue laughed, hold-
ing her sleeve before her mouth as a bashful girl
does. As a punishment for his untruthiulness three
pipefuls of tobacco filled by herself were imposed
on him in quick succession.
ClIAl'Tr.R IV
IN the meantime the sake tray with its accom-
paniments made its appearance, but both Mitsuc
and Kwanichi disliked sakt and neither was able
even to drink three cups. However she held out
her cup after rinsing it in the bowl of water
provided for the purpose.
" Please accept the cup I offer."
" No thank you, I can't."
" The same old story " said she.
" This time I am in earnest."
" Shall \ve drink beer then ? "
" No, thank you. I do not like Japanese sakt or
European drinks either, so drink what you like
yourself."
There is a certain etiquette in drinking sake. It
you decline it yourself, you must pour it out and
offer it to the other party. But how rude was
Kwanichi. 1 Ie would nei.her drink himself nor offer
it to her, and how coldly he replied to her
invitations ! But Mitsuc was rather amused than
indignant.
" I urn no good at drinking sakt myself/' .^lu-
[112]
Sofr.
said, " but will you not accept this one cup which
I offer you with my best wishes ?"
As it was impossible lo refuse, Kwanichi ac-
cepted the cup. Although they had been now
sitting some time together, still Mitsue did not
toucli on the business which she had said was so
pressing At last Kwanichi began
" By the bye what was that about Ume Oguruma
that you wished to say to me ? "
" Take another cup, then I will tell you. There
that's right, now one more."
Kwanichi frowned, " No, I will not."
" Then I will drink, please pour it out for me."
Kwanichi began again : " What about Ume
Oguruma? "
" There is another case besides that."
" You have so many ? ' said he.
" It is a topic I can't discuss unless I have a little
Dutch courage, so give me another cup."
" You should not drink when you are talking
business. That comes first."
" Never mind, I intend taking sake first "
Mitsue 's eyes got brighter, and her cheeks
flushed, she removed her outer garment, under
which she wore a kimono of figured crape, with
an obi of black figuie.l silk tied loosely over a
L"3] '
Xtmon.
piece of scarlet figured crape. The gold bracelet
on her left arm in the shape of icrns twisted
together, glittered when she raised her arm to push
back one or two loose hairs on her forehead.
The whole style of the woman was an abomina-
tion to Kwanichi ; he himself was very plainly
dressed in a black silk haori marked with the
family crest, dark blue kimono, and a white crape
girdle which was not even new.
Those who had known him before would have
found him much changed ; all that had been
pleasant and amiable in his appearance had
vanished, the four years of sorrow had left their
mark upon him. Although there was a certain
look of steadfastness and strength, the eyes were
dull and heavy, his manner was cold and reserved,
people were afraid of him, no one tried to get
intimate with him : perhaps in his own mind he was
afraid of intimacy ; and sometimes he wondered
he had not lost his reason, when he thought of his
lost love.
With quiet dignity Kwanichi watched Mitsue
drink one cup after another, her eyes and flushed
cheeks showing the stimulant had gone to her head.
"Shall I take another cup ?" she said, smiling
on Kwanichi."
[114]
" I think you had better stop."
" If you say stop I will do so," she said.
" I have no right to forbid you," was Kwanichi's
answer.
" Then I will drink more."
As there was no reply to this, Mitsue drank halt
the cup she had poured out : then holding her hands
to her hot tace she exclaimed : " Oh I have drunk
too much." Kwanichi smoked on affecting not to
. hear her.
" Hazama-san "
" What is it ? "
" I have something special to speak to you about
this evening, will you listen to me."
" Have I not accompanied you here in order to
hear it? "
With a slight smile, Mitsue continued, " I hope
you will not get angry, even if I say something
rude ; but I am not speaking under the influence
of sakt ; please understand that."
" Are you not contradicting yourself? "
" What does it matter?" she returned, " it will be
only what a mere woman says," Kwanichi tound the
situation more and more unpleasant : he folded his
arms and looked down, trying to appear as uncon-
cerned as possible, Mitsue drew nearer to him :
[US]
Xf)f fflolft Xrmon.
" Just drink this one cup, and I won't tr
again."
Kwanichi accepted the cup in silence.
" You have now fulfilled my request."
" It was a very simple request," h;,- had almost
said, but he ^hort with a bitter smile.
She began again : " Ilazami-san ! "
" What is it?"
" Don't think me rude, but do you intend
remaining much longer with Wanibuchi-san ? I
should think you would make yourself independ-
ent." i
" Of course I intend to do so eventually."
" When do you think ofleaving him ? "
" I must wait until I have a little capital." Mitsue
paused, knocking her pipe against the edge of the
tobacco tray. Suddenly the electric light went out,
she looked up startled, but the light soon e mi :
on again; at last, as if making up her mind, she
looked at Kwanichi and said : " Don't think me
interfering, but would it not be br.ter to leave
Wanibuchi at once and start independently ?
You might even leave to-morrow," she hesitated
embarrassed, "I ..I... can't do much, but I will
help you all I can. Won't you do so? "
Kwanichi was astonished at the unexpected
["
Mr. *
ire t f her busiress. lie stared at her and said
" What do you mean by that? "
Mitsue stammered : " I can't explain, but I
thought you would unders'aud mj. Do you
suppose I want to stay with Akagashi forever ?
That's what I mean."
"I do not understand you at all " replied
Kwanichi.
' Pon't pretend," said Mitsue, angrily twisting
the tobacco between her fingers.
" Excuse me," said he coldly, " I will continue
my dinrer," he drew the rice-box nearer to him-
self; Mitsue seized it.
" I will wait upon you if that is what you want."
She pulled the rice box to her side upset the rice
bowl and pushed them both to the wall.
" It is still early," she said, " please take another
cup."
" I really cannot," he replied, " I have already
a headache, and I am hungry."
" You think it hard if I will not give you rice
when you are hungry."
" Naturally."
" Well it is far harder for me when you will not
understand my wishes ; if you are really h -ngry I
L"7]
(Poll) Xfmoit.
will fill the rice cup for you, but first you must
give an answer to my suggestion."
" I can't answer you, for I do not understand
your meaning."
" You do not understand >" said she, staring him
full in the face. He returned the stare defiantly and
then continued :" You say you will supply me with
fuads, when you know we are not on such intimate
terms as to make it possible, and when I ask your
meaning you say you will leave your house too.
Bah ! give me some rice."
" You are cruel, you can't accept my help. Then
you are displeased with me."
"It is not that," he returned. " But how can I
take money from one who is not in any way con-
nected with me ? "
" Have you engaged yourself to any other
party ? " she asked.
. Kwanichi, thinking that now Mitsue would
drop the mask, still affected to misunderstand
her ;
" You talk very strangely," he said.
" If there is no one else I have a request to
make to you." was her answer.
[118]
CHAPTER V
tells fn$
KWANICHI was now quite determined what
to do.
" I quite understand you, now," he said.
" Ah ! you have understood, have you ? "
A happy look came over her face, as she hastily
drained the last remnants ot sake in her cup, and
held it out to Kwanichi.
" More sake ? "
" Positively, yes."
Her manner was so pressing that he took the
cup in spite of himself. Before he well knew
what she was doing she had filled the little cup to
the brim.
He could not put the cup down, so he drained
it off in one gulp. Mitsue's face beamed with joy.
" The cup had not been washed, you know."*
Kwanichi felt his patience ebbing away before
the woman's persistent use of these covertly signi-
ficant phrases.
* In the customary exchange of saVe cups they are always
washed out between the drinks. But with lovers and imimate
friends this formality is dispensed with.
["9]
JlK &ol* Teuton.
" \Vhy don't you answer me,' I, " it you
understand my meaning ? "
" If that is what you want," was his answer,
" the matter had better rest as it is," said Kwan-
ichi, lapsing into silence.
Mitsue's ardour had received a rebuff. She
waited in patience for him to make the next move,
but he hold his peace. Presently she found her-
self constrained to speak.
" I ought never to have broached so delicate a
subject. I know that quite well. But having
once done so, I cannot allow the matter to rest
here."
Kwanichi gave a slow nod.
" Being a woman, I ought never to speak on
such a topic at all if I could help it. But if you
disapprove of what I have done, will you please
give me your reasons, so that I may the more
easily reconcile myself to your refusal ? I did not
speak merely to give you amusement."
" You are quite right," replied Kwanichi. " I
confess that I felt it somewhat of a compliment to
be addressed in that way, and by you : and I will
show my recognition 01 your kindness by speaking
to you frankly, without any reserve. But you
must remember that 1 am an eccentric fellow, and
[I20j
t ttll bi$ tort).
that my way of looking at things is peculiar to
myself.
" In the first place, I intend never to get mar-
ried. As you perhaps know, I used to be a
student. I broke off my studies half-way through
my course, not because I had gone to the bad, nor
yet because I was short of funds. If I had
taken up with business because I was tired of my
books, there are man}- trades nicer than the usurer's
that I might have chosen. Why indeed should I
choose to be a usurer, a wicked, inhuman trade,
not unlike that of the sneak thief or burglar, which
not only robs others of their money, but oneself of
honour which should be dearer than life ?
Mitsue listened with attention and became sober.
" It is not merely an injustice," continued
Kwanichi, " it is a positive crime ; and this is not
the first day that I have made the discovery. I
walked into this pit with my eyes open, because
I was at the time in such an agony 01" despair and
grief that I wanted to kill a certain person and then
put an end to myself. My whole sorrow came
from having put my confidence in certain people
whom I thought worthy ot a confidence to which
they certainly had a claim. Hut self-interest came
[121]
Xftc olb Ttmon.
in their way and they broke their promises and
betrayed me "
There was a gleam in his eye as he tried to
evade the light of the lamp. It was a glistening
tear, brought to his eye by the recollection of his
old yet ever recent sorrow.
" The world, " he went on, " is a very unreliable
place. My friends sinned against me cruelly all
because ol money, and it was for filthy lucre that
they betrayed me. A man, as I was then, to be
betrayed for money ! It was a grief which I shall
never forget, as long as I live But that's just
the way of the world. It is either treacherous or
illusory, either illusory or selfish and always
disgusting Perhaps you will wonder why, if I
find the world so disgusting, I don't kill myseh. I
will tell you. I can't die by my own hand because
of my leeling of resentment. I don't mean by that
that I mean to have my revenge on them. Not
at all, it is because of the feeling ol resentment in
myself, caused by the pain I once had i<> suffer.
I mean to conquer that resentment, which is driv-
ing me mad, and I can only do it by steeling and
hardening my heart. This trade ot yours, the
usurer's, which demands the hard heart of a
murderer, is just the trade for a madman like my-
[122]
i tcllf l)i* 2tor).
self. Money was the beginning of my sorrow : 1
was betrayed because I had no money : I can
avenge myself by getting money, and this thought
nukes me enjoy money, getting even though it be
by the abandonment of humane and righteous
principles. And now that I have placed all my
hopes on money, I have no more thoughts of love
or honour. Money is the most reliable thing in
the world. The heart of friends may change :
money never does.
" Now, you will see how I stand. Actuated by
the motives I have just mentioned, I have many
uses for the funds you propose to put at my dis-
posal, but for yourself, a mere human agent, I
have none at all."
He was laughing when he finished his speech
and looked up, but his face was full of anger all
the same.
Mitsue was convinced that he had told her the
truth about himself, for she knew that lie was
eccentric, and eccentricity must shew itself some-
how. But she was also of the opinion that
Kwanichi had never known the sweetness of love,
and that tor this reason he had closed his heart
against a world which, as far as he knew it, was
nothing but a mass of deception, perfidy, and sell-
Itjr <ttolB Xrmoii.
interest. She proposed to herself to give him a
little instruction, and felt confident that she would
not in the end be disappointed in her pupil.
"Then you are afraid," she said, "of trusting
yourself to me, either."
" Afraid or not afraid that is a secondary
matter. The main tiling is that ever since my
disappointment I have hated the world and disliked
my fellow-creatures."
" Would you feel the same if there were some
one who loved you very dearly as dearly as
life ? "
" Of course I should. I loathe the thing you
call love or affection."
" Even if you knew that some one loved you as
dearly as life ? "
" Yes." There are no tears in a usurer's eyes.
Mitsue was quite at sea, for a while, like a
mariner in waters where there are no islands to
flee to.
" Please -give me some rice," he said laconically.
Mitsue filled the bowl and handed it to him.
" I am sorry to trouble you," he said, as he
took it from her. He ate as though quite uncon-
scious of her presence. 1 lis face was still Hushed
A-ith the wine, bin she was soberly pensive.
[M4]
fttaoiittlji tfll bi Storl).
" Won't you have sonic, too? " he asked as he
his tlii-rd bowl-ful from her hands.
Presently, Milsue cried out abruptly : " Hazama-
San.
Kwanichi's mouth was full at the moment, so
that he could not reply, but simply looked up at
her.
" What I have told you to da)'," she continued,
" lias been on my mind for a very long time, and
I have always feared that you might not give
your consent. I was hardly prepared for so flat
a refusal and I cannot tell you how deeply
ashamed I am of myself."
She took out her handkerchief to wipe her tears
- they were tears of resentment.
" I cannot rise from my seat, I am so full of
shame, Mr. Hazama. Please pity me."
Kwanichi looked coldly at her.
" I might perhaps pity you, if you were the only
person I disliked, but don't take it ill of me if I
say so I dislike all men. Won't you take some
rice ? By the way, what about Ume Oguruma ? "
Mitsue made no answer, but her eyes were red
with tears
" You s lid you wanted to speak with me about
him."
[125]
Ilje Oolfi Xcmon.
" Never mind about him, Mr. Hazama. It is
the other matter that I cannot get out of my mind.
I can't give up thinking of you. If you say you
dislike it I can't help it but please don't forget
please remember that I love you dearly."
" I will. That I promise."
" Ah ! you will give me some more kind
words ? "
" I will remember."
" No, not that. Can't you say a warmer word
than that? "
" I will never forget your wishes. That ought
to satisfy you."
But Mitsue, without a word, rose from her seat
and, taking Kwanichi unawares, threw her arms
round him, pleading, " Please don't forget."
Words and gestures were alike emphatic, but
Kwanichi shook her off with equal emphasis
Mitsue at once retired to her seat, and clapped her
hands for the maid.
CHAPTKR VI
EVERY( >XK knew his " Lordship the Photo-
grapher " as he was called : he lived near
Hikawa, Akasaka, and he had earned his nickname
by always carrying a camera with him, even in his
carriage.
With his intelligence, learning, sense, and tact,
he was well qualified to take up a prominent posi-
tion in the political world, and to be a great addition
to the House oi P.eers ; but he preferred retirement,
he was a great student, having in Germany during
five years' residence there, acquired a love of
books and scholarly life. He cared nothing for
the world, or for money : he was a wealthy man
but spent comparatively little, his income Being
about five times the amount of his expenditure,
such was Viscount YoshihariuTazumi.
Side by side with an old-fashoned mansion with
a roof in ancient Chinese style, stood a brick three
storied building which had been erected by the
Viscount soon after his return from Germany, in
imitation it was said of an old castle in that
country. In this building he had his library,
[127]
olfi cmon.
study, and sitting rooms, and spent his time there,
taking great pleasure in pictures, engravings, and
music, and now especially in photography. II-
wns now thirty-four years old but obstinately
refused to marry. Although he would not follow
the usual customs cf the nobility in his home lite ;
but went in and out unattended, still he had nil
the appearance of a Daimyo of high rank, he was
a handsome man of fair complexion, of good nose,
and fine eyes, with an aristocratic look about him.
The former retainers of his clan were proud of
their Lords having been all handsome generation
after generation.
The number of proposals of good matches was
therefore as numerous as the threads a spicier
spins to catch a butterfly, but craftily as they v.
spun, he escaped from them all, refusing to listen
to aH*counsels of marriage, and sturdily maintain-
ing his principles of celibary.
The fact was however that during his stay in
Germany he had fallen in love with the daughter
of a colonel in the German army. He had spent
m.uiy happy hours with her, for his affection \v;is
returned and in his last visit to her in a moonlight
row on the hike together, the}' had sworn to be
faithful to e;u ii other.
[128]
Itjc irouut
On his return home he had begged the permis-
sion of his mother to marry this girl, but she had
indignantly refused an alliance for the House 01
Tazumi with barbarians. They were more despic-
able than the I'.ta (a class of people who deal in
skins and are considered the pariahs Oi Japan).
She considered her son's conduct disgraceful ; she
took it so much to heart that she finally fell ill, and
Tazumi, finding nothing could be done for the
present, could only write comforting letters to the
German girl, begging her to have patience, and
assuring her of a happy future. The young lady
bore her sorrows for three years ; but in the
autumn of the preceding year, hopeless of seeing her
lover again, she had died broken-hearted, glad to
leave a world in which she had had so much sorrow.
When Tazumi learnt that he would never see his
beloved one again his grief nearly drove him crazy :
he shut himseil up in his rooms, denied himself to
everyone, brooding over his loss, his most precious
treasure being a picture of the girl of nineteen
which she had drawn herself and sent him.
The Viscount tried to divert his mind with idle
pleasures. Me would spend thousands of yen on a
photographic apparatus with which he would amuse
himself, wasting his time and his money on triiies.
$tmon.
Fortunately he had a wise steward, Motoo
Kuroyanagi by name, who notwithstanding his
lord's extravagances managed his affairs so well
that the House of Tazumi was saved from ruin.
One piece of business that the steward engaged
in was lending capital to usurers. As he could
easily lend from one to ten thousand at a time,
there was hardly a usurer that did not apply to
him when negotiating loans larger than usual.
Hut the steward pursued a prudent policy : he
would not let himself be carelessly tempted by too
high gains, and, from the beginning, all the funds sup-
plied were lent through one man Tadayuki Wani-
buchi, one of the former retainers of the House of
Tazumi. The steward had no direct dealings with
usurers, all business was carried on through Wani-
buchi, so that, although the other traders had no
doubt that Wanibuchi had a capitalist behind him,
scarcely any one knew who it was.
Wanibuchi was formerly, as I have said, a poor
retainer. He had a very insignificant office, but, as
he was a clever man, after the abolition of the
clan system he got a small civil appointment ; after-
wards he was employed by a business firm. At one
time he had an agency for the purchase and sale of
houses or land, at another he speculated on the rice
[130]
exchange, ahvays showing his sharpness, although
not succeeding in obtaining any pecuniary success.
At last, he applied for the post of a policeman ;
here he rose in favour with his superiors and was
made a sergeant. But he had come to the conclu-
sion that " Money is power," and with the savings
he had made in the police service, about three
hundred odd yen, he started as a usurer.
Taking advantage of the comparative ignorance
of people, he deceived, coerced, oppressed, only
just keeping out ol the clutches ot the law, and at
last by these means found himself in the possession
of funds amounting to five or six thousand yen,
accumulated by grinding the poor. Then he was
so lucky as to find a backer in Kuroyanagi, so
that at the present time he had money in circula-
tion amounting to several tens of tl^usands of yen.
Half of the gains thus obtained Kuroyanagi would
place to his master's credit and the other half. he
put in his o,wn pocket. Wanibuchi had 01 course
his profit too : thus the money profited three
people, by which means the non-productiveness of
his Lordship was amply compensated for by the
services of the six-armed* steward.
A good fighter in a battle was in the olden time described
as having three faces and six amis.
Xfmon.
W.uiibuchi was the man, to whom Kwanichi in
his despair for the loss ot his love had sold him-
self. During four years he had been in Wanibuchi's
service, doing his devilish work. lie \vus given a
room upstairs, and although a servant in name, he
was treated as an honoured guest, and a valued
clerk and adviser. Kwanichi saw no reason to
leave him : he was sensible enough to see the
wisdom oi remaining where he was for the present,
and to save his small capital until a good opportuni-
ty offered for establishing his own business, rather
than risk his savings by too premature attempts at
independence.
It was not only his ability that had gained for
him Wanibuchi's confidence. But young as he was,
his master noticed his steadiness. He did not run
after women, nor drink, nor waste his time in indol-
ence, lie performed all his duties faithfully and
quietly, with no brag or conceit. I lis master
esteemed him highly, and was in truth somewhat
in awe of him. As lu: gradually learnt to know
Kwanichi's character he, often wondered why he
had adopted the ignoble business 01 a usurer
Kwanichi, on entering his service, had said nothing
of his past life, nor of the disappointment which had
driven him to despair ; even the fact thai he had
Tftf 2>i*count
been a High School student Wanibuchi did
not discover for some time. He however made
much of him, promising in the future to establish.
Kwanichi in a branch orifice of his own business
and to help him in every way. Wanibuchi was
now fifty-one years ot age and his .wife O Mine
five years younger : she, unlike her husband who
was so hard-hearted that he cared not a pin lor
the sorrow he often brought on people, was,
though not exactly tender hearted, still, kindly, and
of a good disposition. She saw that Kwanichi,
though often eccentric, was truthful and honest,
and though he showed no loveable side to her,
still there was nothing to dislike in him, and
accordingly she looked after him and he had her
best wishes for his welfare.
Kwanichi ought really to have felt happy at this
time. For although he had, in his hatred of man-
kind, chosen the way of Three Evils, as the
Buddhists say, and was determined to avenge the
injuries he had received by a merciless treatment
of others in which case lie had resolved to suffer
a hundred trials and a thousand difficulties, now,
contrary to his expectation, he had received gen-
erous confidence and warm sympathy. This should
have been a joy to him in the midst of his sorrow,
[133]
Semon.
but did he accept it as such ? No : Kwanichi, who
was willing to bear any ill-treatment, could not
believe that this would last, but was continually
anticipating the time when greed and self-interest
would rob him of the kindness and sympathy he
now enjoyed.
[134]
CHAPTER VII
Unpleasant
A MONG Wanjbuchi's debtors was a man con-
** nected with a certain political party, who
was famous for his skill in borrowing money. He
owed the usurer 3,000 yen principal and interest
which had been accumulating for three-yeans, but
all the cunning and experience of Wanibuchi were
not sufficient to get the money out of him. Not a
few usurers had been baffled, by him, and Wani-
buchi hated him for being so unmanageable that
even an iron lever would have broken in trying to
move him.
But although it was useless, the usurer could
not leave him to himself, but periodically went or
sent to him, that he might have the satisfaction of
at least abusing him. With this object in view
Kwanichi had been sent to him as Wanibuclu's
deputy the day before, with instructions to give it
to him well.
Kwanichi however did not come off scathless ;
after wrangling for four hours, the man, finding
Kwanichi, whom he had at first despised as a green
horn, not to be browbeaten, drew the blade from a
[135]
Wolfc Tfmon.
sword-cane lying ii r >nt of him and brandishing it
in front of Kwanich.'^ nose, swore he would not let
him depart alive. Kwanichi received this threat
with unflinching calmness, whereupon some poli-
tical roughs (sos/if) who were present, fell upon him
with blows and turned him out of the house.
He returned home, slightly wounded, and being
naturally of a nervous excitable temperament was
unable to sleep all night. The next morning he
felt ill, took a holiday and remained in his room. It
was always his way when he had gone through
unpleasant scenes, as this one had been, to feel
wretched the next day. His brain felt tired, his
heart sore and restless, he was angry with himself
ior losing his temper, reproached himself, and was
generally obliged to take a day off, being fit for
nothing. He often felt that he was unfitted for the
trade of a usurer : he was too sensitive and too fine-
feeling. Wanibuchi had often laughed that during
the first year of Wanibuchi's service he had more
holidays than work.
Of course he gradually got more accustomed to
the business, but his heart was never in it. He
simply learnt to disguise his feelings and put up
with it. One reason for this was that it served to
divert his mind from the anger and resentment he
In
(Srpcrifnec*.
still felt at the way his love had been treated ;
anything that made him forget that for the time
being was bearable. Notwithstanding, he often
repented for the cruel things his trade forced him to
do, and the insults he received so rankled in his
mind that he was still often obliged to take a day's
holiday to recover.
It was a fine autumn day, clear and invigorating.
The blue sky, with fleecy white clouds floating
dreamily by, added to the beauty of the day. The
sun sent his golden rays through the paper slides
of an upstairs room facing south, in which lay
Kwanichi, his tall lean form stretched on the bed.
His cheeks were pale and hollow, and his face,
turned sideways, showed in the sharp profile how
very thin he was.
His eyes had a sad look under the heavy eye-
brows. He lay quite still leaning on his elbows, and
supporting his head, till suddenly, as if impatient
of his thoughts, he turned over, took up the news-
paper lying near him, and, barely glancing at it,
tossed it impatiently away and threw himself on
his back. Footsteps were heard ascending the
stairs : Kwanichi lay motionless with his eyes shut.
Some one pushed back the sliding screen and
entered : it was the mistress of the house. Kwan-
2)fmon.
ichi sat up hastily in bed, but she bade him lie still
and seated herself at his desk.
" I have made some black tea for you and boiled
you some chestnuts, please help yourself."
She placed the basket with the chestnuts and
the tea at his bedside.
" How do you feel ? " she continued.
"Thank you," Kwanichi replied, " I am really
not ill enough to take to my bed, Madam. It is
very kind of you to bring me this refreshment."
" Help yourself before it gets cold."
With a bow he raised the cup to his lips.
" And when did the master go out ? "
" Earlier than usual this morning : he said he
was going to Hikawa." The answer was given in
a disdainful tone but Kwanichi did not appear to
notice it.
" Oh, indeed ? " he said. " Has he gone to see
Kuroyanagi-san ? "
" Who knows ? " answered O Mine sneeringly.
The sun shining on her face showed unmercifully
the fine wrinkles, and the thin hair, neatly
arranged in a. want mage (style of a married
woman), not a hair being out of place. Her face
was somewhat red, with a few pockmarks, and she
had a habit of compressing her lips. Saying her
[133]
Un|)ffn$attt (trprrirnre*.
teeth were bad, she hud dyed them black and they
shone with the lustre of a crow's feather.
She wore a thin woollen kimono and, as it was
somewhat chilly, had put on over it a Iiaori of
crape which had evidently been dyed.
Kwanichi could not pretend again to misunder-
stand her, so he quietly said, " What do you
mean ? "
O Mine was tying and untying the cords of her
haori, apparently hesitating whether to confide in
Kwanichi or not. He did not press for an answer,
but, taking a chestnut from the basket, began peel-
ing it. After a slight pause, she said :
" Are there not bad reports about that Akagashi
Beauty ? Have you not heard any ? "
" Bad reports ? " said he hesitatingly.
" Yes, that she sets traps for men and gets
money out of them."
Kwanichi involuntarily nodded. He probably
recollected his experience of an evening or two
before : "I never heard of it, and I don't think
it is true ; for she has plenty of money, and so has
no need to get more."
" You are wrong then : there is no limit to
wanting money ; but you belong to the Beirosha
[139]
WoiD Xmon.
' r,* so you do not understand, but I hive
heard these reports."
Kwanichi continued his occupation, but O Mine,
noticing his silence, took the chestnut from his
hand saying : " Give it to me, if you peel it that
way there will be nothing left to eat."
She felt she could talk better with her hands
occupied, so, picking out a large chestnut, she
commenced peeling it.
* " Beirosha Society'' means too stupid to know anything
of love affairs. Beirosha is a corrupt Sanskrit phrase often used
in Huddhist chants.
[I40]
CHAPTER VIII
" l^vON'T you think she looks the kind of woman
*-^ to do such things ? " she began again.
" She would not tempi you, for you have a strong
character ; but don't you think it is very dangerous
to have dealings with her for people who are not
so strong ? "
" Is she really like that ? " said Kwanichi.
" I wonder you have not heard of it," said
O Mine. " I have often ; all kinds of people have
told me about her."
" There may be such rumours," he replied, " but
they have not reached my ears ; though of course
it may be the case."
She drew a little nearer to him : " What I am
going to say to you I cannot speak of to any one
else, but I have known you now many years and
you are like.one of the family, so I must tell you
a serious difficulty has arisen, and I am puzzled
what to do for the best."
( ) Mine's hand which held the knife trembled
slightly: "This chestnut is very wormy, look
here." She took another, and began peeling it
[Mi]
2ljt CMD Teuton.
slowly, then looking at Kwanichi she said imnres-
sively : " What I am about to say is quite con-
fidential, you understand."
K \vanichi assured her of his descretion and she
continued, involuntarily dropping her voice :
" For a long time, from different signs and liule
things I have noticed in my husband, I have had
my suspicious that he has some intrigue with the
Akagashi Beauty."
She ceased peeling the chestnut, and Kwanichi
burst out laughing :
" Nonsense ! "
" You need not believe me, but I am his wife
and I am sure it is true."
.nichi asked thoughtfully :
" How old is your husband ? "
" Oh ! quite an old man, fifty-one."
He thought again.
" Have you any proof? "
" Proof? I have no letter that she has written
to him or anything like that, but you may depend
on it."
Kwanichi remained silent as she seemed so
positive, looking down and meditating on the
matter. (.) Mine continued peeling the chestnuts
and after a pause said slowly :
C SWint'fl
" It is a man's privilege, as the saying is, that if
he can afford it, he is entitled to indulge in con-
cubines or any other little pleasures If he kept
a geisJia or a concubine in a separate house I
should say nothing. But, in the first place, Aka
gashi-san has a lawful husband of her own, and
being such a clever woman, and not a common
creature, this makes me more troubled about
it. This is not jealousy on my part, nothing so
simple as that ; but if he continues this connection,
what will become of us ? That is my trouble ;
my husband is a clever man, so what can he be
thinking about ? There was something strange
about him when he went out this morning. I don't
believe he went to Hikawa."
She looked hard at Kwanichi but as he made
no sign she continued :
" You see too how dandified he is now-a-days.
This morning he had on everything new, just from
the tailor, f/aori, t >/>/&c. Quite a fop. He wouldn't
dress himself like that to visit Hikawa. I am sure
he did not go there "
" If this is a fact," said Kwanichi, " of course, he
ought not to have any connection with her, and I
am sure you must be troubled about it."
" I am not talking out of jealousy," said O Mine,
Q}oft> 2rmou.
" but out of real consideration for my husband, for
she is a bad person to have dealings with."
Kwanicht thought it over, but he was not in the
least convinced of the truth of her suspicious.
" How long has this been going on ? "
" Not long," she replied. " No\v I want you to
do me a favour. I intend to warn my husband,
but I can do nothing without some definite proof,
and it is impossible for me, sitting at home, to get it."
" Exactly," said Kwanichi.
" As I have speci.il confidence in you I want
you to try and find out for me the real facts. If
you had been feeling well to-day I was going to ask
you to do something for me ; it is unlucky,
isn't it?"
It was tantamount to bidding him go ; black
tea and chestnuts ! Kwanichi smiled as he thought
how cheap the bribe was.
" Never mind, tell me your request," he
answered.
"Really?" said she, and her face brightened,
" Oh ! it is too bad to trouble you to-day."
" No, please tell me what you want." On seeing
his prompt consent she felt a little ashamed, think-
ing too late that black tea and chestnuts were
rather a. poor reward.
[144]
int's $ro;io*itioH.
" Well then, will you <> to Hikawa for me ? go
to Kuroyanagi-san and find out if my husband
went there to-day, and at what time, and when he
left. I feel sure he did not go there ; but if you
make sure, then I shall have detected him."
" I will go then," said Kwanichi.
He rose from his bed, and she left the room,
saying she would order a jinrikisJia.
Left alone, Kwanichi dressed and thought the
matter over ; as he went downstairs he muttered
to himself:
" Forsaken by my betrothed, failed to graduate
at the University, a clerk to a usurer, and now the
spy of the usurer's wife."
A bitter smile overspread his features as he
thought of his position.
[145.]
ClIAPTKK i X
of tlyc Usurer.
KWANICHI arrived in his jinrikislta at the
house of Mr. Kuroyanagi which was on the
premises of the Viscount Tazumi. The entrance
to Kuroyanagi's residence was by the bick gate of
the compound : it occupied a fairly large space
close to the big mansion, and was surrounded
by a flowering hedge. It was an old-fashioned
two-storied building ; but in contrast to its plain
exterior, it was built of vciy fine timber, which was
in reality some of the wood taken from the old
mansion, at the time or' its re-building, by the
present owner.
As both Kwanichi and his master wished to
avoid notice when visiting Kuroyanagi, they used
the little side entrance instead of the front door.
On arriving Kwanichi looked for, but could not
see, any foot-gear in the entrance belonging to his
master ; and wondered if he had already returned,
or if he had, as O Mine suspected, not been there
at all Thus thinking, he called* out, but no one
* A Japaivrsa house lias neither knocker nor bell, a visitor
stands in the outer hull and calls Gomen tiasai, Excuse me.
[ M 6]
v V,i 3fnr;D of tljr Uinrrr.
came : lie called again, and he could hear the well-
known voice of the mistress of the home calling
to the servant to answer the do.>r. As she did not
come the lady appeared herself:
"Oh please come in!" she said. " You come
at a very good time."
She was a woman of about fifty with grey hair,
dreadfully thin, in fact a perfect skeleton, the only
thing noticeable about her being her large eyes
and a loud and harsh voice, which startled people
when it came from such a small body.
With a polite bow, Kwanichi replied, "Thank
you, Madam. I cannot come in as I am in a hurry,
I only wanted to know if Mr. Wanibuchi had been
here to-day ? "
" No, he has not ; but my husband has been
saying he wanted to see you. He is at present
with the Viscount, but I will send for him if you
will come in and wait a moment."
Kwanichi entered and seated himself near* the
door of the parlour The lady called the maid, who
was at the well, and sent her to fetch her master ;
she then brought out a tobacco box and some tea,
and retired into a back room.
When Kwanichi cogitated over his mission as a
* To sit near the door is a mark of humility.
Ilje Wo!D
detective, in a few moments the maid returned
out of bre.ith, and Mrs. Kuroyanagi in her hoarse
voice told him that her husband was unable to
leave the Viscount's house and begged Kwanichi
to go there, as the iruid would show him the way.
1 1 took leave ot his hostess and prepared to
follow the maid, a bright looking girl of about
twenty-years of age. She led him round the hedge,
through a lane which opened into the grounds of
the Viscount. Behind three store houses was a
wide pathway, overshadowed by tall trees, which
led up to the kitchen. Smoke was ascending
from the chimney and the smell of sake and food
preparing, together with servants trooping to and
fro, made him suspect that his Lordship was enter-
taining guests. He passed through the kitchen
ard was ushered into a room which he thought
must be Kuroyanagi's office.
[148]
CHAPTER X
in tf
SHIZUO, the daughter of the Kuroyanagis
went daily to the Viscount's as an attendant.*
She had been specially summoned that morning
to entertain a lady-guest, and to see that every
thing \vas done to please her.
Shizuo was now conducting her to the third story
of the foreign building to see the view.
The lady was elegantly dressed in an underskirt
of pink silk gauze over which she wore a grey
crepe kimono, and a green satin obi embroidered
with gold. Her hair was dressed very high with
a long coral pin as ornament, and a gold lacquer
comb.
Shizuo, who was ascending the stairs in front
of her, could not resist stealing a glance at the
beautiful figure, 'stumbled and fell up the stairs
with a great noise. She was not hurt, but dreadfully
ashamed of her clumsiness, and afraid she had
startled the lady. She blushed and apologised: the
* It is the custom for the daughters of middle class families to
be sent to the houses of the nobility to be trained : they occupy the
position of humble friends and not unfrequcmly of confidantes.
(Bolto Xrmoit.
1 u!y smiled an 1 said she hoped she had not hurt
herself. Then, noticing that the girl's obi had got
loose, she called to her to wait, and fastened it for
Shi/uo was overwhelmed at the condescension
of ;he beautiful lady, and was reminded of a
e in " The Precepts for Women," which
ither used to read to her. " Not even robes
of five gorgeous colours should be regarded as
the glory of a woman, but chastity, obedience, and
uprightness. Shizuo felt that this lady would be
the realization of this precept ; for, although so
beautifully dressed, she did not seem vain at all,
but was kind-hearted and gracious.
Upon reaching the third floor, Shizuo drew the
curtains back from the window and flung it open :
" Will you come here?" she said, ''You will have
a very fine view."
" Oh, what a lovely view of Fuji, and what a
delicious scent, hive you jnokusci* in the garden?"
The air was pure and ivlivshing, as it often is
in au'umn, with that feeling of exhilaration and
buoyancy ; the rays of the sun shone on the figure
01 the lady : and she looked like a pure white
flower set i:i a v;i.sc wlrch enhanced her beauty.
* .'/( '/.-/ a sweet smeliing flowering tree.
[150]
the Jvigurc in tfte Gtar&rn.
Shlzuo could not help staring at her, and felt
herself strangely attracted. Her eyes how bright,
and what a kind look in them ! The eyebrows
delicately arched, mouth like a rosebud, hair thick
and glossy, the figure slight as though a breath
would blow her away, the contour of the face a
little too thin, giving her an appearance of sadness.
ShiZuo was by no means a bad-looking girl, but
beside this vision of beauty she was but a humble
flower, growing in the grass, at her feet.
"What a happy woman she must be," said Shizuo
to herself, " not only beautiful but graced with
womanly virtue ; and then, to crown it all, wealth.
She has a gold watch, coral pins, rings on her
fingers : she could ride in a carriage if she wished ;
some women are beautiful but poor, others ugly
but rich, but to be both beautiful, amiable, and
rich was as good as being born a man/'
Shizuo could not even feel envious. The lady
was so far above her that she felt no jealousy.
Stupidly staring at her, she forgot to offer her the
binocular she had brought with her to enable her
to see the view. The Viscount had brought the
glass with him from France. It was a very pretty
one of mother of pearl, and very powerful. She now
offered it to the lady, who was delighted with it :
[151]
Wolft Ttmon.
"Oh, look ! " s:\id she, " there is a flag, and you
can sec the colours distinctly, and a crow perching
on tl}e top of the flag-staff seems so near one
might touch it."
" They say," replied Shi/.uo, " that a glass like
this is rare even in the West ; when I look
through it I wish I could hear the people talking,
things look so near, it seems as if we ought to hear
the voices and sounds."
" It one could hear all the sounds it would be a
dreadful confusion," said the lady and they both
laughed.
As Shizuo was accustomed to entertain visitors,
although she seemed shy at first, she soon found
plenty of topics for conversation.
" When I was first allowed to use this glass,"
said she, " his Lordship teased me a great (.leal.
He told me to put the glass to my ear as s< >< >n as I
saw anything ; and if I did it quickly he said 1
should hear the sound, and even the voice. I
tried many times, but, of course, I heard nothing.
Then all his attendants, and even the family tried ;
he used to say we were not quick enough, and
one of the servants, trying 1o do it quickly.
himself such a blow on the car that it began to
-I."
[152J
ftiflitre in tfte ffiartoen.
The lady found this story very comical, and
Shizuo, seeing she was interested, brought her a
chair, and then continued ;
" Then his Lordship held it to his own ear,
" Dear me !" he said, " What is the matter with my
glass ? " he looked so sorrowful that we quite
believed him. "I could hear quite well when I was
in France : it must be the clirmte of Japan does not
suit it, something in the atmosphere." \Ve all
believed it, and some of us kept trying for about a
year.
" His Lordship must be full of fun. I suppose
he often does amusing things."
" Not lately, lie often feels ill and looks sad."
The lady, who knew that the picture in his study
was the reason of this, suddenly looked pensive.
After a pause she rose, and holding the glass again
to her eyes, looked in a desultory way at nearer
objects. She noticed a tree and was wondering at
the fruit she saw, when she saw a tall figure between
the branches that seemed familiar ; tightening her
grasp of the glass, she hastily wiped it, and applied
it again to her eyes She saw the figure and
another one beside it. It had black hair and a bald
forehead : it was the Steward whom she had seen
a shore time before.
{f$.V!
Ilji olb Trmon.
The other man had thick eyebrows and some
scars and looked about thirty. She knew him, how
could she forget him ? The glass trembled in her
fingers.
For four long years she had thought of him,
longed, yet feared, to see him ; that last sight oi
him in the moonlight at Atami had never left her
memory. He had indeed haunted her : on stormy
rainy nights she had prayed for his safety ; yet,
with all her longing and affection, Miya (for it was
she) had never heard of him in all that time. And
now, as she looked, she wondered what anxieties
had made him look so old.
He seemed to be poor, for his clothes looked
shabby ; and she wondered if he had friends to
help him. As she looked tears filled her eyes :
her emotion overcame her and although she felt
Shizuo's eyes were on her, she was obliged to
press her handkerchief to her streaming eyes.
" Oh dear ! what is the matter ? " said Shi/uo in
astonishment.
" Oh, nothing. When I stare at things too long,
it makes me giddy and my eyes water."
" Please sit down and I will massage your head."
" Thank you : but I shall soon recover if I keep
quiet. Would you fetch me a glass ot water ? "
[154]
tvinre in tljt
Shizuo turned to fetch it, when the lady siid,
" Don't say anything of this to any one please ; it
is nothing serious."
The moment she was alone she seized the glass
again, but her eyes were too misty to see : so she
sank back in the chair and indulged in bitter
weeping.
[155
CHAPTER XI
mccttitfi
MIYA, now Mrs. Tomiyama, l)ad been invited
with her husband to Viscount Tazumi's,
and while the two men were talking together, she
had wandered forth to see the house and garden.
Viscount Tazumi and Tomiyama were both
members of the Japan Photographic Society, and
this had produced a certain amount of intimacy
between them. Tomiyama had been very anxi-
ous to get acquainted with the Viscount ; but his
endeavours for some time were fruitless. Tazumi
had not considered his acquaintance desirable ; but
circumstances had unavoidably thrown them to-
gether, and the Viscount had accepted an invitation
to Tomiyama's house in Shiba, ostensibly to criti-
cise an old' picture, which the latter fondly hoped
was by an old master. The entertainment to-day
was in return for the same.
The other Members of the Photographic
Society, seeing Tomiyama's efforts to curry favour
with Tazumi, put them down to a wish to get
something out of him ; but in this they were
mistaken. Tomiyama chose his friends by a certain
ttn uttrrtirctrb
standard : they were ahvays his superiors in some-
thing eitlier rank, fame, or wealth. But he did
not necessarily take advantage of them, he only
wished to shine in their reflected glory. In con-
sequence oi tli is, he had only acquaintances, no
real friends. There was not one among them all to
whom he could take his sorrows : acquaintances
are good for pleasures, but there were none on
whom he could rely. His friends were, as the
saying is, " brethren in sak$ and meat ". Terhaps
he applied the same principle to his wife, for was
she not now shedding bitter tears lor a usurer's
clerk ?
We left Miya weeping ior her lost love. When
she heard footsteps on the stairs she hurriedly
wiped her eyes, and rising trom her seat walked
round the table, holding her head with her hands.
She then drank the water Shizuo brought, and
declared she felt better. She looked from the
window, and pointing to the place where she had
seen Kvvanichi, asked if that also was a part 01 the
grounds.
Shizuo replied in the affirmative, and told her
she resided with her parents in the two-storied
building visible from the window ; whereupon
Miya expressed a wisli to visit that part, and then
Tfje
casually asked who the gentleman was who had
been talking with Shizuo's fatlier. Shi/.uo had no
knowledge ot Wanibuchi's business, so she merely
replied :
" i Ic is a clerk of Mr. Wanibuchi, an agent for
land a:ul houses, living in Bancho, and his name is
IIi/c:una or something like that. "Oh!" said
Miya, " Then I am probably mistaken. In what
part of Bancho did you say he lived ? "
" 1 believe it is Go-Bancho."
" Does he often come to your home ? "
" Yes, pretty often."
Miya now knew that Kwanichi lived in a certain
Wanibuchi's house in Go-Bancho, and hoped that
she might chance to see him ; but as the chance >
seemed rather remote she thought perhaps it
might be better to use the opportunity she now
had o. gazing once more on his dear face. They
could not exchange words, but no matter : it she
could but see him once more, him, tor whom her
heart had hungered during the last four years.
But was not the situation too risky ? lor her, a
guest in this noble house, accompanied by an
attendant, to meet a usurer's clerk, suppose some-
thing unexpected happened, she might disgrace
herself and her husband too. If the disgrace were
[158]
'."'.u untftiettrb
confined to herself she would not mind. There
was no necessity for her to see him to-day : she
resolved to give up the idea, but, notwithstanding
this, she begged Shizuo to take her just once
round. As they walked through the narrow lane,
Shizuo, pointing to her father's office, said :
" That is where my father's visitor is now."
Miya's heart beat rapidly, as it was only a few
minutes since they left the house he could not
possibly have left ; if he appeared, what would
happen ? She walked on dreamily, hardly hearing
Shizuo's remarks ; the latter began to get anxious
about the lady who had said she wished to see the
grounds ; but now, instead of looking about her,
drooped her head, and took hardly any notice of
anything.
" Do you still feel ill ? " said Shizuo pityingly.
" Not very," was the answer, " but I have a
pain at my heart."
That is bad, had you not better return to the
parlour? "
" I prefer being outdoors. Let us walk on. Is
this your house ? How pretty it is with the hedge
in full bloom."
Kuroyanagi's house stood at the end of the
grounds, so the visitor could go no farther.
[159]
Itjc WO:D Trmon.
Through the fence could be seen the well, clothe-
drying, chickens running about, a dog sleeping in
the sun. Miya was on the point of turning when
she suddenly thought that if she met Kwanichi in
this narrow lane, there would be no possible mea^s
ot avoiding meeting him face to face : she would
not mind that if she were alone, but the thought of
Shizuo's sharp eyes watching her was intolerable.
Kwanichi might pretend not to know her, but
meeting her suddenly he might betray his know-
ledge ol her. She broke out in a cold perspiration
at the thought of the possible rencontre, and asked
Shizuo it there was a side lane into which they
might go. But the reply was "no." Repenting
now that she had put herself in such a dangerous
position, she looked bewildered round for aa escape,
and hurried towards the corner of the store-house
in hopes to get behind it; but alas! a figure appear-
ed and there was no hope of avoiding the meeting.
Kwanichi, who was now on his way home with
some story to quiet O Mine's suspicions, was
walking quickly as in his college days, his felt hat
over his eyes, when the forms of the two women
arrested his look ; the one he knew to be Kuro-
yanagi's daughter, the other in elegant attire he
supposed to be a guest of the Viscount. As they
[160]
'.flu uncj'i'fftrb
drew nearer Kwanichi greeted Shizuo, Miya ke[)t
as close to the girl as possible to hide herself, but
her knees trembled and her heart beat tumultuously.
Kwanichi was replacing liis hat when his glance
tell on the figure of Miya, their eyes met. Yes, it
was Miya, the faithless Miya! Resentment and
rage filled his heart, he stared fixedly at her with
a look of iiate, she han'.ly knowing what she did,
felt only shame and yearning. It" he would take
her once more in his arms, he might torture or kill
her, she would not care ; but she made no sign,
and could only express her love with her eyes.
The little scene was* over in a moment, but it
lasted long enough to astonish Shizuo. She could
not understand it. She said nothing however till
they came to the entrance to the garden : then she
turned to Miya :
" You look very ill, will you not go back to the
parlour and rest ? "
" Do I look so ill then ? "
" Yes, you are deathly pale."
" I don't know what to do. If I return to the
parlour now, they will be alarmed at my looks,
perhaps I had better walk round once more before
returning : I am much obliged to you for all your
kindness." So saying Miya took a small gold ring-
[161]
Jlje CBoIb Xrmon.
Irom her finger and wrapping it in a piece of paper
begged her companion to accept it
Shizuo was much astonished and, half afraid, she
hesitated, but Miya, insisted adding, " Please do
not show it to any one, not even your father and
mother." They walked on in silence till they
came to the bridge and pond in front of the man-
sion : then hearing from the parlour her husband's
loud laugh, Miya tried to calm her feelings, but it
was impossible : the love which she had tried to
smother seemed to be stronger than ever from the
restraint she had been obliged to put on herself.
If she were only at home atone, she thought, but
to be oMiged to talk, laugh, and pretend to enjoy
herself! She bit her lip violently. They walked
on till they came to a little summer-house half
concealed among the bamboos, where Miya paused
and threw herself exhausted on the seat. Shizuo
stood leaning on the post till Miya, noticing her,
begged her to sit down too :
" You must be tired," said Miya: " tell me, do I
^ ill look ill?"
Not only was her face so pale, but her lower
lip was bleeding profusely.
"Oh dear," ejaculated Shizuo, "your lip is
bleeding. What have you done to it ? "
[162]
9ln
Miya pressed her handkerchief to her lip, and
taking out a small pocket mirror proceeded to ex-
amine herself. Her face looked so changed that
she was alarmed She thought scornfully of her
folly, and wondered how long she must wander in
the garden before she could dare present herself
to her husband.
CHAPTKK XII
Sl'hUKNLY a woman's voice \vas luard from
the other side of a little grassy mound calling,
" Shizuo-san, Shizuo-san."
She ran lonvard and disappeared in the trees.
Soon returning she bowed to Miya and said :
" They have been impatiently waiting a long
time for you in the parlour : will you kindly return
at once ? "
" Oh ! Are they ?" she replied, " We have been
playing truant too long."
Shizuo chose a different road in returning. They
cime to a high arched bridge from which they could
,;o the parlour, the floor of which was over-
.sjuvad by plates, dishes, cups, trays etc.
The Viscount, seeing her approach, stopped on
the verandah and beckoning to her called out :
" Please cross tlu! bridge, and kindly stand be-
side the stone la; tern lor a moment. Will you
all -w me to photograph you? "
" The camera had been already arranged, and the
Viscount, stepping down into the garden, put on
the cover of the camera saying:
1.' 04J
Ilje Camera.
"The light is very good now."
Tomiyama now leisurely stepped out to see the
situation. He had a hall-burnt cigar in his ringers,
and the fatuous smile on his lips showed he still
doted on his young wife.
" Oh, it won't do," cried the Viscount, " it' you
walk on. Please stand still."
The Viscount popped his face out suddenly
from the satin cover.
" Please don't move," he said again, " it won't
takc^ a moment : there, that is an excellent pose.
One has to beg so much now, for there are more
people anxious to photograph than to be photo-
graphed. Won't you oblige me, Mrs. Tomiyama ?
Shizuo, you take the lady and place her near the
lantern."
Tomiyama looked at his wife and said :
" As the Viscount has made special arrange-
ment for taking your photo you can't refuse. Go
and stand by the stone lantern. Don't pretend to be
bashful: you are taken often enough at home. It's
all the same. I will arrange your pose. Suppose
you lean on the lantern, support your cheek on
your hand and look upwards. Now, will that do,
Sir?"
" Very well indeed," said the Viscount.
7fj? (Wo'tJ Demon.
reluctantly to the place ; she could
not well refuse the request.
" It won't do if you are so stiff," said her hus-
bati' 1 , " you had better hold sqmcthing in youi
hand."
So saying, he ha on his clogs, hurried to
the place, and began to place his wife in position,
adjusting her dress e'.c. ; then retreating a little to
judge the effect he suddenly discovered her pallor
and tear-stained checks.
" What is the mat'er with you ? " he said, '.' Arc
you feeling ill? You look dreadful."
" I have a little headache, that's all."
" 1 1< iuiache ? Then it pains you to stand here."
" Oh ! no, it does not matter," she repl :
" It you feel ill I will make an excuse."
" No, it's all right, dear."
" Are you quite sure? " said he affectionately.
The Viscount called out impatiently :
" Are you ready ? "
Tomiyama retired, and Miya stood as she had
d, leaning on the stone lantern, looking
upward with her head resting on her hand. Her
of bright colours had an admirable back-
d of trees, and a couple - searching
for food by the waterside really a pretty
[*
J!je Gnmero.
picture. The figure of Miya however, unintention-
ally had the appearance of the deepest melancholy
The Viscount went to the front 01" the camera
and was just about to remove the cap when the
lady tottered and fell in a heap at the foot of th
stone lantern.
[167]
ClIAl'TI.K XIII
RYOKITSU Yusa had enjoyed the reputation,
in his native town, and during his residence
in Tokyo for purposes of education, of being a very
respectable man, but now having secured a position
in the Japan Navigation Company his friends were
much surprised to learn that he had contracted a
debt of 300 yen at the usual high interest.
Some said he had borrowed money to pay the
expenses of his wedding ; others thought it was to
make a good show, and some even suggested he
had been mulcted heavily for certain clandestine
pleasures. But the fact, that he had put his name
to a bill to oblige a friend, under circumstances he
did not choose to tell, and that as is usually the
case he was left to pay the bill, was well known to
two of his friends, Tetsuya Kamada, an attache in
the Diplomatic Service, and Kuranosuke Kazahaya,
an official in the same company as himself.
A usurer's policy is like selling water to a
thirsty person, when the thirst is intense one will
barter anything for a cup of water, it seems like
nectar, but afterwards they find it was only water
[168]
Ifir 3nt rtntfott to
and often not even clean water ; and, alas, they
must return a double portion according to the
promise wrung from them. The usurer is a bold
man, but is not the borrower still bolder to risk
putting himself in such a position, when he knows
he is not prepared to repay it ?
Yusa and his two friends were returning from a
Committee meeting 01 friends from their own
province, and Yusa had i.ivited them to accompany
him home.
" I have no delicacies to offer you," said he,
" but there is a special kind of mushroom, and
some brewe'rs have given me some black beer, so
I will get a little chicken for supper, and we will
have a chat afterwards."
The tin of ham which Yusa had in his hand had
been bought on the way home for the same pur-
pose, so Kamada replied :
" Very good, and there is no hurry now we
have arranged to return with you. What do you
say to a game of billiards first ? "
Kazahaya laughed at Kamada's wish to play
billiards, and af:er a good deal of wrangling as to
which was the best player, Yusa settled the dis-
pute by suggesting that they should, as there was
plenty of time, first take a bath. They according-
ly walked on and at last arrived at a neat looking
home with lattice doors through which could l>e
seen a pretty garden ; this was Yusa's house.
When he opened the gate his lovely wife ap-
peared, somewhat confused at the sight ot his two
companions ; but quickly recovering herselt, she
smiled and bade them welcome.
"Will you take the gentlemen upstairs?" said
she to her husband. He looked surprised and said,
"why not the parlour ?"' but she looked more
confused and said, " It is occupied for a moment."
The visitors, knowing the house, passed through;
but she detained her husband and whispered.to him :
" That man from Wanibuchi is here again."
" Is he still here?"
" Vie insisted on seeing you, so I was obliged to
let him wait. He is in the parlour, won't you see
him for a moment, and get him to go away ? "
" What became of the mushrooms ? "
His wife was surprised at the question but an-
swered quietly :
" Not mushrooms now, dear. But go quickly."
" Wait," said the man, "have you black beer?"
" I have both mushrooms and beer, so please
send him away quickly : as long as that fellow is
here I have no peace."
[170]
^ntiitntioit to
Yusa knit his bro\vs in perplexity. A peal of
merry laughter cume from upstairs : perhaps they
were still chaffing each other about the billiards.
After a while Yusa mounted the stairs.
" Hallo," said Kamata, " are you ready for the
bath? Please lend me a towel."
" Wait a moment," said poor Yusa, " I will go
presently : I am at my wits' end what to do."
Yusa looked indeed as he described himself.
"What is the matter?" said Kazahaya, "Sit
down and tell us."
" I cannot sit down," replied Yusa, " there is a
usurer downstairs. He arrived some time ago and
has been sitting there waiting for me. What shall
I do ? "
Yusa leaned against the post, the picture of
misery holding his head in his hands.
" Send him off with some promise or other."
" He won't go," said Yusa, " he is such an obsti-
nate, tenacious fellow."
" Throw two or three yen at him."
" I have done that repeatedly, but to-day he is
going to renevy the bond, and he won't go without
something in hand."
" Go and try," said Kamada ; " use all your
eloquence."
lf)t (Soil) Xfinon.
" Kloquence is no use in this kind of business : it
all depends on money, empty-handed eloquence is
no use."
" Well, go and have a talk with him," said
Kamada. " I will listen outside and come in and
help."
Yusa was afraid it would be of no use, but he
went down to try once more.
Kazahaya said : " What a shame ! Yusa looks
shrivelled up, poor fellow. Kamada go and try to
help him."
" Well, I will try," returned the other, " but Yusa
lakes it too much to heart. After all it is only
money, it does not injure his life,"
[172]
CHAPTER XIV
gvicitb ttritft
" I T does not affect one's life, but it does one's hon-
* our. That is what a gentleman fears, isn't it?"
14 Why should one fear? " replied Kamada, " It
a gentleman lends money on usury that injures
his honour. It is really far more honourable to
borrow money at high interest, than to borrow at
low or no interest at all. A gentleman may be
short of money : he is short, and he borrows. He
does not say he will not repay, so there is nothing
in borrowing to injure his honour."
" I stand corrected. What beautiful motives for
a gentleman about to borrow ! "
" Well, I will yield one point then, and say it is
not honourable for a gentleman to borrow on
usury. But if it is not honourable, he had better
avoid it altogether. What I mean is, that if he is
not ashamed to borrow, neither must he change
his attitude and feel ashamed when the natural
consequences ensue."
" There is a story," continued Kamada, " of an
insurrection that took place in China, a long time
[173]
Xl)f (o!t) Xfiiion.
ago. Some one sent a representation to the
throne that there was no need to send an army to
subdue the rebels, but that one of the generals
should go and read an essay on the Doctrine of
Filial Piety to the enemy, and the rebellion would
be instantly at an end. A beautiful idea ! and such
a man is our friend Yusa ; he is always reading
the essay ; and now he has to pay 40 per cent.,
and the usurers suck his blood. In such a posi-
tion no one can afford to have a gentleman's con-
science, such as he had previous to borrowing. It
is too expensive."
Kamada continued his argument without wait-
ing for an answer : " We have no need to avoid
the evening dew, after we got wet through, as tlur
saying goes."
" Yusa should not have gone to a usurer, but
having gone, he should not now be too scrupul-
ous ; I do not say a man should be devoid of
conscience, but the codes of a samurai and of a
tradesman are different. Of course, the code of a
tradesman does not permit injustice or immorality
any more than that of a samurai does, but in other
matters it is not the "same Before a gentleman
borrows, he has the samurai code, after he has been to
a usurer, he must of necessity adopt the tradesman's
[174]
Hit CID Jyriruti tuitl) a {Rein atf.
code. It is the only policy in dealing with an
enemy."
" I quite agree with you on that point. But
when you say it is quite honourable for a gentle-
man to borrow money on usury "
Kamada looked crest-fallen ;
" It is rather like the logic that ' a white horse
is not a horse ' I must confess," said he. " Had
you not better go downstairs and see how matters
are progressing ? "
"All right!" said Kamada. "I'll be a hero
and beard the lion in his den."
So saying he descended the stairs. Kazahaya
waited impatiently to hear the result, he got rest-
less, walked up and down the room, sitting down
for a moment, and then restlessly rising again. At
last Mrs. Yusa arrived, bringing the tea and apolo-
gising profusely for her neglect of her guests.
" Did Kamada go into the parlour ? " asked
Kazahaya.
She coloured and said : " He is in the adjoining
room and is listening behind the screen. I feel
very much ashamed that you should see us in such
an unpleasant situation."
" Oh ! never mind, we are not strangers, and we
know all the circumstances."
[175]
rmo.
" Whenever that usurer fellow comes, 1
cold shudders all over me. He has such a horrid
face. I suppose his trade changes his looks ;
for he is the most wicked looking man I ever
saw."
Noisy steps were heard ascending the stairs and
Kamada burst excitedly into the room treading on
Mrs. Yusa's foot as he rushed in, shouting, " Kaza-
hriva ! The mystery increases."
He turned to Mrs. Yusa, " Pardon me for my
clumsiness. I hope I did not hurt you. I am very
rude."
The lady concealed the pain she really felt in
her toe, and received his apologies smilingly.
" You arc as rash as ever," said Kazahaya.
11 Why are you in such a hurry ? "
" I low can I keep quiet? Who do you think
the usurer downstairs is ? "
" Is it the same usurer as yours ? "
" It is abominable of you to say yours before
other people "
" I own I was rude."
" I trod on Mrs. Yusa's foot, but you tread on
my face."
u l-\ r.unately your face is bra/.cn."
" Impudence ! "
Hit Clb SriciiD ftiitft o 9Zttt)
Mrs. Yusa could not restrain her laughter, in
which the others joined, till Kazahaya said :
" We ought not to jest, when there is a man
down-stairs suffering."
" The fellow who is now inflicting suffering on
Diir friend downstairs is no other than Hazama !
Kwanichi Hazama ! "
Kazahaya started, " Kwanichi our old school-
mate ? "
" Yes, are you not surprised ? "
Kazahaya whistled, " Is it possible ? "
" Well, you had better go and see."
Mrs. Yusa looked in astonishment at the two
men :
" Ts that man downstairs a friend of yours ? "
Kamada nodded hastily ;
" Yes, he was with us at the High School. We
had heard that he had become a usurer, but we
did not believe it, as he was a particularly gentle
fellow, not at all fit for such a trade. But there he
is downstairs, the identical Kwanichi Hazama."
" How strange ! " said Mrs. Yusa, '' But why
on earth did he become a usurer after having had
such a good education ? "
" Well, that is why we all thought it was surely
9, rumour."
2ljf Woib Xfiuott.
Kazahaya, who had gone downstairs to remove
all doubt, now returned.
" Well, am I not right ? " said Kamada.
" Extraordinary ! It is indeed Kwanichi."
" Hasn't he a look of Alfred the Great ? "
"Like him when he was expelled from Wessex,
I should think. Who could have imagined he
would turn usurer ? "
" I should never have thought he could do any-
thing hardhearted," remarked Kamada.
" Far worse than so hardhearted," said Mrs.
Yusa with a frown
" Is he very cruel ? "
" Yes, very cruel," she replied with tears in her
eyes.
Kazahaya seemed to be making up his mind :
he drank his tea with an air of resolution.
" On the whole it is rather fortunate that it is
Hazama ; we can now go down, as we are old
friends, and negotiate with him. He won't be able
to press his point so obstinately with us, we will
gradually get him down to say the principal
. We need hardly fear Hazama."
He rose and adjusted his girdle. Karnad.i re-
marked, " Preparing for the fray ? "
[178]
%n Clft ,lvienb toitlj a Ditto ffatf.
" Mold your tongue. See your watch is dang-
ling from your girdle."
" So it is." Kamada rose.
"Won't you remove yourhaori?" said Mrs.
Yusa.
" Xo thank you, \ve must arm ourselves ; for on
the stage it is always the more numerous party
that gets beaten."
" Nonsense," said Kazahaya, " not by a man
like Hazama."
" Take another cup of tea*," said Mrs. Yusa.
" It really looks as If we were starting on a
feud," said Kamada.
Cups of water are exchanged when men start out foi
revenge and expect to die.
[179]
CHAPTER XV
a tctc ivitb the Usurer.
"%/USA and Kwanichi sat opposite to one another
* in the parlour, the tobacco-box, in which the
fire was extinguished, between them ; the tea-tray
with the tea cup by Kwanichi's side. This tea-cup
had once been inadvertently used by a consumptive
patient, and Mrs. Yusa had put it on one side
for fear of infection ; but to-day she had purposely
used it for the hated usurer.
Ynsa was speaking in a tone of su| pressed
anger :
" I can't do that. I have friends, but I am not
going to ask them to put their seal to a bill for me.
Would you ask your friends to do such a th : ng for
you ? Why do you annoy me by suggesting it ? "
Kwanichi answered gravely :
" I don't wish to annoy you in any way. You
don't pay interest, and you say you can't rene\v
your bond. What arc we to do then ? You must
decide on something. A joint obligation will not
harm any one, you can easily get a friend to lend
you his name ; it is merely nominal, as we fully
trust you, and shall not trouble the other party at
[i 80]
u trie toitb tfte tllurcr.
all. I must give some answer to my master. If
I can say to him, I could not get the interest paid,
but I have renewed the bond, it will be .something."
Ytisa made no answer :
" Any one of your friends will do."
" No, I can't ask them."
" Then we shall be compelled to take very un-
pleasant measures for you."
" What do you mean ? "
" I mean distraint."
This was a severe blow to Yusa. He groaned
inwardly and viciously twisted the ends of his
moustache.
Kwanichi continued :
" We do not wish to bring such a disgrace on
you for a trifling debt 01' 300 yen, so think it over
again."
" You want me to renew the bond on your con-
ditions, which are to add the legal interest for one
year, ',o r ethei with 90 yen which I must pay now
you say, -altogether 300 yen. Then the teinbiki
(top reduction) of that for three months is 1 70 and
odd yen, and you want me to change the present
bond into another tor 500 yen. You may call it
a joint obligation, but I have not had one sen ot'
V, usurer's term.
['Si]
Zfte <0olD lemon.
that money, and yet I was made to pay you 90
yen the other day, and now I am to sign for 500
yen more ! How would you like to sign a bond
for 500 yen without having had one sen of it ?"
Kwanichi laughed, " All this comes too
late."
Yusa looked sternly at him. Having fallen into
such difficulties himself from being surety for an-
other, he was unwilling to drag his friends into
the same position, and so rejected Kwanichi's
advice. In this case he must pay the interest ; but
this was impossible. He was like an animal
caught in a trap, he could see the end approaching.
He pitied himself, but he felt furiously angry at the
cruelty of this man, and his want of common
humanity.
Yusa tried once more :
" In the first place, did you not promise you
would not come dunning me to-day? "
" You have not yet paid what is owing from the
2oth of last month," was Kwanichi's rejoinder.
" Why did you take a postponement fee from
me then ? "
" I got no money from you lor postponement. I
came on the day the money was due, but you did
not pay, you merely gave me money for my wages
[182]
Zttt a tete toitl) tfje IWurer.
and jinrikisha fares. If you call that a postpone-
ment fee, then it would mean it was postponed for
that one day."
" You rascal ! When I offered you ten yen,
you wouldn't take it at first because it was only-
ten yen, then you took it as a postponement fee
for three days. And you had another ten yen
from me the other day."
" Oh yes," said Kwanichi, " I had that, it was
my wages for coming here in vain, but that is not
the point. Let us now settle. You say you cannot
renew the bond, nor can you pay."
" I can't give you what I haven't got."
Kwanichi looked sharply at Yusa, and the look
brought Yusa to a sense of his dangerous position;
it would be no use to abuse Kwanichi, he had him
in his grip. There was a pause, then Kwanichi
said quietly :
" When can you pay me ? "
Yusa replied : " Please wait till the i6tli."
" Are you quite sure ? "
" I am sure if it is the i6th."
"Then I will wait and "
" Do you want another postponement fee ? "
" Well," said Kwanichi, " listen to me. Write a
promissory note, that will suit you, eh ? "
[183]
Xfte (*olb Xfmon.
" It docs not exactly suit me "
" Then give me some money instead."
So saying Kwanichi opened his satchel and took
out a form of a promissory note.
" I have no money," said Yusa.
"Just a little as a fee."
" A fee again ! Well I will give you one yen."
" Five yen please, to include my wages, jinriki-
shas, etc.
" Five yen ! it's impossible ; I will give you
three."
The sliding doors opened and Kwanichi looking
up saw two gentlemen entering. At this intrusion
on a confidential interview, Kwanichi thought it
must be a got up plan The gentlemen took their
seats between Yusa and Kwanichi, the latter bow-
ing to them respectfully.
[184]
CHAPTER XVI
KAMADA began by saying :
" Have I not seen you before ? are you not
Hazama?"
Kazahaya joined in, saying : " You have chang-
ed so completely that I should not have recognis-
ed you. It Is a long time since we last met."
Kwanichi stared in astonishment at the two
visitors. He gradually recollected them and said :
" You are quite strangers. I was wondering
who you were, but now I know, you are Kamada
and Kazahay*. I hope you are both well."
" How are you getting on ? " said Kamada,
" You .seem to have adopted a strange trade, but
I suppose it's very profitable."
" Not so profitable," answered Kwanichi, " but
I got into this trade by a mistake."
As he did not seem at all ashamed the two
were rather taken aback. Kazahaya, who had
looked down on him, now began to fear he might
prove unmanageable.
"Any trade will do," said Kazahaya, "if pro-
fit is the only aim, but it must have cost you a
[its]
Ifir olb Temon.
strong resolve to adopt this trade ; in fact," con-
tinued he sarcastically, " I am filled with admira-
tion to see a man 01 your character carry on such
a trade."
" It is, I must own," said Kwanichi, "not exact-
ly a manly trade, but as I gradually discovered
that a man c . my character would never get on in
the world, I gave up my manliness when I turned
usurer."
" Well, I hope you will act like a man while
with us your triends," said Kazahaya.
" By the bye, where is that pretty girl in whose
house you lived ? " demanded Kamada, " There,
was a lot of talk about it, I remember."
Kwanichi feigned ignorance.
" Oh come ! that won't do ; " said the other,
" why she was called what was it ? "
" Tell us," said Kamada, " you know whom I
mean."
'' It's all nonsense, please do not speak of the
past. Now Mr. Yusa, please affix your seal here."
Kwanichi pulled out a pen from his writing case,
and was about to write the amount on the promis-
sory note.
" A moment please," interrupted Kazahaya,
" What does that note mean ?"
[186]
VI $ot
Kvvanichi briefly stated the case, and he rejoined:
"Very well, now I want to speak to you a little."
Kamada kept silence and folding his arms in a
defiant manner prepared to listen to his friend's
argument.
" Now about Yusa san's debt, I want you to
deal with it specially. Of course as it is a business
matter I don't expect you to suffer loss. But as
an old friend I ask you to deal leniently,"
There was a silence. Kwanichi did not answer,
and after a pause Kazahaya continued :
" I beg this of you."
" What do you mean by leniency ? "
" I mean, I want you to reduce the debt as far
as it is no actual loss to you. You know that this
debt was contracted by Yusa san signing a bond
for a friend, and that quite unexpectedly he was
called upon to pay. Of course this makes no
difference from the creditor's point of view, and I
don't mean to complain on that score. But from
a friend's point of view, Yusa has undeservedly
met with great misfortunes and is to be pitied.
Now it happens that you are the creditor, which
makes us bold to interfere ; we are not dealing
with the usurer Wanibuchi, but with our old friend
Hazama, who, even if our request seem unreason-
[I87J
(flolfc Xtmon.
able, can well grant it. We have been told that
Tobayashi the original borrower has already paid
270 yen in three instalments as interest. And
Yusa has paid 90 yen out of his own pocket,
Therefore you have already received 360 yen.
You see you have suffered no loss, and so what I
propose is this, that Yusa shall pay the principal,
300 yen, and you will charge him nothing else."
Kwanichi gave a cold smile, and Kazahaya con-
tinued :
" This means that Yusa is to pay 390 yen for
which he has had nothing ; this is very hard for
him, but it is hard for you to give up what will
continue to bring you in more and more profit.
Let us see which is the worst off; for the money
you lent, 300 yen, you have a return of 660 yen,
but Yusa loses 390 yen. I want you to consider
this point and deal leniently."
" It is quite out of the question," said Kwanichi,
and he took up the blank form and calmly inserted
the amount of money Yusa had all but agreed on.
Kamada and Kazahaya who had been intently
watching Kwanichi's face, exchanged angry
glances.
" I beg you to agree to my proposal," said the
'alter.
[itt]
it 9lr(uimriu.
Kwanichi took no notice, but turning to Yusa
said :
" Now Mr. Yusa put your seal here, the date
is the i6th."
Kamada began to get impatient, but Kazahaya
made a sign to him to keep quiet, and began once
more pleadingly :
" 1 lazama san ! Wait a moment. Let us talk
quietly together. This debt is too heavy a burden
for Yusa san, he can hardly find means to pay the
interest ; he will be ruined if this keeps on, and we
are extremely anxious about him. But as the
party with whom he is dealing is our old friend,
we hope he may be yet saved. And as we don't
wish you to suffer loss, I think our request is a
very reasonable one.
" As I am only Mr. Wanibuchi's clerk, I can't
listen to such a request. Now Yusa san, please
pay me three yen for to-day and put your seal
here. Quick please."
Yusa nodded feebly not knowing what to do.
The anger of Kamada could now be contained no
longer and he burst forth :
" Wait I say, Kazahaya has exhausted all his
arguments, he is not a beggar ; there are ceitam
[189]
manners in dealing with people. Give him a
suitable answer."
" The request being what it is, there is no suit-
able answer to give."
" Silence Hazama As you are always count-
ing money, your brain does not seem able to take
in anything else. Who asked you to answer his
request ? You ought to be ashamed to behave so
rudely to your friend. If you are a usurer, re-
member your position and act accordingly Carry-
ing on a trade which is next door to a thief's you
ought to blush to meet your old .iicnds But you
seem to think you are engaged honorably in
business and give yourself airs. You are not only
not ashamed, but you dare to behave contemptu-
ously towards us. Oh ! I wish Josuke Arao
could see you now. Only the other day he was
lamenting he did not know your whereabouts, and
said he loved you more than his own brother.
Rouse your conscience; now that two honest men
like ourselves have interfered, you may be sure
you will not suffer loss. Go home."
" I can't go home without receiving my dues.
If you are so interested in Yusa san, won't you do
something for him? lie shall stamp the promis-
sory note and that will settle that part of the busi-
[190]
'Jl >ot 9lrjiuirnt.
ness, and you and Kazahaya give me a joint bond
for 300 yen."
Kamada had had enough experience to under-
stand this policy.
" Yes, all right," he replied.
" If you will do this, I will manage to settle the
case."
"All right!" reiterated Kamada, "But it will
be with no interest, and to be repaid in ten years."
" Eh?" said Kwanichi, " This is not a joke."
" Leave joking aside," interposed Kazahaya,
" we will talk it over in a few days. Go home
quietly now."
"You are too unreasonable," returned Kwan-
ichi, " I will take home the' promissory note with
me as Yusa san had already consented. I am in
a hurry now ; put your seal here, Yusa san, have
you not already consented ? Why do you hesitate
now ? ' '
Kamada took up the note and read : " One
hundred and seventeen yen ! What, one hundred
:nteen yen ! ! "
" A hundred and seventeen yen ! " said Yusa,
" It's ninety yen."
" It is writen here plainly, one hundred and
seventeen yen."
(Bolfc rmon.
" It is impossible," said Yusa.
Kwanichi cast a sidelong look at them and
explained :
" Ninety yen as principal, and in addition to this
twenty-seven yen as thirty per cent discount."
Yusa looked crushed, but made no sign.
Without saying a word, Kaniada tore the note
in two, while the others looked at him. He tore it
again and again, then twisting the pieces together
flung them in Kwanichi's face.
" What are you doing ? "
" I have settled it for you," was Kamada's
answer."
CHARTER XVII
3tijtit*ii
'T^HERE was a pause. Then Hazama said slow
* ly : " Then you do not mean to give me
the note, Mr. Yusa."
Yusa hesitated, for he was secretly afraid of
what Hazama might do : " Well, I don't mean
that exactly."
Here Kamada, who had been gradually getting
nearer to Hazama interposed saying :
" But I mean that."
Hazama turned to him saying :
" You may have settled the promissory
note, but if you interfere at all, then deal with
the matter like a man. I do not pretend to any-
thing, but I believe you call yourself a Doctor oi'
Law."
" What if I do ? "
" Then behave as such. Your conduct does
not agree with your profession."
" You rascal ! say that once more."
" I will say it as many times as you like. I
you are a lawyer, behave like one."
Kamada's arm flew out and he suddenly seized
[193]
Tfmon.
Hazama by the collar of his coat and turning his
face towards him said :
"Hateful as you arc now, I can't help seeing
you in my mind s eye as the gentle Hazama in
our school days sitting by my side round the
stove."
Kazahaya interrupted pityingly :
" It is just as Kamada says. We will think of
you as the old Hazama, and see that you suffer no
loss ; so for our old friendship's sake agree to what
we ask you."
" Well," said Kamada, ' what do you say ? "
" Friendship is friendship, and money is money.
They are quite different things."
He could say no more, for Kamada pressed his
throat so tightly, that he was almost choking.
" Go on," said Kamada furiously, " speak if
you can, but if you speak I will throttle you."
Hazama struggled in vain to tear himself from
Kamada's grasp, but the latter had been well train-
ed in Jujutsu, so Hazama thought it wiser to give
up struggling, in the hope of Kamada's releasing
him.
Kazahaya began to leel uneasy :
" I say Kamada don't be too violent."
Kamada laughed : " Now you see the superior-
[194]
3uj ttu
ity of force. I begin to see that International I^aw
is rubbish : it is only by strength of arms that a
nation can protect its national interests and keep
its prestige. There is no sovereign over all the
nations, who can satisfactorily decide questions oi
right and wrong There is only one way of judg-
ing, War!"
" Let him free now, you have hurt him enough."
"I never heard," continued Kamada, "of a
strong nation being insulted. Therefore the dip-
lomatic policy I adopt is the *Kano method."
"If you hurt him too much," said Yusa, "he
will revenge himself on me later on, so please let
him go for my sake."
Kamada loosened his grasp but still held Haza-
ma, "Well Hazama," he said ''what is your
reply?"
" You can make me yield to the power oi
money, but not to force. If you hate me so much
then strike my face with a packet of 500 yen notes."
" Gold coins would not do eh ? "
" Gold coins ! very good."
"All right," said Kamada, and with his open
palm he struck him violently on the left cheek.
The pain was so sharp, that for a moment Hazama
* Kano. The great teacher oijujutsu.
[195]
Iftt ou> Etmon.
could not raise his head.
Kamada^released him and returned to his seat,
saying:
" This fellow won't go away yet, so let us have
in the sake."
But this did not please Yusa ;
" Sake won't be good here, and if he will not go
as long as the matter is not settled, it will be worse
after he has drunk sake."
" Oh ! I will take him away with me when I
go," urged Kamada.
" I say Hazama ! Don't you hear me call you?"
"Yes."
" Have you a wife ? Oh ! Kazahaya," he cried
laughing and clapping his hands : " I have it."
" Good gracious, what have you ? "
" I've recollected it : It's O Miya, O Miya the
girl betrothed to Hazama."
" You are living with her, aren't you Hazama ?
It is like marrying an angel to a devil Does
she loan money too ? It is said that usurers
are quite tender to women. Is it true ? It is said
that they do all these cruelties simply to get money
to pander to ther lustful pleasures. Is that so
Hazama ? From our point of view it seems extra-
ordinary that they plan and plot to get money just
[196 1
2Hrt!jot)S.
for luxury. I can understand people trying to get
money for war, or to redeem some treasure be-
longing to one's lord ; but to do such cruel things
only for avarice ! Now Hazama, as you have
adopted such an extraordinary trade, please tell us
what your motive was."
The autumn day was closing in, a lamp was
brought in, and presently sake and food made
their appearance.
" Hurra ! " said Kamada " it is beer. I will help
myself. And mushrooms too! how delicious! they
must be from Kyoto. Now Hazama proceed ;
what is your aim ? "
" Simply, I want money."
" Well, what will you do with the money ? "
" Do with it ! Money can be converted into
anything and everything, because it can be used
for everything I want. That is why I urge Yusa
to pay me. Now Yusa san, what will you do for
me?"
" Drink one cup of sake," said Kazahaya, " and
go home quietly."
" I can't drink sake,'' said Hazama.
" But it is specially offered you," said Kamada.
" I can't indeed," was the reply. But the cup
was held out, and as he pushed it aside it fell from
[197]
Kam;ula's hand, hit the tobacco tray, and was
broken.
" What the devil arc you up to? "
Kwanichi could no longer control himself.
" What's that you are saying ? "
But before he could rise to his feet, Kamada
dealt htm a blow on the chest and he fell back
helpless on his back. Taking advantage of this,
Kamada seized his satchel, and grabbed as many
of the papers in it as possible Kwanichi hastily
rose, and flung himself upon him ; but in an instant
his right arm was seized and twisted.
" No\v Yusa," shouted Kamada, " your bond
must be among those papers, take it out quickly."
Yusa turned pale, Kazahaya looked displeased
at this violence. Hazama struggled to free him-
self, but was kept down by Kamada's legs, his
arms being meanwhile twisted.
Kamada called excitedly : " Why do you hesi-
tate ? what are you all thinking about ? I shall be
alone responsible, hurry up and take your bond.
Do it boldly, quick."
He looked angrily, at his friends, who would not
do as he told them.
"No," said Kazahaya "that's too much, it is
not right."
[198]
3ttj'ltU
" This is no time for right or wrong ; do as I
say, I am responsible. Yusa, why don't you do
it?"
Yusa was trembling, and more inclined to re-
prove Kamada for his violence.
The latter got angrier at the cowardice, as he
considered it, of his friends, and in his rage twisted
Hazama's arm as if he intended to break it. He
writhed under the pain and called out :
" Kamada san, wait, I will settle the matter
somehow-"
" Hold your noise. I am not going to rely on
those two cowards. I will do it myself."
Saying this, Kamada tried to unfasten his girdle
with one hand but, unfortunately, the chain of his
watch became entangled in it.
" What are you doing ? " said Kazahaya, draw-
ing nearer ; for he felt it hard to look on and
render no assistance to the impetuous Kamada.
" I am going to bind him, and then I will look
for the bond myself."
" Oh ! let him go. He has just said he will
settle the matter."
" How can one rely on what that fellow says ?"
" I will certainly settle the matter," gasped
Hazama, " let go my arm please."
['99"J
Sljr WolD 5Cemon.
" Will you agree to settle the matter and accept
our offer ? " said Kazahaya.
" I will accept it," was the answer.
Though Kamada felt sure this was a lie, still as
the other two did not back him up, he was com-
pelled to agree, and accordingly set Hazama free.
He was no sooner able to rise, than hastily
collecting his papers, he thrust them in his satchel,
and turning to his adversaries said.
" I will take leave of you for to-day."
He felt that it was risky for him to stay longer,
so hiding his resentment, he tried to quit the room
quietly when a loud " Wait Wait ! " from Kamada
made him again pause.
" Didn't you say you would settle the matter ?
until you do so I will not let you leave this
house."
He drew nearer to him and Hazama hurriedly
said, " I am going to accept your offer ; but as I
am feeling ill from the rough handling I have ex-
perienced, please let me go for to-day. Good
afternoon, I have disturbed you in staying so long a
time. Now, Vusa san, I will come again in a few
days and have a talk with you."
At the change in Hazama's manner, Kamada
looked up sharply.
[200]
" Ah ! I see you are going to revenge yourself
but take care I will get even with you."
" Oh stop ! " cried Kazahaya, " you go now
Hazama, and I will settle with you in a few days.
I will see you out."
Yusa and Kazahaya accompanied him to the
door.
[201]
CHAPTER XVIII
MRS. Yusa entered from the verandah, over-
joyed at the dismissal of the usurer's clerk.
" I am very, very grateful, for your kindness,"
said she to Kamada, " you can't imagine how glad
I am ! "
" Don't mention it ; rather student-like, wasn't
it?"
" It was a splendid scene. Let me give you 3
little sake."
She busied herself in restoring order , fo r the
foregoing scene had .caused a good deal of confu-
sion in the room. The other two returned, and
Mrs. Yusa, turning to Kazahaya, began thanking
him profusely for his help in getting rid ot the
hated usurer.
Yusa, in contrast to his wife's delight, sat
gloomily by, now and then heaving sighs.
" It was very kind of you to help me," he said,
" Init what will he" do- to me now? He will per-
haps seize my property to-morrow, and it will be
:;> with me then."
" 1 fear Kama' la has behaved in too highhanded a
[202]
2(jt SSotib.
manner," said Kazahaya. " I am a little afraid o.
what he may do ; the Kano method is all very
well, but it requires great care in using it."
" Well," replied Kamada, " all I say to you is
1 Wait '."
He fumbled in the sleeve of his kimono, nnd
produced two crumpled documents. The other
three looked on with interest while Kamada
smoothed them out and found that one was a
registered bond for 100 yen made out, to Wani-
buchi by some unknown person. Astonished at
this, they, watched him' unfold the other, all tout-
heads close to the lamp and waiting with bated
breath for the results it might disclose.
It was a bond for 300 yen. As they turned over
the pages they discovered the name oi Riyokitsu
Yusa as one o, the debtors.
Kamada jumped up. " It is the bond itself. "
" Hurra ! I have got it, Hurra, hurra ! ! "
Yusa, in his agitation, knocked over the sake
bottle, and leaning forward anxiously demanded.
" Is it mine ? is it really mine ? "
" Here it is ! look ! it is here '.'" cried Kamada,
literally dancing with joy. Kazahaya tried to seize
it to convince himself that the bond was indeed
in their possession.
[203]
Illf Woift Trmoi:.
. !i ! " gasped Mrs. Yus;>, but the sudden joy
was too much for her. She felt choked and could
:-ay no more.
Kazahaya now having it in his own hands, they
all sat down and began examining it carefully, and
found it was reality and not a dream.
"How did you get it?" they presently de-
manded of Kamada.
Mr and Mrs. Yusa sat close together, with the
bond tenderly spread out on their laps. Kamada,
who had just filled his cup with sake, was
triumphant as a warrior who had just killed his
enemy.
" While I was holding the fellow down, I caught
the papers with my legs and managed to slip them
into my sleeve. A quick feat, I say."
" Is this the Kano Method ? " asked Kazahaya
slyly.
" Don't joke. I call it an extra special doctrine
of the Kano method."
" 1 low did you know it was Yusa's bond ? "
" I did not know; but I thought anything taken
from him might prove useful to punish him with
Who could have supposed it was the very bond
that the enemy was using against our friend ? It
is a proof that 4 Heaven helps the Good '."
[204]
" I don't quite *eo where the Good come in.
But a. we have it, can we make it null and void ?"
" Well, with a little trickery we can," said
Kamada.
" But," interposed Kazahaya, " it is a registered
h.*d/ !
" That does not nutter ;" said Kamada; " there
will be a copy of this in the office of the public
notary, which would prove something in a case of
necessity ; but as we have the original in our
possession, Kwanichi Hazama may do all he can,
but in vain. He has no evidence, so he can't help
himself. But it would be too bad to treat him
thus ; I will soften the blow a little. You need
not bother about it. The Minister Resident
Kamada, will, with his usual diplomatic skill,
negotiate with the enemy ; and will establish the
House of Yusa as firm as *Tai Shan."
Kamada waved the bond over his head and
called out, " Banzai for Yusa san."
" Mrs. Yusa you lead the cheers."
The scrupulous Yusa, still, felt uneasy but was
gradually encouraged by Kamada's promise to
take the whole responsibility and settle matters
A mountain in China, used metaphorically to mean solid and
firm.
[205]
ffolb Trmon.
himself. Now that the weight was lifted from his
shoulders he breathed once more, and the whole
party congratulated each other on the happy ter-
mination and triumph ; they began to eat and
drink and kept it up till a late hour.
[206]
CHAPTER XIX
BEING left alone in the wide, wide world, with
no ties of kindred, and without meeting affec-
tion, Kwanichi was like a lonely stone in a wilderness
not even haunted by beast or bird.' The happiness
he experienced, whilst living at the Shigisawa's,
from the tender love of Miya, had been the cause of
his seeking no other pleasures. His love for Miya
was not like the usual love of a youth for a maiden ;
Miya was to him what the manifold ties of a family
are to others, she represented the love of parents,
sisters and brothers ; she was indeed all in all to
the poor Kwanichi ; not merely love's young
dream, but the substance of what the love of a
united family would be. He had regarded her as
his wife, and the lonely stone in the wilderness
had gradually become warm under her genial in-
fluence. We can imagine then, under these con-
ditions, what his feelings were, when he was
robbed of his only treasure, when the girl to whom
he had poured forth his whole heart, whom he
had trusted as himself, to whom he had been faith-
ful even in every thought, was untrue to him,
[207]
Xtmon.
deserting him and marrying another, leaving him
stripped of everything and hopeless for the future.
He had now, not oily the old loneliness 01
having not a tie in the world, but his heart was
full of resentment and disappointment. The lone-
ly stone was now covered with frost, the biting
wind flew over it, the bitterness of his life had
entered into the very marrow of his bones Since
Miya had been taken from him there was nothing
left for him to live for.
Why did he not give up his resentment and
forget his disappointment ? He could not, his heart
had been too deeply wounded. The pain which
he suffered in carrying out the necessary measures
of his cruel trade, seemed to deaden the pain he
endured from the loss of his love. One irritant
counteracting another. So he gradually learnt to
do things so contrary to his character ,' as he was
often deceived he learnt to deceive again, as no
one had pity on him, so he would have no pity on
others. But often he hated himseh and his life,
and death would have been welcome ; but then
death was such an easy thing, he could do that at
any time. He thought in time he would grow as
hard as polished steel, and that then his feelings of
rage and disappointment would also disappear.
[208]
So Kwanichi had a double object in pursuing
his nefarious trade, partly to forget his troubles,
and partly so to steel his mind that in the future
no pain could touch him.
He often thought of Miya, but it was of the
Miya of long ago, not Tomiyama's wife ; for he felt
the former Miya could never be restored to him.
Even if she came to him repentant, he would not
take her back. But that last scene on the beach
at Atami, and that other lately in Viscount Tazu-
mi's garden, were continually before his eyes, and
to forget them he would rush into business and
deal with the debtors so unmercifully, that after-
wards even he felt qualms of conscience. This
miserable state of feeling naturally re -acted on his
bodily health : he grew thinner and weaker, his
hair, once glossy black, grew prematurely grey, his
eyes dull, deep furrows on his brow, and his
thoughts were sometimes so confused that he
could not collect them.
According to Buddhist belief, he was now turn-
ing into a demon, he was already in the World oi
Avarice, and the clouds protecting him were grow-
ing thicker ; the sun was being hid from his sight,
he would not know his dearest friends if he met
them. He could no more feel affection, he could
(Soil) Xrmoti.
not see the joy of spring or la.slc a pleasure. He
could not enjoy happiness if it came to him : mercy
did not exist for him, no noble ambition could spur
him on ; he had so given himseli up to his blind
passions that he had already, before death. <^r red
into the World of Demons.
He became more severe and cruel in. dealing
with his debtors, so that even the other usurers
blamed him for his too harsh dealings. Wanibuchi
alone praised him, he declared he had done far
more unscrupulous things than his clerk, and would
often urge him on to greater cruelties by reciting
his own experiences. It was indeed true that
Wanibuchi had made his fortune by much darker
deeds than ever Kwanichi had performed, but with
this difference.
Wanibuchi was much afraid of criticism : he was
a consummate hypocrite, generous in contribu-
tions and charity to a Buddhist sect of which he
was a powerful member. He prayed often for his
own safety, and considered that the prosperity of
his house and his own personal safety were entire-
ly due to the protection of the deity whom he
devoutly served.
Kwanichi, on the contrary, was not so cruel as
his master, neither did he pretend to practice any
(SoID Xemott.
religion. He felt he had no reason to fear Heaven,
rather he was angry at the way he had been treat-
ed by Heaven, for he had walked uprightly and
done no wrong, and Heaven had punished him for
nothing. The only thing that Kwanichi dreaded
were his own thoughts.
[211]
CHAPTKR XX
V'WANICHI was at Mr. Akagashi's house on
*^ business ; it was late, nearly ten o'clock,
and he was about to take leave, when Mitsue,
Akagashi's wife, asked him to wait a moment.
She left the room, and he waited what seemed to
him a long time.' He lighted a cigarette and
turned to examine the room. It was the custom-
ary Japanese room, but the few ornaments on the
shelf of the alcove were common and cheap, an
imitation cloisonne vase, two small dolls in a glass
case, a .marble ball set on a cushion, .and some
cheap so-called gold lacquer. An iron censer
palpably artificial and made to look old, a Kake-
mono (picture) of Fuji, and a hideous water colour
sketch 6 ft. long of the Battle of the Yellow
Sea.
At last Mitsue returned, she had completely
changed her dress and carried a gay shawl on her
arm. She apologised for keeping him waiting,
and said, as she had a little shopping* to do, she
\vo-.jld accompany him.
* Shops are kept open very late in Japan.
[2,2]
en miner.
Although secretly annoyed, Kwanichi could say
nothing, so proposed starting immediately.
The streets were still bright, but as it was a
little chilly there were not many people about.
" What a cold night ! " exclaimed Mitsue,
" Ilazama san, why do you walk so far away from
me ? I can hardly hear you sneak "
So saying, she walked close to his side, and
offered to carry his satchel. He refused to give it
up, whereupon she begged him to walk more
slowly, as she was out of breath.
He modified his pace, and Mitsue began urging
him to come and see her, saying she would not
again speak of her love to him. As he did not
respond she said :
" May I write to you ? "
" What about ? " was his reply.
" Oh ! just to inquire after your health."
" How absurd ! there is no reason to inquire
after it."
" Well ! I can't help loving you, and you can't
forbid me."
" Hut a letter might be- seen by others, so please
don't write."
"Well! I must speak to you on business, it is
about Wanibuchi san. I must have your advice."
1 213]
Xemon.
They came to a corner where he had intended
to slip out o her company, so he made no ans-
wer to her last remark. He merely said " I must
leave you here," and entered the narrow dark
street.
But Mitsuc did not intend to let him off So easi-
ly ; so she followed him, arguing the advantage of
the other road, till at last he plainly told her it was
getting late, and she had better do her shopping
and go home.
He turned on his heel, when he was arrested by
an exclamation from her.
" Ah ! liazama .san, please come here."
" What is the matter now ? " said he roughly.
" I have put my foot in some thick mud and I
can't get my clog out."
He turned reluctantly : the woman stretched out
her hand, which he took and pulled her towards
him : she staggered, and would not leave go of his
hand. He looked at her in surprise, but she held
his hand more tightly, squeezed it, and tried to
put it in her sleeve.
" Don't be so foolish," said Kwanichi ; but
Mitsue would not loose him, and when he im-
patiently tried to draw his hand away, she only
leaned closer. At last he got indignant at her
[214]
n Httatf.
importunity, and shook himself free, running fast
down the hill they were approaching.
The night was cloudy and the crescent moon
now and then appearing between the clouds did
not give much light. Kwanichi was now walking
near the outer fence of the grounds of the Artillery
School, rather a lonely part, when he was sudden-
ly stopped by two young men each carrying a
heavy stick. They were neither of them as tall as
Kwanichi, but strongly built and vigorous looking.
" What do you want ? " said he, " My name is
Kwanichi Hazama. If you have anything against
me, say so openly. If you are robbers, take what
I have and let me go."
There was no reply, one of the men, who had
his kimono tucked up and a black felt hat pulled
down over his eyes, struck Kwanichi on the face
with his stick. As Kwanichi had nothing with
which to defend himself, he tried to escape, but
the other fellow who was dressed as a coolie pur-
sued him and gave him a sounding whack across
the shoulders with his weapon. Kwanichi tried to
make a stand but stumbled over some railings, and
his . assailant, pursuing him too closely, stumbled
also, and fell about two yards beyond Kwanichi.
The first man now attacked him again, just as he
[215]
Tbr (Salt Xfmon.
was rising, and a heavy blow on his back made
him sink back again. Then Kwanichi seized his
clog and threw it in the man's face, using the
opportunity to jump up ; but hardly had he done
so before the second man was after him, aiming a
blow at his head. It just missed, however, and fell
violently on the hand which held the satchel.
The first man who had been hit by the clog, now
re-appeared and Kwanichi finding his situation
critical, snatched a knife from his satchel and en-
deavoured to keep them at bay. He was soon
overpowered by the two men, who showered blows
thick and fast on him, as he lay almost unconscious
there.
" What do you say ? " said the one dressed as
a coolie " Shall we give up now ? "
" The fellow threw a clog at my nose," replied
the other.
Kwanichi held his knife ready in his right hand,
but thought it wiser to feign unconsciousness : so
he merely groaned feebly.
After some deliberation, the two men left him,
entering a cross street.
Kwanichi raised his head with difficulty, felt
pains all over his body, and finally fell back un-
conscious.
[2I6J
She
BOOK II
CHAPTER XXI
TWO days later the papers reported the attack
made upon the usurer at Sakamachi. Sonic
of them incorrectly mentioned Wanibuchi as the
sufferer, but the fact, that the wounded man had
been taken to the Medical College Hospital, was
given correctly in all. ^ Most readers would not
give the notice more than a passing glance, dismiss-
ing it from their minds as lightly as they would an
ordinary bath-house quarrel ; others who had had
dealings with usurers, perhaps with Wanibuchi
himself, would assume thut the assailants were
some hard-pressed debtors, and would re;_, r r.t that
the usurer or his assistant, as the case might bo,
had not b^en crippled for life or even killed outright.
Wanibuchi went to the Hospital early the follow-
The (BolD Tfmon.
morning, both ho ami his wife being full <
anxiety over the patient's critical conditio . Th<
usurer had come to regard Kwanichi as a son, as
well as his right hand in business, but it was n
wholly the affection he felt for the young maji,
which prompted Wm to leave nothing undone
which might ensure his complete recovery, or be
conducive to his comfort whil.- at the Hospital.
The attack he felt was an attack upon himself, and
feelings of fury and indignation were stirred within
him. He cursed the cowardly assailants, declar-
ing he would show them he was not a man to bo
daunted by such measures ; urging the doctors
to try every means in their power to fully rest
Kwanichi, that he might show his enemies how
unavailing wcu- their efforts to overcome or
intimidate him in the way they had tried.
Mrs. Wanibuchi also was filled with conflicting
emotions. In her distress at the accident which
had befallen K\vanichi was mingled the fear that
at any time a similar accident might befall her
husband. That Kwanichi had even this time
suffered in her husband's stead, she had no doubt,
and a feeling of gratitude crept into her heart.
This was followed by a sudden shame at the remem-
brance of the revelation she had made to Kwanichi
[218]
'* Son.
but a few days ago and her conscience, which she
had smothered and turned a deaf ear to, now awoke,
and began to attack her at all points, upbraiding her
for her disloyalty, her suspicion, her jealousy and
desire to spy upon her husband, until the clamor
of the voice within became well nigh unbearable.
The old cat which had been petted for so many
years, and had grown so fat that it might have been
mistaken for a small dog, was lying comfortably
stretched out on the cat's bord, (a strip of woo 1
in th-' brazier) snoring evenly, with forepaws buried
in the warm ashes the very antithesis to poor
Mrs. Wanibuchi's state of mind. She, poor woman,
crouching before the brazier, felt almost dizzy, as
she revolved the events and emotions of the last few
days in her mind.
Suddenly the door bell rang, startling her in her
cogitations, and before she could more than wonder
why her husband had returned so soon, the sliding
door was pushed aside and a man's figure stood in
the opening.
He was perhaps 27 years of age, pale and thin-
faced, his thick, disorderly hair almost hidden by
the high collar of his dark blue cloak. A stately
moustache lent dignity to his face. Me held a soft
felt hat in his hand. As he entered he put a pair
[219]
lemcn.
of tortoiscshcll framed pince-nez on his high-
bridge. 1 nosj, and ga/.< d around the room with a
ivpu^nance that was distressing to himself.
Mrs. Wanibuchi looked up with a surprise,
which at once melted into joy.
"Tadamicht! you are \\vV>m^." she cried.
Lin yoiiir: man wore a shabby black cut-away
c<>.a, a pai; of loose striped trousers, collar and cuffs
of celluloid, not over-clean, and a necktie of :.:
figured satin. Flinging his blue cloak on the floor
and too eager to give even the customary greeting,
it once began :
" What is this I read of an accident? How is
father ? I have hurried up here as quickly as I
could How is he ?"
His mother who was smiting happily as she
hung up his cloak, replied :
" You read it in tlie paper ? Fancy that ! Noth-
ing is the matter with your father !"
" Nothing? ' Seriously wounded and sent to the
llospitd !' Who was it then."
"It ua 1 laxama ! What could have made you
suppose it was father ?"
" The newspaper said so."
" Then '.In: newspaper was wrosv.;. Father has
/one to visit the patient at the Hospital hi- will b<-
[220j
1IK IMnrer 1 * ?on.
back before !on_;." Anxiously, " You will stay
will you not? "
T.idumichi, in the sudden revulsion of feeling,
could not i.- ven express the joy lie ought to feel at
his father's safety and only murmured dully :
" So it was 1 la/.atna the paper said it was
serious poor I lazama ! "
" It is exactly as the paper says," replied his
mother, " but the doctors say he will not be a
cripple. It may take three months to cure him
completely, poor fellow ! Your father is veiy
anxious ah ul him ; he has got him a first-class room
in the Hospital, and he is having the very best treat-
ment, so we need not worry. They say the bone
of his left shoulder is bruised and his arm dislocated,
and he is covered with bruises and scratches.
At first the doctors feared brain disease resulting
from the injuries to his head ; he was breathing
very feebly when he was carried here. I thought
it was all over with him, but men don't die so
ly."
" A terrible accident ! he oug'.-.t to be well cared
for. What did father say about it?"
" About what ? "
"About Hazama being attacked?"
"lie was very angry. Pie thinks the attack
[221]
UJolD Cemon.
was in revenge for some loan affair. Hazama is
such a quiet fellow, lie would not quarel with
anyone, so it must be as your father supposes.
We are therefore all the more sorry for him."
" Because he is young," began Tadamichi in a
low voice, " Hazama will recover, but if it were
father... you could not expect him to live,
dear Mother."
" What a cruel thing to say ! " interrupted his
Mother ; but a glance at his grief-stricken face
made her pause.
" Mother dear ! Does not father seem inclined
to give up this business yet ? "
After a good deal of painful hesitation his mother
muttered : " Well nothing indicates that I'm
not sure "
" Before long father, too, will be overtaken by
righteous punishment." His voice gained in in-
tensity. " The hand that struck down Hazama
was hut the human agent of a higher Power...
I must...I will speak to my father today"
" Do not, I pray you, speak to your father in
this strain." urged his Mother in an anxious tone.
" You know his disposition he will not listen to
advice from another. Think how many times you
have been over this ground with him before, and
[ 222]
Uflnwr'l ton.
was ho not a' \vays vexed? Has he ever listened
to your wor.N? Bear with this tiling :\ little
longer... it nuiy not bj for very long."
" How painful it is for me to sit in judgment on
a parent, you must try to realize dear mother ; I
ha'cc borne with this thing this disgraceful
business but I can bear it no longer I must
speak. Through many a night have I lain sleep-
less, sorrowing over c ur disgrace. It seems to me I
could welcome all other griefs, if this sorrow could
be Uken from me. I would I were a beggar,
begging in the streets with my parents an honour-
able calling compared to our present condition."
His voice failed, and hot burning tears filled
his eyes.
[-233-]
ClIAl'TKK XXII
nPHKRK w.is a Ion;;- silence in th,- little cham-
*- her, broken only by tho peaceful snoring of
the cat.
The mother felt herself attacked together with
her husband, and was searching in her mind for
some argument, to justify the trade upon which he
But nothing occurred to her.
She knew usury was a shameful thing, abhorred
by all right-minded people ; her wifely duty
forbade her to remonstrate with her husband,
her better feelings told her she should do so-
But she had winked at the thing so long ;
and she was weak. Still anything was pre-
ferable to this accusing silence and so she began
with difficulty :
M that you say is quite reasonable my son,
but you and your father are of utterly different dis-
tions. In all things you hold opposite views,
so that what appears right to your father appears
wrong to you, and what you say and do is not ap-
prover! of by him. My position between you two
is difficult. We have made quite a large sum of
money, and my great desire is to give up this trade,
to retire, to see you with a wife, and have my grand-
children around me. Your father will not hear of
this however, indeed, he was very angry when
once I spoke of it, and so I have to be very guard-
ed in what I say. I am sorry for you, I sympathize
with your position, and yet I can do nothing for you.
I am worried by it all. and can be of no use
I can see that it is hard on you, that your father
will not take your advice to press it now would
only make had blood between you. He is
naturally very irritated over this attack on Hazama,
and you will certain!}' do no good by speaking now.
I beg you to be patient, to wait a while. You
ire his son and he cannot really be indifferent to
>*our anxiety for his safety and reputation : in the
long run he will, I think, agree with you, but
also, he has his o\vn views and principles and
you can't expect him to act contrary to those,
to satisfy you."
Mrs. YVanibuchi felt the weakness of her argu-
mi nt, but it was the best she was capable of, and
after all her chief desire was to prevent a rupture
between f.uther and son. Tadamichi himself was
moved, but would not yield his point. " I have
rcised self-restraint so long, mother, just as you
Trmon.
too have clone. To-day please lot me speak. This
ittack on Ilazama is a punishment sent from
1 leaven a warning, father will not escape the
same fate. I must speak, this may be my last
chance ; I may be given no other opportunity."
His manner was vehement and Mrs. Wani-
buchi shuddered, but he continued:
" My conduct also has not been good ; my
father may have something to say to me
likewise. I know it is wrong and un filial to
have left my father's house to live alone elsewhere
because I could not approve of the trade carried
on beneath this roof. No child should treat his
parents so, you must both have called me
undutiful "
" No, we have not, my son," his mother hasten-
ed to assure him, " but we have felt how pleasant
it would be if we lived together "
" That is what I feel even more than you do.
I have been able to live apart and support
myself, but that only proves how much I owe
you for your parental care, in giving me so good
an education. It is painful to me to behave as
though I were trampling on the father, who has
given me the means of earning my own living
I do not wish to disobey him, to live apart
[226]
from my parents, but I hate the mean trade of
money lender. To enrich oneself by distressing
other people ! An abominable trade ! "
I Ie was trembling with emotion and his mother
grew more and more uneasy and uncomfortable.
"lam ashamed" he continued: "to speak in
this bragging way, when I can not support you in
comfort by my own efforts, but I am sure I can
earn enough to feed you, to give you a lodging
even if it were only a shabby cottage. How
happy if we three could live together ! respected
o:xe more, hated by none, doing no wrong but
quietly and in peace ! Money is not everything
i.i this world! And money that is made by
inhuman means how can one live happily on that?
" Ill-gotten gains stay with no man," says the
proverb. A fortune that is come by dishonourably
will prove the ruin of the whole generation- It
is terrible to see how surely the law of Causation
fulfills itself. Give up this trade, I can clearly see
the fatal end of it ! "
liefore Tadamichi's mental eye passed a vision
of this fatal end. He saw his father mercilessly
murdered; upon his deathfacc the impress of his
shameful trade. Soiled and smeared with mud
he would be laid upon the first dirty, tattered
[227]
<8olD Xrmon.
mat, and carried home followed by sneers and
;^ibes. There would be no pity, no regr
Overcome by thi ture, a so') escap xl
his tightly clenched teeth. His mother had just
risen, herself deeply distressed, when a jinricksha
rattled up to the door, and the bell iang.
Thinking it was her husband returned at this
unsuitable juncture, she shook Tadamichi l>y the
shoulder and whispered :
" Tidamichi, your father must not se.: you
weeping ...... go into the other room quickly, till
you have regained your self-possession... and say
nothing today ...... "
The footsteps sounded nearer, and Mrs. Wani-
buchi, with loudly beating heart, hurried to the
door. As she reached it, it opened and Tadayuki
Wanibuchi's tall, broad figure towered above his
u'ife's shoulder.
[223]
CHAPTER XXIII
tuorft'd
"TADAMICni ! You ! Quito a stranger ! When
did you come ? " exclaimed his father,
smiling, and oj>ening to their fullest extent his
little black eyes which shone like two bright
beads bcnea'h his broad smooth forehead. His
wife was nervous' y helping him to remove his
cloak and fearing Tadamichi might reply sharply,
she answered in his stead :
" lie came a little while ago- You are back
very early. Mow is Hazama?"
" Well, it is less serious than we thought, the
worst is over." Adjusting his silk garment he
walked cheerfully to the brazier, and then perceived
his son's sombre looks :
" What is the matu-r with you," he exclaimed,
" you look strange ! "
Mt>. Wanibuchi, in the background, felt as
though her husband were about to tread upon
the edge of a sword, and watched her son
anxiously, who with eyes averted and folded
hands, made answer :
" I read in this irorning's paper that you had
(. 229 J
i s -riouslv injuied ;in.l came at once to inquire
hew yu were."
" Xow I uonder what that paper is a mistake
for Hazama. Had it been I, you may be sure
I should not have yielded so easily. There were
only two of them, I am a match for five any
day."
Mrs. Wanibuchi who had seated herself be-
hind her son, pulled his coat softly, thus warning
him not to reply. In consequence he hesitated,
looked confused, and his father noticing his
. said again :
" What is the matter with you? You look ill "
" Do I ? It is because I am so worried about
you, Father."
" About me f ! "
" Yes father. I have begged you so many
times, and I implore you once more, give up this
money lend ing business ! "
''At it ;i;_';iin ! " exclaimed his father irritably :
" siy no more; when it is time to do so, I shall
it up."
J5ut Tadamichi would not be silenced. The
anxiety he Hid L'one tlvough on reading in the
newspaper of the attack upon his father, had nerv-
ed him to make on<- more desperate appeal. He
[230]
'* fcefcirt.
pointed out that if Hazanm, who was but a clerk
.in the usurer's employ, were so hated as to bo
subjected to so serious an assault, what must be
the feelings with which his father was regarded.
Some day lie would be called to account just as Ha-
zama had been, and would perhaps have to pay the
penalty of unfair dealing with his life. For the
sake of his mother and himself would he not give
up this hateful calling?
Not that he was urging him to give up a trade
from motives of fear, one should be willing to
lose one's life for a just cause, but this cause was
shameful, it brought dishonour upon the family,
and hatred and loss of all one should hold dear.
And for what ? For money ! What does a
man need money for? To support himself and
his family, food, clothing, even a little comfort.
they had enough for that, even more. The
surplus a father has, he leaves to his children, but
his father had no child who would touch a penny
of this cursed money, this useless money which
made enmity between father and son and was the
result and the cause of the despair and misery of
others. For the honour of the fimily, and to
remove the sorrow which was embitterin his
.
whole life, would not his fa.th.-T LM-.V up 'Its hateful
culling ?
I Ie bent liis head to hide the tears which ran
down his cheeks.
Tadiyuki was not in the least moved by this
appjal : He even smiled a little, but his tone was
softer as he rep!'
" Your anxiety for my safety Hi {.> vonr
L;ood heart my son, but this anx'cty is u: : n.
Unlike me, you arc of a nervous dispo ition, and
you do not know the world. You are a sch<
and as such you are no judge of a business man's
conduct. You speak of the world's hatred of men
of my trade; such mostly from
jealousy. You can prove this from t'ie fa' t th;;t
a poor man, with little ability for his work, is always
pitied ; a ;nan who makes money, whatever his
trade may be, is ill spoken of. The rich, as a
class, are always disliked, that is a wellkiunvn
fact. As a scholar you have no idea of ih value
of money, and it is quite riidit that scholars should
be so ; but the obj.ct of a ir,an of bus-i'iiexs : s to
make money! Money is the world's < ;nst
t bj somethin about motl rill
men long to j;os-ess it? Hah! you do not
e\'en understand me !
[232]
Tfte worlfc'3
!_ -._______
"Your point is, that money, exrept what is
needed for mere existence, is useless an.l undesir-
able the scholar's point of vi.-iw !
" If men were content to earn no moie than the
little necessary for food and drink, the whole state
would be ruined ! There would be no industries,
no progress. Men would retire from business
young, their powers unused and wasted. Infinite
. ; n is the very life of a nation.
" You ask me what is my object in making
money ? I confess I have no object. The more
money there is, the more pleasure it gives its
owner, in fact the greatest pleasure in life is in
making money.
" Yon find study pleasant / find it pleasant to
make money. I might ask you to give up your
studies ; you know as much as the average
scholar ! what would you say to that, eh ?
" You have spoken of my trade as unjust and
abominable. Can you teU me any money-
making tnv'.e which can be carried on without
the one side talcing some ad va it age of the other?
We lend money at high interest, but we have no
security, that is why the interest is high. Our
debtors knov. ;hi--, and w; pretend that the
interest is low. YVher : ^ ti e i justice ? Why is it
The (Molt) lemon.
abominable ? Those who think the interest unfair
had better not borrow at all. If you call money
lending unjust you must blame the whole state of
society which has produced this calling. There
are many difficulties in society which can only be
overcome by a loan of money.
" This necessity is our advantage if it were not
so, we could not lend, however much we wanted to
do so. This is the soul of our and of every other
trade. It is a mutual agreement, and if you call it
unfair, you must call trade unfair!"
CHAPTER XXIV
c tvorlfe'3
(Continued)
TJK paused. His wife had been watching
Tadamichi's face the while, and felt sure he
must be as convinced by his father's excellent
reasoning as she herself was. The danger of a
qua 'Tel was, she hoped, averted. Tadamichi shook
his head solemnly.
" There are certain laws " lie said : " which must
be kept by all men, be they merchants or scho'ars.
I am r.ot argirng against money-making, but
against n aking it by unjust means, ?uch as taking
advantage of a man's necessity to make him pay
abnormally high interest for the money he tnu<t
borrow. You call this the soul of trade?
"Consider i lazama's case. The assailants
were two to one, they attacked him when he
was off his guard. What- < you think of such
conduct ? Was it fair or manly ? Do you not
i them as mean cowardly fellows?"
He spoke emphatically and waited for his father
to reply.
L235 I
Trmun.
" You agree with me " he continued " in calling
them mean, cowardly and worthless. Still it was
their bus'ness to avenge a wrong and they carried
out their business successfully. They too, used
the best means they had, and they must have been
quite satisfied with the result. That you feel
outraged, is no concern of theirs, especially as you
an- probably the only p_rso:i who iecls it an
injustice. I ca-i see no difference between your
trade and their conduct if you condemn their
action, you must expjct the world to regard yours
in the same light."
His mother was disturbed. Just as her hus-
band's words had convinced her that he was in
the right, so she was now thoroughly persuaded of
her son's way of thinking. Who could withstand
such excellent rescuing ? What could Wanibuchi
say in reply to this ? She looked at him anxiously.
But though he was quite calm, and .-miled as
though he were proud of his son's sound logic, yet
his wife was well aware that he smiled on occasions
when others did not do so, that curious, enigmatic
.smile. She wondered what was passing in his mind.
Tadamichi's pale face had assumed an almost
livid hue, he moved his fingers restlessly and
his \oice became keen and small:
I 2361
2\}t rcorln'8 Wirt.
" My point is loo clear to need further explana-
tion, I can only repeat what I have e-aid so often.
I am troubled about you, I live in daily dread for
your sa'ety, my life is being poisoned, even study
is distasteful, and I lon^ to hury myself fiom sigh*
in some mountain fa-tress. You say your trade
is "not unjust. ", yet tlio.s t > n aged upon it are
krown as " jailors of Hell," and I, your so:i, must
hear you called by such a name and know it to
be deserved. Thosj with whom you should as
sociate, will have none of you, they are ashamed
to know you, your associates can only be the
people you yours Jf despise. What an intolerable
position ! To be despised and rejected by the
world is no disgrace, it mav even be a-i honorable
thing, except where the disgrace ami dishonour is
of our own making, the' result of actions mean and
unjust."
Wanibuchi had maintained his composure
through all his son's excited speech ; he whistled
softly through his teeth, but as he saw Ta-'amichi
pn paring, to spe .k again, he interrupted him hastily
with :
"I understand, I underst 1-1 '."
" Then you will take my advice ? Is that
what you mean ? "
[237]
Ifjt OHoD Ttmon-
" I mean I quite understand yo'ir poV.t of view
but you arc you-^-and I ani 1 ! "
Tadamichi, now pale as death, clenched his fists
\vith suppressed tmosion, as his father continued :
" You arc young, very young. You have done
i othing but read and study. This will not do.
It is time you learned to see the world as it is.
I sympathize with your anxiety on my behalf, but
1 cannot change- my principles to please you."
Rising, he added gently :
" This attack on Ilazama has upset yo.i a
deal. I must go out now, stay here as long as
you like and make yourself comfortable."
His wife followed him to the outer door and
asked, in a whisper, where he was going.
I Ie told her, he thought it better to go out until
Tadamichi should have left, as further discussion
was useless. " Send him away with a few kind
words " he added.
O, Mine who did not at all enjoy the prospect of
being left alone with Tad.imichi, for she feared lu
would begin to reproach her bitterly, rubbed her
knees one against the other, as women do from
nervousness, and begged her husband to stay at
home ; but he h id already slipped on his wooden
footgear and wa^ losing the outer ga
.[238]
roorlD'3 trsire.
She therefore returned to the little sitting-room,
feeling as though were about to tread on the
tiger's tail, and found her son sitting with folded
arms, immovable as a statue.
"It is time for lunch " she said hesitatingly.
" What would you like? " and as he did not even
-.11 to hear her, she cried pleadingly : " Tada-
nrchi ! "
He then lifted his miserable, griefstricken face,
and in a voice that was half a sob, gasped :
" Mother ! "
The tone went to her heirt, and she yearned
towards him, as she had done when, ,'is a child, he
lay white and ill upon his bed, and she watched
through the dark night beside him. All the
mother in her was awakened by that stricken cry,
and as he rose suddenly, she felt she could not
let him go, and laid a detaining hand upon his
sleeve, crying to him to stay. He pulled himself
free with unconscious brusqueness and, in a voice
trembling with tears, muttered : " Food would
choke me I can't eat please let me go..."
and so pass d out of the house.
[239J
CH.M ; XXV
r KT us leave our hero Kwanichi Ha/.an a to
^ recover from his wounds at the Hospiia'.
and see how Miya has fared, since she parted with
him in the moonlight at Atami, on that 171)1 of
January, that she was to remember all her days.
Kwanichi's disappearance had been a
shock to the whole family, an 1 yet it had b i n
something of a relief too, coming like the solution
of a difficult problem.
Miya grieved deeply. She had renounced her
lover for th< ."gold, but s'le could not give
up her love for him. She spent the clays before
hqr marri :ige watching and waiting for his return,
convinced that he would come back to her, wond-
ering where he had gone, and fearful Lst, in his
penniless cond : tion, he should be in want a - id
miseiy. Slowly and todiou.-.ly each day dragged
to its close, and her wedding day approached, fast
add inexorable as the inflowing tide.
In her distress she consulted a fortu-ie-teller.
Till that time she had de.-piscd the profes
and had laughed at those of her friends who
[240]
Iflo V&tt.
believed in it. Now, in her anguish of mind she
felt there might be something in it. At any rate
she would leave no means untried to give her
hops, or to assuage the pain that was gnawing at
her heart.
The fortune-teller told her that, for the present,
all communication between her and her lover
\\ouid cease later on, she \voulJ meet him
again. Strange to say this prophecy only con-
vinced ' her that Kwanichi would write to her,
a long letter, pouring out to her all the resentment
he felt at her treatment, and plcad'ng to be taken
back. But the fortune-teller's words proved true,
Miya neither saw nor heard from rcr lover a,ain.
As each new day brought disappointment, the
girl reali/ed more and more how she loved him.
In the evenings she would steal away to his room,
1 -an upon his desk, the hot tears falling upon her
sleeve 1 -'. She would opjn his cupboards, take out
his clothes, and press her face among their folds,
trying to conjure up his presence and believe he .
was once more beside her. In vain.
Then, if he should write, she t' ought, a long
tender Liter, she wo-ild leave her parents and join
i.iin if she but knew where to find him she
would go to him . nothing should hold her...
[241]
Xfit ffiolS Ttmon.
And 'n the midst of this, there arrival one
from Tomiy.i'iui the presents fo" tlu betrothal, an !
she sent hers in return, and set about making prepa-
rations, for her marriage. So confused w.is her mind
at the lime, and so full o. day dreams, that she
pictured Kwanichi in t!~e place that Tomiyama was
to occupy, and derived therefrom some happi.
for a while. But this state 01 things could not
continue. The hour came when she demanded of
herself what course she was to pursue, and nights
of agony followed. She loved one with all her
heart, but she could not reach him. This engage-
ment was hateful to her, but beyond it glittered
gold. Thus, within her raged the battle of two great
desires, love's desire, and desire for gold, and so
she drifted, swayed hither and thither, until the 3rd
of March stood at her door and it was too late to
. back.
She went through the ceremony, which ought
to be the most joyful moment of a woman's life,
.like one dead. The solemn day dragged 0:1, and
it was not until the customary exchange of" bed-
cups" which takes place in the bed chamber
f, that it occurred to Miya that Tomiyama
Tadatsugu was her husband, that ihis wa-, reality,
and that Kwanichi was lost to her forever. These
[242]
Ton Sfitt.
thoughts roused her from the half dazed condition
she had been in all day, and awakene 1 feelings
of great bitterness.
She felt helpless as the bird within the net, and
said to herself:
" From the beginning my heart was given to
Kwanichi ; that I should give myself to Tadatsugu
was the fate ordained for me by the God of
Marriage. Therefore I will not forget Kwanichi
even though Tadatsugu is my husband."
In her heart, she knew this thought to be im-
moral, but believed she could in no wise free
herself from this immorality, as it was a part of her
pre-ordained fate, and a punishment from Buddha
for sins committed in a former life.
Thus Miya became Tadatsugu's wife.
[243]
OlAI'lKI; XXVI
TADAMICHI loved his wife with his \vholc
lv art and did what in him lay to make h r
happy. To others her lot seemed an enviable one
indeed. But Miya was most miserable As her
hop:s of seeing Manama grew fainter, her aversion
to her husband increased ; she shuddered at his love
for her. He. was never weary of contemplating her
beauty, her mere presence filled him with joy.
His pride and love of her were so thinly veiled as
to make the world remark unkindly upon the
fact. 1 Je was unaware that she was as cold and
empty as a lifeless vessel in his bosom.
When a son was born to them the following
Spring, his joy and pride knew no bounds. Miya
hated herself for giving him a child, and worried
herself into a serious illness, from which she did
not recover for months. By then her little son,
who was weakly, had died of pneumonia.
MAM'S beauty had increased, but she had a
transparent, delicate look, which made her luis-
1 and caress and watch over her n.ore than ever,
rind avrain tKrighbours and acquain'anccs shook their
1 "244 1
an*
heads, at the absurdity of so much devotion from d
man to his wife. The cause of her heavy spirits
he did not inquire, taking them to be a oart of
her nati.ral character.
Miya ha 1 made no attempt to overcome her
love for Kwanichi. She never ceased to gru ve
over what she now called her crime, in giving up
her lover to rrarrv another. She asked herself
why had she married ? Could it really be for that
gold, which ha r i brought her nothing but unhap-
piness ? The life of plenty, the luxurious home,
which had been her desire, ha 1 proved as worth-
less to her as a lump of earth. Was she not like
a bird shut in its gilded cage, looking up at a sky
for ever beyond its reach ?
Like a jewel she was enshrined in her home,
she was of no use, had been r,o real wife to her
husband. Like a machine she had done wha 1 : \\as
expected of her, even to the bearing of a chill,
which she had hated, and which she believed had
died on account of her hatred.- After the death of
the child, she swore she woi:x ' rot bear another,
and for years kept her oath.
Thus four years had passed, duiing which time
'-he had never ceased to think of Kwanichi ; when
[245]
Xfje olD lemon.
lie suddenly 'stood before her in the garden of
Viscount Tazumi.
What \\ere her feelings when she beheld that
figure, which never left her even in her dreams ?
Like a hungry man eating greedily after long
abstinence, she tried to c atisfy herself in that short
glimpse of him. But her passion being unsatis-
fied, grew, the more intense, till she at last resolved
to take a bold step just one step further along
the road of that inward sin which, she had declared
to herself, was not to be overcome.
Although she had been told by Shizuo that
1 lazama was living with a certain Wanibuchi, at
Gobancho, she was tearful ot sending him a letter,
lest, in some way, it should come to her husband's
ears. She could not walk out alone, either How
should she communicate with him? Everything
;r,ed against her, she could do nothing un-
rved, custom and etiquette hedged her in on
every side.
Weary of doing nothing all day, she conceived
the idea of writing a long, long, letter, in which she
would tell Ha?ama everything, her love, her re-
pentance, her sorrow and this separation from him
which was more than she could bear.
[246]
t'obf onto flatf
Not that she had any intention of sending him
the letter, but the writing of it \vould, perhaps, ease
the pain she felt in her heart.
ClIAlTKK XXVII
$C 3 it cum
IT uas the i /th of January four years after
Miya's painful parting with Kwanichi upon the
sands at Atani'.
The day was always a particularly painful one to
her. She had been writing at that letter which, she
hoped, would bring her a little comfort, until her eyes
were blinded with tears and she was obliged to put
her writing materials away. She went to the window.
The sky had been clear all the morning, but
now a wind sprang up, blowing clouds across the
blue. At the sight of the clouds, Kwanichi's
words sounded loud in Miya's ears :
" This night, this month in all years to come,
when you look at the moon overcast with clouds,
remember that it is I clouding the moon with
Uars of anger and resentment."
I low often since then she had watched the
moon and wondered, as the clouds drilted acioss
her face, whether Kwanichi still felt the i-ame
anger towards her. Sometimes when the sup-
posed sign of his tears was absent, and the moon,
her brightness undimmed, rose higher and higher
r 248 j
in the heav.-ns, a new grief would befall Miya. If
his resentment was at an end might it not be
because he had ceased to think of her ? And this
thought was the more intolerable of the two.
It grew colder. Miya ordered a fire to be
lighted in the European room, and when the
curtains were drawn, she threw herself into an
easy chair, covered with scarlet damask, and gave
herself up to thought.
In her husband's absence she was sole mi stress
of the house, having no parents-in-la v to submit
tc, no sisters or brothers-in-law to be troubled by,
no children to 'ake care of. The household
duties were performed by her servants ; she had
nothing to do all day. If she wanted to go out
there \\as her special jinricksha waiting for her;
she was fed on dainties ; her words were listened
to with deference and affection ; a'l she did was
approved of. Such a kind husband ! the days
should be golden for a young wife ! Was not every-
thing, that a giil ca i desire, bestowed lavishly
upo i hi r ?
Alas ! she had desired it, had sacrificed her love
for it, and the sacrifice had b.en in vain. No
luxury, no kindness, no pleasures could smother
her grief; she had learned that happiness is only
[249]
Iftmm
to be found at the side of the one 1> iloi'ed. If
once more the choice between pleasures of the
soul and pleasures of the \xxtycould\x offered, she
would be wise and know which to choose
It was too late.
She sighed deeply and glanced round the
cheerful room.
"What- delight to sit here with the man one
loves," she mused " safe and warm, protected
from the outer cold, and talking openly of all that
lies near one's heart."
She rose and drew aside a curtain. It had
begun to snow, and the garden was already covered
with a thin white sheet. Miya strained her ears to
catch a sound of the falling snow might it not
bring her a message ?
So deep was she in thought, that she did not
hear the opening of the door, nor see Tadatsvigu
come in, so she started violently when an ice-
cold hand touched her neck, and tried to turn
her head. Standing behind her, he hell her fast,
but his favourite perfume betrayed him, and with a
sigh that \\ as partly relief, she said :
" Oh ! it is you ! How heavily it is snowing.
Have you had a hard day?"
She pushed forward tlu- rasy chair, and herself
[250]
put more fuel o i the fire, being the more glad
to render her husband these little services, beams j
of her inward infidelity towards him. Her con-
science smote her for her thoughts of that after-
noon, and she made an erTort to forget them.
Her husband stretched out in the easy chair,
thoroughly warmed by this lime, looked out at
the snow, and then at his beautiful wife, and felt
happy and at ease.
" Hurrah ! for this beautiful snow ! " he ex-
claimed. " Wouldn't it be nice to have some
' Yi's-.'-iiab-- "' on a cold clay like this? Do order
some and make \\\-i a cup of coffee with
plenty^ oi cognac." Miva \vas about to go, but
lie cried : " Don't [40 let them bring the things
and we'll make it here."
He rang the bell, and then came up to the fire
and put Miya's hand in his arm. She did not
smile, neither did .she resist. " What is the matter
with you? \\'hy are you so lowspirited ? " he
:tvg l;er closer to himself and looking
\\\\\- into her face :
"You look ill have you taken cold? No?
What then is the matter? I don't like to ee you
ny on my return, it makes me think you
i a kind of liish Mr* c: ten out of the dish in winch it is cc
Thf (Hoia Trmtrn.
haven't much a r fectio:i for inc. Am I right ? "
The door opened and the mai 1 brought in the
things or. lore!. Miya trie 1 to draw herself from
her hi sband's embrace; she felt it was unseemly
in the presence of ar. other, and was disgusted when
he would not let her go. The maid put the
things on the table and left the room hastily.
Tadatsugu continued :
" It seems to me, that you have been veiy low-
spirited of late. It is not good for you to stay at
home so much. You do not go out at all now-
adays, and I think that is the reason of your
depression. I met Mrs. Yoshida the other day
and she said you had not been to see her for
weeks. She teased me saying I kept you shut up
like some valuable jewel, and she suggested
I should take you to the theatre or show you
to people, 1 and give the proceeds to charity !
Mr. FuUuzumi has been elected you know, it
is chiefly owing to me he got into Parliament. A
big congratulatory dinner is being given, and in a
few days time, a dinnar " of thanks " to those wr.o
helped him during the elections. To the second
dinner-party we are asked to bring our wives, and
so you must
" Mrs. Tomiyama ' is talked of a great deal
[252]
2nt).
and those who have never seen you, know of you.
I am proud of yo i, my d a , A td I like \-ou to be
( xclusi/e, but you must not shut you self up. too
much, else your heal h will suffer. I should like
to take you out with me a ;ai i eveiy Sunday, as
I used when we wvre first married. It was after
the boy was born that you gave up going out with
me regularly, ...... and of lato you have given it
up altogether ......... The C( ffee is ready? It is
very nice and hot ! Won't you have some ? let
me give you ha 1 fa cup? no? without the cognac
then Has the Yose-nabe come ? When it is
read;,', they will tell us I suppose - we can't eat it
in this room, it is only fit to be eaten beside a
brazier .....................
You must be sure to accept Mr. Fukuzumi's
invitation and dress yourself so splendidly as to
eclipse every one. What about your dress ? If you
want a new one, have it made at once, and let it
lie the best that can be bought. Yo i don't seem
to ca e for dress nowadays ...... I always see you
in this sleepy-coloured coat. Why don't you put
on that double coat it suits you much better.
The day after to-morrow is Sunday ! Let us
go somewhere. What do you say to going to
Mitsui's to look for that dress? I have it. Mrs.
[253.1
lemon.
. wants your photograph she asks
me fur one whenever I see her I am perfectly
sick of her persistence. I have to go to her house
to-morrow on business, and she is sure to ask me
again. You lave no photographs of yourself?
one ? Then let us go to the photographer on
Sunday we might be taken together just as if
we were very young.
Ah ! the Yose-nabe has come let us go."
Miya had stepped to the window and was look-
ing out at the fast-falling snow. It ha 1 spread all
over the raalen, it lay heavily upon the trees, and
Mied to be falling on her too, crushing her
relentlessly beneath its hea\y whiten*
" Why does.it snow like that? " she asked irre-
levantly.
"What nonsense you are talking!" was the
reply, " Come let us go."
ClIAlTKK XXVIII
anb bcr
THE snow continued to fall all night and the
sun rose; upon a " silver world." All that
day he shone with springlike warmth, until nearly
all the snow was melted, and the roads were a
sea of mud. But by the next day the sunshine
IKV! dried the principal thoroughfares, and people
who had been confined to the house on account of
the weather, now sallied forth, so tlv.it the streets
looked unusually busy and crowded.
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning,
when a Ured-out jinricksha man, the wheels of his
jinricksha heavy with mud, struggled up the
ligura hill.
The old lady, whom he was drawing, was very
handsome ; she wore the black silk Azuma
overcoat with the hanging sleeve, her head was
muffled in a dark blue crepe covering.
The jimicksha man presently turned into a side
street, passed the stone wall of a Shinto shrine, and
with shouts and groans of encouragement to him-
self, panted laboriously up a gentle slope, which,
hidden from the sun on the south by a thick row
[255]
Trmon.
of trees, was a p-rfe ;,ire o! mini. At the
top he turned into a gate hoisting an electric
lamp. High banks ot earth rose on either
side.
This was Tadatsugu Tomiyama's residence, and
the call r was Miya's mother. Tomivama had
long since gone to his office, and Miy.i's hairdresser
had just finished her daily task. With a big
in. ifu-in age of glossiest black, tied with a piece
of pink silk, Miya came out to leceive her mother.
She ha 1 wound a white silk scari round her throat,
and couched incessantly. A siiv.de -lance told
the mother, that those haggard looks were not to
bj accounted for by a mere cold.
As Miya had more leisure to do as she pleaded
than UMiaiiy falls to the lot of a inani- ! woman,
was able to see a great deal of her Mother,
and nothing could be happier for the, latt-T than
to know her daughter settled in a pr.jsper-
, peaceful home, to all intents and pur-
uccessfully and happily married. \Vh -n-
cver she saw Miya, she felt a thrill of pi ide in
having done so well for her, and she often
wondered, as she watched other married coiples,
whether it were only lack of luck, and not al.-.o
lack of talent on the parents' side in negociati ng
[256]
onD fter :l'Joil)cr.
these affairs, that had brought //rr/V daughters less
succe.-s in their mttriages.
Tomiyama's gateway, through which she so
often passed, always seemed to her something of a
triumphal arch !
Full of surprise and pleasure, Miya conducted
her mother in a happy hurry to her sitting-room.
Having been confined to the house for some time,
.she was doubly pleased at the prospect of a long
talk, besides there was always the faint hope that
her mother might sp?ak ot" Kwanichi might have
had news of him.
Mrs. Shigizawa put abide for a moment the
various topics she had come to discuss with her
daughter, and began to question her as to the
reason of her poor looks. Recollecting how her
husband had pressed her closely for a reason only
the day before, Miy.i east about in her mind for a
plausible reply. She declared she had a cold
nothing more ; she did not take sufficient ex-
ercise ; her nerves were out of order and made
her lowspirited. But her Mother was not satis-
I laving warned her, that she would do
herself harm by neglecting herself, and having
advised her to see a doctor, she was suddenly
1.2571
struck by a new idea and said in a flurried voice :
"Is it a child?"
Miya smiled sarcastically, and her voice had a
note of contempt, as she replied :
"That is not possible!"
>t possible ? " ejaculated the old lady " and
you seem to be proud of the fact ! What does
mean ? Here are your parents-in-law
anxiously expec'in^ a grandson, and you say ' not
possible ' ! Do you realize that you have no heir ?
Your father, loo, is not a little vexed, and says
continually : " Good-for-nothing i^irl ! it is a
shame for a woman to have no children ! " You
really make me angry, sitting there at your ease
and thinking of nothing but your own pleasure,
and the preservation of your youthful looks. A
<iiy will come when you will regret it. You r
nd of children, what has come to you ? "
, non-plu-sjd at this sudden attack. "I
ay I did not wish for a child but I ain't
help it if I am not i;iven any. "
" It is your duty to take care of vour ho ilth and
r." was the old lady's rep'y in a less
e tone of voice.
" Yo i call m '.ieliVate, but there is nothing
real'.y the matter with me; it v.ou'd be absurd to
anS Frr Wotfitr.
call in a doctor, he would laugh at me and
yet " She hushed half hysterically, and h~r
next words came with a rush, as if driven out o(
her in spite of herself.
"There is something for a long time I
have wanted to speak to you about it. It worries
me all the time, and that is why I feel ill, and have
grown thin and haggard."
CHAITH: XXIX
of
TTKR Mother's eyes were round with wonder
she pushed herself a, little nearer, and in her
heart, she knew not why, she was afraid.
" What is it?"
" Last Autumn I met Kwanichi ..... "
" \Vs ! Where ? "
Both had lowered their voices unconsciously, as
though afraid of being overheard.
" Have you heard nothing of him, Mother?"
(}ii-. stioned the girl.
" No. dear."
"Truly, nothing?''
" Nothing/'
"You do not even know what he is doing?"
" No, c'ear."
" Perhaps Father knows and keeps it secret ? "
" lie knows nothing. Where did you meet him ?''
Miya recounted the meeting in the garden, and
her Mother gave a sigh of relief, for from her
daughter's manner .she had expected a moiv
serious disclosure. It was fort in ate Tomiyam.i
2fjr (Real (faule of .Ulifla 1 * Sab C>caltf).
had not been presjnt, and then suddenly it
flashed across her mind how the two men had met
at Atami in the Plum-Garden. How vehement
and excited Kwanichi had been, and how nervous
she had felt, lest a quarrel should arise between
him and Tomiyama. She remembered how beads
of perspiration had stood 0:1 her forehead. Was
Miya quite safe even now? Might not Kwanichi
cross her path again, and might not feelings, she
had deemed long since dead, be awakened ?
How miserable and restless Miya had been before
her marriage ! Mrs. Shigizawa felt uneasy.
" What did Kwanichi do after that ? " she
questioned.
" We parted, ignoring each other but "
" Well ! "
" That is all. But it has made me feel wretch-
ed. If ho had looked successful and been splend-
idly dressed, I should not have been so moved,
but he was wearing old clothes, and he looked so
thin. Then I heard that he was employed by a
man n:m:d Wanibuchi, living at Gobancho, who
is an agent for land and houses, and Kwanichi is
living with him, so he must be badly off. When
1 iliink that this is the man with whom I was
ught up, and compare his former with his
Tfraon.
present condition, I can't help f.rling miserable."
She wiped her eyes -with her sleeve and added :
" How can I feel happy? It is all my fault you
see ! "
This was unpleasant news for Mrs. Shigi/axva,
and she shook her head. " Dear me ! Dear me !
Is his condition really so bad?"
Miya went on :
" I will not say I never thought of him before
that meeting, but since that interview last year he
has been in my thoughts daily ; and I dream dread-
ful dreams about him. Whenever I go to call on
yon and father, I wonder how I can introduce the
subject, but each time my tongue is tied and I
dare not speak. If my health has suffered it is
owing to this one thing, the knowledge that
Kwanichi is poor and miserable.
" I want to implore you, dear Mother, to grant
me one request. Do something for Kwanichi !
You remember when he first left us, you said
something should be done to help him if he could
be traced. Let him inherit the Shigizawa pro-
perty as was originally intended. Ir not I can
never, never forgive myself. Hitherto you could
nothing, as his whereabouts were unknown,
but now it will be ea-y to find him, and it would
[262]
iffftU CFau*e of 'Ifiilja'S SaD
be very wrong to leave things as they are.
" Could you not yet father to go and see him and
make some arrangement wilh him? ...... Won't
you take him under your care as you used to> that
his life may not be spoilt, and that he may be
taken back into our family ? Then I can exchange
the " cup of fraternity " with him, and look upon
him as my elder brother, who will help me when
I have need of him."
Miya's words did not deceive even herself, nor
were tluy meant to decive her Mother. The
thought in her mind was, that it would be easier to
bear the pangs of love if Kwanichi were restored to
his former position, (which brought with it the pros-
pect of meeting,) than to know of him pining away,
forever beyond her reach. Mrs. Shigizawa looked
grave and doubtful at Miya's proposition.
" This is a question wich requires a great deal
of consideration " she said. " As to Kwanichi, we
have often talked about him, and been anxious as
to his fate, but for all that, as your father says, he
did not behave well. It was quite natural that he
should be angry at the breaking of your engage-
ment with him, but he should not have been un-
onable. From his fourteenth year we had
cared for him and done our best for him. It was
[263]
Ibf WolB Xemon.
an obligation yonr father owed his, but it v
a benefaction. It he had thought a little, lie c<
not have left us thus abruptly and srornf. 1 y.
We "did not break the engagement telling him
\ve had no further use for him, and t' at he might
go where he would. Xb indeed ! Your father
offered him the whole of the Shigizawa property,
and would have sent him abroad to study. He
even put the matter to him in the form of a request
it was almost humiliating to have to do so ..
he told him all his reasons, and begged him to
quietly consider the subject. Kwanichi's be-
haviour was an insult, and you see he is being
punished for it. You cannot expect your father
and me to feel towards him as we used. I think
that to go and seek him out, and try and do some-
thing for him would be an undignified proceeding
tor your father ! "
J5ut it was not so much the fear of appearing
" undignified " which made Mrs. Shigizaw.i re-
luctant to have dealings with Kwanichi. There
was something more dangerous than loss of
dignity to be guarded against. Perhaps the
Mother had read her daughter's mind more clearly
than the latter anticipated.
1 From your point of view, Mother, that is
[264]
of
quite reasonable, but from mine it is all w.'ong.
Kwanichi caniol bj left as he is now, fur don't
you see, that it is my fault that he behaved
badly to you, and that you think badly of him. I
feel it my duty, to do my utmost to renew the
old relat : onship. Please, for my sake, forgive
Kwanichi and take him back as your son. ' Let
us cast the past into a running stream,' and
tlien I shall grow strong and be happy once
more.
" Put it to father like that. . say it is a necessity,
...... I am growing weaker and weaker...
" I will do my best,'' replied her Mother :
" I will talk it over with your father. But surely
you do not mean to attribute your bad health to
this ? "
"I do indeed. That is the real cause. I
grieve over Kwaniohi continually even before I
met him last year I was troubled, but since then
____ Oh ! it came upon me suddenly when I saw his
poor miserable face ; . ' J am the cause of this,
and 1 was filled with dread for the wrong- 1 had
done. My one and only hope in this world, is to
see him restored to his former position, that he
ii av be a comfort to my parents in their oM age.
At nre-ent I will leav ling to you, but I
2\)t
will conic in a few days and beg my father to do
this for me.'
Again grave doubts assailed Mrs. Shigi/a'.ya and
she shook her head once more. " I think it is too
late "
" Mother ! M indignantly, " how can you say
that, rather will certainly nevor consent if y-vi,
on whom I depend, talk like this ! "
" I don't say I disagree with you, or ....."
"Never mind, it does not matter if you agree
or not. Father too hates Kwanichi and won't do
anything, I know. I will not depend o;i cither oi
"on I don't care if you agree with me or not ! "
Miy.i spoke wildly and tears of anger stood in
her eyes.
" My dear child, listen to me, I think .
" I don't want to listen to you . ..I don't care
for anything . " she hid her face in her sleeve,
and sobs prevented her further utterance.
"What foolishness is this!" exclaimed her
Mother, " there is nothing to weep about. I will
talk it all over with 'our father when I go
home "
"Do as you like!" sobbed her daughter: "i
have taken my own resolutions and will cany
them out."
Zfte Krai Gau*e of 2Ritja'$ 806 ea(ii).
" That is very wrong this is a matter in which
you can do nothing . ... you must leave this
entirely to me. I have told you I will speak to
your father when I get home. "
" You don't understand ma at all," burst out
Miya "you are never to be depended on
that is what I mean."
" Do not speak to your Mother like that ! "
exclaimed the old lady irritated.
"I shall say what I think!" replied her
daughter. The Mother looked up and encounter-
ed an angry glance. This was a vexatious and
serious business. She struck her little pipe
sharply on the edge of the brazier the bowl, which
was loose, dropped off, and fell among the ashes.
CHAPTKK XXX.
It it tuc Iconic Visitor.
TIIK fracture Kwanichi had received in bis
head threatened for a while lo develop into
meningitis, but tint danger passed over and after
three months u.1 th- Hospital, he was \\vll on the
way to recovery. I lis wounds had healed and
he was able to sit up and even to stand, though
the latter still gave him a good deal of pain.
How weaiy he wa. of lying in bed, but his weak-
ness prevented his making any great afi'ort to get
up. Added to this, he was worried and annoyed
at the frequent visits of Mitsue, the celebrated
Beauty-Usurer."
Mitsue had called so repeatedly on Ha/.ama at
the Ilo-p'tal, that the doctor-in-charge, the assistant
doctor, the nurses, the old woman attendant, the
porter, the servants, and some of the patients all
began to wag their tongues, and speculate upon the
relationship between the young man and his hand-
some visitor. Reports of her beauty had sprea 1
so fir, that a certain Professor, celebrate;! in medical
circLs, took the trouble of cc ming over on purpose
to see her. It was IK t krown who she UMS. until
3(u HnlPfltome Wi? : tor*.
som of the doctors, who had '.iacl lealings with
o
Ivr, ,.lio\\vd tlie n:un - ' BoauLy-Us'.irer ' to leak
out; whereupon her \- regarde.l \vjth still
st She was stared at more boldly,
.-nfs p.; i mo was linked with hers in a
way, that roused fix-lings of emy, in the breasts
of ihj younger m mbers of t - aff.
It n os-ible for Ib/amato knou all this,
but none the less he was annoyed at her frequent
-.vhich, ostensibly ' visits totlu sick,' he could
not well refu-e. He had asked her once or tw'ce
not to come so often, t". r he had the uncomfortable
feeling that the kindness concealed a trap, and he
took no pleasure in. lief society. He disliked her
char.'.cter, and was insensible to her b.auty. That
she was in love with him was apparent to the
dullest eye, but even this did not loucli him, he
only feared being spoken of as her Jover s/ic a
married woman !
Whenever she came in, ho felt strangely irritable,
his faculties seemed paralysed and he scolded
himself as weakminded. This f. eliug he could
not overcome.
Formerly he had ('one his utmost to avoid her,
but here in the hosp'tal he could not escape. Like
t'lK fi-li on the choppin;4-block, he felt, helpless
[>6pj
Irmon.
and at the mercy of anyone, The climax came,
\vhen Wanibuchi, who had seen Mitsuc at the
Hospital several times, began to suspect a liaison
between her and his clerk. His questionings,
his suspicious looks, his badly concealed* anger
proved to Kwanichi the connection that existed
between his Master and the Beauty. In his weak
state he was inclined to regard everything from the
dark side. A great evil was coming upon him.
.m his thoughts, brought about by this woman.
As Inn i as she tormented him he would ncvei
vvr, >he was like a needle hidden in the
mattress on which he lay. His broadest hints to
her were quite useless.
She had come again and had brought him a
present. Her visit had already lasted over an
hour and she seemed in no hurry to go. Im-
patiently he turned over and, closing his eyes,
f.-igned sleep.
The nurse left the room noiselessly and im-
mediately Mitsue drew her chair still closer to
his pillow and leaning over him whispered : " Ha-
7.ama--an ! Ilazarna-san ! Please turn round."
Receiviiv- no reply she tiptoed to the other side
of the bed, brought her face close to his and again
cried : " Ha/.ama ! "
1>70~J
fin llniuflrontf Visitor*.
When he would neither open his eyes nor reply
she shook him gently by the shoulder. It was
useless to feign unconsciousness any longer.
Hazanvi looked at her and almost rudely re-
marked :
"What! are you here still."
" Don't be so cross," was the reply and the
lovely face was laid beside his on the pillow. " I
have something to tell you."
The man's face showed his disgust plainly at
this familiarity and he turned the other way again
and said : " Sit down here on the chair ! " As
she did not move, he took no further notice, but
again closed his eyes wearily.
Mitsuc was greatly affronted at such disdainful
treatment and stoo^l flicking the bedclothes
viciously with her little pocket-handkerchief. Half
under her breath, yet wishing to be heard, she
exclaimed :
" Ah ! I know I am despised by you, and
why I do not hate you I cannot t-11 ! You !
You!
There was no answer.
"You are too cruel Hazama ! Will you not
answer me ? "
Irritated by the silence she pulled at his plllo\v.
Zfet <olo ?tmon.
1 Ie frowned and without unclosing his eyes said
crossly :
" I have nothing to ;ay to you except
this : Your visits are an annoyance to inc."
" What do you say ! " She gasped.
" and I positively decline to rec you any
more."
" You ! What ! "
She leaned over him and raised her delicate
eyebrows, feigning an anger she was far fiom
feeling. This was a -.im.- after her o\vn heart.
This was a man worth winning. And she loved
him and enjoyed her lovo. Her anger was her
challenge to him she kn- A- its efficacy of old.
The ready tears wore summoned to her eyes,
where they lay like dewdrops on a morning-glory.
" You have an invalid at home," came from
1 fa/ami in accents of scorn: "why don't you go and
nurse him. Your coming here so often annoys me."
" I know it cioes ! "
" And that is not all. There is that other thing
I heared of, a few days ago."
" Ah ! yes. You mean about Mr. Wanibuchi."
rbapg I
"Did f not tell you I wished to ;-peiktoyou
about something ? 1 ut you mal
F 372 "
llntvrlcontf
treating m_* unkindly, which you havJ no right
to do even if you believe a'l yrv.i heir. Do not
think you are the only person who is annoyed,
no indeed ! What must / feel !
" Mr. Wanibuchi was most unpleasant the other
. Not that I care for that, but I thought \{ you
heard of it you might be vexed."
She spoke tentatively, watching his face for the
effect of her words. Ha?.ama made no sign, in
fact he hardly seemed to be listening. Ah ! she
would make him listen, he should know, she had
him at her mercy.
" Some days ago I wanted to tell you this, but
I hardly liked to speak of so unpleasant a business
with my own (ongue '(how virtuous the little
minx could look) I thought you were better kept
in ignorance ol it. It is not a recent thing that
Mr. Wanibuchi has approached me this way
he has teased me about it such a long long time,
a heavy sigh) and I have avoided him, and made
excuses and put it off all for you. As Mr.
Wanibuchi did r.ot know that I that I liked you
in this way, there has been no bother, but since
I have been visiting you here at the Hospital, and
1 avc met him a goo ! many times, he has grown
su.-picio'js. So the other day he beean about it
[>73] '
I!ic WolD Teuton.
and asked me to tell him plainly wha< my position
was in regard to you and I told him .. that ..
...I had given myself lo you !"
" Oh ! Damn ! " came from the now thoroughly
roused Kwanichi.
" Shame on you ! How dared you tell such a
lie?"
Mitsue's first look of triumph was rapidly
succeeded by a well-assumed air of p.-nitencc.
Like a bashful, drooping maiden she toyed with
the scarlet silk linings of her sleeves, and then
lifted timid eyes, which pleaded not to be rebuked.
But Haxama was in no mood to notice her coquet-
teries. Angrily he called :
" Let there be an end of this I say ^o away
go back to your home immediately" He had
half risen, and now cast himself down on his
pillows with such violence, lhat he was unable
to restrain a groan of pain. At the sound
Mitsue's arms were round him and passing her
hands down his breast and side she questioned
anxiously :
" What is the matter ! Where are you hurt ? "
" Go home go home ! " was the only reply
he vouchsafed her.
" Nut until you speak some kind word to me...
[274J
UnWflcom
...Hazama, dear Hazama, fay something to me ..
. I will not o home like this."
As she stood beside h'm the door opened, and
she tur~ed with a stait of surprise, for it was
neither th? doctor nor the nurse who entered.
CHAFFER XXXI
"21 it oft uuin'0
A fat old gentleman, in a spo'.ted woollen cloak,
;i ivancod leisurely. Less practised than Mi-
tsue in the gentle art of deceiving, his face at once
should the anger he felt at finding her here ; she
on the other hand betraye.l no sign of confusion
her smile and bo v wore charming. " How do yo i
do? You are welcome! Will you sit do.vn?"
" Hum ! Thank you for visiting him so often."
gro'.vled the old man sarcastically ; and turning to
Kwanichi :
"How are you? Very happy !o have such
lo.-ely victors I should think!"
Hot'i Kwanichi and Mitsuc felt extremely un-
cou/ortablj, and th- former racked his weary
brain Low to explain, or make an end to the
hateful situation.
Tadayuki snvled. He felt he had the best of
it. He had caught them both and spoiled their
pleasant tete-a-tete, and he was not going to let
them off easily.
''Ilo-ho!" he laughed softly an 1 turned 1o
M ts ie, who, not at all abashed, had seated herself
[276-]
9(n oia man'* Kfttmr.
by the s nail fire-box, an ! was holding her little
white hand over the glowing charcoal.
1 Yo:i are veiy kind to put yourself out iike
this, when I am sure you must be busy at horn :.
I have been quite upset at your giving up so much
time to my clerk. But he is so far recovered now
that you need not trouble yourself to come any
niore."
I his was an op:n re-pulse, but it took more than
that to disconcert Mitsue.
' Pl'-ase do not consider it a trouble. I just
run in here on my way to a place where I have
business frequently, so you see it does not put me
out at all."
Tadayuki's eyes flashed a dangerous sign, and
Kwanichi struck in :
"Yes, tell her not to come tell her kindly;
her visits worry me."
" You see Mitsuc-san what he says. It was
very kind of you to come but there is no more
need for it now.".
" Jf my visits annoy you so much I shall
certainly continue them," excla ; med Mitsue giving
Tadayuki an angry look.
" No ! no ! " cried he, " Doa't take it like that !
That is not what 1 mean."
I" 377 ]
the Woia Xfnioit.
" I don't know what else you can mean. You
have spoken to me as though I \\vro a mere
schoolgirl, an 1 I am certainly not going to be told
by you, what I may, and may not
" Oh ! pray don't take my words so amiss I
only spoke in your own interests."
"I don't understand you. How can my visits
to the Hospital injure my interests."
" You doii't know how ? " Tadayuki smiled
artfully.
" I don't know in the least."
" That is because you are so young. I may
seem rude, but just let me explain matters. You
are young and Hazama is young, and when a
young woman goe--, to visit a young man so fre-
quently people are apt to talk. Therefore quite
apart from doing Hazama wrong you are injuring
yourself, Mrs. Akagashi ! "
Intensely amused at the virtuous talk of the old
humbug, who, when he himself was concerned,
had shown no such anxiety for her reputation,
Mitsue replied :
Many thanks for your kind advice. Do not
trouble yourself about me. As regards Mr. Ha-
/..ima I should deeply regret if I injured his re-
putation, especially just now when his prospects
[278]
o!ft nmn'3 Hbbtre.
arj so bright and ho is looking forward to marry-
ing a beautiful young wife. I will be very careful
in future."
" I too must thank you for accepting my bold
words of advice so willingly," replied Wanibuchi
deceived by the fair lady's conciliatory words.
His anger and his jealousy had evaporated for he
could see that Kwanichi . was sincere in his desire
to be relieved of the Beaut}' 1 Usurer's attentions,
and so he was quite ready to be amiable to her
once more."
" Hazama must be delighted and proud at
having his name coupled with yours in this pretty
way." he said blinking wickedly at the invalid. If'
it were I now, an old man, I am sure Mrs. Aka-
gashi wouLl not visit me even though my disease
were fatal."
" Of course I would visit you ! How could I
help coming ! " coquetted the Beauty.
" Would you ? But not so often I expect."
" That is just the point ! You have a wife !
If I came to see you so often . oh ! oh ! . .."
and she gave him a charming smile and put on a
shocked little look, and hel i her handkerchief over
her mouth to cover her .. . bashfulncss ! !
Tadayuki was relighted
[279]
" Ha Hi I la ! laughed In:. " S<> yo i can
here In peace o! mind bi.r.ui<e he has no wife,
you ? Shall I -o ,ind tell Mr.
" Y< My husband knows I come here
often. And now for my reaj-o.i, (or there :
good one, why I, a busy \\o;n;ri. make time to
come here .so often. dr. I la/ama was \\oundei
on his way horn- from my house, r.nd n oreover it
was on my advice that he took the shorter road
to Tsuno-kamtzaka, instead of the going the usual
wiy by the main road. I, naturally, feel that
com--, blame attaches to me, and my husband
insists on my visiting Kwanichi as often as I can.
I feel it is my duty to come, an.l only because of
tint I am here. That is what Kwanichi doj.s not
like. As you see there was no neid for your
advice . . nor for your suppositions.
She looked at Tadayuki with an injured ex-
press : on ; he in his turn gazed at her admiringly
us small lound eyes were bright.
" I se .:, I see. You are veiy kind an ! Ha ami
is delighted I'm sure, and we all owe \ ou th uks.
I am really glad to hear your reasons for vis;;
him, but you need rot have been so cross ahout
my a .1 vice. in your interest and that is
an old ii'a'i's pri\ib: r ,c and his <!u'y. Hut an old
[280]
olD mait'S .
man is dislik (1 <- vey where. You don't like old
men cither do you ? "
lie twisted his red moustiche and glanced at
her stealthily.
"Old men are very nice, but it is only natural
that a youni;' p rson prefers the society of another
young person. They are better suited to each
other."
"Isn't Mr. Akagashi an old man?"
" Yes he is, and so captious that I can hardly
bear h m."
" It he were not cipt : ous and disagreeable ho.v
would you like him."
" I shouldn't like him at all ! "
" Really now ! Do you dislike him as much
as all. that ? "
Mitsue paid no heed to this question. Instead
she remarked :
" You can't say it is a general rule that one
dislikes some one because he is old, or likes
another because he is young. It is no good liking
anyone if they are not going to like you."
" Aha ! I am certain that if you purposed to
like anyone, you would never be met by anything
resembling dislike ! "
" What nonsense you talk ? I know nothing
'l 281 '
Tflf WolD Innon.
about it I have had no experience." At this
would be innocence Tadayuki flung himself back
in his chair and laughed till the room fairly shook.
" Hahu ! ILiha! You know r.othing about it!
Haha ! Do you hear that I huama ! Do you
believe her ? Oh ! What a lot you are teaching
us Mrs. Akagashi."
" I know nothing about it," murmured I Ia-
zama as though to himself, "here are two bad ones
censuring each other, and one is just as bad as the
other; "who cm tell the male crow from the
female ? " says the Chinese proverb, for both are
black."
" You don't know anything either ! " roiircd the
delighted Wanihuclri " 1 \\ ! ha ! Ha ! "
" 1 L- ! he ! he ! " giggled Mitsue " what /don't
know Mr. Hazama certainly will not know."
And at this sally both of them shook with
1 lughter, and Kwanichi turned away impatiently,
disgusted at all he had heard. When they had
sufficiently recovered Mitsue gasped :
" I must go home now."
" So must I," exclaimed Tadayuki rising from
his chair, " let us go together."
" I have a call to make at Nishikuro-mon-Cho
.... pardon my rudeness, but '
[282]
ola man'.* fl.ttirr.
" That is all right ; I will walk with you as far
as tha ."
" No, please not to-day," pleaded Mitsue en-
couragingly.
" Don't say ' no.' Do you know that affair
about the Asahiza stocks is about to be settled.
If \\v don't talk it over no\v, we inay not succeed
in getting Kotobuki's money. It is a fine chance
for a little conversation."
" You mav talk 'about it to-morrow ; I am in a
hurry to-day."
" \\ l)at is vo'.ir hurry so suddenly ? In business
there is neither old nor youn^ ! And it is no good
your pretending to dislike me so much ! "
After some further discussion Mitsue was at last
persuaded, and they went off together.
Left alone Hazama heaved a deep sigh. He felt
he ha-1 awakened from a bad dream. Fixing his
eyes on the ceiling, he strove to banish all thoughts,
good and bad alike, from his mind.
[283]
ClIAPTKK XXXII
gatu of
TPJIK 1 trge ho-p'tal garden did not present a
\vry cheerful appearance in the early Spring.
Tho evergreens looked weatherbeaten in the
bright s n.
The plum-trees, which here and there were
licginning to blossom, had been sadly neglected.
The sky was blue, flecked here and there with
patches of milky whiteness. The brown bulbuls
were singing lustily. Inside the hospital it was
very still. Now and then the silence was broken
by the slow dragging footsteps ot so:iie patient
ing down the corridor.
Kwanichi who had been reading, grew drowsy,
his 1 ook slipped fro-u his hand and lie slept.
A strangely, \i\id, dream took possession
of him. 1 Ie struggled wildly against it, knowing it
to be but a dream yet fearing it nvght be true.
Hut sleep held him firmly in h r power and he
dreamed on.
A call roused him. He opened his eyes and
lo ! they lighted on the very figure th.it had
torm -nted him in his sleep. She stood by his bed-
[284]
Tfic Sato of
side gazing at him, and h.- in silence let his glance
wander over her face and form again and again,
trying to assure himself he were awake, but more
persuaded that this was still an unreality. Mitsu.,
for it was she, looked more beautiful than ever.
There was a brightness about her that was dream-
like. If she had had a fair young sister Kwanichi
would have believed it was she. Whence did she
acquire that look of youth and innocence ? Who
could even dream she had a husband more than
60 years old !
She had dressed her glossy hair in the elaborate
young women's style, known as Taiwan Icho, and
wore as sole ornament a comb of tortoiseshell
and gold lacquer. The lining ot her black crepe
coat was gay with a design ot spring flowers after
the famous artist Korin, and beneath her dress of
dclicite grey, peeped another silken garment, or-
namented with figures in tones 01 gold and brown.
Upon her " obi " of purple satin, musical instru-
ments had been worked in gold. Her g-'ily em-
broidered collar of pale pink crepj threw into strong
n_li.-f the whiteness of her neck and throat.
Again the gold bracelet attracted Kwaniclii's
attention and increased the disgust and anger with
which he regarded her.
[285]
ffioltt trmon.
Mitsue stood for sonic time wearing an air
of conscious wrongdoing, infinitely charming.
Then she spoke with pretty pet ul nice :
''I ought not to h:ivo com: to-day, but I had
something to tell you so I made myself brave to
come. Will you forgive me for entering while
you were .asleep?"
"Ye--, yes" replied Ha/.ama suppressing with
difficult} 7 his inward annoyance.
"It is about Mr. Wanibuchi. Hazama->an I
don't know '^hat to do It was this .
" Stop ! You need not tell me any more, if that
is what you have come to talk about."
" Oli ! dear, don't say that ! "
" You must excuse me my wounds are verv
painful to-day." and Kwanichi pulled the strip-
ilk bedclothes closer round him.
.Mitsue full of solicitude for his health and his
comfort hovered about him, then being convinced
he was lying comfortably, and also could not help
hearing what she said, she returned to the charge,
beginning with her favourite formula:
"It is very hard for me to spjak about these
things to you, but the other day I had to go with
Mr. Wanibuchi ; and then he made me dine
with him, at a Tea-house, and just as I expected
[2861
t'oro of
h talked to me upon the same old dreadful
subject
He nearly drove me mad by harping on my
relationship to you . . old as he is he cin't be
sensible! He talked to me just as if I were
well, at List I cried from annoyance.
I read him a <;oo 1 lecture too, about not speak-
ing to me in that way again. I think he will
come and annoy you too suspicious old man !
I don't know ivJtat he can say, but do take it
tly, and smooth over things where you can.
Of course if you were fond of me you wouldn't
mind at all having your name coupled with mine,
but as > ou di-like me, you must find it hard to
have people saying you are in love with me.
Look upo i it in the right way : it is no doubt the
fate appointed for you by the Law of Ing\va, (the
re.- ult of some act' on in a previous existence) that
you should be loved by a person like myself. It is
*\mr ingwa, and it is my Ingwa too / am the
more unfortunate. To seek to escape it, is useless
like me you had better submit, and in your sub-
miss ; on my wishes will be partially realized.
Ku'anichi lay like a long in his bed, responding
neither by word nor look.
" Hazama-san ! " continued Mitsue undaunted
[287]
Ilje Wolfc Tftncn.
by his si'ence : " you promised me the other day
that vou \\oul 1 not forget that I lovcc! You
;n to have forgotten it a' ready !"
Siu: -poke as if she rxp-T.t-d Kwunic .i to deny
her statement, so when he replied : " I have, not
forgotten it." she was for a moment non-plussed,
and a look of resentment WAS visible on her face.
At this juncture a vo : ci was heard outside and
the door opened. The attendant appeared, trying
to usher in the visitor, who looked puzzled and
then handed his card, speaking to the woman in a
low voice. Mitsue's quick eyes had Liken him in
at a glance, and she wondered who he might be.
A long grey beard, an open, highbred counte-
nance. Of medium height and of a naturally lean
figure, looking thinner and frailer by reason of his
years. " Like a solitary peak in winter." thought
Mitsue. The moderate quality of his dress showed
him to be a person of modest character. No, she
coul i not guess who he was but she felt she
ought to show him politeness, even deference, and
so made ready a seat for him beside the braxier.
Kwanichi took the card handed him by the attend-
ant and looked at it thoughtlessly, then, as he
read the name " Shigisawa Kyuzo," he started
violently and changed colour. A who'e army of
tlje l'an of
en-otions rushed in upon him. lie held his
breath and fixed his eyes. Madng with a iger, on
the card. Wondering what this might mean, the
attendant quj:st ; oned : " May I lead him in ? "
" No."
"I beg your pardon?"
" I don't know the nvin."
Had no one been there he would have torn the
card to pieces. As though it were soin : pestilent
thing he threw it, as far from him us he could, on
to the floor.
I le closed his eyes and pressed his arms close
to his sides to overcome the trembling that was
shaking him. No, he would not forget the enmity
that was between him and the house of Shigisawa,
but he would show no sign of it, not though the
blood were boiling within him and words of anger
and recrimmlnation were striving for an outlet.
To the last ho would control himself.
Once more the amazed attendant asked : " Is
he a stranger to you?"
" Quite a stranger. He has probably mistaken
nv' for .'ome one else. Send him away."
"But he mentioned your name, and .... "
"It c'oes not matter, lie quick ar.d send l.irn
away please."
I***}
Tfinon.
" Very well sir, I will ask him to go." and the
att-nclint, first picking up tho despised visiting
card, moved doubtfully to the door.
290]
CHAPTER XXXIII
Xbc plitu* branch.
MR. Shigizawa refused the card, which the at-
tendant tried to return to him, and looked
\vxcd at the message, of which however, he
decided to tike no notice.
" Of course he knows me," he said, " but as it
is a long time since we met he may have forgotten
me. That does not matter, I will see him. You
say this is Mr. Hazama Kwanichi's room? Very
well, there can be no mistake then."
He advanced deliberately towards the bed, while
Mitsue rose, bowed low, and offered him her
chair.
"Kwanichi san it is I !" exclaimed the old gentle-
man, " surely you have not forgotten me."
Mitsue had crossed over to that corner of the
room, where the attendant was making the tea, and
undertook the preparation of it herself. Herself
she handed it to Mr. Shigizawa so that he might
know she was not a casual visitor, but someone
with the right of acting* as hostess. Mr. Shigizawa
looked at her attentively as' he took the cup from
her hands. The young woman felt convinced
I 291 ]
Ihr
there was somo secret here, of wliich she
knew nothing, an 1 she was devoured by curiosity
to know what it wa-. Kwanichi, w4iosc face was
turned to the wall, had made no reply, <o the old
man 1 uin :
" Kwanichi, it is I. I would have come to see
you long ago, but I did not know where you
were. Only three days ago was I able to get
your address, and I have com:: to you as soon as
I could. How are you ? for I have heard you have
been wounded and have been seriously ill."
Again there was no reply. lie turned to Mi-
tsue, with a little frown, and asked: "Is he
asleep ? "
" I am not sure " she replied ; and feeling sorry
for the visitor's awkward position, she came close
to Kwanichi's pillow and saw that he had pressed
his facj into the bedclothes, and was trying to
suppress his ^o'js. This puxzled her still more,
but she manifested none of her surprise and only
-ail quietly to the imalid:
" You have a \i->itor."
" I {- is a stranger to me." came the mult led
reply, " send him away."*
Tliis was disconcerting but Mit-ue was learn-
ing to know from experience that a further ^t-
L -'93 i
Ifif oliltc branrJj.
tempt would be unavailing. She turned towards
Mr. S'liglxawa an! said:
" Don't you think he is the wrong person, for
he s.iys he does not know you."
"That is ridiculous" replied Shigizawa pulling
his long grey beard, and turning again to Kwan-
ichi, " five or six years have not made me so
decrepit that I am unrecognizable. But if you
declare you don't know me, there is no help for it.
I came here to see you, never dreaming of a recep-
tion like this, with talk of " wrong persons." An
old man like myself, I thought, could claim a
little tilk with you, especially when coming for
a definite purpose."
lie waited for a while, but no matter how long
he waited, Kwanichi would vouchasafe no answer.
Then he continued :
" Ah ! I see you hive not forgiven us Kwanichi.
And yet I want you to think the matter over
again. Whatever you may have thought of our
conduct to you, y.'iirs to-day does not scorn kind
or peaceable. I do not think you should behave
thus to old Shigizawa It is true you
have something to complain of, and I have come
to-day to iicar it ; but remember we too, might.
i umplain ! Perhaps you have never thought ol
[293]
Xfc Wola rrraon.
that ! In calling upon you to-day I give way to
you. I put myself, as it were, in the wro:ig ....
" The matter, about which I wish to speak
to you, is one, that will benefit you. It is about
your future. Even when you left us five years
I did not give you up, and my intentions to-
wards you to-day, are what they were then. At
that time you misunderstood me, probably because
you were too young to judge calmly and to look
at things in their true proportion I felt
very, very grieved. That you should still mis-
understand, I confess, surprises me. Nothing is
so painful as to be misunderstood. One plans
something for another's benefit-a misunderstanding
arises and one becomes an object of hatred to
him, to whom one hoped to do good ! One has not
expected or wished the other to feel any obliga-
tions for benefactions received, but one certainly
was not prepared for hatred in return.
We were all one family, full of affection for each
other ; we hoped to give yon our name and all that
belonged to us, that you might carry on the
family, and then to <'.\~ in your arms. Can you
not guess how painful this severing of all con-
nection between ourselves o,'id you has been.
All these things I have often discussed with my
I 294 ]
oliuc [rmtfj.
old wife. We have never c:ased to think of
restoring you to your posit : on in our family, and
of going " inkyo " (retiring) ourselves. As long
.t- your heart was hard towards us, we could
do nothing. This latter idea I will put aside and
appeal not to your heart but to your understand-
ing and your sjnse of justice. When I tell you
even-thing, I think you will understand and bj
softened. If you are not well, there is
nothing to be done.
I shall then go to your father's tomb and tell his
departed spirit, that at his death, I took you under
my protection, cared for you, did this and that
for you, and intended to do even more, but that
circumstances compelled me to give up my inten-
tion, and having told him all, T shall openly break
with you, declaring why I am obliged to do so.
You may think you have already broken with
nv by your five years of silence, but you are
wrong I have not yet cut you off.
[295]
Cn.MTi.k XXXIV
" T think this: supposing 1, oil Shigizawa had
*- clone you a wrong, could yo.; not have for-
given an old man once f If you could not forgive,
you might have t, . more gently. This is the
complaint I spoke of, and it is the only complaint
I make agahist you. We have done you a wrong
and I have come to apologize, and to tell you we
feel the same towards you as we have ah 1 .
done.
You old friend has come to see you Kwanichi-
san are you not going to forgive him ? "
Me spoke gently, and waited for the reply that
was to bring reconciliation. In vain. I la/.ama
kept his obstinate silence. Losing patience the
old mail rose suddenly from his chair and stepped
to the bed to look at Kwanichi's face. He drew
his eyebrows together and was ;i') ut to ^
Mitsue interrupted him.
She had listened to all Shigixava said, with the
keenest interest, an .1 though she could by
means guess to what it referred, still the visitor's
'reasoning Deemed plausible, and it seemed a n'ty
1.2, 6 |
tliat Kwanichi should, through his foolish silence,
forego the benefit referred to. Kwanichi must
have had some very strong reason for behaving
in this way, she thought, if she could help
him she would ; and h N r nimble mind quickly con-
ceived a plan.
Turning to Mr. Shigizawa she said :
" I am nursing him. I don't know who you
are, but the patient is suffering from a fever and is
often delirious, talking nonsense, or crying, or
seized with sudden fits of anger." Shigizawa's face
immediately softened and he looked at the invalid
with tender pity. Mitsue were on : " From
what you have said, I conclude you are an
intimate friend, and he has rudely declared he
does not know you. That is only because of his
fever he is quite delirious a-id yon must not mind
what he has said. I hope the fever will leave
him soon and then perhaps you will call again.
If yoj will give me your card, I will give it to him
when he recovers, and tell him about your visit."
" Ah ! indeed ! " murmured the visitor won-
dering who the lady was.
ay lie had a visitor t > whom he
said ii. any strange tilings I \\as really in an
awkward -position Ixt ren the two ; and to-day he .
i 297 \
Wolb Tmon.
behaves in just the opposite way and cannot be
induced to say a word. But it is really more
comfortable to have him silent like this than say-
ing things he should leave ui v- aid."
If that was her idea of comfort, tho/ight the old
man, it was not his, but he turned and smiled
and received a brilliant smile in return. Mitsue
rejoiced that she had so easily deceived him.
She called the attendant, ordered hot wat r,
' made some fresh tea, and insisted that the visitor
should resume his seat and take another cup.
" If he is delirious, he has not understood what
I have been talking about; " said the visitor, " I
will call again. My name is Shigizawa Ryuzo I
will give you my card my address is on it. May
I ask you if you are related to Mr. Wanibuchi ? "
" No, I am no relation of his, but my father is
one of his intimate friends and \ve live very near;
so I often come here and help nurse Mr. Haza-
ma."
" I have not seen Ila/ama for five years. I
was told he was married last year do you know
if it is true?"
This question was invented with the hope of
eliciting who the beautiful nurse was, for Shigi-
?awa had his doubts as to her being a mere
[298]
acquaintance or coming' to the Hospital to nurse
a friend.
From her manner, he coukl not guess if she was
married or not. Her gay, handsome attire
inclined him to believe IKT a lady of questionable
character, but her phraseology and etiquette, on
the other hand, were those of gentlewoman.
He argued that she was no ir.ero acquaintance,
certainly not an unmarried girl, and she had just
said herself, she had never heard that Kwanichi
was married, therefore she was not his wife. Who
was she ? There was, no doubt, some secret con-
nection between the two, and, if so, that meant ruin
for Kwanichi, for in that casj he would be
unworthy of being restored to his position as heir
in th- Shigizawa family. People of this sort could
not be admitted to his house such things
always ended disastrously for the family.
The old man decided to take leave now and to
come again, when he had made some inquiries
a-;d considered the case carefully. He was glad
to have had even this little information he
would be careful Rising lu excused hiir
for the trouble he had given, promised to return
another day, and fina'ly asked Mitsue's name.
She extracted from her purple brocaded bag a
L 2 99J
Iftf (&ol^ Xfmon.
small c-T'd and ha-id.-d to it tj him, excusing her-
self for not having donj so before.
" Mrs. Mitsuo Akagashi." he real, and his
suspicion-; increased. Having a husband, she ha 1
no business \vit'.i a special, card of her own, nor
was it at all womanly to have the nanu in Romaji
(European letters) on the back. Her pivtty man-
ners, her exquisite dress made him consider a
moment whether shj might not be a lady of in-
dependent means, having a profession, according
to the European custom. That would account for
the \isiting card. But no, she was far too pretty
for that.
It was a riddle. The old gentleman left the
Hospital sorely puzzled, and the que.-ton as to
who the beautiful girl might be, so engrossed his
thoughts, that he quite forgot his vexation over
Kwanichi.
Him, Mitsue, on her return from the outer door
found, sitting up in l;>ed, shaking both his fists a
the d -parted vi.Mtor.
[3oo I
CHAPTER XXXV
FOR some days, just about dusk, an old woman
had begun to call at the Wanibuch.'s house.
No one knew whenc; she came, nor what her name
was. She might be sixty years of age, and her
short hair showed her to be a widow. There was
something peculiar about her however, not only in
her manner, but also in her attire, for although she
wore the dress of a descendant of a noble family,
and a coat of delicately tinted crepe, vet she had,
strapped diagonally accoss her back, a small
bundle done up in oil-cloth and ha ! on her feet a
pair of dirty " geta " of the commonest kind.
She wished to see Mr. Wanibuchi upon impor-
tant business and, upon hearing that he was out,
she would go away without appearing to be
disapp n.ntjd, and return again the following day at
-e'y the sam^ hour.
Mrs. Wanibuchi thought this behaviour strange.
She also not'ced that the woman had a wild look
in her eyes, could s:a>'e unpleasantly, and also
smiled to herself, apparently far no reason. Being
a nervous woman, she begged her husband to come
[3oi]
Xemon.
l-.o nc earlier one day, that, whatjver the business
was, it might be quickly de..pa 4 ched, so that the
woman might cease to haunt the housj.
" I believe," sai ! Mrs. \Vanibuchi on the day
that her husband reached home at four o'cl
" I bel.eve she is a lunatic ! She lias th : fiercest
I ever saw and a stra-ige voice. When-.-
I hear her now ou e door, calling out:
" Hallo ! I have called to see you, hallo ! " I
shudder. It is surely some evil omen that she
haunts us like this."
Tadayuki Wanibuchi frowned. I was annoying
to have to come home at this hour with halfhis busi-
ness undone. lie could not imagine who she could
be, for r.o client of his answered to this description.
" Didn't she give her name ? " he asked his wife,
"will she come this evening?"
" I should say she did not know her own name.
It is a little early for her yet, she usually appears
just when the Limps ,.rc lighted. I am s > afiaid
of h . r that I hope you will be severe with her and
tell her not to come again."
" If she is a lunatic, as you seem to imagine, it
won't be much good telling her anything."
\Vanibuc!n was quite upset at this, and
begged her husband to give the woman up to i;c
[302]
Zlje ihmatir.
Police, but Tadayuki only laughed : " Well, you
need not be so agitate 1 about it." He said, and
then, both relapsed into silence, waiting for the
arrival of their strange visitor.
The day had been dark and cloudy, noi a raj'
of sunright had pierced the gloom. At five o'clock,
although the western s'<y was still light, people
were closing their shutters and lighting their
lamps, a protest against the dreariness outside.
A sudden gust of wind sprang up raising a
cloud of dust ; and, as if blown there by the
wind, the strange, old woman appeared in the
middle of tiie road, which led to the usurer's
house.
Her hair wa-; in wild confusion. Her skirts
and her long sleeves waved wildly. Over the
spenr-heads, on the stonewall, that enclosed Wani-
buchi's house, projected the branch of a plum tree,
in full bloom. The light of the street lamp fell full
upon the delicate blossoms and upon the wild figure
that, for a fe\v moments, paused beneath. White
petals floated down and rested on her hair. Then,
in the manner of a person returning to their own
house, she walked up to the door and tried to
open it. As it refused to yk-ld, she called out
slowly, in a deep voice, " Hallo ! I have called to
T303]
remon.
.-co you hallo ! " Within, Mrs. Wambuchi started,
her husband too, thought it a disagreeable voice.
Putting' do\vn liis cup of tea on tho coracr of the
firebox, lie called to the maid to bring a light and
then went to fie entran.
From within he cried :
" Wlio are you ? "
"Is Mr. Wanibuchi at home?"
"Yes, but who are you?"
There was no reply, but Wanibuchi heard a
confused sound of rapid whispers outside, and
again asked :
"Who are you? What is your name?"
" You will see who I am, when you look at
in- ..ah! the beautiful plum blossoms! they
would look well for to-day's decoration in the
alcov Please walk in don't hesitate,
just \valk in . . .. "
This weird sp.ech was accompanied by violent
knockings at the door, and followed by loud cries
for almittanc 1 .
Tadayuki felt quite convinced she was a lunatic,
and felt extremely loth to let her in ; but, arguing
that she woul i probably not go away without
seeing him, lie reluctantly opened the door and
admitted her, saying :
[304]
3!fic I'unatii;.
"My pain: is Wanibuchi, what do you want
with me?"
T n.- toad of replying the old woman came close
up to him, fixe 1 her deepset, piercing eyes upon
him, u-ul then covering her fac^ with both her
luvids, began to cry like a child. Dumbfounded
at this behaviour Ta layuki knew not what to say.
K..T a while he watched her, noticing how she seem-
ed to shrink and wither, 1'ke some ol 1 tree, ben-
eath her sobs ; then he spoke: "What is the matter
wit'i you? What is it you have to say to me."
At the sound or his voice the sobs ceased.
The old woman drew herself up and, in a threaten-
ing voice, e:xclaimed :
" You know, you rascal ! "
" What ! "
'' You great scoundrel ! You it is, who should,
have gone to prison instead of our Masayuki
such a dut'ful son! Who was our a-icjstor?
A dweller in the Province of Kai Shingen Ta'-ceda,
a monk as well as a knight? Daizen no Dayj
by cffice! Who \\illmarryaman, whose family
is sure to be ruined because he has been deceived
by a scoundrel? If Su-c'ia\ of the Kaslmvais
would marry him, ho\v happy I should be ! How
happy Masayuki would b-! Invents may leaVJ
i -05 ]
demon.
their children to die in a woo !, but what parents
would send a child t > prison? Twenty-seven
years old was Misv/iki; he ha 1 no expjr :nce
of the world, a-i.l yo.i dared to d'.-c:ive him ! L-:t
my revenue at one:. Prepare your elf
Wanibuchi ! " showed her fanglike teeth,
and moved about Tadayuki restlessly.
" My only child, <:ntru-i.ed t> my care l)y my
departed husband, as the most valuable treasure
of our house, has bee i s^nt 1 1 prison through
your fault. You thought an old woman was not
a tiling to b: feared. JJut I can wield a woman's
spjar ! Do you believe me?" She laughed a
ghastly laugh.
" You must believe me and I will forgive you
A: horn-* Su-chan is dressed in her best. Ho.v
beautiful she lojks ! 1 have no lime now to tell
you of her beauts', her character, her acconiplish-
m -nts reading, writing and sewing for she is
wa'ting for you.
"Do not delay. A carriage is ready for you.
Here are your shoes."
While speaking she had taken o r f her shoes
and untie 1 the cord of her bundle. Spreading
the oil-pap'.:r before Tadayuki, she c mtinued :
" This is to fold your head in, when you have
[306]
2&f f nun tic.
chopped it off. It will come off quite easily, chop
it off qu'ckly ! "
Sho chuckled quietly to herself; it had an
unearthly sound.
[307]
CHAPTER XXXVI
of tlyt
TPHK words "prison" and " Masayuki " gave
* AVanibuchi the clue as to who the woman was.
One of his debtors, Masayuki Okura, had som^
weeks ago boon charged with forgery, and sentenced
to a fine of ten yen, and a year's " major impriso i-
liv.-nt." So this was his mother, whom grief and
worry probably, had driven to distraction. VVa-ii-
buchi would not allow his thoughts to dw-ll 01
this subject, longer than he could help, for ho could
not disguLsj from himself the fac 1 : that, he ha-1
driven the young man to destruction.
1'or this is one of the usurers' many wicked
plots. In case a debtor finds it difficult to get
a surety, the usurer induces him to ma'<e a private
contract with him, through the single seal of the
debtor himself. After this he per>uale; him to
put do \ n the name of a friend or relation, and
to a r fix any seal h: has handy, pretending that
this is a moiv form, but that without it, a I ond is
not considered valid, lie assures him tha 1 :, as it
is quite a private contract, no friend ever minds
heing made of his nam\ He treats the whokr
I 30 I
of ifjc -Dlcnfl?Iftri>rT$.
naatter very lightly, but, H careful the document
contains all the correct legal terms " a mere
form" he assures his victim.
The latter is usually a\vare, that it is wrong to do
such a thing, but he falls into the snare in spite of
this ; first, because his need of money is urgent,
secondly, because he fcels sure h . cm return the
loan within the term agreed upon, and that thus
no harm can be done
If the loan is not repaid o;i the expiration of
the term, the usurer shows his fangs and claws.
He extorts all he can, and the debtor unable to
give any more " his flesh wasted, his bones dry "
he threatens to make the matter public, to bring
it into court. Alarmed, confused, agitated, his
victim endeavors to raise a fresh loan on any
terms, this failing, the usurer suddenly comes
down on the amazed surety with distraint.
Masayuki had been caught in j ust such a trap,
and ha 1 forged the name of the father of one of his
schoolmates. At the appointed date he was un-
able to pay, and Wanibuchi brought the matter
into court. His schoolmate was abroad, and as
he did not know the father, no cndjrstanding
could be effected, and he was con lemned under
Article 210 of the Criminal coJe.
[309]
Zftc Wolo Xctnoti.
The iron arme of the Law had seized Ma^ayuki,
regardless of the helpless condition ot his
mother, left alone, trembling and in tears. I low she
loved her son ! How gentle he had been with
her. A lovely girl nanud Suzn Kashiwai was
to have been married to him in the Autum. A
good siUut : o:i in a newly opined railway company
had been promised him. Now all this wa-i a', a-i
end. He wa> reduced to the nvik of a common
criminal, with whom no one could wish to
late.
Sham-,' anger, grief and sorrow had made his
mother mad.
Tadayuki Wanibuchi thought it best to humour
his visitor, hoping thus to .'get rid of her more
easily.
"You want my head" he fcaid " \vry uvll.
But I cannot give it to you here, let us go into
the street."
" No, no," cried the poor lunatic shaking her
hca-1, " you want to decjive nu', just as you
deceived poor Masayuki. Here is the \vry
document which pn.-ves it, a-id did you not then
send him to prison, when you had taken all his
money. An.l yet you pivtond you are innocent!"
So saying she held the oilpap-r right before
[310]
i tl)f
his eyes. It had a strange o lour which sickene 1
Tadayuki he thought it was the smell of blood,
and he turned his lu-a'd a\v iy. At this she leape 1
around him, still holding the oil-pap :r, as clo><
she could, to his face, and crying :
" Ha ha ! your head is getting smaller
it will come right off. I la ha!" Suddenly
Tadayuki seized lier by the arm ami tried to push
her outside, hut slvj clung to th^ door and
st rubied violently, crying :
" What the devil do you mem by trying to
knock me headlong down the cliff ?" and sprung
upon her assailant with such fore.:, that he slipped
and foil upon the floor at which she laughed
boisterou.-ly.
Up he sprang, ai, her by the collar of her
dress, pushing her on to the stone step outside the
door. The door, which he tried hastily to close,
stuck in its groove, and the old woman rushed back,
face distorted with rage, and tried to push past
Wanibuchi. He, at the si^ht of tl at terrible face,
forgot himself, nnd struck her she recoild, and
in that moment he closed the door.
For a minute there was silence, inside and
oOt and then bega-i a battering upon the door,
which all but broke it, and the voice cried :
Iljc
"Rascal! Hind in: your head ! You have
robbed me of my document and my shoes too !
Shoe-robber! Knave! ILvvl m: your heal!
hand me your hca 1 ! "
Tadayuki stood still and watched. His wife
joined him, nervous and trembling, and bogged
him to come with her into the back room, where
they were beyond the range of that dreadful voice.
Forawhile the knocking and shouting went on
without interruption, and Tadayuki came out from
time to time, to see if she was still there. Presently
the noise ceased, and husband and wife looking
out, saw that she had gone, and hea r d the wind
sweeping down the street, scattering the plum-
blossoms like snow-flakes.
At the usual hour, the next day the lunatic
came again. She was very quiet, and when the
maid returned to her the shoes and the oil-piper,
went away without a word.
Lest she should appear again th : following
day, O'Mine begged her husband to stay at 1 <>me.
She came ; and the maid was sent to the door
to say the master was out This time she \\
not go away, but declared she would wait for his
return, as he had something to give her ; she did
mind waiting there a few days. The maid
[312]
of llje ?J}onti;*Ifn>fr*.
did her best to p :rsu ide her \*> go home, but she
was like a stone Buddha, cleat to all voices. So
they left her, and some hours lat^r, she had gone.
(./Mine, who found these visitations very trouble-
some, begged her husband to send for the Polico.
He refused. Why sV.o'jld they trouble the Police
with their affairs. She begged he would write out
a paper, declaring she was a lunatic an 1 shoul 1 be
placed under restraint; but also this lie refuse!
to do, j-aying she ought not to mind a woman, who
was only like some harmless, mastcrless dog lying
outside a strangei's door.
O'Mine was vexed that Tadayuki would not
grant her request. She felt he despised her as
" only a woman/' never consulting her in anything
and regarding her as unworthy of his society. In
her loneliness she h id begun to turn to religion to
find the solace (her husband denied her) in a my-
riad gods without distinction.
The newly establishe t Shinto sect, called
" Tenson," especially attracted her. I:s chief
deity w.is the : tar with the piqle light, known
as ' (Jmiakari-no-mikoto " God of Great Light,
lie had aj;p -are i when I leaven and Earth were
in chaos and the Sun and Moon were yet invisible.
He was til-- Rnli-r of the Univcrs -, and was
1 3I3J
Ttwon.
gracious:to all, supplying his people with what they
needed.
She had, early, professed her faith in this Deity,
and had chosen him as the Patron-god of herself
and family. When anything unusual happend, she
would pray to him for special protection.
On the evening of that day, she cleansed herself
specially, and lighted a number of candles at the
shrine, paying to the god to turn away the evil
from the house, and drive off the hated enemy.
But the next day in spite of her prayers, the
enemy came again. It was dusk, and her husband
had not yet returned. O'Mine sent the maid to
the door and herself rushed to the shrine, cast her-
self down, and began to chant her prayers.
The lunatic sat down, as usual, saying she would
await Wanibuchi'.s return. (/Mine and the mnid
locked the doors securely and prayed she might
go away.
a while she was quiet, but presently she
an to shout, and to curse, and repeat the story
of how Wanibuchi had caused h. r son to be sent
to prison.
This state of affairs went on for more than a
week, and to the neighbours, the old woman in the
> dress, crouching there in wind or rain, laugh-
I 314 ]
$ of tfjt
in;4, crying, shouting, outside the door, was soon a
familiar figure.
Ta layuki did not know what to do. He had no
wish for obvious reasons to consult the Police ;
she could do him no real harm, he argued, and
so he L't her be.
-^ -***- -~*r~^~ *" T "* -' ^
ClIAITKR XXXVI 1
'MIX 1C meanwhile, puz/led over the 1 matic
woman's hatred of hers If and her husband.
She was unaware of her hus' and's complicity
in the Masayuki affair, and very naturally, \vond< r-
ed why the young man's Mother, should (eel ^o
intense a hatred, when through his own fault he
had brought the trouble on Irmsjlf. TJiey mi^ht
just as \\vll l:ate the: lunatic and IILT son, for the"
latUr had not repaid the money he had borrowed-
ill se things happened in every business, some-
times the borrower paid the penalty, sometimes
the lender, sometimes both.
What love that Mother must have for her son,
to be driven mad by reason of his suffering she
thought of her own son and felt full of sympathy
'or the poor woman.
o thoughts however did not allay her un-
easiness. Her prayers to Omiakashi-ro-Mikoto
increased in length and frequency, and while the
lunatic was outside the door sl.e rema : ncd in front
of the shrine, chanting fervently. Som_tim<'s her
mind would wander, the light of the randies
[316)
Ifce fffre.
woul 1 grow dim, and the image of the god seemed
to fa le from her sight ; then she would pull herself
other, fearing that he was withdrawing his
help from her, a-id pray even more enthusiastically,
till the p.?r?piration broke out all over her.
The ninth day, since Wanibuchi's encounter with
the lunatic, was drawing to a close. The wind
howled angrily, tearing at the trees and shaking
the houses. The glass-panes of the Wanibuchi's
gate-lamp had been smashed by a violent gust of
wind, which had also extinguished the right.
The cold was extreme; one felt as though the frost
had been planted all over one's skin with a needle.
The Wanibuchi's had finished their evening
meal, and sat close beside the brazier, on which the
kettle was boiling cheerily. The first bottle of
.-ake had already been replaced by a second, and
yet there was no sign of the Lunatic it was long
past her usual time.
Said Mrs. Wa-iibuclii : " Madam Lunatic seems
to be too weak to struggle against this wind she
will get blown away if she tries to come to-night.
It is past her time already. This is " Tenson
sama " our patron-god helping us." Her hus-
band offering her the sake cup, sh: continued :
" Shall wj exchange c.ip.s? Il is certainly very
[317]
Tfir fflolb Xemon.
pleasant to have a little o'i a sake cold evening it
warm-. < >:ie up. No, I caVt drink so many in succes-
sion you had better have some now. Listen ! it
is striking seven o'clock ! Depend upon it, she
;'t come to-night; I'll hav all the shutters put
up at once. This is the nicest evening we have
h:v.l for a long time that woman was really short-
ening our life. I will say a prayer to Tenson-Sa-
ma, that .she may stay away for ever Yes,
I will help myself, sake is a goo ! drink
It isn't that I am a r ra ; d of the old woman, clear
me ! no. It is, that I feel a shudder ru;i all down
my legs and 114) to my hair. Don't you some-
times dream that you are being pursued by some
dreadful man, and can't run away, or cry for help,
and you wonder whatever will happen to you if he
gets you? Well, it is just like this that I feel
when she comes. Oh ! don't let us talk about it
any more. I think I am a little drunk with all
this sake."
The ma ; <! brought in a third bottle.
" Kin ! ha-; she no. come to-night? I mean Ma-
dam Lur.atic ! "
" Xo, a i.l I am ver he lias not."
" I will g'vj you a cak>: by and by, as ? reward
all the tri. 1.1,: you have had with her. \
[318]
must re quit: a friend of hers by now ! "
" I don't like you to make such remarks about
me, Mistress." the maid replied plaintiv
Sonu more charco:il was added to the fire and
fresh water put in the kettle Husband a-ul wife
crouched as near to the warmth as they could, but
there was, as it wore, an iron plate of cold at their
back, which prevented them from getting quite
intoxicated, in spite of their deep potations.
O'Minc's naturally red face shone, as though it
had been punted with red lacquer.
The lunatic never- came, and at ten o'clock the
mml with her piece of cake, Mrs. Wanibuchi
faiily intoxicated, and Wa li'nichi absolutely drunk,
retired to bed.
The wind howled dismally, the tops of the trees
bent beneath its onset, like brushwood, and the few
; visible seemed to be blown wildly across the
sky.
Suddenly the darkness was pierced by a line of
light, w' i- h .-prang up from the kitchen door of
the VVanibuchi's house It rose a little, and made
visible, for a moment, the outline of the house and
the office then all was dirk as before.
A little later, another thin flam: sprang up
flickering here and there, it neither spread, nor
L3I9]
!f)r WoID TMtton.
went out. In a momentary lull, it stealthily clim
along the wooden kitchen door, and shone brightly.
]iesid: *h^ board fence, a figure moved it was
too dark to make it out distinctly.
Tlie fl imo now spread quickly. It seized the main
building, an 1 the office, and in a few moments they
were wrapped in thick, whirling, black smoke,
through which the red glow of the fire showed im-
p:rfectly. Columns of flame shot up, as if striving to
reach the sky, but the crackling and noise of the
falling timber was drowned by the howling of the
storm.
No one heard, no one saw the conflagration.
Right under the dancing smoke, her face expos-
io the glare, stood the lunatic.
A slight smile played about her mouth, as she
yv tohed her handy-work, and when she heard
>;sed cries from out the chaos, she gave a loud
;h of pleasure.
It was not until the buildings on cither side of
the Wanibuchi's caught fire, thai the alarm was
n, and people streamed from all sides, assisting
tho^c, whoe houses were doomed, to save them-
selves and their most valuable possessions. The
fire raged till two o'clock in the morning, but so
boldly did the firemen do their work, that in spite
of the high wind, only thirty houses were bur
[320]
2 &e
down. In the midst of the co.ifusion and excite-
ment, the lunatic woman was arrested and led away.
Of the Wanibuchi's house, nothing but a -die;
remained ; the Police Authorities at once bogan
to inquire what had bjcome of its inmates, After
some search, the frightened maid w\s discovered,
and she related how she ivid awakened, to find her
room full ol smoke, and had called to her master and
mistress to save themselves, after which, she had
run out, for the lire spread iMpidly.
Inquiries for Mr. and Mrs. Wanibuchi proving
fruitless, some policeman were told off to search
among the ruins. Under the glowing ashes, a
terribly burnt corpse was found, which, upon ex-
amination, proved to be Mrs. Waiibuchi. For a
while, no trace of her husband could be discovered;
but some days later, a totally burnt skeleton was
dug out from beneath the office. Whether they
were too intox ; eited tj find their way out, or
whether their love of money, had induced them to
go to the safe, to rescue their gold from the
fl imes, will never be known. They had paid the
penalty for tlie'r greed, with their lives. Or" Wani-
buchi's orop2rty nothing was left, but the sale,
which stood ia the midst of the desolation, little
flames playing around its blackened sides.
[321]
CHAPTER XXXVIII
'"FADAMICHI, the usurer's son, who had gone
on a journey, had not yet returned, but Kw.in-
ichi arrived 0:1 the scene of the disaster the morn-
ing following, ju.-t as poor O'Mine's remains were
discovered. lie was, in any case, to have been dis-
missed from the Hospital as cured in two- or three
days, and there being, in Tadamichi's absence, no
responsible person, he undertook the management
of affairs, and though still very weak fro:n his long
illness, was able to direct, and see the necessary
arrangements mad.-.
The shock to Kwanichi was greater than he had
thought po sible, and coming upon him in his
present enfeebled condition, he felt it the more
keenly.
It seemed like a mystery to him, that he, who
had been so near death's door, should be alive, while
Wanibuchi, the embodiment of sturdy strength,
who had visited him in his sickness, .had condoled
with him, and helpjd him to bear his trials, should
have been snatched away by the hand of Death,
and be beyond the reach of help and comfort.
[322]
idji SUJouvuS.
All men know that all men have to die, but rarely
realize that those, with wi-om they are in constant
association must die too. These two people, with
whom he had lived five years r were no more, and
witli them bad vanished their house, their posses-
sions, r,\ fact, all that might recall them to the out-
ward senses. Nothing was left to prove they had
once existed. Kwanichi, bewildered by the sudden-
ness and completeness of the disaster, fancied him-
self the victim of an evil dream. His friends could
not be dead, surely this was unreality and soon he
would awake, and this nightmare end.
Weary of his dull days in the Hospital, he had
looked forward to coming home, and now he was
told that nothing of that, towards which his thoughts
had turned, was left to him. Leaving the Refuge
(for sufferers in a fire) at Ichigay i, he tottered along,
supoorted by his stick, to the place where Wani-
buchi's house had been. As he started, the idea
again cams to him, that he might find every-
thing as it lud been before, and that the events of
the last two days, were the invention of a malicious
spirit.
After so many cold and windy days, the weather
had suddenly turned mild ; the cloudy moon looked
warm, and in the mist the street slept quietly.
[3231
Zljf (WfllT; XfniOtt.
A disagreeable odour of sm<>k-- i"ile 1 the air.
.'/red timber and burnt and broken tiles were
piled up in greit mounds, where the Wrinibuchi's
house had been. As it was here the fire had
originated, the place was not even enclosed with
roughly constructed board fences, like the other
ruined house
The huge mound, beside a row of charred trees,
was the site of the old office. Kwanichi walked
across to it, and stood a while, supporting himself
heavily on his stick, and gazing at the desolation
around him. The moo:i looked mournfully down
upon the red-burnt tiles, which lay scattered about,
like pieces of human flesh. Everything within
si^ht had fallen and was in ruins. By a cruel con-
trast there appeared to his mental gaze the house
as it had been. The shining verandah floor, the
spotless mats, the lights within, O'Mine's red face
and the bitter looking mouth of her husband.
Tears rushed to his eyes. What a dreary thing
was this life. Everyone he had ever known
anl cared for, had deserted him. He had not
forgotten his resentment .'it his first loss, and be-
hold ! he was forsaken again. What was the
good of Life - there was r.o pleasure in i'.
Sorrow and grief were the portion of the living ; the
[324]
dead had go ie to thoir grave in torment Which
was \vorse, suc'i a life or so Ci u -1 a death !
Walking slowly up and do.vn Kwa'iiohi was lost
in HHKirnful meditation.
" My lif.-," he thought, " is as worthy of pity as
their shocking death ; I alone, who know what
mental anguish is cm properly sympathize for
what they must have suffered in the flesh. Their
flesh wa^ ior.1. their bones were burned ! My heart
has been broken, my bowels are torn asunder !
ins to me as though my spirit were trying to
tear itself from my body, in horror at the sights it
seen, and the sorrow it must bear.
Is this Retribution for cruel cbeds? Their house
and p'.'np rty consumed by fire ! but this was not
h. They must die too. No ordinary death
uffic.ent punishment; in the most terrible
way, to such as not even the worst criminals are
condemned, nay not even dogs or cats, they had to
pay the penalty. Can it really be the will o:
Heaven ? tf it is so, why should Fate have
singled o it Tadayukf, who was no worse a man
than many, on whom to pour the vials of her wrath.
It is the way of men to uiel.l a sword in the dark ;
the w.iy of the worl 1 to dig p'tfalls everywhere.
Everybody dojs evil : -ome openly, others in
.secret. If Ta layuki pud t'ic pric*, wiio will
IK-:? There arc many more wi :\-ed than he, >\.t
Heaven does not lute tlv.Mii, Fortune does not
forsake them, Retribution do~s not overtake lh
I f i ven can have had no hand in this, th^r-fore let
us not call it a judgment, rather, say it is their Fate,
which they could in no way escape.
In this way Kwanichi mourned the loss of the
two people, with whom he had been so intimately
connecte 1. In their son's place he worshipped at
the spot, where the man's skeleton had been found,
and where poor disfigured O'Alinc had lain.
As he WAS about to leave, he felt a new, strange
emotion in himself, as though the souls of the de-
p.xrtc 1 p'lir, were clin jjing to his, begging him to stay
a little longer, whispering that they were miserable
in the invisible world, since no worship had been
red, no prayers had ascended to them.
Kwanichi turned back and dropped down on the
mound. Here, he tho ight, was the bj-t place in
which to put himself in communication with them,
here, perhaps, he might obtain some knowledge as
to their will. In the Refuge whither their remains
had been carried, he could not lose himself so
utterly. I lore, too, the Spirit of the departed
couple would linger, and they would see him grop-
[326]'
ing in the darkness of his mind, as it we.e, to dis-
cover UK: thoughts, they had carried with them
in 10 the other world.
lie sat there in the gloom, his hca 1 resting
0:1 his stick, and the hot tears coursing down his
cheeks, the silenco was broken by the rattle of a
jinricksha. It advanced lapidly and stopped in front
of what had been the liou.se. A figure alighted
and walked toward the spot, where Kwanichi sat.
He lifted his head, and in spite of the darkness, re-
cognized Tadamichi, the son, whose return he had
impatiently awaited.
[32 7 ]
ClIAPTKR XXXIX
icl>i'$ request.
'"PIIK two men advanced toward each other, and
for a n:oment or so, neither spoke, then
I lazama stammered out :
" It was M> unexpected and terrible, I have no
words to speak to you about it."
" Yes, yes," gasp.-d the other, " and that it
should have happened in my absence lam
grateful to you for all you have done
" The night it happened, I was in the hospital
and knew nothing about it I heard the following
morning and came at once.
" How I wish I had been here, for I can't help
thinking, that if I had been on the spot, it would
not have happened. I cannot understand it at all.
They were neither of them people who easily lose
their heads. The maid escaped, why not they?
" It has strengthened my belief that there is a
, preordained for each of us, which, try a
may, we are unable to escape . Thus, they
were doomed to this sudden, terrible death."
Lifting his grief-stricken face, Tadamichi asked :
F 328]
" Is everything burnt ? "
" Everything, except the safe."
"Tr.o safe? Wnat wa< in it?"
" I think it conta : ncd some n.oney, .but chiefly
account books an 1 deeds."
" In connection with loans ? "
T7
Yes.
" I wish they had been burnt ! "
The regret he felt \va; visible on his face.
Kwaiichi knew that it was o>ving to a difference
of opinion with his father, on the subject of
usury, that Tadamichi had, for a number of years,
lived apart from his parents, and he understood at
once, why instead of rejoicing that something had
been saved, he should regret that the hated docu-
ments had escaped the flames.
" It is well that the house and the office were
burnt to the ground, it was right they should be
burnt, it is a good thing the world is rid of them."
said Tadamichi. " You and I alone will mourn
the death of my p >or, poor parents . . .no one
else in all the world, but will be gla 1 to hear of
their unhappy en i. So yo.i see. I am bowed be-
nc?.th a ouble woe."
he spoke, the tears flowed down his face,
n of his filial love. Th .- father who had avoid-
3-.
Tljf ffiolfi Ttmon.
ed him, the mother who had feared him, had neve r
ceased to love him as their son. la spite of differ-
ences of opinion, and hard words at times, he
had receive! nv>rj love than many a son, who
showed more fil'al piety than lie. It was easy to
argue a-jainst a living father . but against the
:, all his arguments melted, It mattered no
more that his counsel had passed unheeded, for his
heart was filled with the bitter regret, that he had
been no dutiful son to his parents. He had failed
in many ways.
A little gust of wind caught the sleeve of his coat.
Ah ! his dea ! mother had given him that coat. He
had not been specially graceful for the gift, and now
he suddenly felt a pang, that her many kindnesses
had received no acknowledgment from him.
Among the millions of people, in the world, he
believed there was not one, who would think of
bestowing, even so mean a gift, as a sheet of pape r
upon him.
Here he was, just back from the place where he
had been employed as surveyor. Who was it had
given him an education crabling him to take up
such a position? And had it not been given with
out a thought of recompense ? None else but a
father and mother could do that.
L330]
7altatnicljt'6
And now he could seek them no where, Jbr
hand in hand they had found their way to that in-
visible world, beyond the reach of the son whom
they had loved so well.
Must they not have called for help from the
midst of the fiercely raging flames, with shrieks of
pain and groans of agony ? To whom had they
called ? As Tadamichi thought of it, sobs shook his
frame, as though his whole body had been turned
into tears. Kwanichi strove to comfort him.
'* Let other people be glad if they like," said he,
'' your parents will be satisfied if you mourn for
them. Do not think me impertinent if I say that I
have envied you on one point above all others,
namely that you had parents. No love is truer or
better than the love between parents and children-
I was an orphan at fifteen, just the age when one
needs one's parents most.
" Thus I became a dependent a despised posi-
tion, under which I chafed. Impatient to free my-
self and assert my right to respect and considera-
tion, I lost sight of what true manliness really is,
namely to keep untarnished one's sense of honour.
My misfortunes have been my own fault, but I may
say, they originated when I lost my parents. How-
ever old or*- ',nay be, to lose one's parents is a great
[331]
2fcf (Solo lemon.
misfortune. Compared with so unhappy a man as
myself, you must regard yourself as on,-, who has
been fivoured."
It was quite unprecedented that Kwanichi should
spjak to Tadamichi in this friendly way. Not so
much -.vliat he had said, as that he should speak
at all, to the mm, \vho, he knew, hated him, and
considered him the assistant, and may be, even the
instigator in many of his father's heartless deeds.
Tadamichi was suddenly struck by the Fact that
there might be some humanity in the man he had
always considered nothing but a brutal fellow.
"You say you failed to preserve your sense ot
honour?" he questioned.
"Yes sir."
" Am I to understand you do not consider your-
self an honourable man now ? "
" Of course I am not."
Tadamichi bowed his head, and for a while, was
silent, then he said :
" Forgive me, for the words of despair I uttered
to one, so much n,ore unhappy than myself. Let
us go."
But neither moved. It was past midnight ;
the silence was unbroken, . i ave when a piece of
charred wood cracked beneath Tadamichi's feet.
[332]
Wtqurlt.
In that scone of ruin and desolation, dinily illumin-
ated by the pale moon, the two silent figures, bowed
with grief, looked like the impersonation of sorrow
[333]
CHAPTER X
<rtamtcf)t'r*
(Continued.)
Al-TER a while Taclumic'ii spoke, and a note
of affection was mingled with the sorrow in
his voice.
" My friend, would you care to learn now what
it is to be a man of honour ? "
" Thank you," replied Kwanichi, understanding
what was about to be offered him.
" Does that mean you accept ? "
" It means that I thank you for your kindly
intention, but pray you, to leave me as I am."
" I Uit why should you remain what you are?"
" Ik-cause I see no use in striving, at the elev-
enth hour, for what I cannot attain. There is no
necessity for me to i:<> so."
" There may he r.o necessity, nor would I urge
you from the point of view of necessity, but I will
ask you to consider what I say, and to give me
yonr answer later on."
" Pardon me if I hurt your feelings. As I have
until this moment never had anything to do with
you. you may not ki-.ow what . c ort of man I am.
.But I know very well what you are, from all I have
heard about- you. You are a pure man, without the
[334]
blemishes resulting from a too fi.TCo contact with
the world. You and I can have no hing in com-
mon. Every word and thought of mine is crooked,
unfit for honest e.i's and contrary to upright
thought. A pure nnn like you, and a crooked
man like me, must, from the outset, misunderstand
cue' i other whatever I say tonight, you will do
well to forget."
" I understand perfectly what you mean."
" I am glad you asked me to become a man of
honour. You consider, that it must bj painful for
me, to carry on such a trade, knowing it to be dis-
honourable, and you wonder why I should be con-
tent to bear the pain?
" It is something that cannot be explained in
words ; " it is ineffable," as a Confucianist has it.
You must look upon it as the result of an action
done in a fonr.er life my " ingwa." If I had had
the habit of drinking, I might easily have put an
end to my existence by drinking desperately. As I
could neither drink, nor had sufficient courage to
resort to the noble " harakiri," I found myself re-
duced to my present condition, and that, out of
sheer cowadice."
Tadamichi, the pure minded, was not a little
touched by this frank confession. "From what
Trmoii.
you say," he replied, " I infer that circumstances
reat seriousness brought you down to this.
Could you not tell mj your story in detail, that I
may know how to help you most effectually ? "
" It is so foolish a tale that it is not worth
repeating. I have firmly resolved never to speak
of it to any one, so I cannot grant your request
however, I will say this, I was deceived by some-
body and the deception has spoilt my life."
"Very well, we will not speak about it any more.
Now, you are perfectly aware that your trade
is dishonourable ; my father, on the other hand,
declared, it was a trade one need not be ashamed of.
This I thought very terrible and I had made up
my mind, when all my supplications had failed, to
commit suicide before his eyes, as the only way of
making him repent. No arguments of mine would
pjrsuacle him that he was doing wrong, and as I
dared not let him go on, adding one bad deed to
another, I determined to try my last and most
powerful argument suicide ! Before I could do
this, a terrible death overtook him, and now my life-
long grief must be, that lie died unrepentant.
To lose both one's parents a* once, not to be tliciv
to c'osi: their dying eyes, to know their d a^i '
have been indescribably terrible is there any Urn
I 5361
Tntamirfji'S
sadder than this for a son ? Think of it ! Would
that my father had repented ere he died. That he
did no';, doubles my grief. If he had repented in
time, this accident would never have happened, of
that I am persuaded. Now it is too late, and he
cannot help himself, therefore I beg of you to
repent in my father's place, nay, I must insist upon
it. For if you repent, my father's sins will be
wip:d out, my grief will be lessend, and you
will find pi- ace, and will prosper in this world by
walking uprightly.
Through your own fault you have brought your-
self lo.v. Now is your opportunity to do good, for
your righteous acts, done for the sake of a departed
Foul, will bring my father forgiveness for his sins,
and lesson his punishment for his unrepcntance.
Give up this miserable business of money-lender.
Start some other trade which will benefit the
world ; let us even suppose that thj children beg-
ging in the streets were my father's orphans, and
you were bound to provide for them. To do this
I wM make over to you the whole of my father's
property. This will make me happier than any-
thing else. My father loved you, and I think you
ioved him too. If it is so, I pray you, repent in
his stead.
(-337J
Thr Wnli) Xfittott.
Kwaiiichi's head luul drooped iOce grass heavy
with aTorning'dcw. When Tadamicbf had ended
his talk he did not look up ; though he was im-
plored to reply, he still would not raise his head.
Suddenly a light shone on the road. It was a
policemen going his rounds and as he passed the
burnt-out grounds, he turned the full glace of his
lantern upon the two immovable figures.
\Viih surprise he noted the marks ot tears on
their grief stricken faces.
" A curious place to come and weep," thought
lie and passed 0:1.
The hour was half past two in the morning.
[338]
BOOK III
CHAPTER XLI
5lt tl>e @nb of
find out the money value of time we may
start with the calculation that one second is
worth a "mo," (looth part oi a farthing) and that
therefore the value of a working day of 16 hours is 5
yen 76 sen, (eleven shillings and six pence farthing)
which in a year amounts to as large a sum as 2102
yen and 40 sen. (Two hundred and ten pounds,
four shillings and tenpence).
Hence the bustle in our cities on the twenty-
seventh of December ! It is the trump'et blast an-
nouncing the end of the year!
Those who are in the habit of sitting still begin
to bestir themselves, those who usually walk
begin to run, the runners rush about wildly, heed-
less of knocks and bruises from .shoulders they
[339]
Stt lilt (Snb of tljf
hit in llicir headlong career, or of the wheels they
break as they are whirled along. For all these
people are suddenly conscious that the twelfth
month is drawing to a close, and that somehow
eleven months have been wasted, and with them
are lost two thousand yen and more precious
seconds which might have been converted into
gold. They are making their last desperate effort
to find the lost treasure ; with blood-shot eyes turn-
ing each blade of grass aside, digging up each
inch of soil they should have cultivated during the
year. Impatiently they hurry past, their minds
burdened by the many things they had meant to
do, and had put off from day to day, and which
must be done now, at the earliest opportunity, or left
undone for ever. Time at this juncture, though it
increases a hundred and even a thousand-fold in
value, will not abate one fraction of the rapidity of
its flight, and every moment that passes, serves to
increase the panic.
Heaven, which has not neglected its duties,
shows no change that day. The sky is as blue as
ever, as grand as ever, as serene as ever. It covers
the earth as it has always done, and blows down
the North wind all day. The sun shines and keeps
himself bright lu'gh above the whirling December
L 3<r;> J
lt 1ft? Crnft of tftc f)eor.
dust, and at the appointed hour he sets in Hood 01
red and golden glory.
In most of the streets the New Year decorations
have been put up. Before each door the pinetrees
sway gently in the wind. Like the garland of
plaited straw above them, they typify Divine Bles-
sings, which each. inmate hopes will be showered
before his gate.
Perhaps it is these tributes to the new, which
have frightened the soul of the waning year, that
it seems to fly so fast.
In the midst of those who rush along to try and
make good their loss of two thousand and odd yen,
whose child is it that walks abroad carrying a branch
of blossoming pkim ? Whose is that child with a
gun over his shoulder, and whose the child that
rides in a carriage with a geisha, and that one, in
fine clothes of silk, his tooth brush in his hand ?
(rising so late and on his way to the bath when
most people are so busy).
Some people there are who drive out in a car-
riage drawn by two horses and others who carry
wedding gifts. There are some who walk along
the road reading the latest magazine and yet others
who are taking a troop of children to the Bazaars.
These must be the people who have made use of
[34']
*t Ibf Gab of t&e
their time and are satisfied with the result.
Thus there are those who have lost little and
are glad at that, and those who have lost much
and are sorrowfubV A few there are who have lost
nothing, and they may well be content. And all of
them are anxious to keep what they have, make
good what they have lost, and. strive to get more
and more. This seems the object of all, even from
earliest childhood, even in the midst of natures
beauties whether beneath the blossoming trees
or under the golden moon the desire for gain
has become a passion.
There was one man, who apparently dis-
regarded the crisis of the year. His bare legs
u-ere exposed to the cold air, forhis silk hakama
(divided skirt), had shrunk and wrinkled till it
looked like a piece of baked seaweed. Mis flannel
shirt was almost" threadbare and the stripes of his
kimono were undistinguishable, so worn was it.
Mis cloak had probably been given him a good
many years ago, for it looked old and was very
short for so tall a man. He looked about thirty-
six years of age. Though not very lean, he had
somewhat the appearance of a solitary tree stripped
of its leaves, so high did he tower above his fellow-
men. 1 Ic had a cheerful countenance, perhaps a
[342]
at tbf (fnt) of iljt f)ear.
little haughty, but not unpleasantly so, and a fine
luxuriant black heard hung over his breast and
spread sidewise as far as his ears.
At the moment he was slightly intoxicated, and
was crossing from a side street to the main road
with gay insouciance, sauntering down the very
centre of it as though it were a meadow, and the
season Spring.
And as he went he sang the well-known song :
" The wine-gourd is empty,
The night is still,
I come to the fine, high house.
They bring in the Sak,
The curtains they draw,
Inviting the moonlight to enter.
But I have caroused
And the spirit of wine
Still holds me clasped in her arms.
Then draw I my sword,
And behold ! on the blade
Is reflected the light of the "moon."
Farther and farther over the s<y spread the
glory of the setting sun, which itself glowed like a
ruby. The north wind grew sharper, pricking eyes
and mouths, like polished needles driven into the
flesh. The singer tottered on, swaying now to the
[343]
?lt ihr (fno of lljf flear.
right, now to the left, the wind stinging his face,
hot and red from his late carouse, and making him
pause at moments to draw in his breath with great
g a -I
" Often do I sing a sorrowful song and shed
tears alone.
" Would that I could cut Mt. Kune asunder and
make the river Sho flow straight;
" Would that I could chop off the " Katsura "
(an imaginary tree in the moon) to make the moon
shine brighter!
"Having ambition I "
I kre a troop of the Imperial Cavalry crossed his
path at a gallop and stopped his song. He leaned
for support on his iron stick and watched the fine
men in their gay uniforms, apparently filled with
hearty admiration for them. When they had quite
disappeared he resumed his song in a low deep
voice :
" I laving ambition I wandered about far and wide
but failed to realise my ambition ; Feigning mad-
ness, I sold medicine in the city of Seito."
The eyes of all the passers-by, busy as they
were, were attracted to the strange figure which
comported itself as though lord of all the world
a world, which to those harrassed passers-by had
[344]
fit tie (fni> of tfje
become as dism.il as hell itself.
\Yas he a cheerful soul or one who easily des-
paired ? Was he an unknown hero, or a sage or
just a drunkard? Many cast curious glances at
him, some approached and stared in his face won-
dering who he was. Others, as they went by,
gave a few moments thought to his circumstances.
He was too intoxicated to take notice of any one,
and stood undecided in the midst of the traffic,
unable to make up his befuddled mind where he
would go. It was not the first time he had been
in this street, in fact he came there very often, but
never as drunk as today. The policeman in his
box who had often watched him, thought it strange
he should have drunk so much more than usual,
but otherwise took no further notice of him.
Presently he turned to the right and had walked
down the road a distance of two blocks, dragging
his heavy iron stick behind him, when a jinrick-
sha, rushing down a narrow incline at right-angles
to the main road, ran into him and sent him flying
a distance of about four yards, where he fell on his
face and grazed his cheek considerably.
Strange to say the jinricksha man kept his
balance and stopped for a moment to consider
whether he ought to apologize or not, but decid-
[345]
t tl)t (O of :Ir fl or.
ing that the gentleman would not be easy to den!
with, he started off again ; leaving the victim of the
accident to scran mble to his feet as best he could.
The lady in the knnuna was however differently
minded. She pushed aside the silk rug and cal-
led impatiently to the jinricksha man to stop. At
first he disregarded the call and increased his
.speed, but a loud cry of : "Hallo there! Wait!"
made him pull up.
CHAPTER XLII
Gritcointter*
AS is usual a crowd collected, and voices were
heard reproving the jinricksha man for his
cruelty in leaving a wounded man to his fate.
The lady in the meanwhile had descended and
was retracing her steps, hurriedly pulling off her
headgear as she went, intent on showing all polite-
ness to the man her servant had unintentionally in-
jured.
Around him a number of people had assembled,
clustering as thickly as ants who have found some-
thing sweet. They seemed to have forgotten their
urgent business and many came forward and sur-
rounded the lady clamouring for the punishment
of her careless servant.
She, poor lady, felt like a frail flower in the
storm. How she wished she could have kept on
her silken hood and hidden her face in it. She
flushed deeply as she advanced and hardly dared
look up so shy and terrified did she feel.
The crowd seeing an elegantly dressed woman,
her hair put up in mariunagc style, tied with silk,
and decorated with hairpins of gold cloisonne' and
[347]
(fnronntrr.
a comb of gold lacquer, stopped their chatter and
made way for her to pass. The intoxicated man,
leaving his hat, stick, book and clogs to take care
of themselves, half rose, and covering his wounded
cheek with his hand, stared at the approaching
lady.
She stopped in front of him, and summoning all
her courage bowed politely and said :
" I don't know how to apologize to you, I have
been most rude and careless ! Oh ! dear ! your
face! Is your eye injured? What can I ......... "
" It is not very serious."
He tried to rise but was unable to do so, and the
lady continued anxiously :
" I fear you have been seriously injured," and
begged to know what she could do.
Her servant now appeared behind her and with
many low bows and expressions of regret, apologiz-
ed for what he had done.
Turning his eyes on him, his victim said in a
solemn tone of voice :
" You are a nice rascal ! If you thought you
had been rude why did you not stop ? I called to
you, but you tried to run away, and now because
of your ill-conduct your mistress has the unpleas-
antness of coming to me to apologize for you."
[348]
Snonge
"Oh ! sir, I am very sorry."
"I hope you forgive us." added the lady still
further humbling herself.
IK.- more careful in future." was the reply, and
he added to the crowd: " Off with you all, and
quickly."
The spectators were sorry the affair was so
quickly concluded and went away murmuring that
it had ended very tamely and that it was like
a drama one sees only through a curtain.
The lady was . relieved to see them go and her
servant helped the gentleman to rise, handed him
his clogs and his stick while his mistress cleaned
the hat and picked up his book. She then gave
her man her silk hood and ordered him to wipe
the mud off the gentleman's cloak and hakama
with it.
Although he had accepted the apologizes which
had been offered, a certain look of annoyance was
still visible on his face and the lady who had not
taken her sympathetic eyes off him was strangely
fascinated by it. Somewhere she had seen that
look before, and the thrill of sadness" she felt, told
her it was connected with some painful memory.
The pity in her eyes gave way to a. keenly question-
ing look, but while she was still in doubt, the man
[349]
<*! ton t:r.
bowed and tottered slowly down the road. He had
not gone very tar when she suddenly remembered
who it was and hurrying after him called to him to
stop. He turned and waited leaning on his stick,
xcuse me," exclaimed she, as she hasten-
ed up, " if I mistake you for someone else but
are you not Mr. Arao?"
He fixed his dull eyes upon her and wondered
if he were dreaming. With a frantic effort he
strove to clear his muddled brain and disperse the
cloud which dimmed his vision. She was very
beautiful and she knew him, surely he ought to
know her, but memory refused her aid.
"Are you not Mr. Arao? "
" Yes, I am Arao."
" A friend of Kwanichi Hazama ! "
"Oh! Hazama! he was an old friend of mine."
" I am Miya of the Shigizawas."
"Shigizawa let me see your name is Miya ! "
" Yes the Shigizawas with whom Hazama used
to live."
"Oh! Miya San!"
The surprise at this unexpected meeting cleared
his brain for the moment. He could not take his
eyes off her, trying to recognize in the elegant wo-
man, the girl he had known in former days.
[350]
91 Stronr.f ff itountcr.
\\'ith what different eyes they now regarded
each other. A moment ago she was a beauty
riding in a knruina, a world apart from him, now
she was the friend of old days with whom he had
laughed and talked, and in whom he had confided
with an affection rare even in brother and sister.
To her he was no longer a drunkard, but the
friend of the man she loved. He had been to
Hazama like an elder brother in those days, and as
such she had loved him sincerely.
How their conditions had changed ! Here was
she, exquisitely dressed, riding proudly in her
knrnina, about her all the signs of wealth and
luxury. He, poor, badly dressed, was drunken in
the street !
Who could have foretold such a meeting ?
\Vlio would 'have dreamed of so great a dif-
ference in their fortunes ?
The same thought occurred to both of them and
the tears rushed to Miya's eyes.
" How very much you have changed."
" You too have changed."
The wound on his face was bleeding profusely
and Miya gave him her handkerchief to staunch
the blood.
" It must hurt you very much," and she whisper-
[351]
cd an order to her jinrikisha man and continued :
" A doctor I know lives quite near, please conic
with me to his house. I have ordered a /curnina
for you."
" Why do you trouble, there is nothing really
the matter with me."
" Oh ! there is 1 Pray be careful or you will
fall," for Arao began to stagger " you seem to be
under the influence of sake" so please take a jinrick-
sha at any rate."
" No, no, I am all right. By the way what has
become of Hazama ?"
Miya felt as if a sword had pierced her heart.
Controlling herself she replied :
" As to that, I have many things to discuss with
you."
" But you can tell me what has become of him.
Is lie all right?"
"Well "
"That sounds as though something were
wrong."
Crimson with shame Miya was about to reply,
when her servant, bringing up a less than usually
shabby jinricksha and man, spared her the neces-
sity of answering. To her intense annoyance she
saw that a small crowd had again collected and.
L352]
CKrcoutiter.
was curiously watching her and her companion,
and that a policeman was approaching to discover
the cause.
1353.]
C HAITI.]; Xrill
21 3trniti\c Cntcuuittcr,
(Continued.)
iDSUKE ARAO with a plaster on his thickly
*^ bearded face, was seated in front of a bright
lamp, smoking a cigar the doctor had offered him.
His intoxication had passed leaving his face pale
and grave. Opposite to him on a chair, over which
had been thrown a bearskin, sat Miya, drooping
and wistful. The room was an upper room in the
doctor's house, furnished in European style, but
having mats like an ordinary Japanese one, and
the two seated there had been talking for some
time.
" I received a letter from Hazama," Arao was
saying, "when he was about to hide himself, and
in it he confided to me the whole ot' his story.
When I read the letter 1 was very angry. I
thought of seeing you at once and advising you to
think the matter over In case you refused to
follow my advice, and do the only right thing, I
was determined to treat you no longer as a reaso-
nable human being, but to beat you as you de
'.'I Struitflc (fiicountrr.
served so thoroughly that you might be crippled
and made unfit for marriage the whole of your life.
With this determination, I stood up ready to go to
you.
" But I did not go. I thought it over again and
came to the conclusion that where Hazama had
failed to persuade you, I too would fail, that you
were merely a piece of merchandize willing to be
sold to Tomiyama and that it is not right to injure
another's merchandise. I restrained myself, pres-
sing both hands upon my breast to hinder it from
bursting with the anger that was pent within.
" Miya San ! Never, never would I have thought
you were that sort of girl. No wonder I was deceiv-
ed, just as you deceived Hazama with whom you
were once as much in love as he with you. As
for me, it does not satisfy me that I despise you
on my own account, no, I will also hate you for
Hazama' s sake surely I will do this now and
throughout the seven lives I shall live in the
future."
Miya's face had been hidden in her sleeve and
she had tried to stifle her sobs, now she could
restrain herself no longer and she wept aloud.
" Hazama has been a failure through your fault,"
continued Arao, "but I blame him for having
[355]
Xemon.
thrown away his chances and allowed himself to
sink, simply because a woir.an gave him up. Still,
however foolishly Hazatra has behaved, your
fault remains, for you caused his fall, and in that
your behaviour as a wonun was not chaste, it
is set against you as though you had stabbed your
husband to death. Don't you realize this your-
self? It is good that you have repented, for it is
a thing you must continue to repent 01 to the ut-
most extent of your human power. I am sorry
for you that it is too late for your repentance to do
any good.
"As to Ha/ama, he is like one dead and
you have lived six years with your husband.
' The milk is spilt and the tray is broken ' and
since it is so, not even Divine power can mend it.
I wish I could find a word of consolation for you ;
it is hard to find, for the fault is entirely yours and
consequently it is only proper you should suffer
for it."
Miya lifted her wet eyes and encountering
Arao's glance, shuddered, for she seemed to be-
hold Kwanichi's hatred of herself gazing at her
from the eyes of his friend.
" Alas ! my own fault ! " thought she, " though
at the time I knew not how great a wrong I was
[356] ^
91 Strange Encounter.
doing. It must be great indeed i. this man who
has not suffered for it should feel such hatred and
resentment. It so, how can the man who said, in
time I should realize the consequences of my deed,
ever forgive me. Alas ! I shall never be forgiv-
en, I shall never see the man I love again ! ''
She bowed her head and sobs shook her slight
flower-like form.
Arao, though fancying he read in Miya's eyes
more self-interest than true love and despising her
accordingly, could not fail to be moved by a grief
he saw was sincere.
" You have indeed repented," he said more
gently, " and that must bring you forgiveness from
yourself, even though Hazama and I may be unable
to forgive."
But Miya, signifying that she would not listen
to even so poor consolation as this, shook her head
vehemently and continued to sob.
" It is better," went on Arao, "to forgive one-
self than not be forgiven at all. For in order to
do the former one must have repented very bitter-
ly and suffered much, which, being observed by the
other person, may lead him to forgive the wrong.
I cannot yet forgive you, although in spite ot
despising you, I feel sorry lor you in your grief.
[357]
olti Xemon.
.My chic, sympathy is for my friend Hazama
though you arc both to be pitied. Ah ! I can
vvell imagine the bitterness that was mingled with
his despair.
"These are my feelings and as long as I feel so,
I can do nothing lor you but look on in silence.
" Unexpectedly I met you to-day, the only wo-
man of whom I ever made a friend. How many
kindnesses you did me in past days ! How often
my heart was filled with gratitude towards you !
Thus, when I recognized you after so long a sepa-
ration, I ought to have felt full of affection towards
you. But I observed your " marnniage " hair
and your splendid garments and I could not love
you. It was a happy chance, I thought, when
you said you had something to say to me, for at
last the time had come when I could avenge the
wrong done to Hazama. As you had deceived
Ilazama, I ielt convinced you would try and decei-
ve me, but I was willing to hear what you had to
say and punish you after that. Contrary to my ex-
pectation, you spoke ot sorrow and repentance and
to this I have listened with secret joy. You are still
my friend as of old, Miya-San ! How ceaselessly
you have repented your wrong ! Had you not, I
would have inflicted ten times as many wounds
[358J
(fntounter.
upon your f ice as you see here on ;ny cheek. I
said, when one could with justice forgive oneself, it
sometimes lead to being forgiven by another
Do you understand ?
" Now you ask me to plead your cause with
Hazama, to apologize*and beg forgiveness in your
place. This request I cannot grant. I cannot do so
because it would appear that I was taking your side
against him, and as I know you to be the offender,
I cannot reasonably take your part. Besides, if I
were Hazama I would not forgive you cither.
" You must take it, please, as a sign ot the good-
will I bear you, that I can thus meet my friend's
enemy and part from her without doing her an
injury. I have said many hard words to you, but
please forgive me and let me say goodbye to you,
for I must be going."
Arao bowed and was about to rise when Miya,
brushing the tears off her heavy eyelids, stopped
him :
" A few more moments, please Then how-
ever earnestly I beg you, you refuse to take my
ige to Hazama and you say you will not
ve me either."
" Yes, that is what 1 said," replied Arao and
half rose.
[359]
2!je io:b Xcmon.
" Please wait," cried Miya desperately, " some
tlinner will be served in a moment."
" No, thank you, I do not want any," was the
reply.
" Oh ! Arao-san, do sit down, I must finish
what I have to say to you."
" Whatever else you may say to me will be
quite in vain, however much you may plead."
1 Xeed you speak to me in that tone ? " Miya
replied reproachfully, " can't you be patient with
me a few moments longer ? "
Holding his hand over the glowing charcoal in
the brazier, Arao turned his gaze to the ceiling as
though pondering deeply and made no reply.
Miya went on:
"Arao-san I am quite convinced 01 the hope-
lessness oi persuading you to apologize lor me
to Hazama and of being iorgiven by either of you,
and I am not going to ask you to do either
I want to see Hazama once and ror all and honest-
ly confess my wrong. To confess in his presence
is all I desire. I do not ask for forgiveness and
I do not think he will lorgive. No, I don't
even want to be forgiven, for I have made up my
mind "
Sobs choked her utterance for a while and then
[360]
UHtcoiinttr.
in spite of Arao's astonished gaze she saicl be-
seechingly :
" Please, please take me with you. If you take
me, Kwanichi will be sure to see me. I only want
to see him and then let him kill me when you
and he have rebuked me for what I have done,
let him kill me for it is my desire to die by
Kwanichi's hand ......... "
Arao, who had listened immovable as a pine-tree
covered with irost, now shook his great beard and
said:
" Well, well, what a fine idea ! To see Haza-
ma and then be killed by him ! It certainly outfit
to be so ! But but but you are Mrs. Tomi-
yama Tadatsugu is your husband and you can't
do just as you like."
" I don't care ! "
" Don't care ? That won't do. Your resolu-
tion to shun not even death is, as a sign of your
repentance, quite right, but in any other way it
means that you recognize a duty to Hazama and
not to your husband. What about your husband ?
Would that be the right way to treat him? I want
you to think that over. It means this. You
deceived Hazama for Tomiyama's sake and now
you want to deceive Tomiyama for the sake of
[361.1
l\)t WolD Xtmon.
Hazama to deceive not one, but two men ! If
you repent on the one hand and commit a sin on
the other, all the merit of your repentance is annul-
led."
Hiting her lip viciously, Miya replied :
" I don't care in the least about all that."
" Your " don't care " will bring you to grief."
" Really, I don't care."
" That won't do !"
" I tell you I don't care ! I don't care what be-
comes of me for I gave myself up as useless long
ago. My only desire is to sec Kwanichi-san once
more, to make confession to him, and to die. As
tor Tomiyama, I don't I should like to die
as I have said."
" What loolish talk ! How can you expect me
to take the part of so thoughtless and unreasonable
a person as yourself. I think you gave up Haza-
ma because your disposition is bad and perverted.
It is wicked to talk as you do. What do you
mean by saying that you, a wife, don't care if you
deceive your husband? If that is really your be-
lief, I shall be inclined to give my sympathies to
Mr. Tomiyama for having so unfaithful a wife ....
poor Tomiyama ! It is hateful to hear you talk
like that!"
[362]
91 Stronflf Ifriirottntfr.
"Do not be so cruel," cried Miya, "but tell me
how to prove that I repent I implore you,
tell me what to do."
" Instead of asking me what to do, you had far
better think it out for yourself."
"There has not been a single day these last
three or four years that 1 have not thought about
it and because of it I am ill and wasted as by
disease. How often have I said to myself I should
be far happier dead than living like this. But I
dared not die without seeing, if only once, Kwan-
ichi-san again."
" Well, think it over again! "
" Arao-san you are too cruel ! "
Then as though the burden of her grief were too
heavy for her to bear alone, Miya seized the man's
sleeve and wept.
Arao, who in spite of his harsh words was very
much moved, dared not shake himself free, and
looking down at her he noticed for the first time
how emaciated she was and he realized that her
words were true and that grief had wrought a ter-
rible change in her:
"Do you not believe I am penitent," she cried.
" For the sake of our old friendship please help
me tell me what to do."
[363]
CHAPTER XL
5ft
The clatter of china and the running to and fro
downstairs warned the two that a meal was in
preparation, and it was not long before the servants
appeared and began to prepare the table for the
two guests. During this time both Miya and
Arao sat in an indescribably wretched silence.
As soon as the meal was ready, the servants
departed ai.d Arao took up the thread of the dis-
course.
" I understand very well what you feel, Miya-san,
and don't think it unreasonable. I wish I could
help you and show you a way by which you
might attain peace of mind If I were you I
would no, I can't tell, you, really I cannot.
If it would do you any good I would tell you, but
it won't. It is not a thing one person should tell
another of it would not be right, for after all it
is only a fancy of mine my innermost private
thought and if I told it to you, it might lead you
into a mistake and one should avoid suggesting
things which might lead another into an error,
especially when the suggestion is fancy not fact.
I don't say I will not tell you at all but I
cannot do so now. If I think it over and perhaps
find a way of showing you what I mean, I will
try and impart my idea to you. I certainly hope
to have another opportunity of meeting you
" You \\ant to know where I live? I do not
think I had better tell you just now, "a homeless
wanderer am I," as the poem has it. No, there is
no particular reason why I should not tell you
where I live, except this one, for you to come and
call upon me would get you into trouble. You are
surprised at my style of dress ! Not more than
I am, I assure you, but it can't be helped. I too
have a history I might tell you some day."
In this way Arao strove to divert Miya's mind
from her grief as they sat at supper together and
he was not unsuccessful. Her tears ceased to flow
and she began to look more cheerful and to take
an interest in the doings of her old friend. Seeing
him pour out a cup of wine, she was reminded of
the intoxicated condition in which she had found
him. She begged him to be careful, not to drink
too much and gave him advice on his conduct in
this respect, all of which he listened to good-
humouredly, promising to be careful in the future
C365]
Zfte So'.b Srmoit.
and assuring her he rarely drank as much as he
had that day.
After a while they reverted to the topic of
Hazama. Miya wanted toknowifArao had ever
seen him since that letter he had written and when
Arao said he had not, she wished to know why
and wherefore and whether he would go to see
him and when and how. The man promised to do
his best, but declared he was unable to go to-mor-
row, as he was too busy. Miya had finished her
dinner and with a gesture of weariness she sighed :
" I am so weary of the world ! "
"Are you?" exclaimed Arao, well, so am I.
One makes a mistake in this world and what a
chain of trouble comes of it. At the present
moment I find no use in living in the world, but
also no special reason for dying. It seems a pity
to die for nothing and so live on. It is certainly
better -to die than to live in pain. What is there
to love in life ? The more I think on that subject
the gloomier is the outlook."
He had finished, too, and put down his liasJii, say-
ing with a smile to Miya, who had been attending
to his wants :
" Mow many years it is since you waited on me
like this!"
[366]
ftt Culler.
The recollection was too much for Miya ; the
ready tears sprang to her eyes, seeing which,
Arao suddenly stood up and prepared to go. He
had witnessed enough tears for one day.
" Well, thank you for all your kindness, Miya
san," ho said cheerfully, "and Goodbye."
"No, no," cried the girl, "can't you what
shall I do?"
" There is only one thing," replied Arao, "resolu-
tion, " and as though to show her what resolution
meant, he pushed her gently on one side and went
to the door. But she clung to him, crying :
"What do you mean by resolution?"
"I mean what I say," was the reply. He freed
himself from her clasp and was gone.
[367]
CHAPTER XLI.
(Sottccrtttttfi
HT'HE New Year's pines had been removed
* some eight days ago, but Tomiyama Tada-
tsugu had not yet laid aside his festive humour
and was still in search of fresh amusement, day
after day, night after night. Miya made no com-
plaint, allowing him to come and go as he pleased,
and performing her wifely duty of receiving him
on his return and seeing him off when he went
out, just as the proprietress of a hotel does for her
guests, as a matter of course and without asking
any questions. This state of things had been
going on for some time and Tomiyama had grown
accustomed to his wife's passivencss, looking upon
it as her natural disposition and requiring no more
of her than to see her on his return home. This
cold passivity on Miya's part did not make her
husband's home a cheerful one. The result was
he sought his pleasures elsewhere and though
at first these had been harmless amusements, a
gradual change had come over Tadatsugu, and he
fell more and inure into evil habits, until now he
[368]
(Concerning iot>n:S.i:ii; Io;uitjama.
was leading a positively dissolute life, taking ad-
vantage where he could of Miya's indifference to
his doings, to go unmolested where he pleased.
She had noticed the change which first had seem-
ed merely like ripples on shallo v water, and she
knew by this time of the habits into which he had
fallen, but she said no word. It was her duty as
a wife to admonish him, yet she would not speak.
He had not lost any of his affection for her, for
though emaciated by constant grief, her beauty
had not suffered, and as long as this was so,
Tadatsugu's love for her would in all probability
not decrease. No, he loved her still, but she was
cold and unresponsive, and when he had satisfied
himself by gazing at her beauty, he would become
conscious of the chilly atmosphere of his home,
and could not but feel that the time he spent there
was like sitting before a stove in which no fire
burned.
Money can buy much. Flattery and caresses,
smiles and tears, gay looks and happy laughter,
all can be had for money. Tadatsugu was rich
and since he could not find these things in his
own home he sought them elsewhere, taking
refuge from the cheerlessness of his house in
temporary pleasures, and realizing how empty
[369]
Zl)f too a if. lion.
they were, just in the same way that he rejoiced in
being able to call his own, so great a beaut;.
Miya, without realizing how empty that beauty
. Thus, unconsciously, he was suffering pain,
though had he been told so, he would have
unhesitatingly denied it, being satisfied with him-
self as a man of the world, who knew how to take
his pleasure at home and abroad, and was wealthy
enough to do both.
Now Miya, whose love of Hazama intensi-
fied her dislike of her husband, tried to see as
little of him as she could, and was glad to see him
go out early and return late, and though she
guessed where he went and how his time was
spent, she never reproached him or even looked
angry. When the evening was chilly, she would,
like a thoughtful wife, bring out a warm waist-
coat lest he should take cold, and he, touched by
the attention, would congratulate himself on hav-
ing so good a wife, one he could so thoroughly
rely on, a splendid mistress in her house, and to
him a valuable possession And so it appeared
outwardly, not only to her husband but also to
her parents-in-law (who did not live with her as i
customary), to her relatives and her acquakitam
All pitied her on account of her delicate health
[370]
(tonrtrninr) XufcatSuflu Xotniijonta.
and regarded her as a model wife. She did not
go into society as much as Mr. So-and-so's wife ;
she was not wayward like Madam X, nor as fond
of gaiety as some other ladies , nor was she a
gossip, nor jealous, nor importunate. No, she
stayed at home, serving her husband faithfully and
quietly, in spite of the fact that she was more
beautiful and more talented than the other ladies
and therefore more worthy of admiration. No-
body knew the secret that was hidden in her
breast and she never did anything by which that
secret might be betrayed, so that the indifferent
and cold manner to her husband was only regarded
as the behaviour of a gentle and reserved nature
and not as the outward expression of the false
heart within. Outwardly, she was fortunate and
happy and envied by many, inwardly, all was
darkness and misery.
Miya was now in her twenty-fifth year. Her
days were passed in dreaming of the past and
sighing over the present. The New Year had
brought only remorse keener then ever, disappoint-
ment and sorrow. It had added another year to
her age years, as she said to herself, for which
she had no desire since life to her was a useless
gift.
[371]
(Solft Trmon.
She had spent the last days hoping for a word
from Arao, like a prisoner who hopes for, but ex-
pects no acquittal. Kach day had brought ,rcsh
disappointment to her and she longed to retire to
her bed and weep there alone, but having no
actual illness or pain she could not do so and was
obliged to dress herself as her husband liked to
see her, in. the silken garments which best showed
up her beauty.
Miya was sitting beside the brazier opposite to
her husband, who was drinking sake to warm him-
self before going out into the cold.
The sun shone brightly on the two blossoming
plum-trees placed on the southern verandah, on
the paper doors and upon the "fukujuso" (adonis
amuraisis) standing on the alcove shelf. Tada-
tsugu was scarcely less shining in his new triple
suit of silk holding in his right hand a white silk
wrapper of a delicate and transparent weave, while
in his left he held the cup into which Miya was at
that moment pouring wine.
"Why! that is a very awkward way to pour
out wine " he exclaimed, "it is over-
flowing ! Very bad manners ! Miya san ! I
might almost say I'd rather go out to have my
[372] '
(ftmccrninn Xntn- IPII Tomiljamo.
wine poured out for me, if you are going to do it
like this!"
" Go out to drink as much as you like, dear,"
replied Miya smiling.
"All right! You have said it is all right! I
shall be very late to-night then ! "
"About what time will you be back? "
" I shall be late ! "
" But if you do not say what time you will
return, it is tiresome for those who have to sit up
and wait for you."
" I shall be late."
" Very well, then every one will go to bed at
ten o'clock."
" I shall be late."
.Miya was too bored by this foolishness to give
a reply.
" I shall be late," said Tadatsugu teasingly.
Silence on Miya's part.
"I shall be so late as to surprise you! "
Miya turned away her head.
" Come, look here ! "
And when she still kept silent he said in sur-
prise, half laughing :
" Why, I believe you are angry ! You need not
be angry, dear ! ''
[ 373 ]
Tt)f (WoiD Xrmon.
He pulled Miya's sleeve to make her turn.
" Why do you do that? " she asked in her even
voice.
" Because you do not answer me ! "
" I know you will be late, so what more can
I say?"
" I shall not really be late, so don't be cross."
" It is perfectly right to be late if you have to
be late, and " her voice had a sharp ring
suddenly.
" I have just told you I shall not be late. You
are very easily offended nowadays. What is the
reason? "
" Party owing to the weak state of my health
and partly "
" And partly owing to my infatuation for some
one else eh ? I stand corrected ! "
Tadatsugu paused to see what effect his last
remark would produce in Miya. He was disap-
pointed that she made no sign ; not even a frown
disturbed the serenity of her brow.
" Won't you take a cup of wine?" he asked.
" No, thank you."
" 1 will take half and you can drink the rest."
" \<>, no, I don't care for any."
"Oh! Nonsense! let me pour out. just a little
[374]
Goncerninfl JabuWuflu Zamityama.
for you next to nothing."
" You give me what I don't want, dear."
" Well, never mind. Pouring wine should be
done like this do you see? Aiko style."
He mentioned the name of the gcislia who was
known to be his mistress and waited for his wife's
answer, sending her a half-mischievous, half lover-
like glance. Miya feigned not to have recognized
the name and only made a little grimace at the
taste of the wine of which she had taken a sip.
"You don't like it?" queried her husband,
" well, give me the cup and now fill it up to the
brim for me."
Miya did as she was requested and apologized
for not having emptied the cup her husband had
poured out for her. She then once more urged
him to hurry as it was long past ten o'clock.
Tadatsugu, that morning, was in no mood to go.
He declared he had no important business that
day and lingered, sometimes caressing, sometimes
teasing her. Finally he again referred to the pro-
bability of his being late that night and Miya
ding him questioningly, he added :
" Hut not for the reason you attach to my late
-coming! On the 28th the " Dendcn kiiai" 1
(an association for the purpose of dramatic song-
[375]
Temon.
singing "Jdruri"} are giving their Concert and
I am going to call on Itogaiva at five o'clock this
afternoon for a rehearsal. I am singing my
favorite :
" Being persuaded by my parents, 1 sailed from
the harbour of Naniwa;
" Alas ! what pain it was to me, I ceased not to
weep until I came to Akashi.
" Though I found him there, a great storm
parted us,
" And I returned again to my native place. My
parents had found me a husband ; They wished
to give me to an unknown man."
At the beginning of the song Miya had turned
her face away she hated her husband to sing and
as his voice grew louder and more and more arti-
ficial the line between her delicate eyebrows
deepened.
Suddenly she interrupted him :
" You had better stop now that is a good pas-
sage to break off at and you must go, it is get-
ting so late."
" Please listen to me a little more ' that I
might break my avowed love with "
" Another time I will listen to you," Miya inter-
rupted him impatiently.
[376]
Xomitjama.
isn't it good, Miya?" cried her husband
delighted at his own performance. \Yorth hear-
ing, isn't it?"
" I don't know."
" Don't know ? Good gracious ! It is a pity
you don't ! Won't you try and understand this
dramatic singing a little? "
" What does it matter whether I understand it
or not? "
"It does matter. People who know nothing of
the "joruri" style of singing lose a great deal.
You are naturally very cold and that is why you
don't care about joruri; I am sure that is the
reason."
"No, you are wrong."
" No, I am right. You are very cold ! "
" What about Aiko ?" said Miya, startling her
husband by the suddenness of the question.
"Aiko! she is not cold."
" Ah ! then I understand ! "
"Understand what? '
" I say, I understand ! "
"Well, I certainly don't understand."
"It is time you went go, go ...... and come
home soon."
" I see ! you are not cold after all, and you tell
I 377]-
Il)f ffiolfc Triton.
me to come home quickly." Tadatsugu's voice
was eager. "Shall you be waiting for me? "
" Am I not waiting for you always ? " .she replied
gently.
" You are not cold? " questioned the man, but
Miya made no reply.
She assisted him with his coat and then gave
him her hands. This did not prove that she was
riot cold, for it was a custom Tadatsugu had taught
her from the beginning of their married life, that
at parting and at nieeting they should thus shake
hands.
[378]
ClIAl'TKK XLII
AVING watched her husband out of sight,
Miya. returned to her own room moving
wearily and .shuddering a little, as though she had
been forced to enter some cave of ice. Although
her husband's presence was irksome 'to her and
she was relieved to see him go, yet to be alone in
the big house was melancholy.. Left to herself
and free from all restraints, for in her husband's pre-
sence she was on het guard to give no indication
of her real feelings, Miya when alone would sud-
denly find herself very tired in -body, and a hun-
dred harassing thoughts would creep into her
mind, until within all seemed confusion and dis-
order and beyond her power to disentangle.
Leaning over her brazier that morning she look-
ed sorely perplexed. How could she extricate
herself from all this sorrow and grief? Was she to
pay the penalty all her life long for that one false
step ? Would there never be sunshine again ;
never anything but this blank darkness ? Ah !
how oppressive it was ! She rose and pushing
aside the sliding door, stepped into the verandah.
[379]
t!t (Wolfc lemon.
The winter sky looked clear and cold, with here
and there a kite or hawk soaring past, far away
into the blue. The garden indeed was brown and
withered and would have looked dreary, had not
the sun been shining with such dazzling brightness.
A noisy brown-eared bul-bul stopped singing as
she came out, and then flew into a more distant
treetop. From the next garden came the sharp
click-click of a shuttlecock and Miya paused for a
few minutes counting the taps 'ind looking up
longingly at the sun. But her restlessness drove
her indoors and she wandered aimlessly about the
house until, reaching her bedroom, she flung her-
self down upon her couch.
What a charming picture she made as she lay
there in so unconsciously graceful an attitude.
Upon a pile of thick quilts of white silk, the slender,
dainty figure in its flowing dress of delicately tint-
ed crepe looked like some lovely vision borne
ashore on the white crest of the waves. The sun
poured his mild rays upon her, as, with her face
supported on one white hand, she gazed before her
with unseeing eyes.
The clocked ticked evenly in the corner and the
room was very still and peaceful. Miya's head
drooped, her eyes closed, and then tor a little
$oto '.I'litja StitiiD? lirr
while at least, time moved imperceptibly to her.
The shadow of a bird flashing across her face
awoke her. Mie sat up lazily, lifting one hand to
her disordered hair, and gazing through the win-
dow into the garden, allowed her mind to continue
the vain imaginings of her sleeping and waking
dreams.
Presently she rose from her bed and glided into
her sitting room. Here she kneeled before a
chest and opening it, took out a soft crepe sash
from which she drew a roll, which looked like a
very long letter. With this she went into her
husband's study and sat down at his desk. The
roll was not the letter written to her by Kwanichi
before he left the Shigizawas, but was her own
secret manuscript intended for him and was a
detailed record of her thoughts and feelings since
her separation from him so many years ago.
Since she had seen Kwanichi in Viscount
Tazumi's garden some years ago, her grief had
become more acute, her lot harder to bear. Hav-
ing no one to whom she dared confide her sorrow,
she sought relief by writing down what she might
never speak. At first she thought of sending what
she wrote to Kwanichi, to show him that she too
suffered, and suffered more even than he had told
[381]
Tlr Wolb 2emon.
her she would, but prudence forbade such a course.
The letter might never reach him : it might be
opened and read by other eyes. Or, in his anger
he might return it to her, thus exposing it to her
servants, or her husband, which meant ruin to her.
Not that she would greatly care fir that, she said
to herself, but Yes, to send it would be as
r;sk\ as when some insect flies into the flame ; to
destroy it would be a pity. Some day by good
luck she might be able to see it placed safely in
his hands, till then she would keep it as a solace
for sad and lonely hours.
When she looked at the closely written lengths
she felt almost as if she had seen her beloved.
When she wrote down her thoughts and dreams
of him, she felt as if she were talking to him, and
could thus talk more freely, more intimately than
if he stood before her. Thus, when overcome with
her secret grief, she would take her brush and cor-
rect or add to what she had written before, and
when one long better was finished, she would re-
write it from beginning to end, beautifying and
improving it, and burning the first copy, put the
IM-W letter safely away in the folds of her
In this way she kept only one letter, which had
now been rcwri'ton many times. Miya improved
[382]
Ijrr
greatly in penmanship.
When she met Arao she was overjoyed and fil-
led with hope. No more need to comfort her-
self with writing letters she could never send.
Arao would be the mediator between her and
Kwanichi and they would at last be reconciled.
She waited and waited for Arao's answer; but
alas ! he, too, disappointed her.
Miya had become desperate and as she unfolded
the letter in her husband's room, decided that to-
day it should be sent at whatever cost.
With great care she prepared her ink, chose her
finest brush and her best paper and then with
carefully selected characters, she began to re-write
her letter for the last time.
But her hand trembled and she had not written
ten lines when she impatiently tore it off and threw
it on the charcoal in the brazier. The flames sprang
up and at that moment the door opened, and the
maid, alarmed at the disturbed face of her mistress,
and amazed at the sight of the flame, muttered
somewhat incoherently, " Mistress, your mother-in-
law has come !"
[383]
CHAPTER XLIII
A FTKK Mr. and Mrs. Uanibuchi's terrible
** death, Kwanichi had rebuilt the house, some-
what smaller than the original and on a more
economical principle, but still very much on the
old lines. lie had put up a porcelain doorplate,
on which could be read in large clear characters
the name "Hazama Kwanichi," and he was now-
master of the entire property.
But what had become of Tadamichi, the real
heir?
From the very beginning he had vowed he
would not touch a " rin " of so unjust an inherit-
ance and had bequeathed it all to Kwanichi, with
the hope that he would use it to start some honest
trade, that he might be converted into a right-
minded man and that with the profits, fairly earn-
ed, he would embark on some good work to at-
one for some of the evil he had done. But Kwan-
ichi, when he became master, refused to give up
his old trade, and carried on that avaricious busi-
ness more energetically than ever. Those who
knew the two men were pu/.::led as to the relation-
[384]
Iflt USaiiibHcni CinQrrliantr.
ship in which they stood to each other, and many
conjectures were made as to why Kw;michi should
have inherited everything and the real heir should
show no resentment. There are many cases like
this one : some mystery or secret lies at the root
whicli will never be explained to the world. Wise
are they who do not pry into their neighbour's
business; fortunate are they who may pursue their
calling, unmolested by an inquisitive world.
Tadamichi and Kwanichi never divulged their
secret.
Hazama was now no longer a clerk, but an inde-
pendent usurer and he soon became influential
among his tellow traders. He was successful in
all his undertakings and might have lived in grand
style, had he so desired. But no, he kept to his
old "disappointed student" way, lived frugally,
abhorred luxury and indulgence and kept but one
elderly woman servant, so that he need not cook
for himself. Thus he gained the reputation of
being eccentric.
Formerly, when Kwanichi came home tired after
a long day's work, he felt as though he were res>
ing beneath a wayside tree on a tiresome journey
now he felt restless and lonely, and as the even-
[38 5 J
Ttjr (tiolb Tfmon.
ing drew on, the pall of sadness hung heavily over
him.
One evening, as he paced restlessly up and down
his room his old servant entered and told him that
:i visitor had called that afternoon and said he
would come at the same hour on the morrow,
trusting to find Kwanichi at home.
"When I asked for his name, he said 'a school-
mate,' and went away," added the servant.
Kwanichi wondered who it might be which of
his schoolmates had reason to look him up after
so many years.
" What sort of a man was he?" he asked.
" Let me see. A man of about iorty with a big
bushy heard, tall, and very fierce looking al-
together very like a sds/ti." (political rough).
After a pause she added :
"And he was very haughty."
"What time did he say he would come to-mor-
row?" demanded Kwanichi.
" At three o'clock, sir."
"Who can he be?"
"He seemed to be a man of bid manners,"
ventured the old woman, "shall 1 let him in when
he comes? "
" He did not say what he wanted to see IMC
for?"
" No, sir."
"All right. I will try and see him."
"Yes, sir." The old woman was about to rise
from her knees, then bent herself to the ground
again and said nervously, " and after a little while
Mrs. Akagashi came."
Kwanichi's only response was a frown.
"She brought three fine pieces of Kobe Kama-
boko (a preparation made from fish) and some
" Yokan " (a sweet) made by Fujimura she also
gave me a present."
Kwanichi looked still more displeased and made
an impatient movement. The servant continued
very meekly :
" And she left word she would be here at five
o'clock to-morrow, as she had various matters to
ask you about."
At this announcement Kwanichi's face -became
dark with displeasure and he sharply told the
woman she had said enough. The poor old thing
scrambled to her feet in haste and went out, leav-
ing her master to brood alone over the messages
she had brought him.
[38/J
CHAPTER XLIV
'T^HK visitor who had given no other name than
* ' a schoolmate ' arrived at the appointed
hour. Kwanichi was so amazed when he saw who
it was, that he was as one who has been dazed by
a great clap of thunder, and he could not easily
recover from the stupor into which he had fallen.
Arao Josuke, for it was he, stroked his long
beard as he settled himself on the cushion, and
stared openly at his long forgotten friend, trying to
read in those features what manner of man he had
grown.
Arao was the first to break the long silence.
" It is nearly ten years since we last met," he
said, " therefore there is much to be said, but be-
fore we go any further I have a question to put to
you : Do you consider me your friend ?"
Kwanichi's mind was still too confused to answer
readily and Arao, mistaking his hesitation, exclaim-
ed:
"There is no need to think over so simple a
question. If you do, then say you do, if you do
not, then say you don't -there is only one word
[388]
Cifitor.
you have to say, "yes" or "no."
"Well," Kwanichi stammered out uncertainly,
" you were a friend of mine."
"I was a friend?"
" But not now."
" Why not ? "
" Because not having seen each other for a good
many years we can hardly call either of us the
other's friend."
" Meaning, I suppose," rejoined Arao with a
sarcastic smile, " that some years ago you did not
choose to treat me as a friend," and as Kwanichi
looked at him questioningly, he continued : " allow
me to remind you. In that critical moment when
you had to decide whether you would become a
university student or go to the or become
a usurer, you not only did not consult me, but you
hid your whereabouts from me. Do you consider
that treating me as a friend? "
Not a word dared Kwanichi answer but he felt
as if his wounds had been torn open anew, for this
was a matter over which he had suffered shame
and remorse he was conscious that in his anger
at Miya's faithlessness he had made all his friends
suffer.
"The girl you loved may have given you up,"
[339]
Tfjc Woltt Ttmon.
added Arao, "but your friend never turned from you.
Why did you give me up ? To hear this I have come
to sec you to-day. I have a right to an answer
tor, understand, I have by no means given you up."
In this way Arao pleaded for a long time with
Kwanichi. He begged to know the reason of the
indifference he thought he saw in Kwanichi's face.
He recalled the past to him the days of a great
friendship, which on one side had never been brok-
en. If Kwanichi did in truth no longer desire his
friendship, let him say so openly and they would
part with some words of farewell and candidly say
to each other that they neither desired to see the
other any more. To all this Kwanichi listened, his
head bent low in shame, and many thoughts rushed
through his bewildered brain. He saw Arao again
as a student then as councillor of the prefecture,
full of dignity and importance ! aiie* now, here in
his house was Arao again miseidoiv poor! In
spite of these changes in position, Kwanichi recog-
nized that the man himself had never changed.
There was the same haughty independent bearing,
the same frank, almost reckless way of speech, the
quick but always generous temper and the little
tricks of manner which brought back to him so
vividly the old days now all vanished like a
[390]
2lK Sirfl Cifttor.
dream. He tried, but was unable, to make any
answer.
" We are to part then," began Arao, again having
vainly waited for a reply. " We are to part and
I am to give you up, whom till this very day I still
regarded as my friend. Before I go, I must say to
you a little of that which is on my mind.
" Now, Hazama, what are you making all this
money for? Is it to take the place of the love of
which you have been robbed ? Granted that is so,
and there is no wrong in that, why make money
in this unjust way? You consider you have been
made to suffer by one, should you not therefore
be careful not to cause suffering to others, know-
ing w!nt pain it is and yet what is your trade
but a torment to all who have to do with you.
You take advantage of misfortune, you suck the
people's blood ; does the money you make by these
means console you for your own loss ? It is said
in these days that money can do every thing it
is almighty has it been able to give you peace
and quiet you who know you are do : ng an evil
thing ! Are you happy ? When you go out
dunning or distraining, do you feel as if you were
going to see the cherries in bloom on a sunshiny
day in spring? Probably in all these years
[391]
tfte <9olU Ttmon.
you have not had a really happy day you have
forgotten what happiness is ! Why ! look at your
face! You look like a criminal such faces
are found in prisons ! "
Arao, as he said these words and gazed into the
miserable and emaciated face before him, burst into
tears.
" Hazama," he cried in a loud voice, " why do I
weep do you know? The Hazama I see before
me to-day does not understand you are a different
being. You are drinking poison to cure a disease
are you as ignorant of medicine as all that. Money
gained by robbery will never comfort you, how-
ever much you may acquire. My friend Hazama
was not such a fool ; he must have gone mad when
he became what he is now. A madman is not ac-
countable for the foolish things he does but I, as
your friend, had to bear the shame of having loved
the soul which was small and weak enough to suc-
cumb on account of a girl ! "
He spoke vehemently. "Now, Hazama, show
your spirit you have been called by me a thief,
a criminal and lunatic! JSe angry! By all the
gods, be angry and give me blow for blow or
kick me out ! "
" I am not angry," came the answer very low.
[392]
tfirfl
" Not angry ! ! Then you regard your-
self as a thief, a criminal... "
"And a lunatic too," added Hazama. " I have
' no face to turn to you ' (I am ashamed) that I
should have gone mad for a faithless woman.
There is no help for it now, for you see I am
mad I thank you, Arao but you had better
leave me."
" I see. Then you do get some comfort out of
your unjust money? "
"No, not yet."
" Do you think you will? "
"I don't know."
" Are you married."
" No."
"Why not? Bachelor life must be very in-
convenient since you live in a house like this."
" Not necessarily."
"What do you think of her now?"
" Do you mean Miya ? She is a brute."
" But you are a brute too. No usurer can have
a human heart and one who has not a human heart
is a brute."
" I dare say and nearly all men are brutes."
"Am I a brute too? "
Hazama made no reply and Arao continued :
[393J
rmon.
"Did you, Hazama, become a brute, being mad-
dened by her behaving brutally? Then in case
slu; repents and is softened and sorry you must
cease to be a brute do you not think so? "
" Shf become womanly and penitent! Impos-
sible ! I am a brute in that I covet money, but I
have never deceived any one. I could not do so
cruel a thing as receive love and affection and then
betray it. At the outset I call my bussiness usury
and money lending and those who borrow have to
pay; I do not force my money on anyone who
does not want to borrow it. Pah ! how can such
a creature as Miya become the owner of a human
heart?!"
"Why should she not?"
" Then you really think she can? "
" You seem to hope she will not be able."
" It is not a question of hoping I have
nothing to do with such a person," and Kwanichi
looked as though he would be capable of spitting
in her face.
" You may wish to have nothing to do with her
but for your own sake I ought to tell you this :
" Miya has repented she has deeply, very
deeply repented her sin against you she can-
not forgive herself for the wrong she has done."
[394]
ftirfl Vifitor.
Kwanichi laughed contemptuously he scorned
the idea. It was absurd, ridiculous, he cried, and
he laughed again ; striving to recover himself he
laughed the more and the contemptuous laughter
rang all over the house.
[395]
CHAPTER XLV
ittfi of tluo
VII 7 HEN Hazania was quiet once more, Arao,
remembering his promise to Miya, return-
ed to the duty of pleading with him for her for-
giveness.
"Since she is repenting, you would do well to
relent I think it is time you relented ! "
" Her repentance has not the least effect upon
my feelings towards her. She behaved like a
brute and now she seems to realize a little what
her action has cost. That perhaps is a good
thing! "
" I met her the other day unexpectedly," said
Arao in his deep voice, ignoring Hazama's scorn-
ful manner. " She shed bitter tears. She implor-
ed me to plead with you for your forgiveness or
else to beg you to allow her to come and see you
just once more. I declined the office of mediator
I had my own reason for not granting her
request and therefore I do not intend to pt-rsuadr
you into forgiving her because she is sorry for
what she has done that point lies outside my
[396]
i'i f '^nrtin.i of two
intention. What I say to you is this. She is suf-
fering because she is repenting, or in other words
she is now being punished herself and had you
seen her, you would realize that the punishment is
adequate to the fault. For this reason I would
have you bury your hatred and in doing so here
is the point you would become once more the
old Hazama we loved and respected. You s iy
yourself you are not happy and do not know when
you will be happy again well, does not this news,
that Miya is repenting and thinking of you with
love, comfort you a little? It ought to do so.
The money you have spent all these years in
acquiring I don't know how much it is, but I
fancy it is not a little has it brought you much
comfort ? Not as much as this one piece of news
Miya's repentance has brought you! Is it
not so?"
" The repentance you speak of is not so much a
comfort to me as a torment to Miya. That she
realizes her fault does not in any way restore to
me what I have lost consequently, why should I
feel comforted by it? I shall hate her to the
last but do not imagine that this hatred is the
cause of the sadness and weariness I feel within.
Also do not fancy that I shall in any way revenge
[397]
Xtjr (olt> Irmon.
myself on her bah! she is not worth the thought
even ! ''
He paused a few moments and then said half
to himself and very bitterly :
" So she has repented at last ! I wish I could
even say 'that was well done' but it is nothing
but a matter of course. If she had not committed
the fault she would not have had to repent ! It
was a fault a grave fault ! "
" I am not here to plead for Miya," resumed
Arao, " I merely speak of her because I want to
get at your reasons at your point of view and I
quite agree with you that her repententance can-
not restore to you what you have lost no, indeed
it cannot," he added with a deep sigh as he com-
pared the llazama of the past with the man before
him. " You have therefore no reason to feel con-
soled that she is sorry your point seems to be
this : nothing will satisfy you but to regain what
you have lost and for this purpose you are mak-
ing money. Am I right in my supposition ? I
know you have lost much and I sympathize with
you deeply on that account. I would rejoice to
see you happy once more.
" You think that money can give you back whav
you have lost love, position, happiness and you
[39'J
partifl of ttoo
arc- building all your hopes for future contentment
upon that money ! That I absolutely disagree
with that way of thinking is a detail as long as
you are convinced it is so, well and good, and
granting it is right to make money, I hope you
will in time become a very wealthy man.
" What I do object to is an unjust, dishonourable
trade. Wealth is not made by covetous accumu-
lation only ; there are many ivays of becoming
rich besides those of the usurer. I am not advis-
ing you to change the aim but the means! You
remember what the Buddhists say about truth
the saying can be applied to many things : " By
different roads, you may reach the peak from
whence you can see the moon, immeasurably high
above it."
"Thank you," said Hazama sadly, "but I have
not yet waked from my delusion leave me as I
am and regard me, if you like, as a madman."
Arao looked at him a few minutes in silence,
and then said in a voice that was cold almost harsh
" I see you accept nothing of what I have said."
" Forgive me," exclaimed Hazama.
" For what, pray ?" returned the other, "you have
given me up, and I have given you up
there is nothing for cither of us to forgive."
[ 399 ]
(SJoIfc Tfmon.
There was a pause, then Hazama said :
" Since we are going to part and are giving up
each other, I have one more thing to ask you
about your present circumstances. How are
things with j;
" I should think you might tell that by looking
at me."
" That does not give me sufficient imformation."
" I am badly off."
" That is quite evident."
"That is all."
" That cannot be all. Why did you resign your
government appointment? Why are you so im-
poverished ? There must be reasons for this ! "
"The things I have to tell would not be un-
derstood by a madman," said Arao with a sarcastic
intonation and preparing to rise.
" Yc.-, tell them to me," begged Hazama, "even
if I do not understand."
" What can you do if you have heard them?"
repled Arao, "ah! I see, you will offer to lend me
money ! for that no thank you even if I am
poor I am happy witli a great happiness."
" I am the more anxious to hear you relate the
causes of your poverty and of the happiness you
yours."
I loo]
tlje $artiujj of two
" What is the use of telling such a. bloodless
worm as you are? I even hate to hear you speak
the same language that human beings use ! " re-
plied Arao fiercely.
Hazama remained unmoved.
"I am so thoroughly corrupt," he said, "that
even when I am insulted like this I am unable to
reply."
"You speak the truth," was the cutting answer.
Hazama continued: "There can be on earth
no one more corrupt than mine ! But you with
your University degree, you, once a Councillor of
the Prefecture what has been done to you? I
always expected your advance in the world and
prayed for it secretly yes, the brute, the mad-
man, the thief as you call me, has still a heart
and the thought of you has never left it. I have
had no friend but you. The year before last I was
told of your appointment to the government office
at Shidzuoka. Guess what joy the news caused
me, and what sorrow too when I reflected upon
my own condition. I could eat nothing all day.
I wanted to congratulate you myself; I wanted to
see you again after that long separation I wanted
to see you in the glory of your young success I
could not do so because of my position but I
[401]
(n.D lemon.
went to the .station at Shir.bashi \vhere I might
look on without being seen and I saw you I re-
member how the tears rushed to my eyes.
" Xow, imagine what my feelings were when I
saw you come in to-day noted the signs of poverty
about you and compared you with the last time I
had seen you in the flush of victory.
" Considering my own condition and position, I
have no right to speak to you about yours but I
have given myself up altogether. I despise my-
self and hate myself as a fool who was unable to
become master of himself, and allowed a woman's
falseness and the anger that he felt, to ruin his
whole career. I shall become rotten like a tree
and as a tree I shall wither away. Look upon
me no longer as your old friend Hazama for he is
dead, but listen to my words as words spoken
by some other friend who is full of warm sympa-
thy for you. I do not know what the causes oi
your present condition are, for you will not tell
me, but I am certain the land has need of men like
you and that you are not forgotten. I should like
to see you using your powerful energies and brain
for the good of the State I should like to see
you a power in society. A certain friend of yours
is anxious to help you so that your talents may
[402]
;'nrlin.i of ttno
not remain unused, but may benefit the people
and the land."
Kwanichi's face became illumined as if the
disease of his mind has been miraculously cured,
and lie looked almost like the Hazama of old
whose thoughts were noble, whose ideals high.
Arao replied: "Then you think it is a pity to
see me in a poor and miserable condition."
" I am not such a brute as you think me," was
the reproachful answer.
" Ah ! that is the point Hazama. Because
there are usurers such as you, many talented
men who ought to be of use ir/ the world, are be-
ing ruined, defamed, driven from their proper
place in society and languishing in prisons. I am
grateful to you for your argument, that I should
have a care of myself for the sake of the state,
and by a similar argument I ask you to give up
your unjust trade for the benefit of society.
What are the thi-.gs that are ruining talented men
nowadays ? They are profligacy and usury! If you
feel sorry for my miserable condition, have a little
p:ty on the men on whom the nation rests her
hope, who are being ruined by you and your like.
You are suffering because of an unfortunate love-
affair, others because they have been unlucky in
[403]
ZQr Ooltt Xfmon.
money matters. The suffering is the same though
the case be different. I, myself, am in the latter
strait. Would that I had a friend, such as the
Hazama of old, with whom I could share my
griefs. What pleasure it would be to be helped
by such a one ; to regain through his aid the posi-
tion one has lost, and be enabled to do that work
in the world for which one feels most fitted. The
best thing in the world is a friend ; the most hate-
ful thing is a usurer ! The more I see of the
wickedness of usurers, the more I think of how
much it means to a man to have a trusted friend.
My old friend is now a usurer that hateful
usurer ! "
Arao cast a wrathful glance at Hazama who
neither by word nor sign betrayed what he felt.
His voice was quite calm and steady when he
replied :
" Thank you for your ivann advice. What you
have said I shall consider carefully ; for to restore
my rotten and corrupt soul to its former gcodness
and purity, as you suggest, would give me
much happiness. As to yourself, I pray you take
care of yourself. Though you have given me up
I still wish to see you sometimes and help you
where I can. I want to be made use of. A man
[404 I
of ttoo
like you should be playing his part in the world ;
and more than pity for the unlucky man himself,
I feel regret that his talents are lying unused and
that the State is not employing him.
My affection towards yfiu is great. Let me
come and see you sometimes. Where do you
live ?
" I cannot have usurers coming to call on me."
said Arao haughtily.
" Then I will call upon you as a friend."
" I have no friend among usurers." was the icy
answer.
But who was this gently pushing aside the
screen. Mitsue ! How could she have got in ?
Hazama was astonished, but his wonder was
nothing as compared to the amazement of Arao
when he perceived her. He pulled himself up
very straight and violently twisted his long black
beard' then regretting that he had so plainly
betrayed his feelings he folded his arms high
across his chest and pretended to be as " unmoved
as a mountain." But he overdid his part. Mitsue
bowed low first to Hazama and then even more
deferentially to Arao. In all her gestures and in
the motion of her eyes her behaviour was that of
a perfect lady ; she did not even soften her counte-
[ 405 ]
Xl)t CBolU Xemoit.
nance with a smile; and conforming to all the
rules prescribed by etiquette, she did not speak.
Arao was too impatient to keep silence.
" I never expected to see you here are you ac-
quainted with Hazan:
" Then you/know her too ! " exclaimed Hazama
looking from one to the other."
" I know her slightly." rejoined Arao in his
haughtiest manner. " I fear I disturb you by
remaining excuse me goodbye."
" Mr. Arao," called Mitsue intent on keeping
him there, " it may not be correct to speak to you
on that matter here, but ,"
" Xo, most certainly it is not a matter to be dis-
cussed here."
" But as you are never at home, I am at a loss
how to deal with you."
" Kven had I been at home I could not have
settled the matter yet." Proudly, " I am not go-
ing to flee or hide myself and you must wait
until, at the proper time, I settle with you."
" If I must wait, I must," said Mitsue putting
on a plaintive air, " but I cannot really afford to do
just what suits your convenience please sympa-
thize with me in that ! "
" ] low cruel you arc to make me sympathize
[406]
$artinn of ttoo
with you on such a point." said Arao sarcastically.
" I shall call on you in a day or so, and I hope
I may be welcome." smiled the beauty.
" I am afraid you may not be welcome ! "
"Is it true," she asked: "that the other day
when I sent my man to you on business you were
very angry with him, because you considered him
lacking in politeness, and drew your sword on
him?"
"Yes, it is true! "
" Dear me," would you really do such a thing? "
laughed Mitsue trying to abash him. Arao as-
sumed a mock-serious look and replied :
" Yes, certainly. I intended to run my sword
through him.''
" But you must have thought of the consequ-
ences.' 1
' Perhaps I did. He was neither dog nor cat ;
he could not be killed so easily.''
' \Vhat a dreadful thing to say! I shall hardly
be safe if I call on you." The coquette was upper-
most again.
Arao threw back his head and laughed a long
jeering iaugh he then looked at her with con-
temptuous eyes and said insolently :
'Do you think I should kill a beruity ?
\-\.\
Jfct Wolb Xtmon.
you fancy I shall let your eyes kill me ? Let
me go home and wipe my sword clean."
"Arao-san, they told me dinner was ready,
won't you have some before you go."
"Thanks, I do not drink from a thief's well ! "
sit down," cried Mitsue persuasively,
bringing a cushion and placing it in front of Arao.
Hazama said not a word. " I will wait on you
myself," she said.
<l You are exactly like husband and wife," scoff-
ed Ar.io, taking Hazama's silence as proof of his
guiltiness, "a well-matched pair!"
"Believe what you will, and sit here please,"
replied Mitsue rejoicing secretly.
But Arao had reached the door. Anger, sorrow
and disgust were written on his face, for his suspici-
ons as to the rchtion between Hazama and Mitsue
were confirmed by the beauty's words.
"Hazama! Anata!" (thou) was all he said; but
the word* he left unsaid and the look of scorn
pierced Hazama to the heart.
[408]
CHAPTER L.
Slit Unreasonable titan.
THE old Servant having slid the outside wooden
shutters with a loud rattle into their place,
brought in the lamp, and still Hazama sat with
bowed head, crushed by the blow of those unspok-
en words. Mitsue had taken a seat near the low
lable and as the lamp light fell on her it seemed
to add to her charm, as if she had put on an extra
flower, or a jewel, so that she looked like some
lovely peony in full bloom, bending gracefully from
its delicate stem.
" What is the matter with you Hazama-san ?
You seem very depressed."
Hazama lifted his head slightly to look at her,
and then asked wonderingly :
"How on earth did you come to know Arao? "
" I am still more surprised to find him a friend
of yours." replied Mitsue evasively.
" How did you come to know him ? " persisted
Hazama.
Finding she could not evade the question, Mitsue
answered with evident reluctance :
T'K Wolfc It won.
"Well, he is in a way one of my guarantees."
" Guarantee ! Arao ? 1 r our guarantee ? "
"Only indirectly. lie did not contract the debt
with me."
" Ah ! and what is the sum? "
" It is about 3,000 yen."
" Three... them... sand yen ! And who was the
direct creditor? "
He turned on his cushion and pushed himself
nearer in his eagerness. Mitsue smiled a little
disdainfully :
" How earnest and how eager you are when you
want something of me. You never answer any
question I put to von but new you don't mind
making use of me."
" That is quite right."
" No, that is not right."
"Was there a direct creditor?"
" Don't know ! " said Mitsue shortly in the voice
that means ' I shall not tell.'
1 la/ama changed his tone.
" Please, tell me," he begged, "so that I may
redeem the money according to the com.
agreed on."
" I should not accept the money from you."
" It is not a matter ol accepting, but of redeem-
ing.'' argued Hazama.
[410 |
5ln inn amenable man.
"This is not a case for you to interfere in," said
the beauty, and then looking searchingly intp the
man's face she exclaimed: " but if you have made
up your mind to redeem it, I will give up my
claim for the money."
"Why will you do so?" asked Hazama, not a
little astounded and suspecting some hidden and
dangerous motive.
"You need not know why. If you want to
redeem the pledge of 3,000 yen, you have but to
command me to give up my claim and I
shall... give it up... gladly."
" What is your reason?" persisted he obstinately
and densely.
"Yes, what is my reason?" cried Mitsue
almost despairingly.
"You are quite ////reasonable, are you not?"
"Of course I am unreasonable for I don't
know the reason!" Mitsue felt sudden anger
against this man who would not see. " But you
Hazama san, what a yes, very unreasonable
man you are! "
"No, lam quite reasonable," replied Hazama
calmly.
"Pretend what you like, but for goodness'
sake let one of us be honest," cried Mitsue
[4ir]
Iijr alb lemon.
striking her gold pipe viciously on the brim of
the firebox and casting a glance of wrath mingled
with despair at Hazama. He took not the least
notice of this sudden ebullition of anger, except to
say:
" Don't talk nonsense, but let me hear the
story."
" You think of nothing but yourself and what
you want," cried the woman.
" Tell me the story please."
" I am going to do so," sullenly. She took out
her pipe slowly and deliberately, lighted it and
puffed at it for a while ignoring Hazama's presence
altogether.
" I never expected to find him one of your
guarantees," remarked Hazama, impatient for
Mitsue to begin. She made no reply, so he conti-
nued in a tone, calculated to rouse her into a
response of some sort :
" I hardly believe it is true ! "
Mitsue examined the stem of her pipe with great
intentness.
"Three thousand yen! what did Arao contract
a debt of 3,000 yen for? It is not possible but. ..."
Looking up he saw that Mitsue was still hold-
ng her pipe in her hand, and he exclaimed irritably :
[412]
'.'In ur.rra*-.inab!r man.
" I wish you would tell me the history of that
3,000 yen ! "
" You are very impatient, or else I am very
slow," said the beauty sending up a delicate little
puff of smoke.
" You can see that I am impatient ! "
" Impatience is not a happy humour ! "
" You are only talking."
" You are right, I stand corrected. I will tell
you the story in a moment."
She tapped the tiny bowl of her pipe gently on
the rim of the brazier, and having refilled it with
tobacco from a pouch of gold brocade, she related
as follows :
" You may have known Sagisaka who used to
live with us. He is now at Shidzuoka and doing
very well there. Mr. Arao was Councillor at
Shidzuoka, was he not? and it was there that Sagi-
saka let him have the money. The authorities
hearing of the affair ordered him to send in a peti-
tion for his dismissal and there was nothing for
him to do but return to Tokio. Sagisaka then put
the matter into our hands and entrusted us to get
the money from him here. Last autumn it passed
entirely into our hands. You can imagine what a
difficult thing it is to get money out of Arao. lie
[413]
Wolfc Semon.
has nothing to do, except a little trarsla'ion
at which he is working ; one cannot exp< ct any
large sum for that, so very little can be done
about the debt at present."
" But whatever did he borrow 3,000 yen for?"
" It is this : he was a joint guarantee."
" Ah ' and who was the debtor?"
' ' Tt was a Democrat at Gifu called Odachi Saku-
ro. They say he failed at the Election and the
debt was in consequence of electioneering ex-
^es."
" Odachi Sakuro ! Sure enough ! Then it
must be true." exclaimed Hazama.
" Do you know him ? "
" He was the man who paid all Arao's school
expenses and of whom the latter always spoke as
" my benefactor."
And now Hazama understood why Arao had
said his poverty made him not sad but happy,
" with a great happiness." For the man who had
been kind to him, he had risked his fame and his
honour, and in losing both had felt no regret, for
was it not his honour to give largely where he
had received such generosity ?
" Xoble frietid ! " inust-d Ha/.ama, " his poverty
I 4H I
9tu
man.
is better than another's wealth. Truly the Fates
must be blind thus to reward such nobility of
purpose."
CHAPTER LI.
RECEIVING a sudden summon to go to Chiba,
a small town to the north of Tokio, Kwanichi
hurried into a jinrikisha hoping to catch the five
o'clock train at Honjo, but alas ! he arrived a minute
after the train had left the station and found to his
disgust that he would have to wait two hours for
the next. He accordingly walked over to the
Tea-house which faced the station, entered a room
at the back and seated on one of the red blankets
which are in vogue at most teahouses in Japan, he
sipped a cup of lukewarm tea brought in by one
of the " ne' sans." (waitress) The three unopened
letters which he had thrown into his handb.^
now took out. The first words that met his eye
were : M. Shigis. upon the back of the topmost
envelope.
" For shame ! another one from her !" he ex-
claimed. This letter he did not unseal, but threw
it back into his bag with the two others, when he
had read them through carefully. Shutting up
the bag, he placed it under his head as a pillow and
I'otr.
lay down on his back closing his eyes drowsily.
Hut he could not sleep. The words, " M. Shigis."
danced before his eyes and the thought of Miya
possessed his brain. He had sworn to himself
that he would care no more for her neither in love,
nor in hate and yet she robbed him of his peace.
This was the second written appeal Miya had
made. The first, Kwanichi had received a fort-
night ago. He had opened it and read it with
surprise, but it had in no way altered his opinion
of her ; he was still of the same mind as when he
had replied to Arao. This second letter he con-
cluded was probably a repetition of the first and
he saw no reason to " defile his eyes " with it, as
he said to himself.
Poor Miya ! how miserable she must have been
to go to the extremity of writing to Hazama. In
these two letters she poured out all her heart her
grief at what she had done her sincere penitence.
She bid him observe that the writing and sending
of them was proof of her earnest desire to be for-
given, seeing that she risked much in doing so.
She did not expect to soften Kwanichi's heart by
one appeal, so after waiting a fortnight she had
sent her second letter. If this one had no effect
and elicited no response she would write a third and
Xcnton.
so on until he was conquered.
She could not % know that K \vanichi did not even
trouble to open her second letter and was firmly
resolved to read no more "foolish confessions,"
even if she should write to him three, or five or
seven or a hundred times.
Unable to slefep Kwanichi got up took the letter
out of the bag and then looked for a match. With
it he set fire to the letter holding it over the little
brazier. The hot white flames sprang up. Were
they like Miya's thoughts? The black ashes
which fell, did they resemble Miya's mind?
The record of her sorrow is in her lover's hand
how glad that would make her but alas ! it has
vanished like smoke, and no more stable than
smoke is the impression it has made on Hazama.
Kwanichi lay down again, the bag beneath his
head.
After a short interval he heard the noisy wel-
come, the " Irashai " of- the tea-house women
guests were conducted into the room next to his.
From their voices he knew them to be a man and
a woman. They took their seats quietly, unlike
young people. Hazama concluded they were an
old couple.
"\\eliaveplcntyoftime," said the man, "we
L4IS]
Roirtful i'o&e.
have plenty of time," said the man, " we need not
hurry. Come, Su-san, take a cup cf tea, please."
"Will you really come back next summer?"
came a woman's voice, imploringly.
"Yes, I promise to return after the feast o.
Departed Souls." (in July) replied her companion.
" But it is no good hoping that your parents will
change their mind, Su-san, I can see they are quite
determined and so we may as well resign our-
selves and bear it as best we can."
" You may do so it you like Masa-san, you are
a man, but I am a woman, and I have not given
up hope. Though you deny it I am sure you are
angry at the way my parents have treated you,
and so you hate them, and me too yes you
do I don't care what becomes oi me
it you will not have me, I will not marry all
my li&." The woman's words here became un-
intelligible. Hazama decided they were quite
young and most unhappy.
"However willing I may be," rejoined the man,
" how can I marry you it your parents are unwill-
ing? No one is to blame but I, myselt one can not
expect a lather or mother to give a daughter they
love, to a man whose repulsion is not clean. I
[419]
25rmon.
should be the first to justify them and say they are
right."
" If my parents will not give me to you why
should you not take me?" cried the
girl.
" Ah ! Su-san do not be unreasonable ! You
know how I wish that that were possible ! Through
my own folly I have brought this sorrow on my-
self. I fell into the usurer's trap, and the weeks
I spent in prison, like a common criminal have left
a life-long blot upon me. It killed my mother,
my betrothed was torn irom me! .Would
that I had died in prison rather than suffer all
these miseries."
Both wept. After a while the man continued :
" My mental wounds were cured the day that
I heard my mother had set fire to the wretch's
house, and that he and his wife were burnt to
death; but the injury clone to myself can never
be cured !
" My poor Mother! how she looked forward to
your coming. Morning and evening she talked
of nothing else but " next month " and the " mar-
riage " and " Su-san " and ah ! I do not want
to break our engagement but I have no right
to marry you torgive me forgive me ! "
[420]
fruitful t'otie.
"No no no! it must not be broken off! "
cried Su-san desperately.
" If you marry me Su-san," said her lover more
quietly, "your shoulders will be straitened to bear
my shame, and people will sneer at you all your
life. I could not hear to see you suffer, and so I
must leave you and we must not meet again
but the love you have given me Su-san I shall
never, never forget."
Kwanichi who had lain very still now rose quiet-
ly and tried to get a glimpse of the man through
the sliding doors, which showed a crack here and
there, but he was unsuccessful. However he felt
sure he recognized the voice and from what he
had heard, he knew it must be the son of the
lunatic woman who had set fire to Wanibuchi's
house, and who had been imprisoned for a year on
the charge of having forged a private document.
Besides the girl had called him "Masa" and the
lunatic's son was called Akura Masayuki. Hazama
nodded to himself, sat down again and listened
with great attention.
" If, as you say, you will never forget me, then
marry me according to the old promise. If I had
been minded to consent to the breaking of my
promise, would I have abstained from eating salt
[421]
Zfje Wo'.fi Xcmon.
for a whole year ? (a means of asking a god for
something) What happened may be partly your
fault, but it was sheer misfortune which caused
you to be imprisoned on a usurer's false accusation.
I am very very very sorry for myself
and for you but I will not give you up on that
account I am not such a woman Masa-san
not such a woman ! "
She wept and lamented, poor girl, and if Masa-
yuki did not understand all her emotion, Kwanichi
did. He lay prone on the mats, his cigarette had
gone out and he had not observed it.
" You, Masa-san, do not know what sort of
woman I am. I was ill for three months after
after you were imprisoned. If my parents have
made up their minds that I shall not marry you,
/ have made up my mind to keep my promise.
The more so now that your shoulders will be bent
by shame and that you are unfortunate. I am
willing to bear all with you, if I were not how
could I be faithful to your mother's spirit your
mother who loved me from my childhood. It
may be undutiful for a child to set up her will
against her parents, but I am not going to leave
you Masa-san. Do you care for me ? Are you will-
ing to take me with you ? "
[ 422 ]
ftottljful L'ntir.
Kwanichi was deeply impressed. The girl's
strong will moved him more than her sorrow or
the man's misfortune, of which he, Kwanichi, was
the cause. That there did exist faithful love and
truth caused his head to burn and his heart to
beat more quickly.
Masayuki replied :
" Need I tell you how much I want you ? How
happy we should be if I had not been so unfortu-
nate you and I and my mother living together.
My parting with you to-day is Indescribably painful
to me for yet another reason. You are the only
one in all the world who will speak kindly to me,
now that I am an outcast of society. Nothing-
could make me happier than to be linked with so
tenderhearted a woman as you. But were I in your
parent's place I also would decide as they have ..
any parent would do the same. So there is no
hope. To cause grief and trouble to one's parents
is an evil almost a crime! I caused my
Mother much grief and she suffered through my
fault ! It is as if I had killed her with my own
hand. If I married you I should grieve your
parents terribly. Am I to kill your parents as
well as mine? Therefore we must part. I shall
strive hard to regain my place in society. It will
[423]
Zlje Wolfc XrmoM.
be a hard fight ; and life without you will be like
living in that dark prison once more."
"You are so full of thought for my parents,
Masa-san don't you at all think of me? I
don't care what becomes of me!" cried Su-
san passionately. He tried to soothe her; he
pleaded with her to be brave and resigned, that lie
dared not marry her he, with a stain on his
reputation, but he achieved nothing. She broke
down all his arguments and declared that if he
loved her she would not leave him.
" Sympathize a little more with me," she cried,
"and forget my parents and yourself. It was set-
tled that I should marry you all the wedding
clothes have been bought how can I marry an-
other ? Think of it ! If I have to die, I will marry
to one but you. And I am right ! I am right ! "
Then Masayuki gave way.
" How wildly you speak ! " he said " What is it
you want me to do? "
[424]
CHAPTER XLVIII
'T'HERK was a silence. Kwanichi crept closer
* to the door but he heard no more. The
two lovers were whispering in tones too low to
penetrate even the thin screen which divided them
from the next room.
Just once he caught a word : "Sure, are you
quite sure?" and the answer, " if you are, L am
satisfied," and then the whispers continued.
Kwanichi felt certain their wills were now in har-
money, and he secretly blessed the girl for her
perseverance, and reflected how happy Masayuki
must be. As for himself he felt as if he had over-
heard a strain of lovely music and for a while he
forgot himself and his sorrow.
As he settled down in a corner of the compart-
ment of the train that was to take him to Chiba,
his mind was still occupied with what he had
overheard in the tea house.
"Ifthatt^irl were Miya and I were Masayuki,
what would have been the result then? " he mused.
'There was a time when Miya was as true to me
[42$]
(Wolb lemon.
as that girl is to her lover. If she had not seen
the Diamond's brightness would she have loved
me faithfully to the end, even had I been a criminal
as he has ? If Tadatsugu with all his wealth had
tempted that girl, would she have forsaken Masa-
yuki ? Which has the greater power to divert
love, the abominable record of a crime or the love
of money ?
Would that girl, who is willing to link her life to
that of a man with a prison record, who swears
she will follow him to the ends of the earth, who
has forgotten even her obedience to her parents,
:inue faithful, if she, by deserting him, might
greatly enrich herself?
Would she not sell the love she once gave to
Masayuki if she could make a profitable bargain?
Which would make him hate her most, her love
overcome by the love of gold, or her love given
for love to another man ?
Over the highest love the Gold Demon has no
power; there is nothing that can tempt it to an
exchange through 'good and ill it remains un-
changed, unmoved. If it moves, it proves that it is
not the highest love. Can a woman be as true as a
man? or was Miya specially unfaithful tome? I
believe she was. Because I was angry at her
[426]
Cu ft'oning*.
injustice and lack of chastity I doubted all love I
rejected it altogether. I ceased to believe in the
existence of love and in its place I planted anger
and grief; and the grief has grown and has eaten
up my soul, and torments me like an evil spirit
which is intent on slowly putting an end to my
life. Why was it, I wonder, that my mind which
is unable to enjoy anything, felt glad at the sight
of two lovers' happiness as if it had been chas-
ing the shadow of joy. Is it that, having lost
Miya's love my mind rejoices at the sight of what
might have been my own happiness?
Miya has repented, she writes me, and is willing
to do anything I shall command, in order to prove
the sincerity of her repentance. Ought I to con-
quer my resentment? Well, her repentance can
not restore my love to life. Her repentance
remains her own affair and my hatred remains my
hatred. Can wealth many times as great as that
of Tomiyama wipe out my hateful feelings ; or can
the pursuit of Gold be absorbing enough to cause
one to forget his wrongs?"
He sighed bitterly.
" It was Tadatsugu whp tore my love from me.
Who tried to tear the loves of Su-san and Masa-
yuki? Was it not I? I, who am now going to
[427]
oil) Xtinoii.
Chiba ^<Tnin an<! iin? And what is
the result? Money! Can it cure my muln.
heal my diseased heart like some beneficial
medicine ? " Broken love is like a broken mirror,"
(bronze) so says the proverb. Hut for them the
mirror is mended and restored to its former perfec-
tion. My love was torn as a flower is torn, whose
delicate petals can never be restored to their stem.
Now shall I continue this road ot corruption? or
fly up through the wind, or flow out upon the
stream to the ocean? "
The train rattled over the Funa Bridge and
Kwanichi gazing out into the night saw the lights
of the town reflected in the river.
[428]
CHAPTER XLIX
FIVK days after lie returned from Chiba,
another letter came, signed " M. Shigis."
As often as Kv\-:uiichi saw Miya's handwriting
there rose before his inward eye the plumgardcn
at Atami and Tadatsugu standing beside Miya in
that never-to-be-forgotten interview ; and each
time his anger arose new-born. He therefore
destroyed the cruel reminder as soon as he receiv-
ed it, scorning the idea of her winning back his
love through the power of her pen, and comparing
her attempt to that of the fabulous bird who tried
to drink up the ocean.
Miya, unconscious of the fate accorded to her
letters, would sit for hours trying to picture their
effect on her lover. The thought, that if even a
thousandth part of the affection she had poured
into them reached Kwanichi's heart, it would
pave the way to success, cheered her greally; and
whenever she was alone and unobserved, she took
the opportunity of writing again. She expected
[429]
(o!5> Tmoti.
no answer, but she made sure that the letters
reached him.
Tadatsugu, hearing that his wife was training
herself in ] emr.anslrp, was filled with admiration
and would buy her good ink, fine brushes, pretty
inkstands and the latest books on writing, in order
to encourage her. But none of these things would
Miya use, she even gave up sitting at her husband's
desk, so abhorrent to her mind was the idea of
using anything of his.
A fourth letter was sent to Kwanichi, which he
in ruthlessly reduced to ashes; and two days
later the fifth was put into his hands. Kwanichi,
who had vowed to himself that all missives from
Miya's hand, though they should be a hundred in
number, should be consigned to the flames un-
read, now began to wonder at this excessive
cverance and tenacity the like which he had
never before observed in IU.T of and did not im-
mediately burn the fifth appeal. He turned it over
in his hur.ds and was about to unseal it.
"But no," he said to himself and held it
out toward the ("lame. However, the 1< not
burned; instead, Kwanichi, keeping it in his hand,
mused thus :
" It is to ask for my pardon of course, and that is
[430]
probably the whole gist ol' the letter. If there is
anything else* it is no doubt unwise for me to see
it. If she asks for pardon I will pardon her, since
her penitence has in any case won her pardon.
Pardon and Penitence ! What good can they do me
or her now. They alter nothing in our relation
to each other. Can penitence heal the wound
made by her broken vows, or pardon restore her to
the purity and perfection that were hers before she
knew Tomiyama?
I, Kwanichi am the same Kwanichi that I was
ten years ago, but you, Miya, are Miya denied as
long as you live. I loved you in your purity, and
I hated you when you sold yourself; and once
denied, though you practice ten times the virtue
you had before, you can never blot out the spot
that has caused your corruption. And what did
I? Did I not humble myself before you that
night on the sands of Atami, imploring you to
return to me, and swearing that I would have no
other for my wife but you. I regarded you as my
wife, and I have kept my vow ; but you turned
from me, and now prate of repentance !"
He trcmSlcd with anger and twisted the letter
like a rope in his hands.
From that day Miya's letters came every week.
[431]
fe Wo'b Trmon.
K\vanichi kept them, but did not open them.
Their arrival insensibly Influenced his mind.
Angry and sore as he was, his anger weakened at
the sight of them and at the thought of a contrite
M:ya. As each letter came, she was recalled to
his mind, sometimes as the girl he had loved and
who had forsaken him and repented of it, some-
times as the woman who had deceived him and
whom he could never pardon. , These two conflict-
ing ideas swayed Kwanichi hither and thither,
bringing no relief, but rather adding to his grief.
As he looked at the letters he now had ten of
them he would conjure up their contents, and to
his morbid mind they were ten times more sor-
rowful than what Miya had actually written. A
new sort of anger, a new resentment awoke in his
mind, displacing the old. The world seemed a
miserable place, he, a helpless wretched man. He
grew u::casy and restless, :ind the arrival of a new
letter would even cause him to neglect his business
and make him forget that such neglect and loss of
time would also cause him to lose that which he
most desired Money !
One night he had tossed ceaselessly to and fro on
his be<i, but just before dawn he slept heavily.
The spring rain pattered softly on the shutters
[432]
and Hazama moaned in his sleep. At seven
o'clock the aged servant came in to call him, and
finding he paid no heed, she shook him by the
shoulder, crying in her shrill, cracked voice :
" You have a visitor Sir! "
Hazama awoke with a start.
"A visitor! who is it?"
"Arao-san is the name."
Kwanichi jumped out of bed in haste: "Show
the visitor in and say that I am getting up make
my apologies and beg Arao san to wait."
Kwanichi had called three times on Arao since
their last interview in Kwanichi's house, but he had
each time been turned from the door with : " Arao
is out." He had written twice and received no
answer, and upon inquiring of Mitsue if she knew
where Arao was, he had been assured that he was
still in the house in which Kwanichi had called
upon him. From this he concluded that his old
friend had spoken in all seriousness when he
said a usurer could be no friend of his.
How welcome then was the news that he
had come to see him. What a long talk they
would have. He would order a good dinner and
plenty of sake and would keep him with him all
the da)'. As he dressed, he wondered a little why
[433]
after having been KO unfriendly he should have
called -udder.ly, but he put it down to a careless
disposition, and was pleased to think that Arao
could not quite dispense with his friendship.
Jl.i^ily lying the cords of his coat, he opened
the sliding doors of the drawing-room, but what
he saw with amazement was not Arao Josiike, but
a beautifully dressed lady, her head bent low.
Hazama hesitated and waited for the lady to raise
her head. He noticed that a mild rain was tailing
and that the trees in the garden cast long shadows
in the room.
" Is your name Arao-san?" he asked at length,
entering and taking a seat. The lady, still intent
on hiding her identity, bowed low in silence, keep-
ing her hands on the mats. Kwanichi watched
her for a moment in bewilderment, and then some-
thing in her manner seemed familiar. His eyes
wandered over her figure like one seeking some-
thing in haste.
"You want to see m: on business? " he asked,
his eyes never leaving her. Like a lily, heavj with
dew, sways in the gentle breeze, she \vavered
then half raised her head, and in that moment
Kwanichi knew. In a voice that seemed tf rn
from his very vitals he gasped :
[434]
Xfif Suppliant*.
"Miya!"
She, overcome with joy, and grief, and fear,
bowed her graceful head down to the very floor,
incapable of answering.
In Kwanichi, too, arose conflicting emotions.
Was he glad or was it anger he felt? Did he hate
her? Should he humiliate her and rebuke her, or
should he weep for the irretrievable ? His voice
was harsh when he spoke :
"Why are you here?" and Miya, just able .to
raise her face and gasp out a word for pardon,
shrank back at the sight of his eyes, which shot
flame, and were terrible in their anguish.
" Go ! " he exclaimed, and then, as though over-
come by the sight of her, he added : " Miya," in
the voice she had loved and had yearned to hear.
She thought he was relenting, for was rot his voice
a caress, his eyes filled with tears. By a great
.effort he controlled himself, and all the tenderness
had faded from his voice, as he said sternly :
" You should not have come to see me are
you not ashamed to meet me? As for all those
letters you have written me, I have not read them ;
they were burned, unopened, and I must beg you
to cease troubling me with them in the future
And now you must go I am ill I cannot
[435]
Jfje WolD Xrmon.
sit before you like this it is too much go
quickly " He called to his servant:
"The lady is going, tell her Jinrickislia man to
come round."
Summoning up all her courage, Miya exclaimed
wildly :
" Kwanichi san! I have come here to die
punish me as I deserve, but iorgive me I im-
plore yau to wait and hear what I have to say I
haye repented oh! how bitterly! You do not
know what I have suffered, for you would not read
my letters il is all written there Would that
you had read them, for I have not the courage to
say to you, what I would, and, though my written
words are too weak to express to you all I feel,
they would have touched you a little, and melted
your anger I want to ask your forgiveness for
so much, and now, when you are before me, I have
no words. Shame strikes me to the ground and ties
my tongue I know I have done very wrong to
come here, but I have come here only to die."
" What has that to do with me?"
" Kwanichi, Kwanichi you must hear my story."
implored Miya, prostrating herself at his feet. He
turned from her;
"The I /til January, six years ago, do you
[436] '
Zftt
remember what happened then?" -He waited fur
a reply ; none came.
"Answer me! "
"I have not forgotten it." was the miserable
girl's answer.
"Well" Said the man, and each word fell like a
lash upon her bruised heart, " you are now ex-
periencing what I felt that night."
"Forgive me," cried Miya writhing. But he
had sprung to his feet, and the screens closed be-
hind him like an iron wall. Miya, all her hopes
shattered, fell half-fainting to the ground.
[437]
CHAPTER LIV
" WV-URl'.MAYA! Kurumaya!" sounded the
*^ servant's voice outside, summoning the
jinricksha mnn. There was a sound of running
feet and then, of wheels, as tin- jinricksha was drawn
up to the door. All being in readiness, the servant
came in to tell Miya so. The latter had partly
recovered, but traces of tears were still visible on
her face, and she sat limply on her cushion. The
old woman wondered what could have distressed
so lovely a lady, and noted with admiration how
fashionably her hair was dressed, how graceful
was the slope of her shoulders and the hend of her
pretty neck. She must be wealthy, indeed, for was
she not dressed in a double rob; heaviest
silk, of a pale and tender green while the sash,
that was fastened high at the back, was of tea-
coloured brocade. On the hand, that held her
little silk handkerchief, flashed a brilliant gem a
large diamond.
" Madam, my master, who has been ill has sud-
denly grown worse and was therefore obliged to
[433J
2c) (ration.
leave you. He begs you to excuse him and to go
home, pardoning his im;x>l tc:
"Yes," murmured Miya, feeling she must make
some reply and lurtively wiping away her tears.
" It seems too bad, you should have to go, when
you have come all this way on purpose to see my
master," continued the old woman, garrulously.
"Yi-s, yes," was the hasty reply: "I will
get ready to go you can tell my man to wait a
few minutes ''
"Certainly, don't hurry ! it is raining, and very
cold today."
Miya was left alone again. She made no at-
tempt to get ready, but let her gaze wander round
the room, vacantly, as she pondered what she
should do. Half an hour passed, then, the woman
returned. Miya rose, adjusted the folds of her
dress, and said :
"I am going, now, but I must bid Mr. Hazama
good bye first where is he ? "
" Pray, do not trouble about that, Madam."
" Lead me to him, I must take leave of him ! "
" Please, come this \\ay." The maid, though
ii was against her master's express commands,
led the lady to a room, which was detached from
the hoiiM-, and was reached through the verandah.
[439J
Iljt iotb Xrmoit.
This was Kwanichi's room.
The bed had not yet been rolled up and put
away for the day, and Hazama, when he left Miy.i
had thrown off his garments, ?.nd flung himself
down upon the quilts. Miya entered his room,
suddenly, and quickly, and before he could rise, she
had flung herself onto the bed, into his arms,
clinging to him, weeping and murmuring in-
articulate words.
" For shame ! " cried the enraged man, trying to
free himself, " what is this you are doing."
"Kwanichi san, hear me! I did wrong, forgive
me."
" Be quiet ! " he commanded sternly, "and let
go ot my hands;" when she only clung the
closer crying : " Kwanichi, Kwanichi ! " he repeat-
ed : " You shall let go, you shameless creature ! "
For some moments they struggled, and the woman
with a strength born of desperation, and beside her-
self with excitement, retained her hold. Her
breath fanned his cheeks, her face was close to
his. How pale she was this Miya, whom he had
vowed never io see again. What a delicate flower-
like form this Miya's, who was the old Miya but
outwardh'. He sank back. How came she here
in his arm.s w;is it all a dream?
[440J
Miya, her eyes shining, her teeth set, swore
to herself she would never iet him go, no, not for
a diamond as large as a head. What were dia-
monds to her now? She had learnt, that the
largest diamond on earth, WAS not so great a
treasure as human faith and truth. She had flung
away the priceless, treasures (where were they
now?) for a worthless gem.
"Go, go, go," moaned Hazama.
"I shall not see you again," said Mi\ .-., proving
close to him, "so be patient -with me today ; h
or strike me, if you like, but listen to my reasons
for seeking you out."
" Do you think that beating you will do me any
good ? why, even if I were to kill you, it would not
satisfy me."
"Ah! I am willing to be killed. I long to die;
and death at your hands would be sweet. Put an
end to my misery, Kwanichi, for life is at an end
for me ! "
" Kill yourself," returned he harshly, and Miya,
then knowing that he so despised her, that he did
not consider her worthy of death at his hands,
burst into tears.
"Die! yes, die!" jeered Hazama "better that
than a life of deceit, or this shameless behaviour
[HI .1
Jftt (i*o!D Teuton.
towards me, whom you once forsook."
" I did not mean to forsake you, that is why I
am here to tell you so. As to death, there
is no need for me to think of that I am as one
dead, for I ceased to live six long years ago."
"I do not want to hear what you have to say,
I have told you to leave me now^v! "
" I will not go !"' cried the excited woman, " noth-
ing on earth will make me go, as long as you speak
to me and treat me with such cruelty." She clung
to his Ivinds. In her excited state of mind, she
cared neither for husband, nor for the world; she
only felt she would rather give her life than loosen
her hold on Kwanichi's hand.
At this juncture footsteps approached the room,
nearer and nearer.
"Some one is coming," whispered Kwanichi,
striving to rise, unsuccessfully, for Miya held him
as in a vice.
The maid appeared at the opening, and then
stepped. quickly back, that she might not be seen,
and announced :
" Mrs. Akagashi has come."
Consternation was to be read in every line of
Kwanichi's countenance.
" Very well," he replied, -struggling to appear
[442]
calm, " I will come in a moment." Then to Miya
in a furious whisper, " You see I have a visitor
will nothing induce you to go? Don't you hear
what I say? You must go now?"
Xo, I shall be waiting for you here. Infuriated,
Kwanichi shook her off. Like a lily, that is
bruised, she fell, and before she could rise, he had
gone.
1.443]
CHAPTER LV
Azuma coat, with its mauve silk lining, had
not escaped Mitsue's sharp eyes on entering.
Another woman visiting Hazama indeed! She
looked at the coat, carefully, and then summoned
old Toyo. The latter, who had been very
generously treated by Mitsue, in the matter of gifts,
was not loath to relate all she knew, and all she
had seen. Mitsue was furious. Her heart felt on
fire, with jealousy. She waited, expectantly, for
this woman, who had supplanted her, to come, out,
relishing the idea of throwing scornful glances at
her. For a long time she waited and listened.
Kwanichi did not appear; not a sound came
from the detached room. Mitsue concluded that
they were keeping thus silent because of her, so
that she might not overhear what they whispered
to each other, and the thought fretted and angered
her. At last she called impatiently for the
servant :
" Otoyo san, tell your master that I am in a hur-
ry today, and must see him for a moment.
[444]
Zljf JRitioI*.
Toyo hesitated, knowing Ku-anichi would be
annoyed if she presented herself at his door, a
second time ; She made excuses, but in vain.
Mi: sue assured her, she would bear the responsibili-
ty and take blame.
Advancing cautiously, and taking care that
Kwanichi did not see her, Toyo called, softly,
outside his door:
"Master, Master!"
" He is not here ! " came in Miya's soft accents.
The servant came forward and looked in. No,
sure enough, he was not there. The lady was
still sitting beside his pillow, looking very sad.
Her hair was slightly dishevelled, her left sleeve
showed a rent.
" He went out a little while ago into another
room, I think, to see a visitor in there."
" No Madam, he is not there, and the lady says
she is in a hurry, so I came to tell him so. Where
can he have gone ! "
She left hurriedly and went in to Mitsue.
"Did he not come in here?"
"Who?"
" He is not in there either?"
"Ah! your master! where is he then?"
" The lady says he must have come in here ? "
[445]
' I hat is .'. lie!" said Mitsue rudely.
" But, she is there, all alone."
" 1 don't believe it."
" I assure yu, she is alone. I, too, thought he
was with her, but '
"He is hidden somewhere," replied Mitsue
with conviction, "you must go and find him."
Toyo rose to do as she was bid, and Mitsue
!, ill at ease, on her cushions, trying to master
her indignation and jealousy.
Miya, had lost all hope of carrying out the pur-
:< >r which she had come. She felt that it would
be useless to await Kwanichi's return. Everything
had gone against her; yet, she could not make up
her mind to go away unsatisfied. She heaved
deep sighs and gazed out of the window at the
sky, which grew darker every minute.
In the meanwhile, Toyo h<~d made careful search
for her master, but he was nowhere to be found.
It was with a suspicious look that she returned to
the detached room, and while she talked, her
eyes wandered searchingly around. She felt sure
Kwanichi was hidden.
" I cannot find him anywhere, Madam."
" No ? has he not gone out perhaps replied
Miya, with well-assumed calmness.
[446]
" 'I hat mny be, but why ? leaving his visitors
like this, one in this room, one in the next! He
can't have gone out, but as he can't be found any-
where, he must have gone out. Excuse me, I
will look once more."
She hurried away to Mitsue, to tell her
the result of her si-arch, adding tint she had
looked most carefully all about the detached room,
and that he, certainly, was not in there. Suddenly,
she recollected the foot-gear and hurried to the
verandah to examine them. Mitsue followed
paused a moment to reflect, and then stepped
lightly into the garden and appeared with great
suddenness in front oi the room, in which Miya
sat.
The latter looked, up, in surprise, and at once
changed her d !><> : .ure to assume a more
conect attitude. She !.-; ked somewhat shy, like
ceful flower, th;u hides among its green
Mitsue, on the contrary, appeared like the
r moon. She advanced. The
two women exchanged the formal greeting.
e found the "em -\ r than herself,
T than herself, and with that air of nobility
herself lacked. A gain.- 1 ii T will she
was filled with admiration. Jealousy and hatred
[447]
oID tmon.
of her rival took possession of her. If Kwan-
ichi loved this woman, what hope was there for
her. She recognized that it \\as useless for her to
enter the lists against a loveliness, that so greatly
surpassed her own. She longcJ to fling herself on
Miya and stab her to death. Since she could not
do that, she determined to tease and wound her in
every way she could.
"This is the first time I see you," she said
sweetly, "are you a relation of Mr. Hazama's?"
"Yes, I am a kind of relation," replied Miya
hesitatingly.
" Indeed ! My name is Mitsue Akagashi and I
have been an intimate friend of Mr. Hazama's for
many years; in fact almost like a real relation.
We help each other, and do- business together.
Being at his house so much, I wonder how it is,
that I have never seen you, all these years ?"
"I have only just returned to Tokio from a
distant province."
" May 1 ask where you have been living."
"Oh! yes! it was ...at... Hiroshima"
" And where do you live now ! "
" I live at Ikenohata." lied Miya boldly.
" Ikenohata? that is a very pretty place. How
curious that Mr. Hazama should have told me he
[448]
had no relatives, and that there was no one with
whom he cared to be on terms of friendship, of
intimate friendship, except me, who am more to
him that any real relatives. So I always fancied
he had no relations. I wonder what could have
been his motive in saying so, considering he has so
charming a relative as you. What could have
)een his reason for hiding the fact from me Do
you think it is like him, to do so cold-blooded a
thing?"
A wave of anger swept over Miya, as she listen-
ed to this impertinent speech. " This must be the
woman my father saw, at the hospital;" she thought,
" what was it he said about her? That she was
not an ordinary visitor, but had some closer con-
nection with Kwanichi. Perhaps she is his wife,
secretly, who is trying t keep him from me. Per-
haps he has sent her here to punish me." She bit
her lip "He wants me to see the woman he loves!
I will^ but no! when I am gone he may come
out of his hiding-place, and they will laugh at
me, and abuse me together. He will take her
hand and put his face close to hers." She clench-
ed her teeth, to hide the quivering of her lip, and
Mitsue, delighted at the effect of her words, conti-
nued in a tone of insufferable patronage :
[449]
<Hol D.-mon.
" I am full of regret that Hazama should have
been called off on urgent business, when you have
come r,1! this way to visit him. The place to
which he has gone, is some way off, so I hardly
expect to see him back before night. You had
better come some other day, when you are at
liberty, for your talk with him."
"I have stayed here too long already," said
Miya with some haughtiness, "I am very sorry to
Iv.vc detained him so long, since you, too, came to
talk with him."
" It does not matter in the least, I am here so
often, and can see him at any time ; it is for yourself
you must be most sorry," Mitsue smiled wickedly.
"I am -eery sorry," said Miya boldly, "I have
not seen him for four or five years, so of course we
had much to talk about. I contemplated spending
the day here."
" Most disappointing for you."
" I am going." she bowed.
.lust you really go? see, it is raining."
" I have my own kuruma, and so, am indepen-
dent of the weather," was Miya's frigid response.
With the most ceremonious bows and the politest
phrases of leavetaking, which expressed pleasure
in each o'Jier's society and hopes of future meetings,
[450]
the two women parted, each hiding in her heart
the sword of jealousy and vowing never to bee the
hated rival again.
[451]
CHAPTER LVI
'1 11 7 HEN Miya had driven off, Mitsue and Toyo
hunted in every nook and corner for
Kwanichi but he was nowhere to be found. Mitsue
sat down to wait, expecting he would come soon,
and to watch the path that led to the house. The
fact was, that Kwanichi finding himself in an awk-
ward predicament and not knowing how to extri-
cate himself, had escaped by the back door. He
stole down the road in the pouring rain, sheltering
himself as much as he could by keeping close to
the houses. He hardly knew where he was going
but seeing the doors of a Go hall, where he some-
times had a game, open, he slipped in there hoping
to be safe for a while. How peaceful it was in
there. There were only three conples playing a
game of go quietly ; the host, a lean dried-up man
was polishing a go board. , The breeze had a
soothing sound as it played among a group of
graceful bamboos, outside the window. Kwanichi
seated himself close to the brazier and leaned over
it to dry his wet garments.
[452]
SRittue SBoitS.
The host, who knew him, came across the room
and plied him with questions as to his wet condi-
tion, to all of which Kwanichi replied evasively.
His heart was still beating loudly and his mind
was too confused to heed what was said to him
and so after a curious glance at his disturbed
countenance the host left him alone.
Kwanichi knew not whether he was glad or sor-
ry, whether it was hate or pity that surged in
him, stirring old memories and giving birth to
new emotions. When he had somewhat recover-
ed from the intense exitement which burned with-
in him, lie found himself wondering what would be
the results of his leaving Mitsue and Miya alone
in his house. Would they meet and what would
come of their meeting 5* Ought be not to return
and prevent it ? He was roused from the deep
brooding into which he had fallen by the gradual-
ly increasing noise among the go players and look-
ing up he became aware that all their heads were
turned towards him and that the shouts were
directed at him.
' Kusai, kusai!" (bad smell) they called and
Kwanichi then perceived that one of his sleeves
had caught fire and that a strong siTiell of burning
filled the room. lie extinguished the smoulder-
[453]
Ghlb Teuton.
ing flame, and the calmer of the players ceasing,
a woman's voice was - heard at the door asking for
admittance.
41 Is my master here ? "
"Yes," replied the host, "he is sitting in the
back room." Kwanichi looked round and rcco-
^nizcd his servant Toyo. He felt awkward and
cmba-- issed at being found but hid this beneath a
nonchalant manner. Carelessly he said :
" You have brought my umbrella I suppose."
" Yes, master and your high wooden clogs.
So this is where you are I have looked for you
in all sorts of places."
"Indeed?" said Hazama coolly. "Has the
visitor gone? "
" Yes, she has gone." *
"And the lady from Y"otsuya also?"
\o sir, she insists on seeing you?"
" Do you mean she is still at the house?"
" Yes, master."
" Then tell her you were unable to find me."
"Are you not coming home?"
"By and bye."
" It is nearly lunch time."
. er mind go home now."
" liut master, you have not even had breakfast."
[454]
"I told you to go home." s:iid Kwanichi sharply
and Toyo putting down the umbrella and the clogs
went away disappointed.
His hiding-place, having been discovered, and
knowing Mitsue well enough to feel sure she
would be capable of pursuing him then.-, Kwanichi
determined to stay no longer. He would not go
home either, until she had left the house, for in his
present state of mind he felt unable to cope with
her importunities. He did not know where to go
and to make matters worse he found he had not a
cent with him and he began to want his breakfast.
But he put oi\ his clogs, opened his umbrella and
sallied out into the pouring rain.
Late in the afternoon the rain stopped, and
though the month was May, it grew dusk very
early. The players rose from their go-boards,
and the host saw them to the door, and then
lighted the lantern above him. Just then he saw
Kwanichi enter his gate.
No sooner was the latter in the little hall than
he called in a loud, irritable voice : " Dinner,
Dinner," and entered his sitting room brusquely.
The lamp was lighted and beside it, with her
back towards him, sat a woman. Kwanichi stared
at her in amaze, and as she did not move or turn
[455]
lemon.
towards him he exclaimed angrily:
" I las Mitstie not gone home ;
And he closed the door with a snap and walked
over into his own bedroom. He called to Toyo
to bring sundry garments and to serve his meal in
there. Strange to say Mitsue did not com in
while he dined quite unlike her usual way and
K\\..aichi congratulating himself on this respite
stretched out his tired body when he had eaten,
in the shadow of the moon and indulged in a long
luxurious smoke.
As he lay there, his thoughts reverted to Miya.
He saw again her graceful but emaciated form and
heard the plaintive tones of her sweet voice.
Once or twice he raised himself on his elbow to
look round to make sure that the shadow, which
the bamboo cast on the paper screen, was not hers.
" Miya cannot have stayed here very long," he
thought, " and I am as lonely as ever. When I
could have done so, I would not forgive her, even
though I saw her penitence was real, and so I have
alienated myself from her forever. To-night I feel
strangely lonely and this is a new burden added to
the old. This full moon-light makes me sad and
greater than my hatred of her is, to-night, the
sadness I feel at beholding her frailty."
[456]
25oi.
He rose and pushed aside the paper screen, and
the crescent moon hanging in the calm summer
sky lighted up his face and revealed the hunger is
his sad dark eyes.
" IJazama san!" came the jarring voice of
Mitsue whose presence he had absolutely forgotten,
and turning round he saw she had already seated
herself in his room close behind him. He gazed
at her and thought her face looked dry and without
the bloom of youth, and that her eyes which smiled
at every man, lacked charm. He wondered how it
was lie had not observed this before, and while still
puzzling over it he excused himself politely and
formally for his absence, adding that since she
had waited so long, her business must indeed be
urgent. But Mitsue was angry and in no mood
for polite nothings. Hardly allowing him to
complete his sentence, she began her attack, in a
voice shrill with displeasure.
" And so you consider it wrong for me to
wait for you even if my business is not urgent?
Of course it is wrong ; but what you consider
worse than my waiting, is that I should have
come here at all this morning. Most unpardon-
able ! for I interrupted you in a strange pleasure
Hazama-san."
[457.1
?ftt <9o't> Trmon.
She :.;l.uvd at Kwanichi, who replied angrily:
" \Vhat nonsense you are talking ! "
"Ah ! it is no g> lr >'' n to deceive me.
ex[)lanation is needed when one sees a young
man and a woman in a room together, clinging to
each other, laughing and weeping. I heard it all
in the next room and I am no child of seven or
lit years. Do I not understand these thing-,?
And when you had gone I came in here and
saw the lady ! "
Kwanichi who had not greatly minded her
harangue so far, looked up at her last words and
listened attentively. What he feared had come to
pass Miya and Mitsue had met. Mitsue con-
tinued :
" We had a long talk, about many things thus
1 have come to know of the relation in which you
stand to her. She even told me things of which
women as a rule do not speak, and I learned many
curious secrets. Hut, I la/ama I really cannot help
admiring you. What a talent!
You have this lovely lady for your pleasure
secretly anu the world regards you as an eccentric
fello-.v, absolutely indifferent to the pleasanter
- of life. Your talent for secrecy is amazir
l-'aucy having so successfully kept your pleasures
[458]
SWitfuc
hidden from the world all these years ! "
Kwanichi clenched his fists with rage.
"What do you mean by it?" he exclaimed,
" Cease your foolish chatter."
'* It is ail very well," cried Mitsue, " for you to
call it foolish chatter ; you know it is true and that
you are glad it is true. I can see it in your face
you are thinking of it now, and I suppose you
can't help being in love with her."
"This is just what I expected to happen."
thought Hazama, "I ought not to have left them
alone or given them a chance of meeting. What
an annoying thing it is!" He closed his mouth
resolutely and stared up at the moon.
Mitsue, keeping her watchful eyes on his face,
said:
"Hazama, why are you silent? I am sorry
that you should have to converse with such a
woman as I am, after being in the company of
that beautiful love of yours. I will not keep you
long, I have only a few little words to say may I
say them? "
"Anything you like," said the exasperated
Kwanichi.
" I'd like to kill you ! " cried she jealously.
" Eh ?" said Kwanichi in surprise.
[459]
(Solb Xemon.
" I should like to kill you, and her, and then
myself!"
" Pooh ! ridiculous ! why should I be killed by
you?"
"How dare you say ridiculous?" cried the
Beauty, her eyes flashing ; and then with a sudden
rush of tears, " Do you hate me so much ? why do
you hate me ? Tell me the reason. I will not go
until I know."
"Hate you? Impossible!" cried Kwanichi in
mock horror.
" Why then did you say ' ridiculous? ' '
" Well, isn't it ridiculous that you should want
to kill me ? I know of no grounds you can have
for wanting to do it."
"I have, indeed I have."
" You may believe you have, but "
" And if I do believe it, what matters it if no one
else thinks so. I shall carry out to the uttermost
what I believe to be my right."
"Then I am to understand you intend to kill
me?"
" I shall not hesitate to do so. Be prepared."
" I am quite prepared," replied Kwanichi coolly,
woodering how far she was in earnest. This
scene having in his opinion lasted long enough,
[460]
OTitSue USoiW.
he stood up, shivering slightly, for the night was
cool, and closed the doors on to the verandah. The
moon sailed high in the heaven. Kwanichi looked
at the clock which stood in the alcove and said :
" It is late, you had better go home."
" Were I the lady who was here this morning, I
am sure you would not dream of calling my atten-
tion to the hour," was the vicious reply. Kwanichi
was about to make some angry retort but consider-
ing it was wiser not to argue with her, he kept
silence.
[46i]
CHAPTER LVII
for
" \\/HO i s snc -'' " *^ Mitsue after a pause, " I
\v;is told that she is an old friend of
From her manner and appearance I should
say .-he is not a woman in ilic trade, nor just an
ordinary lady. She seemed mysterious, and you
a woman with a mystery, do you not? Is
she perhaps a "flower with an owner." (married
woman).
Although Kwanichi felt sure this was a random
shot, his heart beat uncomfortably loud and fast :
" I cannot tell," was all he replied.
" It is said that pleasure enjoyed under such
conditions is the greater but the crime is also the
greater. It is quite plain to me now why you
should have kept the affair a secret. It is certainly
nothing lo Le proud of Now, you are furious that
yciir secret hu.i leaked out, and it is especially an-
noying that I should have become po of it
1. whom you dislike so much. Believe me I am
delighted. You have long and cruelly tormented
me now, I .shall be able to torment you to my
^J
9 iplea for Uobe.
heart's content by means of this secret. You know
what you have to expect."
"Are you quite mad?" asked Kwanichi con-
temptuously.
"Perhaps I am. Who has made me so? If I
am mad, my madness dates from this morning.
And since I became mad through coming to your
house, it is your duty to restore my mind before
I leave you."
She drew closer to him, but he shrank from her
contact, wishing he could escape as he had that
very morning.
" I have a simple request to make," said Mitsue,
" will you grant it ? "
"What is it?"
" I hate your " what is it," say, ' I will '."
" But "
" No ' buts ' please, you always give me such
cold answers, I want a simple answer to a simple
request."
Kwanichi nodded.
"Then listen, Hazama. You look upon me as a
tiresome woman, I know, for I have clung to you
regardless ol your opinion of me, because I cannot
for one moment forget you. No matter how I
love you, you continue to dislike me and my love
[463J
is exactly like that described in the poem: "To
love one who loves not in return, is more idle than
to draw pictures on running water." I am drawing
pictures on running water, and I despair of gaining
my heart's desire ; yet I cannot relinquish my
hopes. You find it tiresome to be loved in this
fashion by me ; but, you know, at least that I love
you, earnestly and in all seriousness you know
this, do you not?"
" Well perhaps so, but "
"Oh! stop your eternal "perhaps," and "may-
be," and "but." If I did not love you, should I
continue to persecute you ? That I do so, when I
know you consider me a tiresome woman, is the
strongest proof of my love for you."
"Since you say so, it may be true."
" You do know that I love you, in spite of your
dislike of me?"
."Yes?" said Hazama uncertainly.
" Hitherto I have not spoken direct to the point,
and in consequence you have evaded me. You
know what I desire, and that such a desire is
generally considered unlawful. If you knew me
thoroughly, you would see, that for me, it is not so
wrong as you think. And if it is, I cannot help it,
for where love is, reason takes flight. You have
[464]
for i!otif.
avoided me on the pretext of unlawfulness, and
while I still believed you to be too hard and too
eccentric a character to care for love, I considered
your pretext sincere but now, "
As she said these words, fire flashed from her
eyes, and she took up her pipe and struck Hazama,
with all the force of which she was capable, on the
knee.
" What are you doing? " he cried, taken by sur-
prise, and snatched her pipe from her, but she
struck him with her hand, wherever she could
reach him. Kwanichi managed to get possession
of her hands, and held her down firmly, whereupon
she immediately bit him on the thigh. He twisted
her off furious, but she clung to his knees, and lay
there sobbing.
Puzzled at her extraordinary behaviour, Kwan-
ichi said nothing, but endeavoured to free himself.
She clung desperately weeping, her hot tears
penetrating his thin garment and wetting his skin.
" Go home ! " he said, at last, roughly.
" I won't go."
" You have got to go and I will see that from
to-day you never enter my house again remember
that."
" I shall come, even if I have to die for it"
fficlft Tctnon.
" I have been very patient with you," said Hazn-
ma controlling his anger, "but I cannot have this
going on any longer, I shall see Mr. Akagashi
and speak to him about you."
Mitsue lifted up her tearful face.
" Please speak to him, do you suppose it mat-
ters if Mr. Akagishi hears of it or not? "
"You wicked and depraved woman!" cried
Ha/.ama, red-hot with anger. " I wonder really
what Mr. Akagashi is to you ! "
"And what do you suppose Mr. Akagashi is to
me, Ha/.ama san?"
" You are outrageous ! "
" You evidently think he is my husband, but he
is not?"
"What is he then?"
" I have told you before how my father gave me
to him, in exchange for a sum of money. People
may call us man and wife, but I don't regard him
as my husband, he is my enemy. So there is no-
thing to prevent my having a lover, just as any
unmarried woman might. Hazama, when you see
Mr. Akagashi, say to him : ' that woman Mitsue
loves me madly, and I am going to take her into
my house as my coo':,' then I will serve you until
I die Did you think to frighten me by say-
[466]
91 $lfn for i!ot>r.
ing you would speak to Mr. Akagashi ; on the
contrary, I think it would be to my Advantage if
you did ; he would not know what to say to you.
If any one is put in an awkward position by your
speaking to him, it will be he and not I."
Kwanichi did not know what answer to make to
these curious statements. Her boldness disarmed
him.
" If, by speaking to him," continued Mitsue ;
"you hope to get rid of me, your trouble will be
in vain. He is afraid of me, not / of him ! Still
you might try your plan, just to see what the
result would be. Then I shall noise abroad your
secret too. I shall tell it everywhere, that you are
connected with a married woman, and are always
having lovers' interviews with her. Then we shall
see who will be harmed most, you or I ! What do
you say to that?"
" I say, that it is unworthy of you, who are shar-
per than a man, to take a woman's revenge. And
listen to me. May not a man and a woman talk
together, without being suspected of illicit deal-
ings? Or, is a woman ot mature age always a
inarrifti womin? If you spread such a report it
will be a wicked misrepresentation of facts. You
olft Teuton.
slanderous woman ! be more careful when you
speak ! "
" Hazama-san, turn this way, and look at me ! "
She plucked him by the sleeve, but he shook her
off with a smothered oa'.li.
"I annoy you, do I not:'"
" You do indeed ! "
" I am going to annoy and worry you still more.
What was it you said? 'A wicked misrepresenta-
tion? ' I must ask you, in my turn, to choose your
words more carefully. Be a man, and own you
have a mistress ! I have no right to ask you this
if I had a right, it might be wise of you to hide the
fact from me. Let me speak openly with you. If
you had a hundred loves, I should never give you
up. My mind is ncunstable one. I know, I shall
not gain my desire by noising abroad your secret ;
I am not the woman to do such a ' hing, though
you may think differently. I spoke in anger, and
I ask you to pardon a hasty word."
She humbled herself before him, and bowed, as
the menial to the master. Again Kwanichi was
at a loss what reply to make.
" Now, let me make my ..request. First of
all, give up your attitude of hermit, who neither
knows, nor cares for, the delights of love.
[468]
ft $tta for
You know me well and thoroughly. Am I
a person likely to relinquish the thing for
which I strive? Do you dislike me-so much, that
you will always be unable to accept, what I have
so often offered you. Decide what you will do,
and I will decide on my course of action. As a rule,
I am quick in making a decision ; but, in this case,
I have been as weak-minded as a fool. I am not
blind about things as a rule, but where you are
concerned, I am blind and infatuated. \ It must
be my " Ingwa," (result of actions in a former life)
that you should dislike me still, in spite of my love
for you. Or, is it the absolute disagreement of
natures, which the Buddhists preach, the Water
Nature or the Fire Nature of the man, which will
not mingle with certain natures^of women ? Ought
you not therefore to pity one, whose fate it is to
love you, under such adverse and hopeless condi-
tions ? Though you may not be able to love the
person, at least, you should have pity on the mind
of such a one. That you are not so hard or loveless
a character, as to be unable to extend to me some
sympathy, I have been assured of, ; by the events of
the morning. I know, now, that you are capable of
love. The love, you bestow on another, is the
same leva as 1 that, with which I love you. Think
[469.)
:Mb lemon.
how painful unrequited love must be ! \Y
then, so very unreasonable when I said, I wished to
kill you, Hazama san ? It may be madness, but I
was born to this: that I should love you, and be
willing to give up my life for you, or be your slave,
in return for a kind word or look. If you think
this over, you will, I feel sure, be able to spare me a
little love and pity, even, if it be only as small as a
drop of clew. Can you not do so? I do not ask
much of yon but, will you not speak the word I
am longing to hear, for the sake of our .friend-
ship*"
As she drew near the end of her plea, her voice
trembled more and more, until it lost its usual
harsh tone. She begged him for this one word, for
which she would have sacrificed many registered
bonds, worth thousands of yen. \Vi:h suspended
breath, and beating heart, her face, pale as death,
she awaited his answer, ready, to be made h ippy by
one word, or, prepared to end all, with the dagger
she held concealed in her sleeve.
This Kwanichi felt was lovemaking indeed, and,
it was as terrible, as it was pitiful. But, how make
friends with a snake or a scorpion, simp!
it loved him? The whole scene had rer.
him incapable of saying a harsh word. Mis face
[470]
9t $ltd fn.
had grown softer, although his brows were still
knit.
"A word that will satisfy you?" he asked, " what
kind of a word do you want me to say?"
" How can / tell you, what words you should
say to me?" cried Mitsue, with a passionate gesture.
" I don't really know what it is you want." repli-
ed Kwanichi, seeking some way of escape.
"Don't know? Ah! that is because you are
seeking for some cunning word of evasion! There
is but one word that will satisfy me ; and you are
the only one who can give me that word !"
" If you mean that, I know ......... "
" If you know it," broke in Mitsue, " try to say
it."
" I know, that you want me to agree with all
ive said, but that is difficult I can find no
word which will please you."
" Ah ! try," she cried, "I will be content with
whatever you say. Show me, that you sympathize
with what I feel; that you are not devoid of pity."
" I am grateful to you, for you kind thoughts of
me," began Kwanichi, slowly and laboriously, "I
shall remember all you have said, tonight, : ml I
will not forget, in the future, that you love me... "
Xljf
"Are you sure Hazama .san? " came the eager
question.
" I am sure." he replied.
"Is it truth?" she asked.
"Yes, it is true."
"Then," she cried, triumphantly, "give me the
proof! "
"The proof?" he asked, startled.
" Yes. I hate an empty word. You have given
me the assurance of your sympathy; you have said
you spoke truly now give me the proof, show
me that you understand."
" I would if I -could. " he faltered.
"You would? and you can "
" // I could yes but "
" If you are willing, you can give me every
thing." she panted.
As she spoke, Kwanichi threw open the sliding
door, with violence, and sprang into the dewy
garden. Mitsue followed him like a flash, and in
the moonlight her face looked like a rose.
[472]
CHATTER LVIII
" \\/HY do I hear women j s voices, crying and
* ^ disputing," Kvvanichi asked himself, early
one morning, as he lifted his head from his pillow
and listened, "when I know, there is no one in the
house but myself and Toyo." The voices became
louder, more excited, and were accompanied by a
violent knocking on the partition. At this, Kwan-
ichi pushed back the bedclothes, and was about to
jump out of bed, when, with a bang, the partition
was knocked down, and two figures were hurled
into the room. They were two women, and the
hair of one was unbound, and floated about her
shoulders. Her dress was wet with rain. She look-
ed up at him, in an ecstasy of love and yearning,
and cried, "Kwanichi san." But when she tried
to reach him, the other woman fell upon her and
held her down, so that she was unable to move.
The woman, with the long black hair and the wet
garments, was Miya ; the other, her hair dressed
like a geisha and exquisitely arrayed, was Mitsue,
and this was her revenge, for what Kwanichi had
refused her the other night.
[473]
Xrmon.
Still holding Miya tightly, Mitsue turned round
and cried :
" Hazama san, here is your love, of whom you
think so much." She seized Miya's neck and
twisted her head, so that the latter was obliged to
face Kwanichi :
"Is not this th3 woman?" asked Mitsue.
Miya moaned softy and said:
" Kwanichi san, it makes me so sad; do tell me,
is this woman your wife? "
" What does it matter to you, if I am his wife? "
demanded Mitsue, viciously, shaking her victim,
and when the latter groaned, and rubbed her legs
against each other in pa-'n, Mitsue held her the
more firmly, telling her to be quiet, and to listen
to what she was going to say to Kwanichi.
She began :
" Ha/.uma san, I now know the truth. It is only,
because this woman shamelessly clings to you,
that you refuse, what 1 ask of you. Although she
has deserted you and married another, you have
still ;i sr.eaking affection for her. You are more
unmanly, than I thought possible. How can you
care for a \\oman who forsook you, and gave her-
self to another? And you call yourself a man?
Il I were you, I would stab her to death."
I. 474 J
Miya struggled to tree herself, but so strong a
hand was on her, that she was hardly able to
breathe.
Mitsue continued :
" Hazama san, have you not often spoken of
me as immoral ? And yet, you have allowed this
creature to live on in her shame, and though you
love her, call yourself an honourable man.
Are you not ashamed of the remarks you made
about me ? I will put into your hands, now,
the opportunity of becoming a man again,
freed from the stain of unmanliness, which is
as a blot, on your character, in allowing her
to live. Punish her now, I will not rise, until
you do so. I will lend you the knife, a good knife.
Here take it in your hand."
With one hand, she drew from her sleeve a
dagger, in a lacquered sheath. Kwanichi was
petrified with horror he gazed as if fascinated, at
Mitsue's excited face. Miya never moved. Was
she already insensible from fear?
" Come," whispered Mitsue, " while I hold her
down like this, stab her in the throat, or heart,
quickly. Fie ! Why do you hesitate ? Don't
you know how to hold a dagger? Draw it like
this ! "
[475]
Trmon.
With one hand she shook it in the air; the
sheath flew off, and, with a flash, like lightning,
the shining blade cut through the air, and dropped
within three inches of Kwanichi's face.
"Stab her, stab her!", she cried. Kwanichi
shuddered, and Mitsue, snatching up the knife, said :
" Now, I know that you love her still. Your
honour demands, that you should put an end to
her life, and you are too weak to do so. Let me
take your place and kill her. It is very easy.
Look here."
She drew the sharp blade across Miya's dis-
hevelled hair, but she, with the strength that terror
lends, wrenched herself free, and sprang aside,
shrieking :
" Help ! Kwanic-ii san," L*d then flinging her-
self on Mitsue, seized her by the wrist, in which
she held the dagger.
" Kwanichi, quick, take the dagger from her,
and kill me with your own hand. I want to die,
but, I will not have that woman kill me. Help !
Kwanichi, and put an end to my miserable life
yourself."
lUit Kwanichi never moved. U~ seemed to be
held immovable by some mysterious power; try as
he would, he could not lift hand or foot. Meanwhile
[476]
anjf Trrom.
the two women struggled for possession of the
dagger. It flashed now high, now low, like a
bright crescent, seen through willow branches in
the wind. Miya shrieked piteously to the man
she loved :
" Are you going to look on, while this woman
kills me ? Oh ! help me Kawnichi, my life is
yours, not hers ; she must not take it. If you
will not kill me, at least, let me kill myself.
Take the knife from her, and let me have it in my
hand, just for a moment; for mercy's sake, be
quick, be quick ! "
The struggle waxed desperate ; there was no
sound in the room, except the panting of the two
women. Suddenly the dagger slipped from
Mitsue's hand, and fell on the mat in front of
Kwanichi. In a second, Miya leapt across the
room, seized it, and held it triumphantly aloft.
Mitsue was on her immediately, but, at that,
moment, Miya thrust at her, with all her might,
and the dagger pierced her to the heart. With a
shriek she fell back dead.
Miya dropped the dagger, and fled to Kwan-
ichi.
" Now, I must regard myself as dead. Kill me
Kwanichi," she pleaded, " and, if you will do it, I
[477]
will regard it as your pardon, and die happily.
Forgive me for the past ; for, if you do not for-
give me, I shall come to life again and again miser-
ably, and shall torment others, as I have you. I
implore you. pray to Buddha, that he does not let
me go astray after death, and then, let me die be-
side you."
She placed the blood-stained knife in his hand,
keeping her own over his.
" As this is the last time I shall ever see you, I
want you to say one word, " Pardon," to my de-
parting soul. It will be like a prayer and a bles-
sing to the dead. While I am alive, you may hate
me still ; but death changes all. With death all
sin, and therefore all hatred for that sin, dies, and
is reduced to ashes. Therefore, let the past flow
away with the flowing stream, and forgive me, for
I have repented and am glad to give up my life for
my past fault. I have no words, in which to tell
you all I feel, but I remember how you wept over
me that night at Atami, and I hear your voice
saying : " Don't forget what has happened tonight,
you will think of it often." I ask myself in despair
sometimes why I did what I did. I must have been
mad at the time, or driven on, by some malignant
power. And so, your curse fell upon me, and there
[478]
He Trram.
is now no place under the sun, in which I can
live in peace ; so I must go, and I pray, forgive
me.
" I should be foolish to imagine, that this soul of
mine, which is accursed, could in this life, even
though I had your pardon, be at rest. The Bud-
dhists say, that the result of evil actions, in a former
li;V, cannot be done away in this life, however much
we may suffer here as the penalty. Therefore,
though, with your forgiveness, I should long to
stay near you, I know it is better for me to die at
once, and buiy all this grief with my body, and
then be born again, pure, as I was at the very be-
ginning. Thus, in a future life, in spite of difficul-
ties and barriers we shall come together, at last. I
will prove myself worthy of you, and we shall live
together in perfect bliss. In my next life. I shall
beware of foolish actions, and I beg you, do not
forget me. Be sure, you never forget me, It
is said, that our dying thought shapes our next
life, so I will die thinking of but one thing: 'of
yon, Kwanichi, and of your forgiveness. And
thus, 1 die ! " Still holding his hand, she fell upon
the dagger gasping :
"It is done Kwanichi!"
Then Kwanichi awoke at last.
[479]
Xlje Wolft lemon.
" Miya," he cried, " it is you ? what have you
done ? "
I le tried to pull the dagger from her throat, but
she was stronger than he.
" Let me have it," he panted, " Miya let go."
" Kwanichi Kwanichi," she sobbed.
" What do you want to say to me ? " he asked,
holding her close in his arms.
"No!.hing. I am so glad. You have forgiven me."
" Miya, let me take the dagger." Again he tried
to remove it, but she cried, with sudden strength :
" I will not. I am going to die like this, and be
at peace. Oh ! Kwanichi I am growing faint, say
that you pardon me, quick pardon, pardon."
" Can you hear, Miya ? " he asked, for she had
fallen back, with eyes closed, and when she breath-
ed a 'yes,' he said, slowly, and impressively:
" I forgive you. You are now forgiven and
pardoned."
" Kwanichi, I am so glad."
'He leaned over and kissed her, his hot tears
falling on her face.
" Now at last I can die," she cried, and strove
to drive the dagger home. Kwanichi implored
her to have pity on him, to recover, and succeed-
ed, after a struggle in gaining possession of the
[480]
knife. No sooner had he done so, than Miya stood
up and rushed from the room with swaying, stum-
bling steps.
Her lover sprang up, after a moment's hesitation,
and was about to follow her, when he stumbled
over Mitsue's dead body, and fell with great viol-
ence to the ground. 1 le called loudly :
" Miya, wait ! I have something to say to you.
Toyo, Toyo, where are you ? run after Miya and
stop her.' 1
He called and called, but Miya did not return, nor
did the servant give any sign. When the pain in his
knees allowed him to rise, he found he had so injured
himself that he was unable to stand without support.
He staggered from the verandah into the garden
guided by the drops of blood from the wounded
woman. They led him to the door at the end of
the garden, then into the street, and far down the
silent, misty road, he saw her staggering before
him.
' Miya wait ! " Again and again he called, but she
heeded not, and he gnashed his teeth with rage, that
fate, at the supreme moment should have rendered
him helpless. Supporting himself by clinging to
the fences at the side of road, he struggled forward,
regardless of the falls and the agony he experienced.
[48l]
Tlu fflolb Xfmon.
He shouted " Miya " as long as he had strength to
do so. Presently her obi (sash) becoming untied,
and twisted round her feet, she fell, and lay still.
Kwanichi, almost exhausted redoubled his efforts,
and with a loud cry of Miya, plunged madly for-
\\.ird. At the same moment he felt a sharp stab
in his throat ; he words were checked in a rush of
blood, and he fell fainting to the ground.
How long he lay there he did not know. When
he came to himself, he found he was close to the
moat, which encircles the Palace grounds. He
looked up and saw Miya among the willows which
fringe the bank. Rising with difficulty, he followed
her, but stopped at the strange sight which met
his eyes. The usually peaceful moat had changed
into terrific rapids, which came dashing down with
a ncise like thunder. Huge boulders seemed
have been thrown in, to break their force, but the
waters leapt and plunged over them, in great
bounds, sending the spray high into the air, and
almost making the banks tremble beneath their
onset.
" What an awful scene ! " thought Kwanichi,
clinging to the bough of a willow. As he g;;,
he noticed a narrow steep path, bordered by high
grasses, leading down the cliff to the water. 1 le
[482]
!f)c Trcnm.
also noticed the bamboos and grasses were dis-
turbed, as though some one were moving among
them, and looking round hastily for Miya, he saw
she had disappeared, and was at once persuaded
that she it was who was walking down towards
the water.
He now knew the reason of her flight. She
was going to drown herself in one of the whirlpools
beneath those terrible rapids. Save her he must.
But how? He could not reach her in time by
taking the path what could he do ? He paused
one moment, and then sprang. By a miracle he
was not killed, not even injured or stunned. But
Miya had vanished.
Crying to Heaven at his ill-luck in having lost
her by one moment, Kwanichi gazed into the
water with blood-shot eyes, hoping against hope
that he might yet rescue her.
Presently, at a distance of perhaps a score of
yards, something came in sight, which was cer-
tainly not a piece of wood. It was tossed hither
and thither by the waves, was visible for a
moment, then lost to sight. Could it be Miya?
Kwanichi strained his eyes and leaned down
ready to grasp at dress or floating hair. But the
current was very swift where he stood, and at the
[483]
Teuton.
moment when he recognized the form ot his be-
loved, she was borne past him, shot out of his
reach, like an arrow from the bo\v. Undaunted,
Kwanichi followed, there was no path, but he
scrambled over rocks, climbed trees, hung over
the precipice, and waded at peril of his life in the
swirling water. He staggered along, bleeding
and half dead till he reached a shallow place in
the river. There in the sobbing water, under the
shadow of green trees, whose branches were bowed
in mourning over her, he found his Miya. He
fell upon her weeping.
Alas ! alas ! How grateful would Miya have
been for one of those hot teardrops before she
died. Now a thousand cannot avail her.
" Miya," cried Kwanichi, " are you really dead !
and \have I found you only to have lost you?
lieloved one ! Too much thinking has driven you
to this. First pierced by a sword, and then
.drowned! Did you want to give up your life
twice for my sake, that I might know how true
and deep was your penitence.
" I swore I would never forget my wrongs, no
matter what should happen, and now, in spite of
my oath I find my resentment has melted, and see-
ing you dead before me, I cry that I forgive you
[484]
from my heart. But Miya, hear me I .orgave you
before you died, do you remember that ? I said
but one word, " Pardon," and in pain you breathed
that you were glad. Did it mean so much to you,
Miya ?
"Ah ! how well you have proved your penitence !
What a splendid repentance has been yours ! So
grand, that I feel ashamed before you and implore
you now to pardon me. I have been dull and
have not understood you ; my own grievance
blinded me to your sorrow. Forgive me Miya,
ah ! too late ; you are dead."
Seeing how very tragic, and how brave was the
manner of her death, Kwanichi felt that all her in-
ward impurities had been poured mt with her blood,
and that her sin-stained skip had been washed
clean, leaving to him her fair young body, which,
for his sake, and as a proof of her repentance, she
had sacrificed. She deserved full measure of
grief and pity, and he was unworthy to bestow the
same.
The moment that his anger and resentment were
put away, there arose in their place that yearning
love, which like a spring of water had dried up,
but now filled his heart to overflowing.
Know you how bitter is the yearning for a Be-
[485]
Xfie (flolft $*mtJit.
love 'I one who is dead ? There is no longing in
the world so hard to bear.
Kwanichi now knew that it so easier to live with
hot resentment in his heart against the living,
to endure life full of passionate longing for the
dead.
He kneeled beside her in an agony ot remorse.
" I have one thing to offer you, dear one," he
sobbed, " and that is my heart. Hold it in your
embrace, while your soul rests in the bosom ot
Buddha. This is the end, for you and me, of this
present life, but in the next I will live with you as
you desire and may the gods grant us a hundred
years of life together. I shall not forget Miya,
I promise to remember you."
Taking her ice-cold hand in his, he leaned over
her and looked into her eyes, now closed in their
long sleep, but he could not distinguish her feat-
ures for his eyes were dimmed with tears.
" Once you sinned, Miya," he continued. " yet
what a noble spirit is yours, to be cap
death like this. Brave woman ! you ai
ample to ail ; your action is worthy of the highest.
" But what of me ? I was born a man, and yet
because I lost a woman's love, 1 threw aside all
noble ambitions and committed a life-long fault!
[486]
Zljf
Nor was I ashamed of my conduct, but continued
to amass money by unlawful and inhuman means.
Why did I do it ? What do I want the money
for ? "
These questions Kwanichi asked himself again
and again, but he could find no answer to satisfy
his soul. He had done wrong, and there was no
pleasure in it.
" Every man has, beside that in his own walk in
life, a duty to perform to humanity. Am I doing
so ? When I lost Miya, I lobt hope ; and my lost
hopes I threw away all that was good in me, all
that makes of us men. My sense of duty to my-
self and to the world, I strangled.
" Miya, if you have repented for my sake, I must
needs repent for my sins against humanity. See-
ing how great and noble have been your amends,
J feel ashamed and envious, for how can I hope to
equal you.
"This life is hard and bitter, and no matter ho \v
hard it is, we have to live it here. In it, our
pleasures, and our duties, those that concern our-
selves and those to the world at large, each have
their appointed place, and we must recognize them.
J have never done so.
" When 1 lived at the Shigizawas with) ou, Miya,
[48/J
3!I)f Wolb Tetnon.
: bcsi in % I reiMnlcil lite as a happy dream.
Since then ah \ well, you know how I have
lived. Which was the true way of life, this or
that?
" These last six years, there has not been a single
day, that I have felt, I was living the life of a Man \
You would ask why did I continue to live and
you may think it was because I have lacked the
courage to die. It is not that I have lived, it is be-
cause I have failed to die ; for my whole existence
has been a failure.
" Wanibuchi was burnt to death, and Miya has
killed herself.
" What shall I dot
" With this weak character of mine, I shall spend
all my days in grief, haunted by Miya's sad face.
My future will therefore be more cruel than my
past. How can I live in such bitter grief?
" To make amends, to live like a man, to pay the
duty I owe to humanity ? What an effort \ T/tat,
no doubt:, is my duty as a man but I am no long-
er a man. There is nothing human about me.
Death \ They say, now, that suicide is a crime.
But can it be a crime for one, who is only alive be-
cause he breathes ? A good-for-nothing to whom
life is pain, and at whose death hundreds would re-
[488]
l)r 25 ream.
joice ?
" It comes to this : I die because a single woman
failed me, and I, in consequence, forgot what life
requires of man. I demeaned myself to follow the
trade of the thief and the usurer, and have not done
a single action worthy of a human being. I made
a bad start and the evil of these years I cannot
wipe out. Misfortune will cling to me while I live,
and grief will overshadow my path. There is but
one way : to die ; and live my life a cleaner one
again and then the burden of sorrow will fall from
me ! "
Kwanichi arose. He had found the way. The
tears are drying on his cheeks, and into his eyes
has come a strange brightness he lifts his face
pale yet aspiring.
" Miya, wait for my soul," he cries, " I follow you.
You died for me, and I give my life to you.
Receive it as the gift on our espousal in the
future life I know you will accept it, and, in
leaving this life, I feel only a great content."
He raises her gently and carries her on: his back
towards the wild deep water in which she lost her
life. Strange! she is as light as sheet of paper.
Yv'ondering he turns his head a strange sweet
odour meets him, and on his shoulder lies a white
[4*9]
Tfjf Wolti Teuton.
lily in full bloom.
He stops in amaze opens his wild eyes wonder-
ing wakes and behold! it was a mcrning dream.
[490]
CHAPTER LIX
SO strange and vivid a dream could not tail to
make a deep impression upon Kwanichi. He
could not banish it irom his mind, and the
thought of it, apart from the desire for Miya, filled
him with restlessness. He began to long for its
realization and to contemplate death.
That would end the knotty problem of his life,
and in a new state of existence he would live more
worthily. He wished he had a friend to whom he
might speak freely, or that he knew some wise and
experienced person ot whom to take counsel. The
anguish in his heart grew greater from day to day,
and an inward voice whispered to him, that there
was little hope of rising to higher things in the new
life, for those, who ended a worthless life with a
cowardly death.
" < >h ! for a strong hand ", he cried-, " to pluck
out the evil which torments me, and to burn it
in the fiercest fire ; Oh ! for the courage to draw a
screen across the faulty part of my life ; to begin
again and prepare myself, here, for the new life,
L49' j
Xauon.
passing over to it by the bridge in a noble death.
Is my life worth repenting of! " Thus he question-
oil ; but the answer came not. The present pain
urged him to endure this life no longer; but his
remorse for the way he had lived, cried to him to
find a better way. He dared not seek death to es-
cape from pain, and he lacked the fine courage that
is willing to bear everything in order tu repair a
fault. Kwanichi wished for life, but couLl not
enjoy it; he wished for death but dared not seek
i:.
Sitting he thought oi standing, standing he
thought of lying down ; when he w.^s res' ing, he
wanted to be working ; he longer.' Tor night but it
brought him no sleep, and, waking, his thoughts
tormented him. He spent these da>^ doing
nothing, his heart full of dark despair.
At l*iis juncture, fortunately, there came an urg-
ent business call, which he could not put off. A
big loan had been negotiated, and the proceedings
till now had advanced slowly. Suddenly the would-
be debtor pressed for the conclusion of t'v j contract,
and Hazama found himseh obliged to journey to
Shiobara, for the purpose of making some pi'Vate
inquiries, which would take some time. He was
loath to go, and at first contemplated sending
192]
a deputy, but the rumoured beauty of the place
and the hope of distracting his mind, made him
decide to go himself.
Three days later, in the early misty morning, he
was on his way to Uyeno, to leave by the first train ;
and five hours, later he alighted at the station of
Nishi-Nasuno, whence the road leads to Shiobara.
[493]
CHAPTER LX
FR( ).\[ Nishi-Nasuno, Kwanichi struck out
to the north-west through the wellknown
wilderness of Xasuno-ga-hara, which is as wild as in
the days of old. The broad sky, the endless plain,
and a distant range of hills, beyond which lies Shio-
bara, is all that meets the eye on the ten mile road
which bisects the plain. Across here Kwanichi
trudged, and then passing two villages, he crossed
the bridge Nyushokyo, which means " entrance to
the fine scenery." A little way across the bridge,
the atmosphere grew chilly, the hills rose higher
and closer on each side, and the sun seemed to be
darkened. There was a deep valley along which
the road wound among a thick growth of trees, in
which despite the gloom the birds sang happily,
while at every step Kwanichi noticed lovely grasses
in bloom. As he went up the valley, the upper
course of the river, whose sound he had heard in
the distance came in sight a wonderful spec-
tacle, rushing and tearing down over huge bould-
ers, the white foam slashed into the air. It was
1494J
as if a thousand thunders had fallen, the white
lightening hissing over them.
On the right, high cliffs rose almost perpendicu-
larly, covered with green moss, and interspersed
with narrow waterfalls, which looked like delicate
silver threads, and filled the valley with happy
murmuring.
After Kwanichi had passed the hill of white
feathers and passed the waterfall of Mikaeri, the
scenery grew much wilder. He crossed many
bridges, thirty in all, on that zigzag route which
rises above the valley. The road grew rougher,
the hills more craggy, and where before had been
grass and moss, was now bare rock. Over these
rocks tumbled water falls, seventy falls in all. Hot
springs too abounded ; in one village alone there
were forty-five After this Kwanichi passed many
celebrated spots : Oami waterfall ; the Root
Mountain, the deep water where children die. the
cave of White Cloud, the Dragon's nose, ihe
Nodome-no-taki waterfall, the stone of five colours
and the boat rock. Then he reached Fukuwata,
the village of Happy Life, which nestles among the
green hills. Here grew azaleas and the wild wis-
taria, and the water was clear and shallow, and
over-hung with shady trees. When he reached
[495]
1f)t Ooltt Xfmon.
this spot, Kwanichi stopped in amaze. It w
exactly like the scene in his dream, where Miya,
having jumped, had floated up again. The situation
of the banks, the growth of the trees, the whirling
water above, and the face of the rocks in the trans-
parent water of the pools ; the position, the sur-
roundings of the whole place were exactly like jt ;
and the more attentively he examined the spot the
more marked was the resemblance.
A cold shudder passed over him. Strange !
One may dream of past experiences, but is it pos-
sible to dream of something never seen before ?
See ! there was the spot where Miyas body had
lain, and there the way along which he had follow-
ed her. To his amazement and horror he could
follow the way step by step. I fe turned round,
and asked the man who carried his luggage, the
name of the place. It was called the valley of Fudo
(God of Wrath).
A terrible name ! A likely place in which to die.
Indeed he had made up his mind, in that dream to
die there. Kwanichi touched his eyes to assure
himself lie was awake and then recollected with
iiudder that it was not Miya, but a lily which
had hung across his shoulder. lie burried on;
and there rose before him a wonderful cliff, like a
[496]
huge screen, surmounted by pines, most of which
looked as if they would fa'l headlong into the
precipice !.;elo\v. He gazed at it stupidly it was
the cliff from which he had sprung, in his effort to
save Miya. What did it all mean ? Had he really
been here before and jumped from this dreadful
height. But no ! had he done so, his slender bones
would have been dashed to pieces. Was it meant
as a warning ?
As he still stood in doubt and fear, more at the
reality of Shiobara than at the wonder of his dream,
his bearer told him the place was called the stone
of Tengu (tengu is a bobgoblin). He hurried on, un-
easy at the thought, that more scenes like those of
his ream might present themselves as it were a
menace and a threat.
Coming to a sharp bend in the river, where the
water, whirling and splashing seemed to rear like a
group of angry steeds, he perceived with a thrill of
almost terror, in the midst of the rapids, a large rock
quite twenty feet high, upon whose flat weather-
beaten surface a hundred people might easily have
found standing place. Upon that rock, too, he had
looked before ; yes, in his pursuit of Miya's dead
body, finding the water too deep to stand in, he had
scrambled up it for a moment to draw breath bt>
[49/1
fl)i Wo'fc Ttmon.
fore continuing his perilous q \ few steps
further brought him to the pool wh'.Tt: Miya had
iumped in. On that branch her hair had caught for
a moment ; over this rock she had dragged her
loosened girdle. It was too horrible ! Kwanichi
trembled, and his hair seemed to rise on end like
so many needles he averted his gaze and hasten-
ed on.
As a dream, it had been a terrible experience,
but a new terror, that of the unknown and
supernatural, was added to this. His heartthrob-
bed painfully, almost choking him. Was it really
a dream ? he ashed himself again and again and
would it all come true ? Was Miya there some-
where waiting for him and what new pains was he
called upon to bear ? At the next village he look
a lairuma, and two fast runners, urging them to
their utmost speed. Thus they rushed past Kota-
ro's deep water, past the Tur.jili- Mountain, and the
Sweet Spring Valley, and reached Shiobara cie the
sun had set.
[498J
CHAPTER LXI
IN the village of Shiobara there are twelve inns,
five of which have hot mineral baths. It was
at one of these that Kvvanichi alighted. The
Seikin-ro Inn faces south, and the garden runs
down to the river, which babbles past, over its clear
bed of pebbles, with a pleasant soothing sound.
To the west, whence come the cool breezes, rises
Fuji, his perfect crest appearing dreamlike above
the clouds, and to the northeast a screen of hills
protectt he house from the fierce summer sun. It is
a lovely peaceful spot here might harrassed mind,
weary soul and sad heart find a haven and relief.
Kvvanichi had not been there an hour, before its
soothing influence made itself felt. The tumult in
his heart ceased, his fears died, and he felt strangely
softened. He thought :
"What a sense of well-being I feel up h:re!
Why did I not come sooner ? How foolish was I
to despise the idea that Nature could cure the
disease of my soul. Nature to me has always
meant dull earih and water. How beautiful are the
[499J
Zfte
mountains and yet they are but heaps of earth ; how
cheering is the river, and yet it is but water ! I low
much more to be despised am I, than that which I
disdained to know. Behold ! the verdure of the
trees, the floating clouds, the peaks, the running
streams, the soughing of the wind, the evening
tints, yes, even the crowing of the cocks seem not
to belong to the sordid world, from which I have
come. There Nature is sullied and perverted ; here
all is pure and true. Nature is finding an inlet to
my soul, and will drive out all its impurity. I shall
forget my sorrow, forget my pain and weariness ; I
shall feel as light as yonder cloud, my heart as
fresh as the mountain spring.
" Here is no love, no hate ; neither money nor
worldly power; no ambition, no competition ; degen-
eration, pride, imfatuation, and disappointment
cannot dwell here ; for here is innocent, unspoiled
Nature ; here would I lead a simple life, and bury my
past, as I would, some day, here bury my bones."
He leaned on the balustrade, reflecting how un-
familiar he, the dweller in towns, was with nature.
He was surprised at his own delight, surprised to
find some unknown chord struck, that vibrated
wildly in response to the new call. Like a child he
felt, ihat having wandered among strangers, finds
[500]
911
him suddenly face to face with his mother.
It gre\v dusky, and a keen wind from the mountain
sprang up. Kwanichi deemed it wiser to seek his
room. Listlessly he entered, but the first object,
that met his eyes, set all his nerves quivering and
his muscles became tense.
In the alcove, where his satchel had been laid,
there was a wild lily, placed carelessly in a vase, so
that, the stem inclining forward, the flower faced
him, as it were.
The sensation, that Miya was in the room, was
very strong upon Kwanichi. He looked round,
but saw no one ; the air was heavy with fragrance.
This was no mere coincidence, he said to himself;
the mysterious will of heaven was hidden in it it
was Karma, before which he must bow there
was no escape.
He approached and looked at the flower fearful-
ly. How exactly it resembled the lily of his
dream ; the pure white petals fully opened, the
overpowering fragrance and the dew still upon the
leaves. Kwanichi, who had been almost happy but
a few minutes ago, again felt the heavy mantle of
his grief descend upon him-^-he bowed his head
and hid his face in his hands.
" Sir ; I will conduct you to the bath," said a
[5oi]
ttit WoID lemon.
woninn's voice beside him. Looking up he percei-
ved one of the waitresses, and exclaimed :
" Oh ! woman, will you, please, remove this
flower."
" Don't you like lilies, Sir ? " asked the girl in sur-
prise, " I found this one in the garden today. It is
very c-arly for lilies, they, won't be out for another
month. It is very unusual for one to be out so
early ; so I broke it off, Sir, and put it in here, think-
irg 01, r next guest would like to amuse himself
with a little flower arranging."
" Yes, it is early for lilies, but take it away, the
fragrance gives me a headache."
" It must have opened by mistake," said the
girl, taking the flower out of the vase.
" Yes, indeed a great mistake," murmured
Kwanichi, as he followed her down to the bath
house.
In the dim light, lie saw another guest of the
hotel in the water, who coldly answered his salu-
tation, stepped out of the water hastily, and sat
down in a corner of the room, his gleaning white
back turned to Kwanichi The latter regarded
such behaviour with mistrust, for the customs of
the bath-house are sociable. Decidedly the man
was avoiding him; but why, seeing they were
[502]
'.Ht Sfiiobnro.
strangers ? The moment Kwanichi got out of the
water, the stranger stepped into it keeping his
face averted, and splashing very quietly. He \v;i^
slightly built and thin ; he was evidently very shy
probably he was suffering from a mental disease,
and had come up here to try the mineral baths.
Kwanichi paid no more heed to him, and the man
picked up his " yukata," and went out.
Having nothing to do, Kwanichi spent a good hour
in the hot, steaming bathhouse J and on returning
to his room he found the candles lit, and his supper
set on the little low table, beside which stood a
brazier lest he should feel chilly. He had just
lighted his pipe, when the waitress appeared with
the dinner things, accompanied by the landlord who
was voluble in his excuses over the poorness of the
meal. It was so early in the season, they had
not expected guests so soon, and nothing was
ready. In a day or two the best of everything
could be procured ; he hoped the gentleman would
stay a long time, and pardon him for the poor din-
ner he was setting before him to-night. He thank-
ed for the tea-house money ; sent the maid for
some more b;:an soup, and with many compliments
and excuses bowed himself out.
After lie had gone, Kwanichi asked the maid,
[503]
Jhf WolB 3D:mon.
who waited on him, how many guests were in the
Inn.
" Only one beside yourself, Sir ? "
" Is it gentleman I met in the bathhouse ? "
- Yes, Sir."
" I think he is ill."
" No Sir, I think he is quite well"
" Does he talk to you?"
" Yes, Sir."
" \Vho talks more, he or I ? "
" 1 le does not talk nearly as much as you, Sir."
" Aha ! then you think I am very talkative, do
you? "
" Oh ! no, 1 didn't mean that I beg your
pardon, but the other gentleman is thinking a
great deal, and he is impatiently expecting his com-
panion to arrive."
" He looks very ill," insisted Kwanichi.
" Oh ! you are a doctor ! " exclaimed the girl,
at which, he burst out laughing :
" Xo, no, indeed, I am no doctor ! Has he been
staying here long ? "
" He only 'came yesterday ; from Tokio, he lives
in Nihombashi."
" Then, I suppose he is a merchant."
" I can't tell you."
[504]
Ht 2!)iobnrn.
Dinner being over Kwanichi politely expressed
his thanks.
" It was very poor," replied the maid, adding her
excuses to those of the landlord. She left the
room carrying the little table with her. Kwanichi
flung himself down on the mats, and meditated on
the loneliness of the spot, the isolation of the Inn,
and how the noise of the wind and of the water
made one think of Hoki the Devil. In the next
room but one, he heard his only fellow-guest tap-
ping his pipe on the edge of the brazier. He wish-
ed he had been more sociable, and, pondering over
his queer behaviour, and who and what his ex-
pected companion might be, he fell asleep.
[505]
CHAPTER LXII
<ontpfttttQit.
A FTER breakfast the following morning, Kwan-
** ichi betook himself to the village, in pur-
suance of the business which had brought him to
Shiobara. He carefully inspected the village as to
its prosperity, and particularly inquired into the his-
tory and prospects of the Seikin-ro Inn. His busi-
ness accomplished, he crossed the river, and climbed
halfway up Mount Kijuroku to see Sumaki-no-taki,
the hot \\aterfall. At noon, he returned to the
Inn, very hot and tired, and, on his way to the bath-
house, met the shy guest of the evening before.
The man again tried to avoid him, and turned
away hoping Kwanichi would not see his face.
" An evil conscience," thought the latter,
" what deed has he done, that he cannoi look a
fellow-being in the face." But a glance at the
stranger, for his ruse was not succesful, convinced
Kwanichi that his suspicions were incorrect. The
owner of so ingenuous and open a countenance
would be incapable of a wicked deed. Why were
his eyes so full of misery? why did his mobile lips
[506]
\
ITIje doiuJJamon.
tremble.
A new " ne-san " waited on Kwanichi at lunch,
and her he plied with questions about the strange
guest, She told him, that the man had gone out
a moment ago without eating any lunch, and that
he was very anxious at the non-arrival of his com-
panion, whom he had expected the day before ;
also, that she had heard him say he must send
off a telegram, to find out what was the matter.
" He must be very anxious," said Kwanichi, " we
men have a great many things to worry us ! Who
can that companion of his be. that he worries so about
him rah ! perhaps it is a woman ! Do you know ? "
" I don't know at all," and then, as Kwanichi sat
pondering, his chopsticks in his hand, she added :
" It seems to make you anxious too are you
of a disposition that worries easily ? "
"Yes, lam." smiling.
" If his companion turns out to be a male friend,
or an old person it will be all right, but if it should
be a beautiful young lady, you will feel dreadfully
upset."
" What do you mean by " dreadfully upset ? "
asked Kwanichi, but the girl only laughed, and left
the room without answering the question.
Kwanichi spent the afternoon roaming about the
[ 507 ] *
Tfje OJaift Xcmon.
hills, drinking in the pure mountain air and snif-
fing at the fragrant grasses. Like P. bird, that had
suddenly been set at liberty, he felt and could
have sung for sheer lightness of heart. But twi-
light, that strange disturber of peace, robbed him
of his happiness and with listless heavy steps, he
retraced his way to the Inn.
" This quiet is all very well," he said petulantly,
\vhen he sat down to his evening meal. " but it is
very lonely when one is the only guest here."
" Ah ! that is your own fault, Sir, for coming to
a mountain resort all alone." laughed the ne-san.
" I will bear what you say, in mind and profit by
it on a future occasion ! "
" Why a future occasion ? Why not summon
your companion by telegram to-morrow?' 1
" It" I did, it is only an old maid of fifty-four
that would step out of her kuruma."
" I laha ! how funny you arc ? Hut don't sum-
mon the old maid, it is the young one you want."
" I am sorry to tell you, that in my house there is
no one but that old maid."
" Well, then you have the young one somewhere
else."
" Ah ! yes, there are a great many young
maids ' somewhere else ' "
[508]
" Your story is very interesting, Sir."
" But on further inquiry I find, they all belong to
someone else ! "
"Oh ! fie, that is not true ! You should speak
the truth, Sir."
" Call it what you like, but that is the fact of
the matter : if I had a pretty companion at home,
I should not come out to this lonely spot."
" Yes, indeed," sighed the girl, " it is a lonely
spot."
" Not only lonely, but dreadful is it not ? with
its Hobgoblin's Rock, and its God of Wrath and all
the other queer places. You must think me quite
a fool, to come, all by myself, to such a place as
this."
" Oh ! no Sir, what nonsense " !
" Ah ! but I am fool a great fool you will find
me registered under that title in the hotel book ! "
" Then, I hope I may be registered beside your
name in smaller letters, as " a little fool maid,
Shiobara." Kwanichi laughed.
" You are a fine joker," he said, bowing to her.
: That is because I am a little fool," she rejoin-
ed laughing too. That night Kwanichi was unable
to sleep, he tossed restlessly upon his pillow, and
heard the clock strike ten, then eleven, then
F 509]
Xftt (9o!b Irttton.
twelve. The other guest had not yet returner'
and Kwanichi found his thoughts again and again
occupied with this man of whom he knew nothing,
and whose foolish behaviour, he told himself, was
keeping others from their sleep. lie wondered
where he had gone, and whether he had fallen
down one Oi those precipices into the whirling
waters of the river.
He woke late. The sun was high in the
heavens, and filled his room with golden light. In
the passage a maid was polishing the floor.
" You look very sleepy," said Kwanichi to her.
" And I am sleep}'," replied she, " for I had to
sit up last night for the other gentleman."
" At what hour did he return ? "
" He never came back at all," she answered in
a tone of disgust.
Seeing the doors 01 the stranger's room open,
Kwanichi sauntered down the verandah past them,
pretending to be engrossed in the beautiful
but, in reality, to see if there was anything curious
or suspicious aoout the room. In this he was dis-
appointed, f >r what he saw there was very or-
dinary.
In the alcove hy a red leather bag and a bundle
wrapped in a light blue cloth ; also two or thive
[510]
ttje Companion.
newspapers, while on the clothes rack hung a silk
lined coat, such as men wear in the Spring and
Autumn, and, on the floor, near by, he saw a pair of
dark blue stockings. From the hotel book he had
ascertained that the- man was a tailor of Europe-
an clothes. Kwanichi felt rather ashamed of his
suspicions and his curiosity the latter he was in
no wise able to control, and his thoughts flew im-
patiently towards the man's arrival, and the news
he would bring about his companion's delay.
After the sombreness of night among the moun-
tains, which is so dark and gloomy, that a disposi-
tion not cheerful and sanguine by nature, is often
a prey to those haunting visions of the dark sad
ness despair after a night, during which one fancies
the ghouls and goblins of the mountains and the
eerie inhabitants of tree and river have held high
revels the day is doubly welcome. I low the
sunshine fills one's heart, chasing sad thoughts
from their darkest recesses ; how the light breezes
blow the cobwebs from the brain ; and the colours
of the ever, changing sky tinge the mind with
some of their beauty.
Basking in the sun, whose rays were brilliant as
gold threads in a piece of finest brocade, Kwanichi
enjoyed the fine music, made in the hills by the echo
[511]
Xljt Wolfe Ttman.
of voices, and in the valley of wind and water ; com-
paring it in his mind to the ringing sound of innu-
merable gems. A sound of running footsteps made
him turn his head. The nesan who had talked
with him the evening before, rushed up to him full
of excitement :
" I say, Sir, he Ins arrived, has arrived, come
and sec, Sir, quickly ! "
" Who has come ? "
" Never mind who, but come at once and see."
"What is the matter what is it ?" demanded
Kwanichi.
" At the staircase, Sir "
" Oh ! it is the other guest returned."
The maid had rushed away, so Kwanichi's words
were left ten yards behind her. In spite of his
feigned indifference before tiie maid, he was almost
as excited as she, and hurried along the verandah,
as fast as his dignity would allow him.
Coming up the path, he saw, a man and a
woman. The man he at once recognized as
the nervous guest, although he wore a broad-
brimmed felt hat to hide his face from curious
eyes. The woman or girl, for she looked not
much over twenty wore her hair in the unmarried
women's style, and Kwanichi, at once, noticed a
[512]
Xftf O'ompniiion.
comb of tortoiseshell and gold lacquer, and a large
hairpin set, with a sardonyx surrounded by brilliant
gems of various colours. Hcneath her silk coat
she wore a fine striped kimono of reddish brown
crepe, showing, when she walked, its lining of pale
blue silk a sash of Dutch figured satin was
bound about her waist, and round her neck hung
a gold chain. Though she held one sleeve half
across her face, it might be seen that she was not
powdered, and her lips owed their carmine to no
beni. There was a little, languishing air about her,
like a flower ready to shed its petals ; and she
was possessed of a beauty and a natural charm,
infinitely attractive.
Seeing Kwanichi looking down at them, they
hastened their steps and the girl bent her graceful
head.
" That is never his wife ! " said Kwanichi to
himself.
[513]
ClI.UTKR LXIII.
>TMIE man and woman sat side by side, the one
pressing close to the other, and talked in
whispers. Said she :
" You can have no idea, how troubled I have
been, and it was by no means so easy to accom-
plish, as you imagined. I know, that you have
been full of anxiety, but, your anxiety was noth-
ing compared to mine. My heart is still beating
loudly, and I jump at every sound, fearing they
should yet overtake me."
" Don't think about that now, for the plan has
been a great success, and here we are together."
" Yes, yes," sighed the girl, pressing nearer,
" but, oh ! how I suffered the night before last.
r believed I should be successful, and how
I had sufficient cour.ige, to run away from home, I
don't know. I think, it is owing to the " karma "
binding us."
" That binding karma has reduced us to a sad
s'rait, my dear one. I never imagined, it would
in's but, there is no use in struggling
against a bad karma."
[514]
' Cuorrel.
The girl turned her lace away, to hide the tears
that roJie to her eyes, and said :
" There ! you are calling it " b.i. 1 karim" again,
but why is it a bad karma ? "
" Isn't this the result of a bad karma ? "
" No, no, no," was the vehement answer, "you
cold-hearted man."
" What ! 1 cold-hearted ! "
"Yes. ,nv/!"
" Shizu dear, 1 don't think that it is for you,
to reprove me ."or cold heartedness ! "
" I don't care, for you arc."
" What nonsense ! Tell me, at once, what you
mean."
" I mean, that it is your custom, to say " bad
karma ", as often as you look at my face. I;know
perfectly well, without your driving it home, that
the relationship between u.-> is bad karma. It is
not only you, who have suffered in this affair ; I,
too, have suffered more than words -can say, and
yet, whenever you speak, it is to cry out " bad
karma, bad karma ", as though you were the only
sufferer. Can you not imagine how painful it is
to me, to hear this painful under ordinary cir-
cumstances, but under these, alm< st intolerable !
It makes me think you regret and find me a
[515]
(Roll) Xrinon.
burden." She paused sobbing. J ler. lover per-
\\ :
" It is bad karma, -I can't help that, but, I
don't regret. No, no."
" Alas, ! I don't care, even, if it is bad."
She paused weeping. The man watched her in
silence, feeling it was useless to reason with her.
Presently he put his hand on her sleeve, and said,
gently :
" Shizu, dear Shizu."
" I know you are sorry I came," sobbed the
girl, " I knew you hate it all Where shall I turn
for comfort ? "
"Think, but a moment," was the reply, "and you
will find your words are foolish. Should I have
urged you to come, if there was any likelihood of
my regretting this course ? I am grieved that
you call me cold-hearted, as though, I were a
tradesman, dealing in love, and you, but a part of
my merchandize ! "
" It is not fair to speak to me, like that," cried
the girl, drying her tears.
" You began it," retorted he.
" That was, because you seemed to regret, what
we had done. Look at me, Sayatna san, I am
sorry," The man turned his head, and looked
t'otierS' Cuorrel.
into her eyes, but said nothing.
" What are you thinking of? " asked Shizu.
" I am thinking of the Fate of you and me."
' Don't think of it!" she pleaded, and, when he
curned away, heaving a deep sigh, she added :
" Please, don't sigh like that, it makes me so
unhappy."
" You are twenty-two, are you not ? "
"' Yes, and you are twenty eight. What does
that matter? "
" It was summer do you remember and you
were nineteen."
" Ah ! well do I remember it was this very
month and I wore an ' awase'; the evening was
warm, and the moon was reflected in the pond
we stood on the brink together ; yes, I was
nineteen."
" It seems like yesterday what a short three
years."
" It is like dream."
" A sweet dream ! "
"O'Shizu!"
" Dear Sayama ! "
They held each other by the hand, and O'Shizu
pressed her face against his breast. Thus they
sat for a lorg time. Sayama was the first to break
[517]
Ifje (Soli Xfincn.
the silence :
" All these things, come to pass, according tc
the " karma " of each, but, if that fellow had not
been in the way, they would have come to pass
more easily and more naturally. It is evident that
the " divine lot," which fell to our share, at the
temple fortuneteller's, the other day, would have
been realized, and we should have come together
at the proper time. All my plans for the future
would have worked out well, had not that fellow
stood in our path, *" trying to tear paper the
wrong way." ' Thus much harm has been done,
which cannot be mended mostly to you, and
through my fault."
" If fault there be, it is mutual," corrected Shizu
softly.
" No, if I had been a little wiser, the results
would li Q different. It is a grave fault of
mine, that I am unable to act boldly, and strike
quickly, and through this fault, I have brought you
to this strait, and for your sufferings, too, I am re-
sponsible. In spite of this, you have always been
kind and tender to me and I am very, very grate-
ful to you."
* to try an I for.:e tilings out of their natural lines or issues. Jap-
anese i>aper will tear only out way.
91 UouerS' Cunrrel.
" Mow glul I am to hear you say that! Your
words about "bad karma" always fill me with
alarm, and I began to fear that not only was I a
trouble to you, but, that you had repented your
connection with me, as a girl, with whom it is
better to have nothing to do. \Vi!h those
thoughts in my mind, I spoke unkind words to
you, for which, I beg you to forgive me. It is
" bad karma " as you say, but, forget it, for is it
not also the thing we have desired ? "
" It is well dear ; and better far, than to have
parted with you, like a living tree torn asunder ! "
" Parting ! The thought m ikes me tremble.
There was no word of our parting, till he came, and
stood in our path. How that word ' parting '
was dinned into my ears at home ! What long
lectures did my mother read me ! That we are
here together, is because of that fellow he drove
me to it. May a curse rest upon him ! And
when I am dead, may my avenging soul haunt him,
until he is driven, by horror, to his death."
" What was he like the fool ? " inquired
Say a ma.
" A fool, a big fool ! to think that a woman, who
another man, would give herself to him !
Kach time he came, I received him with looks o/
[519]
Wolb rmon.
displeasure, wliich lie was too stupid to under-
stand. Don't you think, he must have been a
fool, to pursue me, in spite of that, and then, to
stand in the way of my love ? And, I not only
thoroughly hated him, but, I so resented all his
actions, that I bestowed on him, my last present,
before leaving this world, I mean, I broke his
head ! "
" Wha...a...t! How did you do that?"
" Ever since the day you left, he has pursued
me ceaselessly. At last, I got very frightened, and
pretending to be ill, I left my work and went home.
There he followed me, immediately, and I was unable
to get rid of him. Then, I saw, what had happened.
He had seen my mother, and been approved of by
her, and this visit, to my home, was a pre-arranged
thing. Mother was so gushing to him, that I was
perfectly ashamed ; and he took advantage of her
attitude, and her loathsome flattery, to assume the
role of master of the house, commanding us to get
him a bath, and cool the beer, and so on, never
moving from his seat !
" Never shall I forget that evening ! I had
arranged to meet you ; and I did not see hou- I
could get away, for my mother would not let me
out of her sight, that night. She had determined
[520]
Quarrel.
I should accept him, and I had made up my mind
I would not do so. I was thinking of you, all the
time ; and the more I looked at //////, the more I
hated him. I got so desperate at last, that I
determined, (seeing it was too late by then, to
reach you,) to wait, till all were in bed, and then go
out and drown myself. But I remembered Tanko
and her Mother, who relied upon me for this and
that, and I knew my death would bring trouble
upon them. So I hesitated, and found, I could not
do it.
And how long, do you think, he stuck to me?
Till two o'clock in the morning, and even then, we
got rid of him with difficulty I
[521]
. LXIV
St. he ^ifsportiumtc Suitor*
Wf**HEncxt clay, Mo'her lectured me on my
undutiful behaviour, and told me, I was to
hesitate no longer, and, tint I had got to accept
him prom ;>tly. This lecture lasted half the day, and
was chiefly composed of eulogies on herself, for
having brought me. up, oh ! how sick I am of
the phrase : " my kindness and benefaction in
bringing you up ! " and threats and scoldings for
me. In the end, she k'cked me for having
answered undutifully. Well, I didn't care, then
if she kicked and beat me too ! You see,
although I have worked hard and given her all
my earnings, she shows no consideration for me.
She is so greedy for money, she would make me
work day and night, if she could ; thinking only
of herself, and denying me every little pleasure. I
am no 1 : a money making machine, and I am not a
slave whom she can bully as she likes.
" I am willing to work hard for her, if she will
only be ren-'>n ible ; but, when it comes to her
trying to divide PS, and forcing me to sell myself,
to a man I hate, for his money, then, I protest.
[ 522 1
Ihf x Aiui'onittuk Suitor.
And so, she calls me disobedient, and stupid, and
kicks me.
" Do you wonder, I grew hot with anger, and
determined to run away there and then ? But I
had no luck. Ik arrived, and I was forced to go
out with him. He would not go home till very
late, and made me drink cup after cup of sake. As
I was desperate, and he was insistent, I drunk as
many cups as he offered, though I hate wine. I
believe, he hoped to intoxicate me ; but though my
head felt queer, I showed no sign of having drunk
too much.
" At the end, he began to talk in his usual odious
manner, and grew more and more familiar. I was
very frightened, and I spoke to him plainly.
Then he became frantic, and began to hurl
' poisonous phrases ' at me, calling me a dirty
shop-keeper. I retorted boldly ; he threw out
more insults, and, at last, lie said I could never free
myself from him, because he had already " bound
me," to become his wife, with money. I replied :
I am sorry for you ; you must be blind, for what
you have "bound," was not I, but my mother.
Thereupon he swore ut me, and seized me by the
collar to drag me down on the floor. I was so
frightened and desperate, I hardly knew what I
[ 52.} .1
i ): tWalD 2)f?non.
doing, for I seized a dish which stood on the
mats and hit him on the' forehead, between the
eyebrows. The blood gushed out and streamed
all over his face. I thought, if I .stayed there,
there would be more trouble, for some people,
hearing the noise had come in, so I ran out, and
escaped to the house of Tanko's mother. She
had just returned from a journey, so I was lucky
to find her it was long after ten o'clock and she
promised to keep me there the night, for it was
too late to catch a train.
" Then she dressed my hair for me, and I told
her I had to hide myself, and I left full instructions
concerning Tanko. What a good woman that
Mother is ! She was so anxious about me, and
did not speak of herself and tier troubles at all.
She is kindhearted ! That she and my mother
belong to the same species, is difficult to believe.
If I had had a real mother, I should not have
known so much trouble. She would have been
kind to me, and glad to let me marry a man like
yourself.
" She was greatly distressed, when she heard I
was going into the country. She begged for my
address, so that she might come and see me, while
on one of her business trips, and so, with tears we
[524]
Jtje SmVortunate Suitor.
parted ! "
" There must he quite a commotion at your
house, on account of your flight," said Sayama,
reflectively.
" A great deal."
" In that case we must not delay too long."
" The sooner the better. 1 ' sobbed the girl.
" Poor O'Shi/u ! "
1\> >r lovers! they embraced each other, as
though they embraced an endless sorrow.
In the meanwhile, Kwanichi, sat in the next
room, and let his thoughts revolve around the
couple, who so interested him. By a process of
elimination, he tried to arrive at some conclusion, as
to who they were, and what they were at the Inn
together for. The woman was probably at the
bottom of their difficulties. Women usually are
at the bottom of every crime, sin or difficulty, was
his harsh conclusion.
Yes ! That was it : the man had probably
committed some crime on her account, and had
got to suffer for it and she had come up here to
prove to him, that she, really, was not in the least to
blame for it. But stop ; she seemed to share his
sorrow. Was there such a thing as true love after
all ? It is certain, they were not married. There
[525]
was the girl, geisha style oi dress could In: h
stolen her and were both in hiding ?
Then, as usual, his thoughts flew to Miya, and
angrily, he flung himself down on his couch.
Through the thin partition, he could hear the
chink of cups whispers tli-n sobs. At ten
o'clock Kwanichi went to sleep, nor did he wake
again till midnight.
[526]
ClTAiTKR LXV
AT halt" past eleven, when all the house was
quiet, and the lights out, Sayania turned up
the tamp, blew the charcoal to a glow, and said :
"Bring the sake."
O'Shizu silently arranged the dishes on the
table, placed the sake bottle in hot water, and the
pair, then, changed their everyday for the cere-
monial dress. As the girl tied her sash, it
knotted.
" A lucky sign ! " whispered Sayama.
" Ah ! I am glad ; I have been so afraid my
courage might fail me at the last ; now, I know, all
will be well. Listen to the rain ! "
" You were always fond of the rain ; it has come
to bid you farewell."
" Dear, let us exchange rings," begged Shizu, as
they sat down beside the brazier. She slipped off
her diamond ring and handed it to him. He
seized her slender ringers, and placed on one his
heavy signet ring.
" The farewell cup,' 1 he murmured, and Shizu,
with trembling hands, fil'ed the bowls. The so
[527 j
Tr;
familiar action seemed suddenly fraught with a
) significance, and she wondered why it had
never appeared solemn to her before.
" One thing, I do regret, Sayama," she said: "it
is that I die as a singer and geisha, instead of as
your wife even if only your wife for a day. I
want to thank you, for all you have been to me,
could I but find words in which to express all I
feel. I meant to be such a good wife to you, no
work would have been too hard, no command but
I would cheerfully have carried it out. My step-
mother's spite against you made it impossible for
me to do anything at all for you. Well, it Ins all
been like a bubble on the water and now, the
bubble breaks."
" Don't, don't say such sad things," pleaded her
lover, " let us be content, that we may die
together, in joy, you and I." His lips touched her
ear :
" Are you ready, O'Shizu ? "
" I am ready, Sayama.
He drew from his crpe purse a folded paper
and poured the contents a white powder into the
two cups.
Each filled the cup for the other. O'Shizu,
with closed eyes, invoked Buddha :
[528]
hitfrt>rn.'$.
" Namuamidabutsu, Numuamidabutsu,"
She then looked up at her lover ; they lifted
the cups to their lips.
At that instant, the doors were flung violently
apart, the girl screamed, anil dropped her cup,
while a vc'ce like thunder, shouted :
"What is his you are going to do? Speak,
what is it? "
Sayama stared, bewildered, a moment, and then
said slowly :
"Oh! it isjv!"
" Yes, yes, it is I," came the impatient reply,
" and I want to know what this is that you are doing.
I will apologize for my intrusion later on."
There was no answer, and the girl shrank
behind her lover.
" There must be some desperate reason for so
desperate an act," continued the intruder, " tell
me, why you felt you could live no longer? "
No answer.
" Is it because you could not marry her ? "
Sayama nodded.
" And why not ? "
Again no answer.
" If you tell me, I may be able to help you. I
to help you; but, if you are beyond help,
Xfte <0o!D Tfiiton.
I give you my word of honour, that I will not
hinder you in your resolve to die. I will even be
your " kaishaku," and help you carry out the
death-blow. Still, let me first see if I can help
you, for I have Ivid a strong presentiment that I
was sent here for that purpose. I assure you, it is
not idle curiosity that prompts my question."
Scarcely knowing what he said, Sayama stam-
mered :
" Thanks for your kindness."
" Will you tell me your story ? Or wait, I will
first tell you who I am. My name is Hazama
Kwanichi ; I am a sort of lawyer ; I live in Koji-
machi, Tokio. I am sure that it is by Buddha's
providence we have been thrown together ; that
two lives may not be lost to the world, and that
I may learn " he stopped.
"What can I tell you first?" Sayama had
found his voice.
" Why you might begin, with the reason, as to
why you two could not be married."
" Yes ; but then, I must first confess my dis-
grace. I stole a big sum of money from my
master and employer. He is a paper merchant in
Tokio and I was his manager. My innv: is
Sayama Motosuke. " She," pointing to O'Shizu,
[530]
iutfrbenei.
who, at this point, crept forward/and bowed shyly,
" she is " Aiko " of the Kashiwaya geisha house,
and and a gentleman wanted to redeem her
and she was obliged to receive him, and and I
was prosecuted for the money I had embezzled,
I knew, I should be sent to prison, unless I killed
myself first. I was unable to help O'Shizu, and
so, finding ourselves in this hopeless strait, we
delcrmined to die together."
" I see. Then it is all really a question of
money. As to your embezzlement, I suppose it
could be privately settled, if you could find the
amount. And, as to the lady, I suppose we could
just as easily redeem her as any one else. What
is the amount of your debt ? "
" About 3,000 yen."
" And the redemption money ? "
" About eight hundred yen."
" Three thousand, eight hundred yen ? And if
you have this money you need not die ? "
When it comes down to a matter of arithmetic,
it seems our lives are not worth very much, was
Hazama's thought. These two poor creatures are
worth nineteen hundred yen apiece. Me smiled
at them, a trifle sadly.
" Then, it certainly isn't worth your while to
[531]
Wolfi Xeinon.
I think, I can find you the sum of three or
fmr thousand yen, easily enough. Can you tell
me the details of your case ?
What a happy moment for the two despairing
U>\vrs ! They could not even, at that moment,
consider whether this stranger would prove true
or false ; both felt like a willow tree, whose
branches, heavy and bowed down with rain, is
seized by the refreshing wind, and dried, and lightly
swayed in the sunshine again.
LXVI
ii"%7OU have spoken such kind and encouraging
* words to us, whom you never saw before,
that I will boldly tell you the whole of our sad,
and. not at all creditable tale. I am, indeed, heartily
a.shamed to disclose it. Well, sir, as I said before,
1 embezzled three thousand yen of my Master's
money. I had first borrowed a little money to
pay for some of my pleasures and amusements,
and finding I could not replace this sum, I
borrowed money from various people in order to
do so. This was so easy a method that I con-
tinued it, till the amount of money I owed,
swelled, to alarming proportions, and I suddenly
found no one would trust me, or give me credit.
Then I began to speculate; I lost my investments;
I borrowed, or rather stole some more money
from my employer, and speculated more wildly
until every sen was gone.
" These matters became known to my master
and he sitmmoned me to him and told me, that on
account of ;ny jo.st services he would be lenient
and forgive me upon one concil
[533]
2&e 2olD Xemon.
" Now, he had living in his house, hi.s wife's. niece,
whom he had some time ago proposed as a wife
for me. At the time, I put him off, under some
pretext or other, and he now brought the proposal
forward again in plain words, if I married the girl
he would forgive the <:
It was a great kindness on his part, and I was
wrong, in even- way, to refuse it but I could not
bring my mind to accepting his offer. Hereupon,
he was very angry, and declared, that unless I
restored the three thousand yen, he would bring
an action against me. A period for refection he
granted me, and then sent a confidential mes-
senger, to say, that he had no wish to ruin my life
and prospects by branding me with a criminal
record, that I had better do, as he suggested. I
stood out obstinately against him."
" Ah ! there you were wrong."
" Yes, true. On no point was I in the right. I
left a letter to thank my master for his kind
intentions, for, I had made up my mind to kill my-
self. In the meanwhile the redemption question
for O'Shizu came up. Her mother, who is not her
re;;! mother at all, is a very cruel and avaricious
woman, and treats O'Shizu almost inhumanly. She
looks upon her as a machine, out of uhich she
[ 534 ]
Storl).
squeezes as much money as she can. She knew
of my relation to her daughter, and countenanced
it, until she knew I was in pecuniary difficulties.
Then she abused me to my face and behind
my back, and lectured O'Shizu ceaselyssly about
caring for me. About a year ago, a gentleman
appeared, who fell in love with Shizu, and pro-
posed to redeem her. Do you know the Tomi-
yama Dank in Shitaya ; he is the director."
"Eh! what? what do you say?" ejaculated
Hazama.
" Do you know Tomiyama Tadatsugu ? "
" Tomiyama Tadatsugu ! " burst out Hazama in
a voice that betrayed all the hatred he felt at the
sound of that accursed name. He gazed at the
shrinking couple, who wondered what this out-
burst might mean. Recovering himself he asked
in a more natural tone :
" And is this the man who would redeem
O'Shizu san?"
" Yes, it is he."
" And you refused to be bought by him ? "
" I refused." replied the girl.
" But you were his mistress for a year ? "
, never ; never " ; flashed she argrily, " I
was summoned to wait on him at a certain restaurant
- I have loved no man but Sayama, I may be a
.ha," she continued sobbing, "but I hivch.id
no lover but Sayama ! " ima stared at her,
and slowly his eyes filled, and as the first tear
splashed onto his hand, he cried out :
" Oh ! excellent woman ! Then you would
really rather lose your life than be faithless to
your love ? "
To the amazement of the lovers he bowed his
head and wept.
"\Yhen he had recovered he said :
" Yes, that is what a woman should be ; noth-
ing less than utterly faithful and true to one love, no
matter how hard the way. In this crooked and
perfidious world, I have never before met a
woman like you. Have I not reason for tears,
tears of gladness ?
" I am happier to-night, than I have been for
years. But tell me some more about Tomiyama."
" He came very often and used to buy my time
for the whole day, so that I was obliged to be in
constant attendance on him. Then he made his
proposal, which I, at first, politely refused. You
know, he considers himself a great beau, and
thinks himself very clever. He is, also, always
^ about his wealth and how he can do this
[536]
2nt)ama'$ Start).
and that. " I can pay a thousand yen for that."
ho u.^ctl to say ; or : " \Vhat would you do if I
offered you ten thousand yen?" I '.very body
calls him 4< the Flarer," for his vainglorious
speeches. He kept on proposing to me and I
bstinate in refusing, so, at last, he went to my
Mother, and they must have come to some private
agreement, for from that day, she lost no opport-
unity of trying to separate me from Sayama-san.
It was then, for the first time, I felt the hardship
and indignity of a geisha's trade. I awoke from a
pleasant dream and began to hate my life, and
wondered how I could escape from it. At this
point Tomiyama offered to redeem me."
" And what was he going to do after that ? "
" Well, he told me his wife was always ill ;
lying on her bed all day, and childless and good-
for-nothing, and that he would get a separation
from her and make me his wife instead." Hazama
was startled :
"Do you really believe he would?" "Me is
such braggart one cannot depend on him;"
replied the girl, " but it is true that his wife is ill
and that he is not happy at home. Then came
Sayama's difficulties, and my one idfa was to save
him. 1 wanU-d to apply to Tomiyama for the
[537]
Ifjt Wolb
three thousand yen, and if lie consented to give
them, I should have gone to him for a while it
would have been like a terrible nightmare, and
then run away and joined Sayama. But Sayama
said it would be swindling."
" He was right ; it would have been very bad
swindling."
" And embezzling would be the smaller ciime
of the two." added Sayama. "How could I consent
to be saved by such a mean trick. Better far to
die together than to live in the knowledge of
having allowed one's wife, to sell herself."
" And that is your story, the story of a true
and faithful love ! Let me do what 1 can to help
you. The few thousand yen will be easy to
procure. To you, O'Shixu, I say that your love
for Sayama is your greatest treasure, and his
greatest treasure ; guard it with every means in
your power. There is very little love that is real
in this world, I have found; but where it is, follows
happiness beyond conception."
He rose and silently left the room.
Sayama and O'Shizu gazed at each other,
bewilderment giving phi-re in their eyes to hap-
piness. Who was this man who had turned the
poison into a healing balm ? And they were alive
[533]
Storl).
and all was well !
The eight times repeated cock-crow broke the
stillness of the early dawn. The lamp had burned
low, and thiough the chinks and cracks of the
shutters, the light crept in. The dark star, which
had threatened the two lives, was about to burst
into a glorious sun. "Namuamidabutsu," breathed
O'Shizu, and she gazed with tender eyes at an
insect, that lay dead in the cup she would have
drunk, but for that marvellous intervention.
[539]
CHAPTER LXVH
'T'HOLJGH I have never in my life prayed fer-
* vently to Buddha or to God, I, now, pray with
all my heart, that these words may be read by you.
In exchange for so great a favour, I am willing to
surrender my life to the gods, and will never com-
plain that my days on earth were shortened. I
know that you still hate me ; in spite of this, I beg
you to read these lines, written by an unhappy
woman, who died by her own hand, in expiation of
her fault.
When I was allowed to see your face again, all
the words, that I had prepared for the last ten
years, were choked back, and I had only tears, and
unutterable sorrow and yearning to give you. I
would, now, that I had been able to speak and to
make you speak to me. The only moment, I c irry,
of that morning, is your sad, wan face, which is
forever before my eyes.
That you could have altered so much, w^as a
terrible shock to me. Night after night, cruel
dreams of you, besiege me, and I gaze trembling
on your ravaged countenance. Your anger with
I 540 ]
linrtj.
a guilty woman I fully expected, but that our
parting would be so bitterly disappointing-, I did
not divine. I returned h'>me more full of grief
than ever; my head and my heart ached ; indeed,
my heart was all but broken. I could neither eat
nor sleep ; at the least word I choked with sobs ;
the most trivial sights brought tears to my eyes.
For four days I suffered unspeakable torments, and
then, my weak frame succumbed, and till to-day I
have lain sick unto death. I know I cannot live ;
my life is being dragged from me into that dark
corner, where lurks death. Would that I could
die, my head upon your lap, at peace at last. But
I have sinned too much to make me worthy of
such a death ; so, before I faint away, I offer up
this, my one and only prayer : " May these lines
be read by you, even though you hate me, that
you may see my sincere repentance, rny silent
suffering, and my love for you."
I am sorry that you never opened one of *ny
letters, after our meeting in Viscount Taz ami's
garden, for therein I set forlh at length my
thoughts after our parting at sad Atami ; also my
meeting with Arao-san, whom, I found so changed.
I cannot touch upon these subjects now, for it
would be too painful, so I will only write what
[541]
Wolfe Xrmott.
occurs to me at the moment.
I should so like to know a little more of your
ways and means of life. You must have passed
through much hardship and many difficulties, in
thr rough waves of the world. Still, I found you
free from cares, and in no difficulties ; this is a
comfort in all my sorrow. I know you have had
your share of hardship, while I have lived a life of
suffering. Even the crows and sparrows I envy,
even the plants in the garden. Prisoners, who may
not see the light of day, live in hope of their
acquittal ; for me there has been no hope ; I doubt
if even death can release me from the pain, I am
doomed perhaps to bear forever.
As for Tomiyama, I have served him for ten
years, each year feeling my hate increase, until I
have completely alienated him. For three years
now, we have lived apart. Arao blamed me ; he
said my thoughts of you were infidelity to Tomi-
yama. Hut since I am a fool, for only as a fool
could I have been faithless to you, how could I, a
fool, have learned loyalty to him ? And this fool
was ki'hripncd from you by another, and no one
pitied her, when she was Doping upon the
uttermost marge of the farthest sea, out of sight of
the sky of her home ! Can you not pity me ?
[S42]
iqa'S Xiartj.
Is the fault of a fool a more serious offence than
the fault of the wise ?
And now, I must summon all my courage to
speak to you of a matter, that lies heavily upon my
heart. Did the world treat you so devilishly that
you, a man of such noble qualities aivd so gentle a
chracter, should have chosen that one trade out of
so many ? Am I a fool, that I am utterly unable
to understand it ? Though heaven and earth fell,
I would have sworn that you could not have so
soiled your hands.
We have one life, and of it we can make a gem,
or a common brick. Return to your former self
and the jewel will still shine. At present you are
smirching your soul, and the excellent character
you have, with the dust and dirt of a polluted world.
Ah ! had I not left you, this would never have
been. Why, oh ! why did I marry Tomiyama ?
I cannot understand it. The iron hand of Fate
must have pushed me, from a good, into an evil
course. It had been better, if, in your fierce anger,
you had killed me, rather than allowed me life,
and such miser}-. Oh ! why did you not drag me
by force into some mountain fastness, where we
should be happy still ? Why are we not walking
now on the moonlit shore of Atami ?
[543]
21)e fflolb Xrmoii.
If you could forgive pjrhap.s \ve might! Ah!
foolish thought ! but it makes my heart leap with
joy, and my body thrill and tremble.
I have a few treasures with which I will never
part. They are three photographs of you, and to
look at them carries me back ten years and for a
while I am free from pain. The one I like best, I
wonder if you remember it, is a picture, taken in
profile, you look up, and are smiling. It is
growing oh ! so faint, but it does not matter, I
shall not be here to see it much longer. My
Mother has my will ; I have asked here to place
the three pictures, beneath my head, in the
coffin.
A certain woman possessed a piece of
unique brocade, and, as it was of no use to her in
the hottest season, she was stupid enough to lend
it to another person, who refused to return it, no
matter how much the woman begged and prayed
for it. The Autumn passed and the Winter came,
and the woman was reduced to poverty, and
thought with ever-increosing anxiety of her
beautiful brocade. But, by this time, she did
not even know into whose 'hands it had passed.
One day, she chanced to meet a beautiful woman,
and lo ! and behold ! she was dressed in the long-
[544]
lost material. How rich and beautiful it was ! It
hung like a glory upon the other woman's
shoulders, the woman, who did not know, that its
real owner stood so close beside her. And
she, who had so rashly lent it, though she
knew that through her own fault it was lost
to her, could not help hating and envying the
woman, who displayed the beauties of that old
brocade.
During my visit to you I met a lady at your
house, who said, she was a relative of yours and
came everyday to help you in your household. I
trust my coming to you has not caused any
serious trouble.
I have so much more to write, and however
much I may write, it is difficult to end. I have
left some big things unsaid, and written much that
is worthless. It is four o'clock in the morning, I
will stop here and write but the name that is
dear to me Hazama.
To-morrow is your birthday, and I shall make
a little feast for you. Will it bring joy or sorrow?
May to-morrow bring you every happiness.
This is the only hope I can entertain, while yet
I live.
L 545 I
Wolb Xcmoit.
:n a foolish woman, to one from whom
she is parted, and who is so dear, so dear u>
her.
The twenty-fifth day of May.
ClJ.MTI-K LXVIIi
THK roses wore everywhere in bloom, and the
breeze, that danced in Kvvanichi's room that
summer afternoon, was fragrant with their perfume.
.ced, and lifted high the thin, trailing yards
of a manuscript, casting a portion of it over
K\vanichi's shoulder, and then winding it round his
neck. With an angry gesture he pulled down the
encircling parts, and then, tore them into pieces.
It was Miya's Diary, which, with difficulty,
stealthily and secretly, she had had conveyed to
his house ; and now, in spite of his vows never to
open a letter of hers again, he had read it. lie
was asking himself why he had done so. The
letter affected him deeply, whether he would or
no. He did not like to be moved in this way, he
told himself angrily ; everything, that day, had
combined against his calm, and peace of mind :
the fragrance from the garden, and the bight of
the flaming pomegranate blossoms stirred him
strangely. Kwanichi seized the trailing letter,
t'.ur yards long, the length of a woman's
sash, and .stepped into the garden. Here he
[547]
Iljt (Bolt) Xrmon.
tore it up into tiny pieces, and then, overcome
\vitli a sudden lassitude, as after some violent
labour, leaned against an ilex tree.
Presently a young woman appeared on the
verandah, her hair exquisitely arranged in the
" marumuge," the married woman's style. ' She
tucked her long sleeves out of the way, and shook
some water from her snow-white arms. On
perceiving Kwanichi she smiled gaily, and cried :
" Master, the bath is ready ! "
A this pretty young woman was none other
than O'Shizu, the only person who could charm
Kwanichi from his melancholy.
She had constituted herself his devoted slave,
waiting upon him from morning till evening.
Now she was ready to escort him to the bath,
to assist him into and out of his clothes ; arrange
his looking glass, and perform numberless little
services. 1 ler husband too, Sayama, who lived
with Kwanichi must never be neglected, and
on the two, she felt as if New Year's Day
and All Soul's Day had fallen together, as the
siying goes, so busy was she all day.
Just now she was fanning Kwanichi on the
verandah ; he was hot after his bath. After
watching him for a while, she said :
[543]
C'3f)i;u onto
" You look dreadfully tired ; what is the matter
with you ? " " Nothing particular is the matter ;
I do not feel very cheerful." " Take a little
beer!" suggested O'Shi/Ai, "I have put some
down the well, and it is nice and cool."
" Aha ! That is for Sayanu-san I suppose,"
smiled Kwanichi. " No, indeed," burst out the
little wife, really vexed, " Sayama knows his
position better than to help himself to your beer."
" What nonsense ! " replied Kwanichi, " tell him
not to be so punctilious. Are we not all one
family ? Does he not feel at home here ? "
" Yes, oh ! yes ; " cried O'Shizu, the tears
springing to her eyes ; " You have made this a
real home to us. But now, let me get you some
ice and some summer oranges, and here are some
apples too."
With a light step she tripped off, and, in a little
while, returned with a tray, followed by the old
woman servant, bearing ice and beer. These
O'Shi/.u arranged daintily on a small table in
front of Kwanichi, and dismissing the old woman,
poured out a foaming glass of beer, and then
began to peel the apples and oranges.
" You don't expect me to eat and drink alone,
do you ? ""questioned Kwanichi.
[ 549 ]
WolB
ii ! but I could not drink beer with you ! "
laughed the girl; "you had better take tv
three glasses at once, then the beer will be
effectual, and you will feel better, for indeed you
look very ilk"
" I am always ill, no wonder I look ill ; and no
amount of beer will cure me. However I will
take another glass." O'Shizu filled the glass he
held out to her, and clapped her hands to see
him drink it at one mouthful.
" This world is a very mysterious place ! "
K wanichi ; " Here are you, two entire
strangers, quite unknown to me a iew weeks ago,
living under my roof, as though you were part of
my family. Mr. Sayama is such a pleasant com-
panion, and you treat me with such genuine
kindness, that I have come to look upon \ <
relatives. What a strange happening ! I hope
we may continue the friendship all our lives. But
I am a usurer, hated by everybody, one whom
people call ' devil ' and ' dragon ' ; and I feel ho\v
-ome you must find it to live beneath my
reover, it is the nature of a usurer's
trade to make money by draining other people's
hearts' blood, so to sp-. . <m must,
naturally, wonder wh il my object was in paying
L550J
C'2fi;u anb
:al strainers, so l-u-;.y>.; a sum of cK
valued money. Are you not asking your.-
all the time what was the wicked object I had in
view ? "
" Do have another glass of beer, Master ? "
" Well, O'Shi/u, what do you iiink ? "
" We owe our lives tq you, and they belong to
you alone ; you must do as you like with us ;
Sayama says the same."
" Thank you. I earn my money in no delicate
way, I tell you, and I earn it quickly. To help
you, was a whim of mine, as it is now my wish to
see you established again in your class. I have had
no thought of reward, or way by which I might
profit. I want you to feel re-assured on this
point." With a sigh he continued : " Still, ns
you know what my trade is, you will, probably,
listen to my words, as though they were the
devil's own promise. In coming here, you have
place of yourselves under a bad tree, as the proverb
has it."
" Oh ! sir, what have we clone to di.splea.se you
so?" cried O'Shi/u, in real alarm; " never, since
we came here, have you spoken like this ! we arc
careless people, and may have offended through
our carelessness ; please, tell me, so that we may
T55I]
Tfntcn.
please you better in future."
" No, no, it is nothing ; and I am wrong to talk
so foolishly ; " replied Hazama soothingly ;
" You have been both attentive and kind, quite like
real relatives, and I am grateful to you both. As
I told you the other day, I have neither friends
nor relations. There is no one in the world, who
cares whether I take medicine, when I am ill ; or
who cares if I am ill or well. That you should
have tried to cheer me, this afternoon, has done
me a great deal of good ; yours is a kindness by
whose power even a dead tree might bloom again.
I have spoken the truth to you, in token, whereof,
and of our friendship, let us drink a glass
together."
[552]
CHAPTER LXIX
on
WHEN the next botlle of beer was opened,
Kwanichi rcVerted to the topic, that was
uppermost in his mind.
" Xow surely," he said, "a man like myself, a
usurer, who, in order to wrest money from people,
will, be they friend or foe, trample upon their very
faces, must be liable to suspicion, when he acts,
as I acted towards you. A day will come, when
my reasons will be disclosed ; when you will see
what sort of man I really am. When the mystery
is cleared up you will not be surprised, if I assist
ten or twenty people, like yourselves, with all the
money I possess. This sounds to you conceited
and bombastic ; but please, remember, that this is
a confidential talk. You look very pensive, let us
stop talking, if I have made you sad."
" Tell me your story ! " begged O'Shizu ;
" Ever since we came here, Sayama and I have
wondered why you look so gloomy, why you
have so little life in you. We felt anxious."
" Since you camr, you have put fresh life into
my surroundings."
[553]
the (Wo!D Tcmon.
.'hit nuist you have been like befr
st like one who is dead ! "
ittcr with you ? "
" I 1 is a disea.-e, i h
" \Vhat sort of disease ? "
" I can't help feeling gibomy ; tiiat is my
disc.
" \Vhy arc you gloomy ? ''
.ving to my disease."
" What disease is it? "
" It is that I am gloomy."
" That is nonsense ; that is no answer !" replied
O'Shizu, " we should go on with this dialogue
lorever, if you did not answer reasonably."
" I can't be reasonable, I have had too much
beer."
" Please, don't lie down, you will go to sleep if
you do so. I want an answer to my question."
O'Shi/u came round to Kwanichi and pushed him
into a sitting posture.
" I wonder, what Tomiyama Tadatsugu would
L i now," said Kwanichi
'. ly.
" 1 'nl; ! don't mention his name, it makes me
sluu! [iri.
" Makes you shudder ? but why ? It is not /t/'s
L554]
C'2l)i;u'3 IMCIU* on lobe.
fault, that you hate him so."
" It is his fault ; and it is a fault that he is alive
at all !" cried O'Shizu violently. " Why should Jic
have crossed my path? Are there no agreeable
people among our forty million compatriots ? "
" I meet no agreeable people ! "
" And it is a horrid crowd of people, like
Tomiyama, who go about the world doing harm,
so that there is no peace for anyone in this earth !
Why are such horrid, abominable people born ? "
" Dear me ! This is an unlucky day for
Tomiyama ! "
" It is very foolish to speak of him at all. Talk
of something else."
" Very well : which is capable of deeper affec-
tion, a man or a woman ? "
" Surely a woman " began O'Shizu.
"You can't depend upon her?" interrupted
Kwanichi.
" Give me a proof of that?' exclaimed O'Shix-u.
" Ah ! you are an exception! Other women
are not like you. They are shallow-minded, and
so they are changeable. Faithfulness or .ui.f'.iUh-
fulncss do not mean much to them."
is true," agreed the woman," that we are
shallow-minded, but, if a woman really loves, she
^
Ile Wolfc Tfmon.
cannot change, and she cannot be unfaithful. In
real love a woman is as strong and true as a man."
" Yes, there have been cases like that. But,
tell me, when love proves to have been unreal,
whose fault is it, the man's or the woman's ? "
" That is a very difficult question. The fault
may be on both sides. It depends on the
woman's character, and above all on her age ! "
" I ler age ? What do you mean ? "
" We, geisha, usually classify love into " sight-
love," " humour love," and " root love," the three
modes of women's love. The " sight-love," is
formed after very brief acquaintance, in fact,
usually at sight, and is very common among
young girls, who have not yet outgrown the *red
collar. They go by a man's appearance, and there
is neither bitter nor sweet in their love. Then,
from seventeen to twenty-two or three, they begin
to understand something about love, and as they
are no longer attracted by merely a handsome
face, or well-cut clothes, they think they know a
deal about it. The love, they feel, is
" humour love," for, it is pleasant manners, an
amiable temper, a trick of speech, or something
[556]
t>irtnfl on lolt.
of that sort, by which they arc won. They are
still fickle ; for they love tJiis man, and then, tJiat
man for a while ; they do not yet understand the
deepest love. This, indeed, is rarely understood
before the age of twenty-four and twenty-five. It
is then, that woman first tasles real love. Her
mind is, by that time, fairly settled ; she has
learned something of the world, and is able to
judge for herself. Outside appearances no longer
influence her entirely ; she has become serious.
Nine woman out of ten do not change their minds
at this stage of their life. As the song says :
" While they yet wear the red collar and
*' Shimada,' young women know naught of love ;
but if an old maid pours out her love, it will go
hard with the man, she dotes on."
" Very interesting ! Sight love, humour love,
root love ! " Love depends on age ! Yes, yes,
there is something in it."
"You seem very much struck with the idea."
" Yes, indeed, I am greatly struck."
" Then, I am sure, it has reminded you of some
one."
" Ha! ha! ha! why?"
( himada : young \vo: . ,y).
[557J
' You .i^vcc that 1 am right the;. "
" 1 la ! ha ! h.i ! Right ? in what \va }
" I know, I am righ%" said O'Shizu, turning 1
J,:-r wide-open eyes, on Kwanichi's flushed face,
inly the beer had done its work. O'Shizu
rose and went to the door.
" And if you were right, ha ! ha ! ha ! what
then ? " he called, as she passed out. For a long
after, she heard his laugh re-echoing
through the liltle house.
[55S]
CHAPTER LXX
of
I DO not know why my unworthy life has
been prolonged till no\v. Seven days ago, I
hoped, the end had come, but alas ! I am still
here, and each day passes more wearily, more
painfully, than the proceeding one.
For the sake of avoiding suspicion, I have
called in a doctor, but I do not take his medicines,
I throw them all away. I am sure my disease
can be found in no book of medicine, although
the doctor, unhesitatingly called it hysteria. I
confess I was angered to hear it called by so
common a name.
By day, my head is heavy, my heart oppressed,
all my senses seem benumbed, so that it worries
me to see, or speak to anyone. I am, therefore,
confined to my room, expecting daily to draw my
last breath, and feeling the life within me, grow
weaker and weaker, as the weary hours drag
slowly past. At night my condition is quite
different ; a heavy weight is lifted from me,
my mind is clear, and I do not feel the
[559J
ItK (HolD Xemoit.
need of sleep at all. Xro<l I ; !1 you, u;
whom, all through the night, my thoughts are
conccntr.r
These thoughts, though I would think no
others, are yet a torment. I am lik'~- one, in a
flame of fire, seeking for water. If this agony
does not soon end, by my own hand I will end
my life. There is but one thing that has k-'pt me
from this course. I have never been able to
persuade myself, to give up the hope of seeing
you, before I die. Good people, have, since the
days of old, oftimes been vouchsafed the vision of
Buddha before they died ; and may I not hope,
through the power of my love, to see you once,
ere I close my eyes in death ?
My mother-in-law paid me a visit yesterday ;
partly to inquire after my health, partly on
Tadatsugu's account. He is never at home,
nowadays, is always amusing himself elsewhere.
An unpleasant report concerning him crept into
the newspaper, and my mother-in-luv, having
:\ it, came here to inquire into the matter.
Sh gave me very good and k nd advice ; and she
tokl me that Tadatsugu's dissolute ways were
chiefly due to the unhappy condition of his home.
She knew all about our affairs : I don't know
[560]
Thf ma of OTilja'tf Xiorlj.
who had told her. I might have answered her
rudely, so that she despaired of seeing me do
better, and caused me to be divorced ; but that is
more than I dare hope for. I could not bring
such an angry answer across my lips, for my
mother-in-law is a good woman, and has always
overwhelmed me with kindness. The tear.-, came
into my eyes and I acknowledged my fault, and
begged her to forgive me.
If my life were not entirely consecrated to you,
I would have consecrated it to this dear lady.
With her as a mother, and yon as my husband, I
could have slept happily upon the bare earth, and
worn a straw mat for clothing. And this good
woman I have deceived ; I am indeed a miserable
creature and must expect a miserable death.
Strangely enough, death does not seem so ter-
rible a thing, as people would have been believed.
I shall be more happy dead ; oh ! that I could even
this moment die. I feel a little sad, and a little
cowardly, when I think how my parents will
sorrow at my loss, and that I must die without
merit. I vanish and leave no trace, while this
pen, this ring, this light, this hou.se, this summer
night, and even the song of the mosquito remain
unchanged. I shall be remembered scarcely
" J
The (Wo'b Trmon.
longer than the wild grass, that has withered
away upon the hillside."
THE END.
[562]
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