(navigation image)
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Children's Library | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Additional Collections
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us)
Upload
See other formats

Full text of "The gold demon"



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] 



jr. iH ii : . li- 



ft 


.'; ,'; ;; 


,. 


ft 

ffi 


ft * if. if. 

1- 

Lf ^^ 




1! w 


Made in Japan. -( 

n n a 

ft )R ?t fit 


A 

a 



*- 

IT 



n , 



tr IS 'ft H 

* * * # # 



* *S * r * 

nr a * , 

K v W jv 

A' i* E "^ 

ts ill cn -^ 

49, tit J I fttr m - T 



- j- T I 

I 1 i ' 

*I ai " 

5^ S ?? ^ 

Jt it /{ 



K 




It 



a iii 



_ o 


* 
$r 






m 
& 

PI -gE 

4E * 

^ < 

^D 

-t- c, 
A, 



|i 
^ 



in 




Jft I 






* 
-- 
t> 



I- 1t- 



3fe Ht H 

A tt ... A 

^. 



>\ :' 

fw W- .v* 

l r, 

*-. 



fV 



l 









f 

o 



fr 









University of California 

SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 

305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 

Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 



* QL JAN 1 5 2002 







N. Beachwood t: 
oilywood, Califo.v 










.,vi,,,; 






ooo loe- 







r