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WooingOfWistaria14.xml
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WooingOfWistaria14.xml
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<body>
<head>The Wooing of Wistaria</head>
<head type="subtitle">A Love Story of Japan</head>
<opener>
<byline>By <name ref="pers:WE1">Onoto Watanna</name></byline>
</opener>
<div type="content">
<div type="chapter" n="1">
<head>I</head>
<p>When after a life that had never lacked variety the Lady Wistaria came to the
years of <choice>
<sic>tranquillity</sic>
<corr>tranquility</corr>
</choice>, she was wont to say, with the philosophy that follows dangerous times:
<q>No one, man or maid, ever really began to live before the time to which the
first memory reverts</q>.</p>
<p>The first recollection of the Lady Wistaria goes back to an earlier childhood than
that of most mortals. This she ascribed to its terrible and awful import. She
could scarcely do more than move with the uncertain direction of babyhood, when<pb n="2"/>her father, always now in her memory as gaunt, lean, haggard, tall, had
taken her upon a long journey. They had travelled partly by <foreign xml:lang="ja">kurumaya</foreign>, and, towards the end, on foot. That is, her father had
walked, carry8ing her on high in his arms. </p>
<p>When they halted at Yedo they stood amid a vast concourse of people, who remained
silent and respectful against the background of the buildings, while in the centre
of the road marched steadily and pompously a great glittering pageant.</p>
<p>Wisteria had clapped her hands with glee and delight at the mass of color, the
glimmer of shield and breastplate, the prancing, snorting horses. But her father
suddenly had raised an enormous hand and in a moment had stopped her delight.
Wisteria lapsed into an acute silence.</p>
<p>Instantly she was awakened from her painful apathy by her father, who moved her
higher in his arms, and turned her head slowly about with one hand, while with the
other he pointed to a shining personage reclining in a palanquin borne high on the
shoulders of ten stout-legged attendants.</p>
<p><q>My daughter</q>, said her father’s hollow voice in her ear, <q>yonder rides the
man who killed your mother. It is through his crime that you are orphaned and
have no mother to care for you and love you. Look at him well! Hush! Do not
weep or shake with <pb n="3"/>fear, but turn your eyes upon him. Look at him!
Look! Look! Yonder rides your mother’s murderer. Do not forget his face as long
as you live. It is your duty to remember it!</q></p>
<p>Whereupon Wistaria, who, in obedience to her father’s commands, had stared with
wide eyes fixedly at the reclining noble, set up a most extraordinary cry. It was
unlike that of a little child—a wild, wailing shriek, so weird and piteous that
the bystanders started in horror and fear. The noble raised himself lazily on his
elbow, starting across the heads of all, until his eyes rested upon the man with
the child held on high. He fell back with an uneasy shrug of the shoulders. </p>
<p>That was the Lady Wistaria’s oldest memory. There were others, but none so vivid
as this, the first of all. Even later, when she had ceased to be a child, she had
been unable to pierce the mystery of her father’s life, or indeed her own.</p>
<p> One half of her earlier years had been spent in a small, whitewashed cottage,
built on the crest of a little wind-blown hill, far enough removed from the
dwellings in the village below to be entirely cut off from them.</p>
<p>There was a touch of the uncanny and weird about the little village, whose slender
streets, ascending and descending, zigzagging up and down, disappeared among
hillocks <pb n="4"/> and bluffs, though built in reality in the hollow outskirts
of a flourishing city at the foot of a small chain of mountains. Through the land
here was green and beautiful at all times of the year, there came no one from the
great city beyond to this solitary settlement, whose inhabitants bore the impress
of toil, pain, and oppression.</p>
<p>Why her father, who, she had been told, was of noble blood, resided here on this
hilltop, isolated even from the strange people who dwelt in the silent village
below, the Lady Wistaria had never learned. When she had questioned her uncle and
aunt, she had been frigidly informed that curiosity and inquisitiveness were
degrading traits, which a maiden should strive with all her strength to overcome.
Neither did she ask her father, who, taciturn and cold during her brief residence
each year in his house, gave her no opportunity for winning his confidence. His
love Wistaria had never dreamed of possessing. </p>
<p>Nevertheless, whenever she went to her father’s house, a wistful longing and
yearning for him possessed her whole being, and when she departed she would hide
her face in her sleeve, weeping silently, not knowing why she should weep, and
scarcely conscious of the fact that she wept for lack of her father’s love.</p>
<p> In her father’s house there were no servants, <pb n="5"/> no maids, no
attendants—only one weazened, blind, and infinitely old woman, who wept tears from
her sightless eyes upon her arrival, who sang and crooned to her at night in a
sobbing, sighing voice, that was as sweet and pure as a girl’s.</p>
<p>She addressed the old woman as <q>Madame Mume</q>, and preserved always towards
her the reserved and dignified attitude of the mistress to the maid. Yet her
father addressed her as <q>Mother</q>. Wisteria knew the old woman was not his
mother, and she could not believe she was even akin to them; for had she not
always been taught that the family from which she was descended was one of the
oldest and noblest in Japan, while old Madame Mume, though gentle and good, wore
the garb of the poor <foreign xml:lang="ja">heimin</foreign>.</p>
<p> The other half of her childhood had been spent at the home of her uncle. Here
were countless retainers and servants, besides a host of <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, petty vassals, soldiers, peasants, and citizens, who lived
upon his land and owed their direct allegiance to him. </p>
<p> The garden walls surrounding her uncle’s palace were tall and of massive
structure, built of solid stone. Its gates were guarded by handsome, bold <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> clad in thick armor. The steel upon their
breasts and shoulders glistened with a sinister sheen, and beneath their blazing
helmets fierce eyes burned out their unswerving allegiance and <pb n="6"/> loyalty
to their lord and their scorn and defiance of all his enemies. Their coats, all
emblazoned and embroidered with golden dragons, bore two crests, that of the
<foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign> Iyesada, and that of the powerful
<foreign xml:lang="ja">Daimio</foreign> under whom they served, the Lord of
Catzu, uncle of the Lady Wistaria. </p>
<p> Here in her uncle’s palace, Wistaria was watched over, cared for, nurtured, and
refined. Lackeys and servants were about her on all sides, ready to spring to her
service. As a child she had attended a private school, kept by an old <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, where with half a dozen other little girls she
had squatted on small, padded mats before writing-tables but twelve inches high,
and had been taught the intricacies of the language. Two gorgeously liveried
attendants always accompanied her to and from the school-house, carrying her
books, her writing-box, her keeling-cushion, and her little table. </p>
<p>When she grew older she attended the elementary school. After she had left this, a
silent woman of perfect manners and exquisite appearance had come to her uncle’s
palace and attached herself entirely to her. With the coming of this governess,
wisteria ceased to pay her annual visits to her father’s house. He himself came to
the palace instead, once every year. Upon these occasions Wistaria was brought
into his presence. He would put a few stern questions to her <pb n="7"/>
concerning her knowledge of her duty to her parents, to which Wistaria would
respond with expressions of filial submission to his will in all things.</p>
<p>From the governess, Wistaria learned the elegancies of conversation and how to act
on meeting great personages at court. She had even been drilled in certain graces
which should not fail to enchain her lover, when he, the proper one, should be
chosen for her. </p>
<p>Now that she had reached the age of fifteen years, this perfect person had
departed from the palace to teach maidens of younger years. The Lady Wistaria had
arrived at an age when she could be said to have been graduated from her
governess’s hands as competent to pass the rest of her life without further
instruction, save that constant restraint exercised over her by her aunt, the Lady
Evening Glory of Catzu.</p>
</div>
<pb n="8"/>
<div type="chapter" n="2">
<head>II</head>
<p>The education of a Japanese maid is not alone a matter of cultivating the mind; it
is an actual <choice>
<sic>moulding</sic>
<corr>molding</corr>
</choice> of her whole character. The average girl under such discipline succumbs
to the hereditary instinct of implicit obedience to her dictators, and becomes
like unto their conception of what she would be. But the Lady Wistaria was not an
average girl. That is the reason her appearance at the court of the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign> in Yedo created a <choice>
<sic>furore</sic>
<corr>furor</corr>
</choice>. Her fresh, young beauty, her grace and bewitch-<pb n="9"/>ing charm,
were a revelation to the jaded court.</p>
<p>The Lady Evening Glory, who had spent years of thought and preparation for this
event, had warned her repeatedly that upon such an auspicious occasion she was to
tread across the vast hall with downcast eyes and an attitude of graceful
humility. She was on no account to look about her. While all eyes might gaze upon
her, she must see no one. And this is how the Lady Wistaria carried out her
instructions.</p>
<p>When first she began the slow parade towards the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>’s throne, my lady’s head was drooped in the correct pose,
with her eyes modestly downcast. She had proceeded but a few paces, however, when
she was thrilled by the intuition that the spectacle was worthy of any sacrifice
necessary to see it. Her small head began to erect itself. Her eyes, wide open,
with one great sweep viewed the splendor of the picture—the graceful courtiers,
the lovely women in their costumes of the sun. A sharp pinch upon the arm brought
her back to the exacting presence of the Lady Evening Glory beside her. Down
drooped her head again. Gradually the eyelids fluttered. My lady peeped!</p>
<p>There was a low murmur throughout the hall. The waving of fans ceased a space. The
Lady Evening Glory recognizsed the significance of that murmur, and then the <pb n="10"/> hush that ensued. A tremendous fluttering pride arose in her bosom.
Her experience of many years assured her that her niece’s beauty was compelling
its splendid tribute.</p>
<p>Then the Lady Wistaria was presented to the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>. Her prostration was made with inimitable grace. Her beauty
and charm called forth words of praise from the Shogun himself to her uncle.</p>
<p>A young noble, more daring and ardent than all the others, separated himself from
the assembled company, and, crossing to where the Lady Wistaria stood, kissed a
hyacinth and dropped it at the girl’s feet.</p>
<p>The Lady Evening Glory could have shrieked aloud with fury at the action of her
niece, due solely to her innocence. She had no thought whence it had come. A
flower in her path was not something she could tread upon, or even pass by. There
in the centre of the gorgeous hall she stooped tenderly and picked up the pleading
flower.</p>
<p><q>Wild girl!</q> cried her aunt, in a suffocating whisper.</p>
<p> Wisteria started with a little cry of genuine dismay. She had forgotten in one
moment the instruction of years. In her confusion she stopped short in her
progress across the hall. As if impelled by some great subtle force within her,
helplessly the Lady Wistaria raised her eyes. They gazed immediately into the
depths of another pair, afire with an <pb n="11"/> awakening passion. The next
moment the young girl had blushed, red as the tints a masterful sun throws to
coquetting clouds at sunset. </p>
<p>All the journey through, to their temporary palace in Yedo, her aunt abused the
Lady Wistaria. The training of years wasted! Ingratitude was the basest of crimes!
Was this the way she repaid her aunt’s labor and kindness? Well, back to Catzu
they should go. It would be unsafe to remain longer in the capital. Certainly her
niece had much to learn before she could continue in Yedo longer than a day.</p>
<p>The Lady Wistaria sat back in her palanquin, pouting. What, to be taken from the
gay capital one day after arriving—before she had had the chance to meet or even
speak to any one! Oh! it was cruel, and she the most stupid of maidens not to have
comported herself correctly at her presentation! </p>
<p><q>Dearest, my lady aunt</q>, said she, <q>pray you, do let us continue in the
capital for the season</q>.</p>
<p><q>What! And be laughed at by the whole court for our shocking and magnificently
bad manners? People will declare that you have been reared in the fields with
the peasants</q>.</p>
<p><q>Do not, I beg, blame me for an accident, dear, my honorable aunt. It was not,
in truth, my own fault</q>.</p>
<pb n="12"/>
<p><q>Indeed!</q></p>
<p><q>Indeed, I do assure you it was the fault of that honorably silly
flower</q>.</p>
<p><q>TSHH!</q></p>
<p><q>And of that magnificent and augustly handsome courtier who dropped it</q>.</p>
<p><q>Dropped it! My lady niece, I saw the impudent fellow throw it at your
feet!</q></p>
<p><q>What! You saw! Oh, my aunt, then it is you who are jointly guilty with
me!</q></p>
<p><q>What is that?</q> cried the aunt, angrily.</p>
<p><q>Why, my lady, your honorable eyes were improper also</q>.</p>
<p>The Lady Evening Glory turned an offended shoulder.</p>
<p><q>We will start to-morrow for home</q>.</p>
<p><q>Oh, my lady!</q></p>
<p><q>I have spoken</q>.</p>
<p><q>But, dear aunt—</q>
</p>
<p><q>Will you condescend to tell me, girl, who is guarding, thou or I?</q></p>
<p>With the Lady Evening Glory, <q>thou</q> was the end of discussion.</p>
<p>The following day, therefore, the returning cortège set out for Catzu. As fortune
would have it, the Lady Evening Glory travelled in her own train, while her niece
had also her personal retinue about her. Consequently the journey was joyous for
the Lady Wistaria.</p>
<p>When first the cortège began to move through the city a strange little procession
followed in its wake. It was made up of the love-<pb n="13"/> sick suitors, who,
having but once gazed upon the beauty of the Lady Wistaria, wished to serve and
follow her to the end of the world. The following was quite large when the cortège
started. A number dropped off as they reached the city limits, then gradually the
hopeless and disappointed swains with drooping heads turned back to Yedo, there to
dream of the vision of a day, but to dream hopelessly. </p>
<p>Wherever the Lady Wistaria’s personal train travelled there lay scattered upon the
ground, and blowing in the air above and about her, tiny bits of white or
delicately tinted and perfumed paper. They were, alas! The love-letters and poems
penned by the ardent lovers, which the hard-hearted lady, tearing into
infinitesimal bits, had saucily tossed to the winds. It was thus she tossed their
love from her, she would have them believe. </p>
<p>Hopeless, and finally indignant, therefore, backward turned these erstwhile
hopeful suitors. </p>
<p>Sir Genji, the big <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, who had especial
charge of Wistaria’s train, reported to her, with a smile of satisfaction, that
she would suffer no further annoyance, as all save one of her suitors had finally
retreated. </p>
<p><q>Bring closer your honorable head</q>, said the lady to Genji, who strode beside
her <foreign xml:lang="ja">norimono</foreign>, ever and anon ordering and,
scolding the runners.</p>
<p>He brought his ear closer to the girl’s lips.<pb n="14"/> She leaned over and
whispered, while a pale pink flush came, fled, and grew and deepened again in her
face.</p>
<p><q>Tell me</q>, said she, <q>which of the honorably bold and silly cavaliers is it
that remains?</q></p>
<p><q>The one, my lady, who, not content with despatching his love-letters and tokens
to you by underlings, has had the august impertinence to deliver them himself
in person</q>.</p>
<p><q>Yes—ye-es—of course</q>, said Wistaria, blushing deliciously, <q>and that was
honorably right. Fo you not think so, my brave Genji?</q></p>
<p><q>Perhaps</q>, admitted the astute <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>,
frowning at the same time upon a portion of the parade belonging to the Lady
Evening Glory. Wisteria laughed with infinite relish. </p>
<p><q>Well</q>, she said, <q>if my honorable aunt or august uncle were to learn of
his boldness, I fear me they would command that the curtains of my
insignificant <foreign xml:lang="ja">norimon</foreign> be drawn so tightly that
I should surely suffocate</q>.</p>
<p><q>Fear not</q>, said Genji, <q>I shall take immediate measures to prevent such an
occurrence, my lady</q>.</p>
<p>Wisteria pouted, and frowned as heavily as it is possible for bright eyes and rosy
lips to do. She toyed with her fan, opening and closing it several times.</p>
<p><q>You are honorably over-zealous, Sir Genji</q>, she said. </p>
<pb n="15"/>
<p><q>My lady</q>, he replied, <q>know you aught of this stranger?</q></p>
<p><q>He has a pretty grace</q>, said Wistaria, <q>and the bearing of one of noble
rank. Have you not noted, Sir Genji, the beauty and richness of his magnificent
attire?</q></p>
<p><q>I have, my lady. It is of that attire I would speak</q>.</p>
<p><q>Do so at once, then</q>.</p>
<p><q>It is the attire, my lady, of the Mori family</q>.</p>
<p><q>The Mori! What! Our honorably hostile neighbors?</q></p>
<p><q>Exactly</q>, said Genji.</p>
<p><q>Oh, dear!</q> murmured Wistaria, as she sank back in her cushions in troubled
thought. After a moment her little black head again appeared.</p>
<p><q>Gen</q>, she cried, <q>come hither once more</q>.</p>
<p><q>My lady?</q></p>
<p><q>A little closer, if you please. So! Know you not, Sir Gen, that my lady aunt,
and indeed also my own august father, once served this odious Mori
prince?</q></p>
<p><q>I have herd so, my lady</q>.</p>
<p><q>Well, then, truly <emph>all</emph> of the members of this honorable clan cannot
be augustly bad!</q></p>
<p>Sir Genji could not restrain a smile.</p>
<p><q>Indeed, my lady, this Choshui people have many worthy and admirable
qualities</q>.</p>
<p><q>You are a very clever fellow, my dear Sir Gen</q>, said Wistaria, smiling
engagingly <pb n="16"/>now, <q>and I shall bespeak you to my honorable uncle. And
now—now—if you would really wish to serve me, do you pray show some
kindness—some little insignificant courtesy to this unfortunate Mori courtier.
Perhaps he may have some good attributes</q>.</p>
<p><q>Undoubtedly, my lady</q>.</p>
<p><q>And do be careful to allow my lady aunt to know naught concerning him, for she,
having come from this Mori, is actually more sour against them than we, you and
I, Sir Gen, who have not indeed</q>.</p>
<p>Just then my lady heard a familiar tramp to the left of her <foreign xml:lang="ja">norimono</foreign>. There were but few horses in the cortège, and most of them
had gone ahead with her father’s <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>.
Consequently the beat of a horse’s hoofs was plainly to be heard. The Lady
Wistaria wavered between lying back in her carriage and drawing about her
discreetly the curtains, or sitting up and feigning indifference to the horseman. </p>
<p>The rider had fallen into a slow trot behind her <foreign xml:lang="ja">norimono</foreign>, and seemed to be making no effort either to overtake or
ride beside her. For the space of a few minutes the Lady Wistaria, with a bright,
expectant red spot in either cheek, waited for some sign on the part of the rider.
His stubborn continuance in the background at first thrilled, then irritated, and
finally distracted her. My lady put her shining little head out of the vehicle,<pb n="17"/>then, leaning quite far out, she looked backward. Instantly the rider
spurred his horse forward. In a flash his hitherto melancholy face became luminous
with hope. A moment later he was beside the lady’s <foreign xml:lang="ja">norimono</foreign>. Before her officious maid had time to draw the curtains a
love-letter had fallen into my lady’s lap. </p>
<p>It was possibly the fiftieth appeal he had penned to her. Hitherto he had born the
bitter chagrin of seeing the torn bits of paper fall from a little hand that
parted the silken curtains of her gilded norimono and scattered them to the
winds.</p>
<p>The lover rode within sight of his mistress’s palanquin until the first gray
darkness of approaching night crept like an immense cloud over the heaven, chasing
away the enchanting rosy tints that the departing sun had left behind. </p>
<p>Undaunted by the fact that his letter received no response, encouraged rather by
the fact that it had not shared the fate of its predecessors, the lover now set
himself to the task of composing more ardent and flowery epistles. What time was
not occupied in eagerly watching for the smallest glimpse of the little head to
appear was spent in writing to her. He wrote his love-letters and poems with a
shaking hand even while his horse carried him onward. He wrote them by the light
of the moon when the train halted<pb n="18"/>for the night. He wrote them in the
early dawn before the cortège had awakened. And he delivered them at all hours,
whenever he could obtain opportunity.</p>
<p>Though the Lady Wistaria by this time must have acquired a goodly quantity of
useless literature, she took no measure to relieve herself of the burdensome
baggage. Nevertheless the lover began to despair. A few hours before they reached
her uncle’s province but into the very grounds surrounding his palace—into the
palace itself if necessary. He besought her that she would send him one small word
of favor.</p>
<p>He waited in impatient excitement for a response to this last fervid appeal. He
felt sure she must at least deign to express her wish in the matter. But when they
reached the province he saw her carried across the borders without having given
him one sign or token.</p>
<p>In his despair he dismounted, and was divided between returning to Yedo or
continuing his hopeless quest.</p>
<p>As he remained plunged in his gloomy reflections and uncertainty of purpose, an
enormous <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> touched him sharply upon the
arm. In his irritation he was about to<pb n="19"/>resent the fellow’s familiarity,
when he perceived a little roll of rice-paper protruding from his sleeve.
Stealthily the <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> reached out his arm to the
lover. The latter seized the scroll eagerly. </p>
</div>
<pb n="20"/>
<div type="chapter" n="3">
<head>III</head>
<p>The palace, and indeed the whole domain of the Lord Catzu, presented the
appearance of being constantly armed as though for attack, a not uncommon thing in
the latter days of feudalism. The <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign> had been
artful in his disposal of the various lords of the provinces. Families attached
personally to him were stationed in provinces lying between those administered by
families friendly to the Emperor. Thus none of the Emperor’s friends could meet to
revolt against the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>.</p>
<pb n="21"/>
<p>So it happened that while the Lord Catzu was one of the most intimate and
confidential of the advisers of the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>, his
neighbor, the old Prince Mori, <foreign xml:lang="ja">Daimio</foreign> of the
province of Choshui, desired to see the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Mikado</foreign>
once more, the real, instead of the nominal, ruler of Japan.</p>
<p>Consequently the two neighboring clans, while displaying extravagant courtesy
towards each other in public, were in reality unfriendly. Only during that portion
of the year when the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>’s edict ordered a
Yedo residence for all <foreign xml:lang="ja">daimios</foreign>, did the lords of
the provinces meet one another, and that under the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>’s eyes in his Yedo seat of government. In the capital they
simulated suavity and cordiality, but once back at their provincial capitals they
preserved towards each other an attitude of polite defiance which made all
intercourse between them impossible save that of the sword, when their respective
<foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> and vassals, coming in contact with
one another, fought out their lords’ political differences. </p>
<p>Imbittering still more the feeling existing naturally between the Mori and Catzu
clans, there was a personal element in the situation. When Catzu had first been
made lord of the province he had met on a visit to the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>’s Yedo court the Lady Evening Glory, whose brother and
guardian (she being an orphan) was a young <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> in the service of the <pb n="22"/> Prince Mori. Having
fallen a victim to the lady’s beauty and charms, the lord of Catzu was determined
to have her for wife despite the opposition of the Mori Prince. Bold, brave,
fearless, and with a grand contempt for the power of his rival, the Lord Catzu had
carried off the fair lady from his neighbor’s dominions, though it was generally
understood that both the lady herself and her <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> brought lent their assistance to the young lord. The young
<foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, incurring thereby the deep
displeasure and enmity of his Prince, was deprived of his title and estates and
sent into exile upon the first convenient pretext. Strange talks told without
shadow of authority diversified the nature of the crime for which the <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign> had been exiled, but the two lords remained
silent. All who had been concerned in the affair were commanded to the same
silence by the <foreign xml:lang="ja">Shogun</foreign>.</p>
<p>Whatever were the many reasons responsible for the constant attitude of antagonism
of these two clans towards each other, the lords carefully guarded their
lands—more aces—with all the rigor of a fortress prepared for the fiercest
onslaught. Seemingly unapproachable and impenetrable as were the grounds of the
Catzu palace, yet there must have existed at some spot in their watchful walls a
vulnerable point, the heel of the stone Achilles. </p>
<pb n="23"/>
<p>A courtier, by his dress and demeanor plainly a member of the Mori household,
lingered in the private gardens of the palace. The day had long since folded its
wings of light, but an early March moon was enveloping the land in an ethereal
glow. The courtier remained under the friendly shadow of a grove of pine-trees.
His eyes were cast upon the stately Catzu <foreign xml:lang="ja">shiro</foreign>
(palace). It seemed as though the moon-rays had singled out the graceful old
castle and was bathing it tenderly in a halo of soft light.</p>
<p>It was cold, not bitterly so, but sharply chill, as it is at night betwixt the
winter and the spring. But unconscious of the chill, erect and graceful, the
courtier leaned against a tree-trunk, ih sarms crossed over his breast, his eyes
full of moist sentiment, drinking in the beauty of the night scene, which had an
added enchantment for him, a man in love.</p>
<p>All about him, before, behind, and around him, graceful pine-trees raised their
slender, pointed heads up to the silver light. In the distance, like a strange,
white mirage set in the moonlit sky, a snow-capped mountain seemed hung as in
mid-air. The grass beneath his feet was young and intensely soft, with dewy
moisture upon it.</p>
<p> A nightingale on the tip of a tall bamboo sang with such passionate sweetness
that it brought the lover out from the shelter of the shadow. Quivering with
emotion, his<pb n="24"/>soul responding and vibrating to the song of love, he
strode into the light of the moon. Unmindful of the danger of his exposure to
possible observation, he drew forth from the bosom of his <foreign xml:lang="ja">haori</foreign> a little roll of rice-paper. Once more he read it through, and
yet once again. </p>
<p><q>MY LORD,—I write this augustly insignificant letter to you, trusting that your
health is good. Also the health of all your honorable relatives and
ancestors</q>.<note type="editorial" resp="pers:SC1">No end quotation mark in
original</note></p>
<p><q>I have received your most honorably magnificent compliments. Accept my humblest
thanks</q>.<note type="editorial" resp="pers:SC1">No end quotation mark in
original</note></p>
<p><q>Now I design to write unto you, beseeching you to abandon so foolhardy a
purpose as to follow me to my uncle’s home. I would feign warn you that my
uncle’s home. I would feign warn you that my uncle’s guards are fierce and
ofttimes cruel, and to one wearing the garb of a hostile clan, I fear they
would show no mercy. Therefore I beseech you, do you pray abandon your
honorable purpose</q>.<note type="editorial" resp="pers:SC1">No end quotation
mark in original</note></p>
<p><q>Also condescend to permit me to add, that if you must indeed truly attempt so
hazardous an undertaking, I would beg to inform you, that though the grounds
are surrounded by such great walls that I fear me not even a tailless cat might
climb them, and also the gates are guarded by the fiercest <foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, nevertheless, on the south there is a small
river. Mayhap you will hire a boat. Then do you come up this honorable river,
keeping close to the shore, and I do assure you that you will discover a break
in the south wall, which leads into the gardens surrounding the palace</q>.
<note type="editorial" resp="pers:SC1">No end quotation mark in
original</note></p>
<p><q>My lord, my uncle’s guards are not so vigilant <pb n="25"/>before sunrise, as I
myself have ofttimes remarked when I have arisen early of a morning and have
looked from my casement, which is also on the south side of the palace, facing
the river and the outlet thereto</q>.</p>
<div>
<p>The nightingale paused in its song, and then broke out again, its long,
piercing trill filling the night.</p>
<p>The lover returned to the shelter of the pine grove, and, throwing himself upon
the grass, drew his cape close about him. Leaning his head upon his hand, he
gave himself up to his dreams. </p></div>
</div>
<pb n="26"/>
<div type="chapter" n="4">
<head>IV</head>
<p>The Lady Wistaria arose with the sun. without waiting to pin back the long,
silken hair which hung like a cloud of lacquer about her, she stole softly to
the casement of her chamber.</p>
<p>The perfume which stole up to her was sweeter and stronger far than that wafted
from the trees laden with the dews of the early morning. Yet the trees were
bare of blossoms and would not bloom for a month to come. Nevertheless the
ledge of Wistaria’s casement was piled with the living spring blossoms <pb n="27"/> of plum and cherry. She could not but caress them with her hands,
her lips, her eyes, her burning cheeks. With little, trembling hands she
searched among them and found what she sought—a scroll—a narrow, thin,
wonderful scroll, long, yet only a few inches in width, with golden borders
down the sides, and the faint, exquisite tracings of birds and flowers
intertwined among the words that leaped up at her almost as though they had
spoken. It was a poem to her—her grace, beauty, modesty, loveliness, its
theme:</p>
<p>
<q>
<lg type="stanza">
<l>A stately <foreign xml:lang="ja">shiro</foreign> was her home;</l>
<l>In royal halls she shone most fair,</l>
<l>From tiny feet to golden comb,</l>
<l>In her sweet life what is my share?</l>
</lg>
</q>
<note type="editorial" resp="pers:SC1">No end quotation mark in original</note>
</p>
<p>
<q>
<lg type="stanza">
<l>Oh, lovely maid, my moon thou art;</l>
<l>O Fuji san, thou hast my heart!</l>
</lg>
</q>
</p>
<p>There were many other verses, but the Lady Wistaria was too much moved to have
either the vision or the mind to read beyond the first stanza. As became her
rank and the painful tuition of years, she should have pushed very deliberately
the flowers from her sill and torn the scroll into ragged pieces, a
chastisement prescribed by every etiquette for the temerity of a presumptuous
lover. </p>
<p>But the Lady Wistaria did nothing of the sort. She gathered the flowers
tenderly and took them in. Then she came back to the <pb n="28"/> casement,
and, learning far out, gazed with piercing wistfulness out into the little
garden below. For some minutes she waited, the patience of her caste fading
away gradually into that of the impatience of her sex.</p>
<p>A voice beneath her casement! She leaned farther over. A young man’s eager,
glowing face smiled up at her like the rising sun. Again the Lady Wistaria
forgot the training of years. Her trembling voice floated down to him:</p>
<p><q>Pray you do consider the perils in which you place yourself</q>, she
implored.</p>
<p><q>I would pass through all the perils of hell so I might reach you in the
end</q>, he fervidly whispered back. </p>
<p><q>Oh, my lord, look yonder! See, the sun is pushing its way upward above the
mountains and the hill-tops. Do you not know that soon my uncle’s guards
will pass this way?</q>
</p>
<p><q>Under the heavens there is nothing in all this wide world worthy as a gift
for you, dear lady. That you have deigned to accept my honorable flowers and
my abominably constructed poem has given me such strength that I am prepared
to fight a whole army of guards. Ay! And to give up readily, too, my
life</q>.</p>
<p><q>And if you love me</q>, she replied, <q>you will guard with all your
strength that life which you are so recklessly exposing to danger</q>.</p>
<pb n="29"/>
<p><q>Ah, sweetest lady, can it be true then that you condescend to take some
concern in my insignificant existence?</q></p>
<p>She made no response other than to pluck from the climbing wine about her
casement one little half-brown leaf and drop it at his feet.</p>
<p>As he stooped to pick up the leaf a form interposed itself, and a half-grown
man looked him steadily in the face. With a little cry the Lady Wistaria
vanished from her casement.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the intruder, instead of being the aggressor, was defending himself
against the flashing blade of the infuriated lover. Too proud to call for aid,
the youth opposed to the lover found himself outmatched before the skill and
fire of the other. So thinking caution better than valor, he flung his sword at
the feet of the lover. The latter, picking it up by the middle, returned it to
his opponent with a low bow of utmost grace. Then with one hand on his hip and
the othr holding his sword, he addressed the youth.</p>
<p><q>Thy name?</q></p>
<p><q>Catzu Toro. And thine?</q></p>
<p><q>Too insignificant to be spoken before one who bears so great a name as
thine</q>, returned the other, bowing with satirical grace.</p>
<p><q>How is that?</q> cried Catzu Toro— <q>insignificant? What, one in thy garb
and with thy skill of swordsmanship?</q></p>
<pb n="30"/>
<p>The victorious one, shrugging his shoulders imperceptibly, again bowed with a
smile of disclaimer. </p>
<p><q>May I be permitted</q>, he said, <q>to put one question to you, my lord, and
then I am perfectly prepared to give myself up to your father’s guards,
though not, I promise you, without a struggle, which I doubt not your
vassals will long remember</q>. And her blithely bent the blade of his sword
with his two hands.</p>
<p><q>Nay, then</q>, cried the youth, impetuously, <q>You do me injustice. I am
ready to swear protection to one who has acted so bravely as thou. But a
question for a question, is not that fair?</q></p>
<p><q>Assuredly</q>.</p>
<p><q>Very well, then. You serve the Prince of Mori?</q></p>
<p><q>In a very humble capacity</q>, returned the other, guardedly.</p>
<p><q>In what capacity?</q> inquired the young Toro, quickly.</p>
<p><q>Ah, that is two questions, and you have not even deigned to listen to my
one</q>.</p>
<p><q>Speak</q>, said the youth, curbing his curiosity and impatience.</p>
<p><q>The Lady Wistaria—she is your sister?</q></p>
<p><q>My cousin</q>, answered the other, briefly. </p>
<p><q>Will you tell me how it is possible for one unfortunately attached to an
unfriendly clan to pay court to your cousin?</q></p>
<p><q>Two questions, that!</q> exclaimed Toro, <pb n="31"/> promptly, whereat they
both laughed, their friendship growing in proportion to their good-humor.</p>
<p><q>Now</q>, said Toro, <q>I will answer whatever questions you may put to me,
if you in return will only satisfy my mind concerning certain matters which
I am perishing to know</q>.</p>
<p><q>A fair exchange! Good!</q></p>
<p><q>Then</q>, said Toro, unloosening his own cape from his hips, <q>pray throw
this about you, for I fear you will be observed by my father’s samurai. Even
my presence</q>, he added, with a sigh, <q>could hardly protect you, for I,
alas! am under age</q>.</p>
<p><q>Is it possible?</q> said the stranger, with such affected surprise that the
boy flushed with delight.</p>
<p><q>Now, my lord</q>—he hesitated, doubtfully, as though hoping the other would
supply the name—<q>now, my lord, let me explain to you why I truly sympathize
with you in your love for one who must seem impossible</q>.</p>
<p><q>Not impossible</q>, corrected the lover, softly, thinking tenderly of the
Lady Wistaria’s fears for him.</p>
<p><q>I, too</q>, confessed Toro, <q>am in the same plight</q>.</p>
<p><q>What!</q> cried the lover, in dismay; <q>you also adore the lady?</q></p>
<p><q>No</q>, replied Toro, shaking his head with sad melancholy; <q>but I have
conceived the <pb n="32"/>most hopeless attachment for a lady whom I may
never dream of winning</q>.</p>
<p><q>Then I am much mistaken in you. I thought, my lord, that you were not only a
brave man, but a daring knight</q>.</p>
<p><q>But you cannot conceive of the extremity of my case</q>, cried the youth,
piteously, <q>for consider: the lady I love not only belongs to our rival clan,
but is already betrothed</q>.</p>
<p><q>Well, but betrothals have been broken before, my lord, and the days of
romance and adventure are not altogether dead in the land</q>.</p>
<p><q>Ah, yes, that is true, but my rival is not only more powerful, but in every
respect more prepossessing and attractive</q>.</p>
<p><q>Indeed? Well, all this interests me very much. Still, I must say, my lord,
that though I am in the service of the Mori, I have not seen the knight or
courtier who could probe so formidable a rival to you, either in graces or
rank—for are you not the son of the great lord of this province?</q></p>
<p><q>And has not our neighboring lord a son also?</q></p>
<p><q>Wh—what!</q> cried the stranger, darting backward as though the youth had
dealt him a sharp and unexpected blow; then scanning the other’s face closely,
<q>You do not mean—the Prince--?</q></p>
<p><q>Yes—the Prince Keiki. That swaggering, bragging, noisy roustabout, who bears
so many cognomens</q>. </p>
<pb n="33"/>
<p><q>Hum!</q> said the other. <q>They call him the Prince Kei—, truly—</q>
</p>
<p><q>Yes</q>, said the youth, jealously, <q>and also ‘<foreign xml:lang="ja">Hikal – Keiki – no – Kimi</foreign>’ (the Shining Prince Keiki)</q>.</p>
<p><q>You have told me strange news indeed</q>, said the Mori courtier. <q>I did
not know of the betrothal of our Prince. It is very sad, truly</q>.</p>
<p><q>Sad! To be betrothed to the Princess Hollyhock sad?</q></p>
<p><q>For you, my lord</q>, replied the other, with a slight smile.</p>
<p>Toro doubled his hands spasmodically as he frowned with the fierceness of a
<foreign xml:lang="ja">samurai</foreign>, that the other might not observe
the soft moisture of a woman in his eyes.</p>
<p><q>Now let me tell you a secret</q>, said the stranger, touching his arm with
confidential sympathy. <q>Upon my word, the Princess Hollyhock is not betrothed
to the Prince Keiki</q>.</p>
<p><q>My lord, you do not say so! Are you sure?</q></p>
<p><q>As sure as I am that I am here now</q>.</p>
<p><q>Oh, the gods themselves must have sent you hither!</q> cried the youth.
<q>Will you not accept my protection and constant aid in your suit for my
cousin?</q></p>
<p><q>You are more generous than—</q></p>
<p><q>Your Prince, you would say</q>, interrupted Toro, bitterly. </p>
<pb n="34"/>
<p><q>—than the gods, I was about to remark</q>, said the other, gravely. <q>Now
let us form a compact. You on your side with promise me protection and aid
here on your estates, and I will swear to you that you shall win and wed the
Princess Hollyhock</q>.</p>
<p><q>I have a small house yonder, my lord</q>, cried the impulsive youth,
excitedly. <q>It is kept by my old nurse. Come you with me thither. I shall
lend you whatever clothes you may require and you shall remain here as long
as you wish. I will introduce you to my family as a friend—a student from my
own university in Kummommotta. Then you can make suit to Wistaria, and,
having oce wed her, who can separate you, let me ask?</q></p>
<p><q>Not the gods themselves, I swear!</q> cried the other. </p>
<p><q>And your name—what shall I call you?</q></p>
<p>The courtier hesitated for the first time.</p>
<p><q>My name is insignificant. It is a Mori name, and therefore dangerous in your
province</q>.</p>
<p><q>You must assume another, then</q>.</p>
<p><q>Hum! Well, what would you suggest, my lord?</q></p>
<p><q>How will Shioshio Shawtaro do?</q></p>
<p><q>Not at all. It has a trading sound</q>.</p>
<p><q>Ho! ho! How about Taketomi Tokioshi?</q></p>
<p><q>Too imperious</q>.</p>
<p><q>Fujita Gemba?</q></p>
<pb n="35"/>
<p><q>No, no</q>.</p>
<p><q>Then do you choose yourself</q>.</p>
<p><q>My lord, waiving aside all our political differences, do you not think it
would be loyal for me to take the name of one of my own people?</q></p>
<p><q>What, a Mori name? you are very droll, my lord. Why not keep your own name,
then?</q></p>
<p><q>Ah, but it is not the Mori family name I wish to assume, but a
surname</q>.</p>
<p><q>It might be dangerous</q>.</p>
<p><q>Oh, not without the family name and title attached. Suppose I take the name
of Keiki?</q></p>
<p><q>What! The name of my rival!</q></p>
<p><q>My prince, my lord</q>, said the other, bowing deeply. </p>
<p><q>Nevertheless my rival</q>.</p>
<p><q>Not at all; and if he were so, why not grant him this little honor, seeing
you are to worst him in the suit for the lady?</q></p>
<p><q>That is true</q>.</p>
<p><q>The name will sound vastly different with another family name attached.
Suppose I assume the name of Tominaga Keiki? That is somewhat different from
Mori Keiki, is it not?</q></p>
<p><q>Somewhat</q>.</p>
<p><q>Then Keiki is my name</q>.</p>
<p><q>Kei— Very well. Let it be so</q>.</p>
</div>
<pb n="36"/>
<div type="chapter" n="5">
<head>V</head>
<p>The Lord of Catzu received his son’s friend with hospitality dictated by his
fat and good-humored nature, beseeching him to consider the Catzu possessions
as his own. Keiki (as he had called himself), on fire to make use of the
advantage he had now gained at the outset, was met by two unexpected
obstacles.</p>
<p>In the first place, the Lady Wistaria was hedged about by an almost
insurmountable wall of etiquette and form. Though the lover blessed all the
gods for the privilege of being in <pb n="37"/> her presence each day, yet,
impetuous, warm-blooded, and ardent, he could not but chafe at the distance and
the silence which seemed impassable between them. </p>
<p>Wisteria, he thought, might just as well have been a twinkling star in the
heavens above him as to be placed at one end of the guest room, her lips sealed
in maidenly silence, while at the other end, in the place of honor, must sit
he, the august guest, inwardly the burning lover. Between them interposed her
honorable relatives and certain members of her uncle’s household, separating
the lovers with their extravagant politeness and words of gracious compliment
and hospitability. </p>
<p>In the second place, the pilot upon whom he had relied for safe conduct through
the icy forms which kept him from his mistress had deserted him perfidiously.
Toro, the reckless and foolhardy, his imagination fed by the daring and
sang-froid of the Mori clansman, his own heart aflame with as deep a passion as
his friend’s, had borrowed his dress and departed for Choshui, there to risk
all chance of danger with the bravery, but without, alas! the wit, of the Mori
courtier. </p>
<p>To offset these two hardships, the lovers saw a gift sent by the gods in the
indisposition of the Lady Evening Glory. After the long and tedious journey
from the capital, the lady, who was of a delicate constitution, retired to her
apartments with a malady of the <pb n="38"/>head and tooth. In point of fact,
the Lady Evening Glory suffered from neuralgia. The lovers prayed that her
illness might be long and lingering, though Wistaria, having besought her to
keep to her bed as long as possible that relapse might be avoided, tempered her
prayer with a petition to her favorite god that her aunt’s illness might be
unattended with pain.</p>
<p>With the Lady Evening Glory, the vigilant mentor of Wistaria, safely out of the
way, the girl found no cause for despair. This was the reason she returned her
lover’s pleading and ofttimes reproachful glances with smiles, which, but for
the joy of seeing them, he would have thought heartless. The joy of Wistaria’s
smile almost compensated for the pain of her lover’s poignant surmise that her
heart had no pity for the woes of her adorer. </p>
<p>And, indeed, at this time there was little else in the girl’s heart save a
singing joy, a rippling flutter of new emotions and thrills, which she, too
innocent as yet to recognize their full import, cared only to welcome with
delight, to encourage, to foster and enjoy to the uttermost.</p>
<p>Between Wistaria and her uncle there was utmost confidence and love. The young
girl occupied that place in his heart which would have been held by the
daughter denied him by the gods. The mantling flush, the ever-shining eyes, now
bright with joy that would <pb n="39"/> overflow, now moist with the unbidden
tears that spring to the eyes when the heart is disturbed with an emotion more
sweet than expression; these—the change which young love alone can produce in a
maiden—he was quick to perceive. </p>
<p>The Lord Catzu’s own marriage had been most romantic, and if his lady had lived
down frigidly to the world, her husband at least had retained his sentimental
remembrance of the adventurous escapades attending it. </p>
<p>Such were the opportunities of life to the <foreign xml:lang="ja">daimio</foreign> of a province at peace that, to all outward appearances,
Catzu was too indolent, too listlessly, luxuriously lazy and preoccupied with
his own pleasures to observe his niece’s condition of heart. But the Lord
Catzu, with all his placidity, was astute. Beneath his lazy eyelids his own
small eyes missed little that passed before him.</p>
<p>In fact, it was not long before he became aware of the attachment between the
young people. The courtier, he knew, bore an assumed name, for Toro had labored
with awkwardness when he endeavored to invent a lineage for the friend whose
appearance at the Catzu palace without the customary retinue of servants or
retainers had convinced its lord that he had discovered a tinge of that
delightful mystery which but added to the favor of the unknown in the eyes of
the sentimental Lord of Catzu. In addition, it was <pb n="40"/> the mode for
young nobles of the realm to undertake courtship over an assumed name, so that
an air of romance might be lento their love affair. As to the young man’s rank
there could be no question, since his manners and breeding, his grace of person
and charm of speech, were caste characteristic. Looking secretly with high
favor upon the young man, Caztu considered how he might aid the lovers. </p>
<p>Slothful and deliberate in all he undertook, Catzu might provoke impatience,
but his gradual accomplishment of his ends was gratifying. Just as he took his
time in the serious business of life, so was he leisurely in the pursuit of his
pleasures. As a consequence the lovers for a time were kept in an agony of
waiting and suspense.</p>
<p>Keiki, maddened and irritated by the constant presence of the smiling Lord
Catzu, who in his opinion stood between him and his heart’s desire, once more
fell to writing imploring letters and poems to the Lady Wistaria which made up
in epithets of endearment what they lacked in rhetoric. He prayed her to find
some means by which he might be with her alone, if only for a fraction of a
minute. The one word <q>Patience</q>, written upon a little china plate, so
minutely that he could scarcely decipher it, was the reply brought by the Lord
Catzu, with the information that the Lady Wistaria her-<pb n="41"/>self had
painted the plate for their august guest.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Catzu, cognizant of every sigh, every appealing expression, every
significant motion, laid his plans carefully for the impatient suitor’s
happiness. Certainly within the walls of the palace itself there was no hope of
solitude for the lovers. Pretexts for out-door pleasure-parties were never
wanting in the warmer season. Local fêtes, the birth of each new flower, family
events—all these were sufficient invitation in themselves for such convivial
parties as delighted the soul of the lord of Catzu, and could not have failed
in their chance opportunity for dual solitude.</p>
<p>At this time of the year, alas! there was neither snow nor moon nor flowers to
serve a pretext. A series of heavy rainfalls, most distressing and persistent,
was the only fugitive before approaching spring. Yet even the rain-gods have a
limit to their tears, and, after all, the rains preceding the first month of
spring are ofttimes the very means by which the land is cleansed ere it bursts
into beauty and bud.</p>
<p>Not so interminable as it seemed to them was the lovers’ waiting. Three short
days—yet how long!—and then the sun which had struggled for ascendency over the
troubled heavens rose up proudly triumphant. The thunders retreated into
tremulous growls of defeat; the gray-black clouds rolled away <pb n="42"/>before the blinding flashes of the sun-rays, flitting like ghosts before the
dawn. An immense rainbow, spanning the entire heavens, sprang out of the skies,
a signal of the sun-god’s victory. </p>
<p>What mattered it that the land was barren as yet of flowers? The grass was
green and the trees almost bursting in effort of emulation. Catzu, having
satisfied himself that the moisture on the grass was but the dew of spring,
forthwith devised a small party. it consisted of his lady niece and the august
guest of the household, who was graciously entreated to accompany them, and who
accepted with an alacrity almost lacking courtesy. </p>
<p>With but two attendants, the party set out from the palace. Taking a small
boat, they made a swift pilgrimage up the graceful river to a small island
where a picturesque tea-house and gardens, with twenty charming <foreign xml:lang="ja">geishas</foreign>, made a fairyland for lovers. </p>
<p>To receive so early and unheralded a visit from the august lord of the province
threw the <foreign xml:lang="ja">geisha</foreign> into a delighted panic of
excitement. Their attendants were seen rushing hither and thither throughout
the place, hastily making it suitable for the reception of the exalted
guests.</p>
<p>Hastening down to the beach, the chief <foreign xml:lang="ja">geisha</foreign> herself apologized for the
island’s condition. The Lord of Catzu went to meet her. For his guest to be
received without <pb n="43"/>preparation, he explained to Keiki, would be
unfitting. Consequently he begged him to remain on the beach, while he himself
proceeded with the chief <foreign xml:lang="ja">geisha</foreign> to the tea-house to issue instruction. </p>
<p>The stolid and indifferent lackeys who had attended the party returned to the
boat, where they fell into conversation with the oarsmen. </p>
<p>At last the lovers were alone.</p>
<p>For a long moment Keiki and Wistaria looked into each other’s eyes. They were
safe from all observation, for the gardens, and indeed the whole island, was of
that rock-and-pebble-built variety favored by the Japanese. Behind and around
them they were screened by quaint, grotesque rocks of natural form and immense
size, carried from a mountain to this tiny island, placed there in miniature to
simulate nature.</p>
<p>Nevertheless Keiki, the impatient and ardent, now at the crucial moment, had
naught to say. He had confessed his love in his letters; she had admitted
tacitly her own. Still they did not embrace, or even touch each other. Culture
is strong in Japan, where also is the fire of love. So these two but looked
into each other’s faces, all their hearts’ eloquent passion in their eyes.
Wistaria’s eyes did not fall before his tender gaze. Only a rose-red flush
crept softly like a magic glow over the oval of her cheeks, tingeing <pb n="44"/>her little chin while accentuating her brow’s whiteness.</p>
<p>Without a word her lover dropped upon one knee, lifted the long sleeve of her
<foreign xml:lang="ja">kimono</foreign>, and buried his face within its fabric. </p>
<p>Five minutes later, hand in hand, they were standing on the same spot. They
were watching the river, swollen by recent rains, as it burst over the rocks
beyond, bounding down the river-bed, rolling swiftly along, twisting, curving,
and winding about the sinuous form of the island’s shore, holding it in the
grudging love of the water for the land. The water was blue-green in color,
save where the sunbeams reflected its own light in glistening gleams of
quicksilver, ever moving, ever playing, while the shores on either side threw
shadows of their trees and rocks upon it. As it ran busily, merrily along, now
and then lapping the shore and leaping to their very feet, it seemed a living
thing which babbled and laughed with an inward knowledge of their joy, and also
sighed and wailed with a prophetic undercurrent of coming woe.</p>
<p>The touch of their hands close clasped together made them tremble and quiver.
Their eyes met to droop away and meet again in the vivid recognition of their
own innocent happiness. They could not speak, because their hearts had laid
claim to their lips and sealed them in a golden silence. </p>
<pb n="45"/>
<p>Then, after a long interval, Keiki found his voice. If he spoke of the flowing
river at their feet, it was not the river itself that absorbed his mind, but
because in it, as in all things beautiful in life, he now saw reflected the image
of his beloved.</p>
<p><q>The honorable river</q>, he said, <q>flow high at this season, but before the summer
dies it will be but a thin line, very still, very quiet</q>.</p>
<p><q>Yes</q>, said Wistaria, tremulously, <q>but the lotus will spring up in its honorable
waters, and if the river should continue to rise and rush onward like this, I fear
me the water-flowers would perish and the noise of its ceaseless flow would drown
the voices of the birds, which make the summer speak</q>.</p>
<p><q>That is true</q>, said Keiki, <q>but when the summer passes then the flowers must
still die, and we may no longer hear the singing of the birds. Then still the
river will be silent and motionless—perhaps dead</q>.</p>
<p>Keiki signed with the moodiness of love attained. A gentle depression stole from
him to the Lady Wistaria.</p>
<p><q>Alas! my lord</q>, she murmured; <q>it is so with all things in life that are
beautiful. They vanish and die like the flowers of summer</q>.</p>
<p><q>Then</q>, said Keiki, <q>swear by the god of the sea, by whose waters we now stand,
that our love shall never die, and that for the time of this life, and the next,
and as <pb n="46"/>many after as may come, you will be my flower wife, and take me for
your husband</q>.</p>
<p><q>By all the eight million gods of heaven, and by the god of the sea, I swear</q>,
said Wistaria. </p>
</div>
<pb n="47"/>
<div type="chapter" n="6">
<head>VI</head>
<p>The air was balmy, the sky of a cerulean blue, the Dewdrop gardens were sweet
with a strange charm and mystery all their own. Pebbles, sand, and stone, were
cunningly displayed and mingled to create the illusion of an approach to a
giant sea. In themselves the wonderous rocks were so fashioned as to form a
landscape wherein neither foliage, trees, nor flowers were necessary. Small,
grotesque bridges, made of rare rocks in their natural form, undefeated by
hammer or chisel, spanned the miniature <pb n="48"/>
rivers, which, snakelike, crept and threaded their way in and out of the rock
island. Suddenly appearing caverns yawed wide agape, only to show on closer
approach that they were naught but gigantic rocks, hollow within. </p>
<p>Though the gardens were bare of foliage, yet the spot shone out like a jewel
set in a magic river. Here was the perfection of art, that art so complete that
without the very things of nature which seem necessary to a landscape, the
cunning hand of man had fashioned the like out of the hard and jagged substance
of stone and rock. And in this the hand of the Creator had aided, since the
very rocks which formed this precious and priceless island, the pride and
wealth of the lord of Catzu, had been untouched by the tool of the artisan,
for, having been gathered together from all parts of the country, they were
planted in their natural form upon this island jewel.</p>
<p>Across the narrow river the shores were green, while beyond the silent surface
of the moats the granite walls of the Catzu palace rose to a height, white and
stately, tipped with golden towers and peaks that were taller than the cedars
and the pines centuries old. </p>
<p>A stir of expectation thrilled the Dewdrop tea-house, and then a clear, shrill
voice cried aloud:</p>
<p><q>The Lady Wistaria passes into the honorable hall</q>.</p>
<pb n="49"/>
<p>The twenty <foreign xml:lang="ja">geishas</foreign> prostrated themselves at my lady’s feet. Gracefully she
returned their courtesy, begging that they would serve her and her august
guest, the Lord Tominaga Keiki, with refreshment.</p>
<p>The <foreign xml:lang="ja">geishas</foreign>, at this period in history occupying a high and dignified position
in society, expressed their wish to serve their lady for the rest of their
lives.</p>
<p>They brough the lovers fresh fruit, shining and luscious, and drink from a well
of sweetest and purest water. Humbly apologizing for the honorable meanness of
the refreshment, the chief <foreign xml:lang="ja">geisha</foreign> prayed that they would condescend to pardon
her, for not even in her dreams had she imagined that the gods would favor her
so soon in the season with such august guests.</p>
<p>But the lovers only smiled benevolently upon her, and insisted that never, no,
never in all the honorable days of their lives, had they been blessed with more
gracious refreshment. Whereat the <foreign xml:lang="ja">geisha</foreign>, with many low, grateful obeisances,
retired. </p>
<p>The lovers signed as in one breath.</p>
<p><q>Once more alone</q>, said Keiki, blissfully reaching over the little table
and laying his own hands softly upon those of the girl. <q>How gracious the
gods!</q></p>
<p><q>Of a truth</q>, said Wistaria, smiling up at him; <q>we must repay the
gods</q>.</p>
<p><q>We must, indeed. What shall we do? <pb n="50"/> Build a thousand temples
to—well, which one?</q></p>
<p><q>I consider!</q> quoth Wistaria, thinking very seriously. Then, suddenly,
with a little, silvery laugh: <q>I have it. Let us deify my own august uncle.
Is he not the god who befriends us?</q></p>
<p><q>Not consciously</q>, said Keiki, <q>for I doubt not my Lord of Catzu would
fume and curse me roundly did he know I took advantage of his honorable
disposition to sleep</q>.</p>
<p>Wistaria laughed softly.</p>
<p><q>Now I am quite ready to swear</q>, she said, <q>that of late my honorable
uncle is perfectly conscious when he sleeps</q>.</p>
<p><q>Pray tell me</q>, cried Keiki, starting.</p>
<p>The girl nodded merrily.</p>
<p><q>Will you tell me, then, how it is possible for one to fall asleep in a
small, rocking boat? Could you or I do so, my Lord Keiki?</q></p>
<p><q>Oh, not you or I; but your honorable uncle is divinely lethargic</q>.</p>
<p><q>Then, my lord, he is but lately afflicted</q>.</p>
<p><q>But I do not understand, then—you cannot mean—Oh no, it could hardly be
so!</q></p>
<p><q>And why not, my lord? To me it seems that even the gods must needs favor
you, much more than an honorable mortal</q>.</p>
<p><q>Your uncle favor me! It cannot be possible</q>.</p>
<p><q>It is possible. It is so</q>.</p>
<pb n="51"/>
<p><q>But he has been acquainted with me only for the past six days</q>.</p>
<p><q>And does it take a year for favor to grow, when love—</q>
</p>
<p><q>Awakens in a day—an hour</q>, finished Keiki, rapturously. <q>No, I can see
how it is possible, but I could not at once realize my good-fortune.
Moreover—</q></p>
<p>Suddenly he broke off as a melancholy shadow crept across his brow, troubling
his eyes. In a sudden depression he bent forward.</p>
<p><q>My lord is trouble? Speak to me quickly</q>.</p>
<p><q>Troubled? Yes, that is so</q>, Keiki sighed.</p>
<p><q>Then do, I pray you, speak your trouble to me</q>, said Wistaria.