Chiushingura (1880)/Book 3

uspicious events were the completion of the Palace at Kamakura, and the arrival of Nahoyoshi Kô, the Governor-General of the eight eastern provinces; brilliant was the throng of courtiers of high and low degree, in splendid attire, that crowded the spacious apartments on the morrow of the day of which the events have been already narrated. It was as if the moon and the stars^[1] had combined to shed their radiance on the hills around Kamakura. About the Rear-gate were waiting the nô performers, who had been summoned to display their talents before the assembled court, while round the Great Gate were gathered the officials charged with the reception and entertainment of the guests.

As the seventh hour struck the assembled nobility and gentry presented a gorgeous appearance. Now loud cries of “Hai, hai, ​hai!” from the warders of the western gate, gave notice of a fresh arrival. Immediately afterwards, the glimmer of numerous lanterns shone in the dusky dawn, and the lord Moronaho, Count of Musashi, a proud and haughty nobleman, appeared, dressed in a court suit of blue silk, ornamented with a large mon^[2] and wearing a tall yeboshi^[3] cap on his head. His retainer, Sagisaka Bannai, causing some of the attendants to herald his master's approach, and ordering the remainder to betake themselves to the proper quarters, squared his elbows in a superb manner, for all the world just like a stork,^[4] and, puffed up with his lord's dignity at secondhand, thus addressed the great man:—

“Your lordship’s arrangements are excellent, most excellent. As to Yenya and Momonoi, however, strut about as they may with awkward pride, they are as clumsy in their attempts to carry out their duties as puppy dogs struggling to keep their footing upon a slant roof. It makes one laugh to watch them. As to that fellow Yenya,—by the by, his wife, I hear, has not yet answered your lordship,—your lordship must not let yourself be disturbed by that. Pretty though she is, she is beneath your lordship’s notice; and as to her husband, it is wrong to mention him in the same breath with your lordship, now made Shiuttô by His Highness.”

“Yai! don’t speak so loud, Kawoyo is a married woman. Pretending to be a teacher of poetry, I have again and again expressed my passion for her in verse, but hitherto without success. She has lately, however, got a new maid, I hear, named Karu; I must see if I cannot bribe the wench to assist me. I don’t abandon all hope; for if she really disliked me she would have spoken to her husband, which she has not done.”

While Moronaho and his follower thus conversed together familiarly ​under the portal of the four-pillared gateway, one of the Samurahi on guard came up hurriedly to them, exclaiming:

“Just now, as I was sitting on the bench by the gate, Kakogawa Honzô, the retainer of Wakasanosuke, rode up hastily and asked for an immediate audience of the lord Moronaho; saying he had been to your lordship’s house, but had been told that you had gone to the palace early. He seemed most anxious to have an interview with your lordship; and was accompanied by a number of followers on horseback. What answer shall I make him?”

“My lord Moronaho is on His Highness’ service,” cried Bannai indignantly; “such a request for an immediate interview is monstrous. I will see the man myself.”

“Stay, stay,” broke in Moronaho, detaining his follower. “I understand it perfectly. Wakasanosuke does not come himself to wreak his revenge upon me for what took place the day before yesterday at Tsuruga-oka, but sends this fellow Honzô instead, to flatten my nose for me. Ha, ha, ha! Don’t stir, Bannai, it is some minutes yet short of the seventh hour. Bring the fellow here, I will make short work with him.”

“If that is your lordship’s will,” answered Bannai. “But look out, fellows,” turning to the attendants. Moronaho and his obsequious follower then wetted with spittle the pin that held the blades of their swords in the handles; and rubbing the muscles of their arms, waited for Honzô, who presently appeared advancing slowly as he arranged carefully the folds of his dress. He was followed by several retainers bearing presents, which he caused to be set down before Moronaho; while he himself fell prostrate, at a respectful distance, from that haughty nobleman.

“Hah, if it please your lordship—His Highness the Shôgun Takauji lately honoured my master, Wakasanosuke, by entrusting him with the discharge of the duties of an office of great dignity; a good fortune far beyond my master’s desserts, who is young and inexperienced in the duties of his post. Under these circumstances, I venture in my perplexity to request your lordship to act ​as my master’s instructor, and to advise him in the execution of his duty, so that he may perform it satisfactorily and without failing in any point. We shall all, from our master and mistress down to your servant, be overjoyed should this request be granted, and I dare to ask your lordship’s acceptance of the presents, paltry though they be, which are enumerated in the list I hold in my hand, as a slight mark of respectful gratitude, a condescension we should treasure the memory of to our dying day.” With these words the speaker handed a paper to Bannai; who wonderstruck at the whole proceeding, received it without uttering a word, and unfolding it with circumspection,^[5] read out, after a short pause, as follows:—

“Memorandum, 30 picture rolls and 30 Ôgon. These are presented by the wife of Wakasanosuke.”

“Item, 20 Ôgon. These are presented by the chief councillor, Kakogaha Honzô.”

“Item, 10 Ôgon. These are presented by the retainers of Wakasanosuke.”

As Bannai finished reading the list, Moronaho opened his mouth wide with astonishment, unable to utter a word, and staring in a dazed way before him, while he and his follower looked at each other with the foolish expression of men who had just been told that the great mid-year feast had been put off, and were at their wits’ end what to do.^[6]

​Moronaho at last found utterance:—“Really, we are ashamed to have put you to this trouble. Bannai (in a whisper), what does all this mean?”

“Well, it seems to me that to decline these gifts would be too harsh a reception of this gentleman’s polite intentions. As to assisting his master, too, in the discharge of his duties, doubtless under present circumstances, Wakasanosuke Sama^[7] would be put to great distress by a refusal.”

“Iya!” said Moronaho, addressing Honzô; “I am not capable of instructing your master, who is a clever man enough: he wants no assistance from me, I am sure. Ho there, Bannai, see that these presents are put away in a secure place. But (turning to Honzô) I had forgotten to offer you tea after your journey. Pray pardon my rudeness.”

Honzô, who, in the space of a turn of the hand, had divined^[8] the ​importance of the favourable acceptance of his gifts, prostrated himself more respectfully than ever.

“It is already the seventh hour (4 A.M.), and I must ask leave to retire. Today the inauguration festivities take place; and I venture once more to entreat you to assist my master with your advice.”

With these words Honzô rose to his feet and prepared to depart, when Moronaho detained him by the sleeve.

“Nay, nay; would you not like to be present at to-day’s festivities?”

“Your servant is but an inferior follower,^[9] and dares not venture into His Excellency’s presence.”

“Oh, for that matter have no fear, have no fear. No one will dare to say a word to you in my company. Besides, your master, Wakasanosuke, has some sort of a post at Court. You may look on safely, quite safely.”

Thus urged, Honzô complied.

“In that case I shall be glad to be allowed to accompany your lordship. I am at your lordship’s orders.”

“Honzô followed Moronaho, congratulating himself upon having purchased his master’s life by plastering the latter’s face with money and gifts, and overjoyed at the precision of his mental arithmetic, which had brought out a result as accurate as if the calculations had been worked out upon the soroban,^[10] without one slip of peg or ball. So the Councillor of Wakasanosuke, crafty, white-haired old rat, kept straight on in the path of fidelity, loyalty and devotion, and passed with Moronaho through the Great Gate.

Almost immediately afterwards Yenya came up in a norimon. His retainers remained behind, while Hayano Kampei, his hereditary vassal, caused the norimon in which his master was seated to be set down, and rustling in his yellow, figured, wide-pocketed, hemp-cloth trousers, made for the Great Gate, exclaiming in a loud voice, “I have to announce the arrival of Yenya Hanguwan Takasada.”

​“Wakasanosuke Sama,” said a gateward, coming forward, “has just gone in, as well as Moronaho Sama. Both asked after your master. Be pleased to enter at once.”

Yenya, alighting from his norimon, exclaimed,

“How, Kampei, am I the last to arrive? How unfortunate that I should be so late!” and hastened through the gate as he spoke, followed by Kampei.

Meanwhile the sound of singing was heard from the interior of the palace, where the festivities had already commenced; and the words of the old song,

were borne towards the Great Gate, wafted on the breeze which lightly rustled amid the branches of a willow tree that grew hard by. More graceful than the willow itself, a maiden, over whose head some eighteen^[11] or nineteen springs^[12] had passed, with eyebrows slender as the young shoots of a pine tree, who had been brought up in a strict household, and was no less modest than beautiful, came up to the gate, accompanied by a number of servants carrying lanterns that bore the device of the house of Yenya.

“Ho, there! men,” cried the young girl, “dawn is breaking, and as you cannot enter within the gate, you may retire…. Kampei, Kampei,” she continued, looking round after the servants who had accompanied her had withdrawn, “where can you be? I have a message for you; pray don’t delay.”

While she was still peering about, Kampei, coming forward in the half-gloom, caught sight of her.

​“What, O Kara, you here?”

“Oh! I am so glad, I wanted so much to see you.”

“But what does this mean? While it is yet dark, without a servant—all by yourself?”

“Nay, some servants came with me, but I have just dismissed them, and so am left alone. But I have a message for you from my mistress.” And presenting a letter box^[13] to Kampei, the girl continued: “She said I was to tell you to hand this to your master, and to ask him to be good enough to give it to Moronaho as my lady’s answer, with her excuses and compliments. At first, fearing there might be some mistake in the middle of all this feasting, my mistress told me to put off giving you the message for the night. But I wanted to see you, and said, had not the letter better be given at once? and so I was allowed to come, and I have run here so quickly that I am almost dead for want of breath,”—panting as she spoke.

“Good! my master shall hand the letter-case to Moronaho. I will go and deliver it; wait for me.”

As he uttered the last words, a voice cried loudly from within, “Kampei, Kampei, your master, Hanguwan, is calling for you. Kampei, Kampei.”

“Hai, hai, I come. Yeh! have a little patience.”

And quitting^[14] the girl, the youth hastened towards the palace. He had hardly gone when Bannia Sagisaka came up with a stealthy gait, like a heron trampling upon lampreys in a rice swamp.

“Hah, O Kara,” he cried, “how love sharpens one’s wits. Just as the youngster was babbling in your ear, to shout out ‘Kampei, Kampei, your master is calling for you!’—a capital idea, was it not? My lord Moronaho has a favour to ask of you, pray accompany me. You will let me have just one….

​And the fellow, as he spoke, endeavoured to embrace her.

“Let me go,” exclaimed the frightened girl; “how dare you use me thus rudely—within the precincts of the palace, too. Away, villain,” escaping from his grasp, “away ruffian.”

“Don’t be so hard,” replied Bannai. “Come it is still dark enough to prevent any one seeing us—just for a moment.”

And seizing her hand, he was on the point of dragging her away, when loud cries of “Bannai, Bannai, the lord Moronaho is calling for you. Bannai, Bannai,” interrupted him, and two men came forward through the gloom, looking anxiously around. They were not long in catching sight of Bannai, with whom Karu was still struggling, and exclaimed, angrily: “What are you about, Bannai? the lord Moronaho has been asking for you some time. What! ill-treating a woman, within the precincts of the court, too? Shame on you, you ill-bred villain!”

“Yeh! what are you fellows saying?” muttered the wretch; and quitting the spot, the crestfallen^[15] scoundrel made his way hurriedly towards the palace.

Kampei appeared immediately afterwards: “Hah, O Karu, did you understand my device? That Bannai is well tricked now. I knew that if I were to shout out that his lord wanted him, that he would cry ‘stale trick;’ and to avoid such a result I bribed those two fellows with a little saké to shout out instead of me. He will own the trick is not a stale one for this once, I think; ha, ha, ha! And now that this Bannai’s affair is settled, will you not stay and let me talk with you for a little while?” And the youth took her hand as he spoke.

“No, no,” said the girl; “you take my breath away. Why, what have you got to say to me, I wonder; cannot you wait?”

“Wait!” replied the youth; “why, it will be daylight in a few moments. Come, you must not refuse me.”

After some further show of reluctance, the girl yielded to her lover’s entreaties, exclaiming, however, half repentantly,

​“But, suppose some one should pass by here?” As she spoke, a verse of the old poem, “Takasago,” was again borne by upon the breeze— {{ci|“ ’Neath the pine tree will we sit.”

“Hark!” exclaimed Kampei, “are not the words apt? let us, too, sit down here.” And seizing the girl’s hand in his, he led her gently away.

Meanwhile the guests were being entertained with various musical and recitative performances, in which the praises of Nahoyoshi, together with felicitations on the prosperity of the Empire, were sung to the sound of drums and kettledrums, while his Highness’ continued well-being was the desire of every heart.

Momonoi, who had for some time been on the watch for Moronaho, seeing that the latter did not arrive, rambled about the palace in search of him. The long trowsers of his court dress were well girded up; his ears were open to every sound; his sword-blade was loose in its sheath; while he held his breath, bent upon cutting down his enemy the moment he appeared.

Moronaho, ignorant of Momonoi’s presence, approached the spot where the latter was standing; and while yet some distance from him, recognised the wrathful noble.

“Ho, there! Sir Wakasanosuke,^[16] cried the lord of Musashi, “you are early at your post; nothing, to be sure, can exceed your attention to your duties. I have a favour to beg of you, but hardly dare put my request into words.” As he spoke, the wily courtier took both his swords out of his girdle and threw them on the ground at Wakasanosuke’s feet. “To tell the whole truth,” he continued, “I was most rude to you the other day at Tsurugaoka; and, doubtless, you were very angry, as indeed you had good right to be. I cannot understand how I came to address such rough words to you. I hardly know what they were; but I shall regret my ill-breeding all my life. See, I, a wearer of two swords, am your suppliant. You are a man of the world and will understand me. Were you an

​ignorant fellow, I should doubtless have to dread being cut down by you. I tried to follow you, clasping my hands and begging your forgiveness. Ah, I am an old man, of little use, now. You must show some favour to my years. See, I, a Samurahi, have cast my swords at your feet, and am a suppliant before you; it cannot be that you will not listen to me. I know that I have been wrong: wrong in every way and repeatedly; but I and my follower, Bannai, entreat you to let your anger cease.”

Wakasanosuke, as he listened to this bribe-bought flattery, thought he was dreaming. His threatening arm hung irresolute;^[17] now was the moment to draw weapon, but he could not unsheathe his freshly whetted sword, and found himself obliged to hold it in the reverse attitude to that of fighting. Honzô watched the scene with anxiety from behind a neighbouring bush, without so much as winking, so intense was his suspense, while his master let his head fall upon his breast in dumb wonder.

“Ho! Bannai,” added Moronaho, “that fellow Yenya! what means his delay? This gentleman,” turning to Momonoi, “gives a different attention to his duties. As to Yenya he is nothing less than an ill-bred clown, not to have shown his face yet. Like master, like man; he has clearly no councillor wise enough to urge him to perform his duty with propriety. Come, Sir,” turning again to Wakasanosuke, “we will go to his Excellency. Pray forget my wrongheadedness, and do me the honour to accompany me.”

“I think I must ask your lordship to excuse me, I am not very well; pray do not wait for me.”

“I am sorry to hear you are not well, pray what is the matter? Bannai, rub this gentleman’s back, and send for some cordial.”

“Nay, there is no need I should give such trouble.”

“But at all events you will do well to rest awhile. I will look to all arrangements being properly carried out. Bannai, conduct this gentleman to an apartment.”

​Wakasanosuke felt as much embarrassed by this excessive attention as if he had been suddenly invited to enter the Mikado’s car. However, he accompanied Bannai, to the delight of Honzô, who thanking earnestly heaven and earth for the success that had attended his scheme, contentedly withdrew.

Immediately afterwards Yenya appeared, making his way towards the palace. Moronaho, who was standing under the verandah, saw him passing by and called out angrily, “You are late, you are late! what is the meaning of this carelessness? You were to have been here at the seventh hour (about 4 A.M.) precisely. Did you not receive my message to that effect?”

“It is true, my lord,” replied Yenya, “that I am later than I ought to be. I must ask you to excuse me; but I am still in time, I think.” So saying he took a letter-box from his sleeve pocket, and handed it to Moronaho.

“One of my servants,” he added, “came to me with this just now, asking me to give it into your hands. It is from my wife, Kawoyo.”

“Is it so?” said the lord of Musashi, taking the box. “Ha! I understand; your wife knows that I am fond of verse-making, and has sent me some lines of her own for correction.”

With these words the Shiuttô^[18] opened the case, and taking out a paper, began to read it:

​“Ha! from the New Selection of Ancient and Modern Poems. No correction of mine wanted here, it would seem.”

Moronaho understood that his suit was rejected, and felt sure that Yenya had opened the box. Angry at the idea, he yet managed to conceal his ill-humour; and with an appearance of unconcern, asked Yenya if he had read the paper.

“I saw it just now for the first time.”

“H’m, well, you heard me read—oh, your wife is a model of virtue. See what she sends me. ‘One who is not my spouse.’ A model of virtue! a model of virtue! what a fortunate man you are! That is the reason probably of your inattentiveness. You stick at home tied to your wife’s apron, and give no thought to your duties here.”

All this invective was really occasioned by the refusal of Kawoyo, but Yenya, who did not know of this, could not understand Moronaho’s conduct. He managed, however, to restrain his indignation.

“Ha, ha, ha! your lordship is merry; doubtless your lordship has been passing the bottle round a little.”

“Passing the bottle; passing the bottle; what does the clown mean? Passing the bottle or not, I manage to attend to the duties of my office. As for you, you neglect them. Explain that to me. Have you been ‘passing the bottle,’ or sticking at home glued to your wife’s side? You had better take a leaf out of Wakasanosuke’s book. Oh, your wife is a model of virtue, eh? a charming woman! writes most elegantly! You may well be proud of her. Nay, don’t look angry, man; what I say is all true enough. Now, your wife’s verses here—— If you have such a treasure at home, we cannot expect you to come to court. You fellows who remain at home remind one of funa^[20] in a well. These tiny fish—are you listening to what I say?—think that neither in heaven nor on earth is there any place comparable with the miserable hole, some three or four feet across at the most, in which they live. They have never seen any other ​place, and when they are brought up from the bottom in a bucket, and then thrown into the stream, they cannot make out where they are, and flounder helplessly about, until at last they knock their heads against the posts of some bridge. You, and such as you, are just like these carplets. Ha! ha! ha!”

Yenya, at this insulting speech, lost his patience, and exclaimed, angrily:

“You must be out of your senses—you must be mad, Moronaho.”

“Pshaw, fellow! darest twit me with being mad? Me, the Shiuttô! the Lord Moronaho!”

“H’m, then, your insults are meant as such?”

“Kudoi Kudoi! what a troublesome fellow it is. And if meant, what then?”

“Why, this, then;” and drawing his sword, the enraged nobleman aimed a stroke at Moronaho, which the latter tried to avoid by ducking his head and leaping nimbly aside. The blade, however, cut through his tall cap, and inflicted a wound on his forehead between the eyebrows. His assailant again raised his weapon, but Moronaho managed to shuffle out of reach, and made his escape; while Honzô, who had witnessed the whole scene, ran up and caught Yenya’s arm.

“Restrain yourself, Sir, I pray you.” Yenya struggled to free himself from his detainer’s grasp, glaring after his enemy, who was making off as well as he could, stumbling at every step.

“That fellow Moronaho,” exclaimed Yenya, “will get away: let me go, Honzô. He shall feel the weight of my arm. Let me go, let me go.”

Meanwhile, the scene of the quarrel became rapidly thronged with nobles, high and low; some making towards where the dispute had taken place, their hands on their swords; others flying to the assistance of Moronaho. Indescribable confusion ensued; the gates were closed, and lanterns began to flash about in all directions.

Hayano Kampei, hearing the uproar, was filled with anxiety; and running up to the Rear Gate, knocked at it as if he would shatter it into pieces, crying loudly: “I am Hayano Kampei, clansman of

​Yenya Hanguwan. My lord may be in danger, and I must be at his side. Open, open, quick.”

“This is the Rear Gate,” cried the Gateward; “you must go round to the Great Gate if you are in the suite of some nobleman.”

“No, no;” exclaimed the vassal of Yenya, “this gate will do well enough. Besides, the Great Gate seems besieged by such a crowd of retainers that it would be impossible to get at it even if mounted on a good horse. What is the meaning of all this disturbance?”

“The disturbance is at an end,” replied the Gateward. “Yenya grievously insulted the Shiuttô Moronaho, and for this offence is to be confined to his house, where he is now being carried in a net-covered norimon.”

“Namu sambo,^[21] conveyed home a prisoner?” cried Kampei.

He was on the point of hastening after his lord, when he was arrested by the thought, that the sentence of confinement would entail a closure of the gates of the castle. Pacing up and down, uncertain how to act; in the midst of his embarrassment he was joined by the maid Karu, whom he had left behind when he hurried to the gate to see what was the cause of the uproar.

“Oh, Kampei,” cried the girl, “I have heard all about it. What is to be done? What is to be done?”

The girl clung to her lover, sobbing as she spoke.

Kampei, however, thrust her aside, saying: “Yeh! what is the use of puling? Listen! my honour as a soldier and a clansman is gone. Gone! do you hear? And now nothing remains for me but this;” grasping, as he spoke, the handle of his sword.

“Kampei, not that, not that, I implore you. You do not know what you are doing in your bewilderment.”

“Bewilderment! I may well be bewildered, to find that I have been absent from my lord’s side in the hour of danger; that men are conveying him away, a prisoner, in a net-covered norimon, like ​a criminal; that the gates of his castle are closed upon him; while I, his born vassal, have been spending my time in toying with you. How can I ever again wear two swords before the face of men? Let me go: let me go.”

The girl, however, continued to cling to him, exclaiming: “If only for a moment, listen to me. You must listen to me. What you say is quite true; but whose doing is it that your honour as a clansman is tainted? Is it not mine, mine? ’Tis for me, then, not for you, to die. If you should die now on this spot, how will any one know your motives? And not knowing your motives, how will any one be able to praise your deed as that of a true clansman?

“Oh! Kampei,” the girl continued, “be guided by me; come with me for a time at least to my village, where my father and mother are still living. They will do everything they can for you. Kampei, let our common misery plead for me; let your affianced wife’s words persuade you”—bursting with a loud sob into a flood of tears as she spoke the last words.

“Well, perhaps that were best,” said Kampei, irresolutely, “our lord’s chief councillor, Ohoboshi Yuranosuke, is away at one of our master’s estates—you could not know this, being but lately come among us. I can wait for his return, and then implore pardon for my disloyalty and neglect. Come, let us away.”

They were on the point of departing, when Sagisaka Bannai suddenly made his appearance, followed by several armed men.

“Yeh! Kampei,” he exclaimed, “your master has been employing himself in heaping insults upon Moronaho, His Highness’ Shiuttô, and has actually dared to wound him within the court precincts; for which offence, strictly forbidden as you know, he has been confined to his house, and no doubt ere long his head will be made to fly from his shoulders.”

“Sah!” continued Bannai in a loud voice, turning suddenly to his attendants, “seize this fellow, bind him, and prepare to hew the scoundrel in pieces.”

“Yeh!” cried Kampei, “nothing could be more opportune. Come ​Sir Stork,^[22] you are not equal to gobbling me up without assistance, it seems; but here is my arm thin as an onion stalk. Come and try what it tastes like, all of you.”

“Silence!” shouted Bannai. “Upon him, men.”

“At your service, gentlemen.”

Bannai’s attendants, four in number, rushed upon the follower of Yenya, and attempted to seize him; Kampei, however, eluded their onset, and grasping a couple of his assailants by the arm, twisted them suddenly round, and spurned them with his feet right and left. They returned to the attack, but he parried their strokes with his scabbard, and hurled them on either side with the hilt and point of his sword, on the top of each other, like skewered dengaku cakes.^[23] Daunted by his prowess, his assailants did not attempt to renew the fight, but made away in panic-struck confusion. Bannai, beside himself with rage, then flew at Kampei; but the latter avoided the blow, and, seizing his antagonist, hurled him to earth with such violence that he turned head over heels as he fell. The victor, placing his foot on his prostrate enemy’s neck, exclaimed: “Shall I stab you or slash you, or hew you in pieces?” raising his weapon as he spoke.

Karu, however, ran up to her lover, and laid her hand upon his arm. “Hold!” she cried. “To kill the wretch may destroy your chance of pardon. The fellow has had sufficient.”

Bannai, meanwhile, had wriggled from under his enemy’s foot and made off as hard as he could, crestfallen enough, and in mortal fear for his life.

“Yeh!” cried Kampei, “it is a pity the rascal should get away, too; but, as you say, it might be adding disloyalty to disloyalty to slay the wretch just now. Well, we must away and hide ourselves, and wait for an opportunity of procuring pardon.”

The sixth hour was now long past, and the low clouds on the eastern horizon were whitening with the dawn, while the crows^[24] were leaving ​their perches, filling the air with their mournful caw as they flew by the lovers, who hastened on their way towards the girl’s home, their hearts heavy with grief as they bemoaned the evil days that had come upon their lord’s house, and tremblingly asked themselves what fate was reserved for him.