Chiushingura (1880)/Book 9

n the morrow of the day when the events recorded in the Seventh Book took place at the tea-house in the Gi-on Street at Kiyôto, Yuranosuke, whom a heavy fall of snow had detained through the night, returned to the wretched dwelling in the obscure village of Yamashina, where he had found a retreat, attended by some servants of the tea-house.

He seemed to be still under the influence of saké, and on entering the gate fell to heaping up the snow that lay in the yard, in a helpless manner, as if he had lost his wits.

“Ah, your honour,” cried the servants, with a simultaneous note of admiration; “how beautiful everything this morning!

How apt the lines are; ’tis quite a picture, a fair scene indeed!”

“Ah! in truth,” cried a woman-servant who had come out to meet them; “you need only see this place once never to wish to go elsewhere, I am sure.”

​“Eh! what?” exclaimed Yuranosuke. “‘From the shores of Sumiyoshi.’ You know the song, don’t ye?—

“Let the wench boast of the place as she likes; for my part, I would rather empty a pot of saké in the Gi-on Street than finish a dozen here. You’re but a stupid lot, after all—into the house with ye, into the house with ye! Hallo! wife,” he continued, in a louder voice, “where are you?—here are some visitors.”

Jerking the words out in a drunken fashion, the Karô staggered towards the house, where he was greeted by his wife Ishi. “You are back, husband,” she cried, pouring out tea with a pleasant smile; “what a cold morning it is,” she continued, showing no sign of ill-temper or jealousy^[2] as she handed her husband the fragrant infusion, to which she had added a little salt to assist in clearing away the fumes of the saké he had been drinking.

Yuranosuke, however, merely took a sip and then threw the rest away, exclaiming: “Wife, wife, what stuff is this? do you think this will refresh me after such capital liquor as I have been drinking yonder? Ah, ah! how the snow has fallen, to be sure!”

“Well, why stand there out in the cold?” cried Ishi; “see how the snow drives in, like flakes of carded cotton.”

“Ah, wife!” exclaimed Yuranosuke, as they all entered, “you women begin to lose your charms when the children come and household cares press upon you. I am somewhat remiss in my duty to you of late, I confess. O, what pretty girls there were ​yonder, with complexions pink as Ise prawns! and what capital saké, too! True enough the proverb, ‘love goes out with the red petticoat.’ ”^[3]

“Wife, wife,” he resumed, after a pause, throwing himself on the ground with an expression of sudden pain, “quick, I have the cramp in my foot, pray chafe it . . . . . Ah! it is better now; that will do, that will do”—thrusting his wife, who was complying with his request, rudely away, as he spoke.

“Enough of this, husband,” she cried; “have a care, have a care; you are not yourself yet.—I fear,” continued Ishi, addressing herself courteously to the attendants—“I fear he must have been a great trouble to you.”

Just then, Rikiya appeared, and enquired after his father.

“He seems asleep, mother; had we not better put a pillow under his head?”

Now, if we were to look a little below the surface, we should find this conduct of the three all a mere pretence, cloaking the reality like the varnish on the pillow concealing the common Kiri wood it is made of.^[4] They put the pillow, however, under the Karô’s head, who muttered a sleepy disapproval of the act. Ishi then dismissed the attendants, who, after leaving their respectful duty for the master of the house, and endeavouring, but in vain, by expressive glances to induce Rikiya to return with them, reluctantly withdrew. As soon as they were out of hearing Yuranosuke rose to his feet.

“Rikiya, you see yonder mass of snow I have been pretending to amuse myself by heaping up? There was a meaning in it—can you guess what it is?”

“I think I can, father. Snow is so light that the least breeze blows it away in dust; yet when heaped up into a mass, as you ​have done there, it may roll down from some mountain-top and crush even huge rocks, just as if it were a boulder. So our force is in our united loyalty, in the weight of our affliction. But that mass of snow will melt away in time under the sun’s rays, and….”

“Nay, not so,” broke in the Karô; “we forty-seven plotters, myself, you, and the others, are all masterless men, in the sun of no one’s favour.^[5] In the shade, that mass of snow would take long enough to melt. Let it be removed, by-the-by, into the inner court, where the sun’s rays cannot beat upon it. As for us, we must persevere and do the best we can, like the sage Sonko^[6] of the old story, who, being so poor that he could not buy oil for his lamp, gathered fire-flies and studied by their light; or that other philosopher Riuto,^[7] whose poverty compelled him to be content to supply his need with the dim light reflected from a heap of snow.”

“Let yonder mass,” he resumed, “be taken at once into the small court at the back. I must away, and write to Sakai; if any messenger comes let me know.”

“Your honour’s orders shall be attended to,” cried a woman-servant who was standing by.

Yuranosuke, pushing back a partition, then withdrew.

Presently appeared the wife of Kakogawa Honzô, the Karô of Momonoi Wakasanosuke, seeking out the retreat of the deep designing councillor of Yenya. In her girdle she carried her husband’s long and short swords, and ordering the bearers to set down a norimono which preceded her, she composedly demanded admission at the rônin’s hermitage. A woman servant, letting down her long sleeves^[8]—in Yuranosuke’s better days it would have been a lackey—came forward crying in a loud, vulgar voice: “Who is there?”

“I believe,” said the visitor, “this is the dwelling of Yuranosuke Sama? If I am right, pray let him know that Tonasé, the wife of ​Kakogawa Honzô, is here. It is long since I had the pleasure of seeing your master, and I should be glad if you would tell him that I have come a great distance in the hope of being allowed an interview with him.”

The wife of Honzô then turned to the bearers of the norimono, and bade them bring their burden up to the gate.

“Come, daughter,” she cried, as her order was obeyed, “you can alight now.”

Konami, for the occupant of the norimono was none other, accordingly stepped forth, gladsome as the uguisu^[9] at sight of the wild plum’s bloom in the valley-bottom.

“And is this then the home of Sir Rikiya!” cried the girl, whose face was concealed by the white head-dress of a bride. “O, mother, how shall I meet him!” The servant, meanwhile, mending a little the disorder that was apparent about the mean entrance, and affecting a soft manner, invited the new-comer to follow her within. Tonasé accordingly, dismissing the kago-bearers, passed into the house, Konami clinging timidly to her mother’s arm.

They had hardly seated themselves on the matting when Ishi entered with a graceful step.

“Welcome, welcome, Tonasé Sama,” she exclaimed; “and you too, Konami; this visit is most kind on your part. I ought long since to have presented myself to you, but you doubtless know our situation; really, your attention makes me feel quite ashamed of myself.”

“Pray, O Ishi Sama, do not make such strangers of us. True, we meet each other to-day for the first time, but your son and my daughter were betrothed long ago; we are both of us mothers-in-law, and, I am sure, need stand upon no ceremony with each other.”

“Your kind expressions fill me with confusion. How did you manage to leave your husband, doubtless occupied as usual with his lord’s affairs, and journey, this cold weather, all the way to the ​capital? To you, madam, Kiyôto is probably familiar enough; for your daughter, however, it may have some novelty. She must see the famous Gi-on Street and the temple of Kiyomidsu, the great Buddha at Nara, the Hall of Chion, and I can get you admittance to the Temple of Kinkaku.”^[10]

The bride, overwhelmed with shyness, could only meet her hostess’ kind words with a faint “Ai, ai.”

But her mother composedly replied:

“No other than this is the reason of our visit. After the betrothal of our children, an unexpected turn took place in the fortunes^[11] of your lord Yenya-dono, and your son, together with his father, became without a fixed home. Ah me! such changes are too common in this world of ours; but my husband’s purpose remained still unaltered, and we sought after you everywhere for a long time, but without success. At last we heard you were living here; and as my daughter had arrived at a marriageable age, we were desirous that she should come to you without delay. I trust, therefore, you will not consider us as intruders. My husband intended to have come in person, but could not; and in lieu thereof gave me his two swords, which, as you see, I carry in my girdle, to represent him, so that at present I play the part of father as well as that of mother. I should be glad to talk over the matter with your husband, for I am very anxious the marriage should take place. To-day is a lucky day, fortunately, and if you would kindly order the necessary preparations to be made——”

“What you say takes me quite by surprise,” replied the wife of Yura. “Unfortunately, my husband is away just now; if he were at home, I am sure he would thank you most warmly for your kindness. But, as you know, when the betrothal took place he was, by the favour of our late lord, honoured with excellent appointments, and could well aspire to the hand of your daughter for his son. Now everything is ​very different: he is but a rônin, without a single follower; while your husband is high in his lord’s service—and though your daughter was promised to our son, to ask for her now would be as out of place as if one were to demand a temple-bell in exchange for a paper lantern. Thus, then, we think the marriage ought not to be consummated. And, as the betrothal has not been ratified by the customary exchange of bridal presents, my husband says it will be no slight if your daughter should find another bridegroom.”

“Indeed, madam,” exclaimed Tonasé in a tone of surprise; “I hardly understand you; but, I can assure you, you are not just to yourself. As to any difference in position between your husband and mine, why, the disparity is all on our side. When your husband, as councillor of one of the higher nobles, had appointments of 1500 koku,^[12] mine, whose lord was only a member of the lower nobility, was allotted 500 koku by the year, and no more—1000 less than what your husband received; yet, did you refuse our alliance on that score? Sir Yura, compelled by misfortune to become a rônin, has nothing,—my husband has—what? only 500 koku more.”

“Iya!” answered Ishi; “you are in error. The difference of 500, or even 1000, koku would not matter—if only your husband did not differ so much from mine in disposition; we should not refuse your daughter because her father is high in his lord’s service.”

“What do you mean,” replied the wife of Honzô, “by your talk about your husband and mine differing in disposition?—tell me, I am all ears.”

“Our lord’s self-dispatch,” said Ishi, “was brought about by his high spirit; and it was his refusal to dishonour himself that resulted so fatally for his house; while Honzô, though of samurahi rank, stooped to bribe Moronaho with money and gifts. Yura does not serve two masters, and cannot receive your daughter as a bride for his son.”

​Tonasé, starting angrily to her feet, interrupted the wife of the Karô.

“Stooped to bribe?—of whom talk you? As matters are, I cannot escape your insults; for my daughter’s sake I shall pass them over, for the side of the wife must always give way to that of the husband. But whether you allow the marriage to be consummated or not, my daughter is your son’s wife, before all the world.”

“Pfuh!” answered Ishi, “all that is but fine talk; and, at all events, if she is my son’s wife, he can put her away at will; and I, his mother, acting for him, do accordingly put her away from this very moment.”^[13]

As she ended, the wife of Yuranosuke suddenly pushed back a partition and disappeared.

“O, mother!” cried Konami, bursting into tears, “I was full of anxiety when I was betrothed, and you promised me that I should be united to Rikiya, and—and so I am here with you; never imagining that my mother-in-law would drive me thus cruelly away. Ah, mother, soothe her, and prevent my marriage from being broken off.”

And the poor girl clung to Tonasé, who gazed upon her wistfully.

“Perhaps ’tis a parent’s partiality,” she said at last, “but you always seemed to me to possess more elegancies than any ten girls together; and so I sought anxiously for a good husband for you, and, thinking I had found one in Rikiya, I caused you to be betrothed to him, and came to seek him here; it cannot be all for nothing. I do not know what O Ishi means, but she cannot put you away without his consent; no mother-in-law can do such a thing, the ​notion is preposterous. Perhaps it is that, rônin as they are now, they are at their wits’ end to support themselves, and so have hit upon marrying their son to some rich citizen’s daughter, exchanging their good blood for money, and shamelessly breaking their faith with us. Daughter, when such people reject you, you can throw the insult back in their faces. There are plenty of families who will be glad enough to receive you as a bride—why should you not marry elsewhere? Come, answer me, daughter, and with firmness.”

The poor woman could hardly restrain herself from giving way to her own grief, as she implored her daughter to master her distress.

“Mother, mother,” cried the latter, after a pause, “you are cruel to me. When we left home my father told me that I was most fortunate in meeting with such a husband as Ohoboshi Rikiya, who, though now a rônin, was of excellent parts and elegant manners. He said that no virtuous woman could love two husbands, and enjoined me never to marry a second one if circumstances should separate Rikiya and myself, for no married woman ought to think of such a thing. Above all, sleeping or waking, I was not to forget a tittle of my duty to my husband, and never to omit to treat my parents-in-law with the utmost respect and tenderness. ‘Always cherish your husband most dearly,’ he added, ‘never show a jealous disposition even by way of joke; and if you should become in a condition to make me anxious do not conceal it, but let me know the moment you find that you are after the manner of women.’ I recollect my father’s very words. If I am put away I cannot help it, but I will not add grief upon grief to my father, come what may, say what you will, mother, by becoming the wife of any one but Rikiya.”

As Konami concluded, her mother felt her heart swell, almost to bursting, with affectionate sympathy, and, unable to restrain her emotion, gave vent to it in a flood of tears, half unsheathing, in her despair, the sword she carried in her girdle.

“Hold! mother,” cried the girl, laying her hand on the weapon and looking up in Tonasé’s face; “what would you do?”

​“What would I do!” cried Tonasé, “what am I to do? As you said a little while since, your father is anxious that your marriage with Rikiya should be concluded as soon as possible, desirous, as fathers are, of looking upon the face of his first grandchild, and of seeing his daughter happy, and now the marriage is become an impossibility; you are rejected, and I shall have to take you back home,—how shall I show my face to your father, and tell him you have been driven away! I do not know what to do, or where to turn for help. And the truth is, you are not my own child, but your father’s daughter by a former wife, and as I have not brought about the marriage, I shall be reproached as like all stepmothers and careless about your happiness. What have I to live for? let me die, let me die, and let your father know afterwards why I sought death.”

“No, no, mother,” cried Konami, “ ’tis not you, but I, who am hated by my husband, who ought to die. Alive, I am but a trouble both to my father and to you, and cause you nothing but grief, unfilial wretch that I am! Mother, take my life, I beseech you; I would fain die here on the threshold of the house from which I am driven away,—quick, mother, do not delay!”

“Well said, daughter!” exclaimed Tonasé; “you have a brave heart, but you shall not die alone. We will together fate by the three roads;^[14] your mother will do as you bid her, but will not be long after you. Are you ready, daughter?”—restraining her tears with splendid fortitude, and preparing to give the fatal stroke.

The shrill notes of a pipe arrested her hand. “Ha!” she cried, “did you hear that, daughter? ’Tis some beggar, I suppose, and the air is that of the ‘Crane and her little ones.’^[15] Though only a bird she loves her young. What a terrible fate is mine—that I should have to take the life of my innocent child!”

Distracted with grief, Tonasé could with difficulty stand firm, while with trembling hand she raised the blade aloft under which Konami, kneeling on the ground, with a resolute expression, repeated, with

​clasped hands, “Namu-amida butsu,” and calmly awaited the death-stroke. Ere the blow descended, a voice called out loudly, “No more!”

Astonished at this unexpected interruption, Tonasé looked round irresolutely. Her grasp on the fatal weapon relaxed, and the sound of the pipe ceased.

“Ha! the komusô is being sent away. Would that some help came to us; but courage, daughter, we must not falter, if a thousand voices cried ‘No more!’ or the whole world will laugh at us as a pair of cowards.”

“Are you quite prepared?” she resumed, after a pause, raising the weapon a second time.

She was on the point of delivering the blow, when the sound of the pipe again made itself heard, and the voice repeated, “No more!”

“What can this mean?” exclaimed Tonasé, in perplexity. “Is it only to send the komusô away with his dole, or is it to stay my hand?”

“Iya!” exclaimed another voice, from within, “it is to stay your hand; my son Rikiya shall marry your daughter.”

“Yeh!” cried Tonasé, in a tone of astonishment. “Whose voice is that? Can it be yours, O Ishi Sanaa? Oh, madam, are you in earnest?”

sang Ishi, as she made her appearance, bearing a small white-wood four-cornered stand upon her uplifted palm.

“I saw you were thoroughly in earnest, Tonasé Sama,” said the wife of Yuranosuke, “in your purpose of taking the life of this young lady, your only daughter—for such she is in effect, if not in blood—whose modest behaviour has called forth my admiration as much as her unfortunate position has excited my compassion. This marriage, distasteful though it is to me, shall take place. In return, I must ask for a bridal gift of a very different kind from what is commonly bestowed on such an occasion as the present. And I have brought this stand for you to place it on”—setting the stand down on the ​matting before her guest, who, after some hesitation, returned her sword to its scabbard with an expression of relief.

“Your wish shall be gratified, lady,” replied Tonasé, after a slight pause. “This pair of swords I carry in my girdle are heirlooms in my husband’s family. The long one is of the workmanship of the famous swordsmith Masamune;^[16] the short one is of the handiwork of the equally celebrated maker Yukiyasu;^[17] there is nothing, believe me, my husband values more highly….”

“You are laughing at us rônin,” broke in Ishi, “with your precious swords. What help would they be to us in our need? No, no, that is not the bridal gift I want from you.”

“Then, pray, lady, what is it that will satisfy you?”

“The head of Kakogawa Honzô, placed upon this stand—that will satisfy me,” cried Ishi.

“The head of Honzô?” exclaimed Tonasé, in astonishment.

“Yes,” replied Ishi. “When our lord, the Baron Yenya, in his high-spirited eagerness to revenge himself upon Moronaho, drew his sword upon his enemy within the palace at Kamakura, your husband, whom luck would have present, threw himself upon our lord and prevented him from fully satisfying his wrath, so that the destroyer of our house got off with no more than a slight scratch. None can tell how terribly the recollection of his unfulfilled vengeance embittered the last moments of our lord! though no word could pass his lips, well we knew how great was his agony, and how intense was the hatred he felt for your husband, as the shades of death were closing-in around him. We are still liegemen of our ill-fated chief; if you would that the daughter of Honzô become the wife of our son, you must present us with your husband’s head on this stand; if you would not willingly be separated from ​him, with both your heads. As soon as we shall have feasted our eyes on this sight, the marriage shall take place without further delay. Sah, sah; what say you—yea or nay? yea or nay?”

Confounded by Ishi’s sneering tone and strange request, mother and child hung their heads in confusion, unable to utter a word. In the midst of their terrible perplexity, a voice, apparently that of the mendicant, was heard, exclaiming loudly:

“ ’Tis the head of Kakogawa Honzô you demand—here it is, take it.”

As the words were said, the beggar presented himself, and, throwing off his deep-brimmed hat revealed the features of Kakogawa Honzô.

“Yah!” exclaimed Tonasé, in astonishment, “it is your father! Honzô, husband, what means this disguise? Why have you come here? Tell me——”

“A truce to your chatter,” interrupted Honzô. “I have heard all that has passed. I came here, secretly, for a special purpose, of which more anon—for the present forbear from questioning me.”

“And so,” resumed the Karô of Momonoi, addressing Ishi, “you, lady, are the wife of Yuranosuke Sama. I foresaw matters would take this turn, and therefore, without saying a word to wife or child, I came here to see for myself whether the state of things was such as I anticipated; nor have I been disappointed. And now you would have my head, as a bridal gift. Ha! ha! why, your husband, lost in dissipation and enervated by debauchery, has become an imbecile, and must have quite given up the idea of avenging his chief’s death, which no true samurahi would ever cease to cherish. Abandoned wretch! Yura is a perfect model of a spiritless lout. And as a frog’s spawn can only be expected to produce frogs, doubtless Rikiya is not far behind his father in imbecility and cowardice. Do you think my neck is in any danger from the blunt-edged swords of samurahi of that stamp? Pshaw! do not talk nonsense.”

Setting his foot upon the stand, as he concluded this insulting speech, the Karô of Momonoi broke it to pieces.

“Pick up the pieces,” he resumed, “what want we with your son?”

​“Ah!” interrupted Ishi, “you are insolent, sir; we will see whether the sword of a rônin, unused though it be, is not keen enough to strike the head off your shoulders. The wife of Yuranosuke, awkward as she may be in handling a weapon, is willing to try her skill with you, so defend yourself, defend yourself”—gathering up her dress as she spoke, and snatching a spear from the wall, with which she made a hurried thrust at Honzô. At this sight Konami and Tonasé started back in affright, and threw themselves upon Honzô, who cast them off with an angry exclamation, and seizing the spear close to the point, twisted it away from his body. Ishi, placing her feet firmly together, endeavoured to force the weapon out of her adversary’s hand, but the latter, giving it a sudden kick, caused it to fly into the air. Without troubling himself further about the spear, Honzô next seized Ishi by the dress and threw her on the ground. This done, the dexterous Karô set his knee upon the prostrate form of the wife of Yuranosuke, who gnashed her teeth in the extremity of her rage.

The wife and daughter of Honzô looked on in fear and distress, not knowing what to do.

At this juncture Rikiya unexpectedly presented himself, and, seeing at a glance how matters stood, seized the spear which was lying on the ground, and, without a moment’s hesitation, ran Honzô with it through the chest. The latter uttered a deep groan and fell heavily to the ground, while his wife and daughter, their eyes blind with tears, caught hold of each other, beside themselves with terror.

Suddenly Yuranosuke came upon the scene, and seizing his son’s arm, prevented a repetition of the thrust.

“Yah! Rikiya, what are you about? You are overhasty, overhasty.”

And turning to the wounded man, the Karô resumed:

“I am rejoiced to see you again, Sir Honzô, after so long an interval. In falling by the hand of your son-in-law, you have, I know, met with the fate you most desired.”

​As Yuranosuke, who had divined Honzô’s real wishes, concluded, the latter opened his eyes, exclaiming:

“I knew from the first that you had never swerved from your purpose of avenging your chief’s death, and that your seeming dissipation was a mere device to throw Moronaho off his guard, while you collected your band together. Ah me! would that I had acted as you are now acting. At the inauguration at Tsuruga-oka, last spring, my lord Momonoi was publicly affronted by Moronaho, and, writhing under the insult, sent for me. After much angry talk, he declared that, the next day, he would throw himself upon his enemy and slay him within the very precincts of the palace; and I could see from the expression of his face that my youthful and headstrong chief was not to be moved from his determination. Now, I knew that Moronaho’s treatment of my master was due to the fact that the latter, who was a member of the lower nobility only, had made but a trifling present upon receiving his appointment; and, accordingly, without letting my lord know, for I felt I was acting shamefully, I went, most unbecomingly, to Moronaho, and gave him gold and silver and silk robes, and other things. Thus I got my lord out of what seemed to me a great peril, by bribing—for what I did was nothing else—his powerful adversary, who, on next meeting my master, made full apology for his insolent conduct; so that all thought of revenge had to be dismissed from my lord’s mind, and he was forced to let his anger be appeased. It happened otherwise with my lord’s colleague, Yenya Sama, whom I prevented from slaying his antagonist because I thought by doing so I might render self-dispatch unnecessary. In this I erred grievously, and, ever since, I have never ceased to repent of the fault I then committed, and of which my daughter’s present wretched condition is one of the consequences. As an atonement, I have travelled here to offer my gray head to my daughter’s betrothed. I sent on my wife and daughter in advance, and, after fully confessing how I had bribed Moronaho, obtained leave from my lord, and, journeying hitherwards by a different road from that which these women followed, arrived two days before ​them. I had learned to play on the pipe in my youth and I now found the knowledge of use. After arriving here, I hung about the neighbourhood for four days, and thoroughly penetrated your designs. It then seemed to me that if I fell by your hand your hatred of me would cease, and you would consent to the union of my daughter with your son. If that hope should be realised I shall be infinitely grateful to you for all time to come, and most earnestly do I implore you not to make my journey fruitless. When I failed in my duty as a loyal retainer, I did not, it is true, quit life as I ought to have done, but now I abandon it for my child’s sake. Sir Yura, you cannot refuse to comply with the last prayer of a father.” Choked by his tears, the wounded man could utter nothing more, while his wife and daughter, overwhelmed at the terrible sight, could only repeat mournfully:

“Alas! alas! how could we foresee this! ’Tis our delay, husband, father, that has resulted thus miserably! How terrible to know that our cowardice has been the cause of your death—pardon, pardon!”

With these words the two women threw themselves at the feet of the dying man, while Yuranosuke, with his wife and son, stood by, speechless with horror at the frightful scene.

At last, Yuranosuke found utterance. “Honzô-dono,^[18] we are told that the superior man hates the crime and not the criminal.^[19] Your desire to form alliance with us, and our repugnance to it, are not matters to be talked of at the same moment. It is true that we disliked you, but now, as you are not long for this world, I will lay bare to you my most secret thought.” Pushing back, as he spoke, the sliding windows of the room, which looked upon the inner court, the Karô displayed to the dying man’s view two tombs of snow, fashioned with ornaments depending from each of the five corners of the entablature, and thus revealing the future, showed

​what the final result of his designs would surely be. Tonasé at once comprehended him.

“Ah!” she cried, “they will slay their chief’s enemy, but will serve no second lord; they will perish, as yonder snow will perish, rather than prove disloyal to the memory of Yenya-dono. It was with such a thought in his heart that Rikiya sought to put away my daughter, not from harshness, but out of a most tender compassion. O Ishi Sama, I would fain recall the wrathful words I have spoken to you.”

“Ah! Tonasé Sama,” cried Ishi, sadly, “there will be none of that married happiness you hoped to see, that was to be without end,^[20] like the greenery of the tamatsubaki.^[21] To receive a bride so soon to become a widow—can a more miserable mockery of joy be conceived! How cruel you must have thought me when, with feigned roughness, I told you the marriage was impossible.”

“Nay,” exclaimed the mother of Konami, “you have nothing to reproach yourself with; but I, when I recollect how you must have overheard me telling Konami that you were seeking for some rich citizen’s daughter as a bride for your son, breaking the faith you had plighted to us, I am so penetrated with shame and distress that I hardly dare lift my eyes to you, O Ishi Sama.”

“Your daughter, Tonasé Sama, in birth and beauty is all that we could desire in a bride for our son; alas, under what evil destiny has she been born!”

Ishi’s tears checked her further utterance.

Honzô, mastering his emotion, exclaimed:

“Now I am happy, now my hopes will be fulfilled. The devotion of Goshisho,^[22] who received with a smile the news of his ​disgrace by the King of Go for the loyal advice he had tendered, is less admirable than the rare fidelity of Ohoboshi, who will henceforth be cited throughout all Japan as a mirror of loyalty to succeeding generations, with a pride equal to that with which China has for so many ages boasted of her hero Yojô.^[23] In becoming your wife, Sir Rikiya, worthy son of so unique a father, my daughter is a hundred times more fortunate than if she were chosen as the bride of an emperor. To you, the betrothed of my daughter,—the most honoured in being thus accepted by you among the daughters of samurahi,—I crave leave to present the bridal gifts of which this is a list.” And drawing a folded paper from his bosom, the dying Karô gave it to Rikiya.

“Kowa!” cried the latter, in some astonishment, as he unfolded the paper, after having lifted it courteously to his forehead—“this is no list of gifts, it is a detailed plan of Moronaho’s castle; porch, barracks, quarters, water-gate, magazines, down to the very wood-sheds; every portion is minutely delineated.”

“Hah!” exclaimed the Karô of Yenya, delightedly, as he snatched the paper from his son’s hands, “a thousand thanks, a thousand thanks. This is just what I was in need of. For some time past we have been all prepared, but for lack of a guide like this could not advance a step in our enterprise. This plan will be to us as the secret books of Son and Go;^[24] will be our Six steps and Three Methods.^[25] We had previously arranged to make an attack by night, getting over the wall here by scaling ladders, then creeping up to the porch and forcing open the outer rain-shutters, to rush in and make our way to our enemy’s apartments,—ha! here we can divide ourselves and then attack thus——”

As Ohoboshi concluded, he exchanged a look of satisfaction with his son, but Honzô, who had listened attentively to what had passed, exclaimed:

​“Nay, nay, your attack must not be made in that manner. Moronaho is a most cautious man, and every shutter and slide in his castle is well furnished with bolts and bars and inside fastenings. You cannot prize them open, and to break them open with mallets would, of course, make far too much noise.”

“True,” cried Yuranosuke; “but I have provided for that. They say that too much pondering over a difficulty makes it harder than ever to get over; and so it was that, on my return from amusing myself at the tea-house, the sight of the bamboos yonder in the courtyard, bending under their load of snow, suddenly made me think of a plan of forcing open the shutters, which I will explain to you.”

So saying, the Karô went out into the courtyard, and going close up to a bamboo bending under the weight of snow that had become heaped upon its branches, asked Honzô’s attention.

“This bamboo, you see, is weighed down by its load of snow. I shall procure a number of bows, and after bending them in like manner by stringing them, I shall cause their ends to be inserted into the upper and lower grooves in which the shutters slide. Next, upon a given signal, all the strings will be cut through, and the bows suddenly straightening themselves—thus,” shaking off the snow from the bamboo, which, relieved of its burden, immediately resumed its natural position, “will prize out the edge of the upper slot, so that the shutters will all fall outwards with a clatter, and we can rush in upon our enemy in the confusion.”

The wounded man, delighted with the device, for a moment forgot his condition.

“Good, good,” he cried, at length. “How could the Baron Yenya, miserable man, be so shallow-minded^[26] as not to have applied to you in his difficulties, to a retainer so fertile in stratagems, so loyal of heart.”

And as he looked back on the past, he could not refrain from ​regretting his conduct upon the occasion of his lord’s giving way to his high spirit, his heart nigh bursting with grief and vexation, while his eyes filled with tears of rage, and he felt a thrill of loyal devotion in his breast that would have borne him to sure victory over his lord's enemies upon the battle-field, that would have laughed at even seven-fold brazen barriers standing between him and the foes of his lord’s house. Meanwhile Rikiya knelt respectfully before his father, exclaiming:

“Now that by the aid of Honzô-dono we are in possession of a guide-plan of our enemy’s castle, ought we not to send word to the arms-merchant, Gihei, of the Amagawa house at Sakai in Senshiu, to prepare for our coming, and at the same time put ourselves in readiness to depart hence?”

“No, no,” interrupted his father; “if we all assemble here at Yamashina, where every one knows I am living, we shall excite suspicion. I shall myself go to Sakai,^[27] and from that place we shall make our start, as soon after my arrival there as possible. You, meanwhile, with your mother, your bride, and her parents, can remain behind, and see that nothing goes wrong—you will remember to be careful,—and you know you will have this night to yourself, and can follow me by boat to-morrow. Honzô’s disguise, fortunately, is here; I shall make use of it.”

Throwing the Komusô’s scarf over his shoulder, and putting on his head the deep-brimmed bamboo hat that Honzô had thrown away, the Karô had all the appearance of a mendicant asking for alms.

“For this night,” continued the Karô, “you, Konami and Rikiya, are man and wife, thanks to your father’s devotion”—and, whistling on his pipe, the pretended Komusô prepared to depart. His wife, who had prepared herself for this farewell, wished him, sadly enough, her heart filled with unutterable grief, a successful issue to his enterprise.

Honzô was rapidly sinking.

​“Father, father,” cried Tonasé and her daughter together; but no answer came from the dying man’s lips. The moment of death was at hand, the moment of parting from his wife and daughter, whom he had so tenderly loved; the thread^[28] of his existence was snapped in twain, and Kakogawa Honzô was no more.

Overwhelmed with grief, the widow and orphan knelt by the corpse, and began to recite the prayers for the dead. No more could the father love his child, the husband his wife—no more come or go, start or stay.

“Namu amida butsu, namu amida butsu,” repeated Yuranosuke, playing on his pipe and uttering the august “Ave” of six letters.^[29]

“Ah! the shakuhachi,^[30] ’tis the hiyaku-hachi bonnô—’tis the prayers for the dead, the rites for the dead, that bring together the pillows of the lusts of the world; ’tis but for this one night, for this one night that bride and bridegroom may exchange their vows of love.” Such were the sorrowful thoughts of the Karô of Yenya as he wended forth into the world.