Page:Modern Japanese Stories.pdf/115

boyhood had gone wonderfully bankrupt at a word from Ukon.

As a child, in childish pastimes, he had always been cleverer than any of his companions. When he shot his toy arrows he had always scored more bulls than the others. During calligraphy classes the old teacher had frequently patted him on the knee and praised his brushwork. These, and other such incidents, came momentarily back to his mind now as unhappy memories.

It had been the same in military arts. As a swordsman, or with the spear, in an amazingly short time he had reached the stage of defeating any of his retainers who offered to oppose him. And he had believed in himself right up to this moment. He had had the firmest faiths in his genuine ability. Just now, for instance, even while listening to the derogatory remarks which Ukon and his friend were making behind his back, he had almost been able to convince himself that this was merely their chagrin at defeat.

But when he had considered the circumstances under which they were spoken, he had known that Ukon’s words were neither jest nor lie.

Even Lord Tadanao, with all his buoyant self-confidence, had felt obliged to accept what he heard as a statement of the honest truth.

Ukon’s words were with him still, echoing loudly in his mind.

Lord Tadanao tried to calculate just how much of each splendid feat today had been due to himself, and how much to deceit. But it was no use. Not only would he never know about today. In all the countless victories and pre-eminences he had gained since childhood, in every variety of contest or skill, he would never know what were the proportions of reality and pretence. The thought was an agony, tearing at his heart. Not all had been sham, he knew. Not all of his retainers had given him victories which were not his by right. No, by far the great majority of his opponents had been fairly beaten. But the taint