{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_35853/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_35853","id":"gutenberg_35853","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35853","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales -- Japan"],"text":"</pre>\n\nE-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, S.D., and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 35853-h.htm or 35853-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/35853/pg35853-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/35853/35853-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE MOON MAIDEN _Frontispiece._]\n\n\n\nJAPANESE FAIRY TALES\n\nby\n\nGRACE JAMES\n\nIllustrations by Warwick Goble\n\n\n\n\n\nTO\nMISS ETSUKO KATO\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\nThese tales and legends have been collected from many sources. Some of\nthem have been selected from the _Ko-ji-ki_, or _Record of Ancient\nMatters_, which contains the mythology of Japan. Many are told from\nmemory, being relics of childish days, originally heard from the lips of\na school-fellow or a nurse. Certain of them, again, form favourite\nsubjects for representation upon the Japanese stage. A number of the\nstories now gathered together have been translated into English long ere\nthis, and have appeared in this country in one form or another; others\nare probably new to an English public.\n\nThanks are due to Marcus B. Huish, Esq., who has allowed his story, \"The\nEspousal of the Rat's Daughter,\" to be included in this collection; and\nto Mrs. T. H. James for permission to use her version of \"The Matsuyama\nMirror.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                PAGE\n\n   1. GREEN WILLOW                                 1\n\n   2. THE FLUTE                                   10\n\n   3. THE TEA-KETTLE                              17\n\n   4. THE PEONY LANTERN                           25\n\n   5. THE SEA KING AND THE MAGIC JEWELS           37\n\n   6. THE GOOD THUNDER                            50\n\n   7. THE BLACK BOWL                              56\n\n   8. THE STAR LOVERS                             65\n\n   9. HORAIZAN                                    71\n\n  10. REFLECTIONS                                 78\n\n  11. THE STORY OF SUSA, THE IMPETUOUS            89\n\n  12. THE WIND IN THE PINE TREE                  101\n\n  13. FLOWER OF THE PEONY                        108\n\n  14. THE MALLET                                 116\n\n  15. THE BELL OF DOJOJI                        127\n\n  16. THE MAIDEN OF UNAI                         134\n\n  17. THE ROBE OF FEATHERS                       142\n\n  18. THE SINGING BIRD OF HEAVEN                 148\n\n  19. THE COLD LADY                              153\n\n  20. THE FIRE QUEST                             161\n\n  21. A LEGEND OF KWANNON                        165\n\n  22. THE ESPOUSAL OF THE RAT'S DAUGHTER         171\n\n  23. THE LAND OF YOMI                           180\n\n  24. THE SPRING LOVER AND THE AUTUMN LOVER      185\n\n  25. THE STRANGE STORY OF THE GOLDEN COMB       191\n\n  26. THE JELLY-FISH TAKES A JOURNEY             204\n\n  27. URASHIMA                                   209\n\n  28. TAMAMO, THE FOX MAIDEN                     215\n\n  29. MOMOTARO                                   223\n\n  30. THE MATSUYAMA MIRROR                       228\n\n  31. BROKEN IMAGES                              233\n\n  32. THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW                     238\n\n  33. THE NURSE                                  243\n\n  34. THE BEAUTIFUL DANCER OF YEDO               250\n\n  35. HANA-SAKA-JIJI                             258\n\n  36. THE MOON MAIDEN                            264\n\n  37. KARMA                                      270\n\n  38. THE SAD STORY OF THE YAOYA'S DAUGHTER      276\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n  The Moon Maiden                      _Frontispiece_\n\n                                           FACE PAGE\n\n  The Flute                                       10\n\n  The Peony Lantern                               25\n\n  The Sea King and the Magic Jewels               45\n\n  The Star Lovers                                 65\n\n  The Story of Susa, the Impetuous                99\n\n  The Bell of Dojoji                             127\n\n  The Singing Bird of Heaven                     148\n\n  A Legend of Kwannon                            165\n\n  The Espousal of the Rat's Daughter             171\n\n  The Strange Story of the Golden Comb           191\n\n  The Matsuyama Mirror                           228\n\n  The Nurse                                      243\n\n  The Beautiful Dancer of Yedo                   250\n\n  Karma                                          270\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nGREEN WILLOW\n\n\nTomodata, the young _samurai_, owed allegiance to the Lord of Noto. He\nwas a soldier, a courtier, and a poet. He had a sweet voice and a\nbeautiful face, a noble form and a very winning address. He was a\ngraceful dancer, and excelled in every manly sport. He was wealthy and\ngenerous and kind. He was beloved by rich and by poor.\n\nNow his _daimyo_, the Lord of Noto, wanted a man to undertake a mission\nof trust. He chose Tomodata, and called him to his presence.\n\n\"Are you loyal?\" said the _daimyo_.\n\n\"My lord, you know it,\" answered Tomodata.\n\n\"Do you love me, then?\" asked the _daimyo_.\n\n\"Ay, my good lord,\" said Tomodata, kneeling before him.\n\n\"Then carry my message,\" said the _daimyo_. \"Ride and do not spare your\nbeast. Ride straight, and fear not the mountains nor the enemies'\ncountry. Stay not for storm nor any other thing. Lose your life; but\nbetray not your trust. Above all, do not look any maid between the eyes.\nRide, and bring me word again quickly.\"\n\nThus spoke the Lord of Noto.\n\nSo Tomodata got him to horse, and away he rode upon his quest. Obedient\nto his lord's commands, he spared not his good beast. He rode straight,\nand was not afraid of the steep mountain passes nor of the enemies'\ncountry. Ere he had been three days upon the road the autumn tempest\nburst, for it was the ninth month. Down poured the rain in a torrent.\nTomodata bowed his head and rode on. The wind howled in the pine-tree\nbranches. It blew a typhoon. The good horse trembled and could scarcely\nkeep its feet, but Tomodata spoke to it and urged it on. His own cloak\nhe drew close about him and held it so that it might not blow away, and\nin this wise he rode on.\n\nThe fierce storm swept away many a familiar landmark of the road, and\nbuffeted the _samurai_ so that he became weary almost to fainting.\nNoontide was as dark as twilight, twilight was as dark as night, and\nwhen night fell it was as black as the night of Yomi, where lost souls\nwander and cry. By this time Tomodata had lost his way in a wild, lonely\nplace, where, as it seemed to him, no human soul inhabited. His horse\ncould carry him no longer, and he wandered on foot through bogs and\nmarshes, through rocky and thorny tracks, until he fell into deep\ndespair.\n\n\"Alack!\" he cried, \"must I die in this wilderness and the quest of the\nLord of Noto be unfulfilled?\"\n\nAt this moment the great winds blew away the clouds of the sky, so that\nthe moon shone very brightly forth, and by the sudden light Tomodata saw\na little hill on his right hand. Upon the hill was a small thatched\ncottage, and before the cottage grew three green weeping-willow trees.\n\n\"Now, indeed, the gods be thanked!\" said Tomodata, and he climbed the\nhill in no time. Light shone from the chinks of the cottage door, and\nsmoke curled out of a hole in the roof. The three willow trees swayed\nand flung out their green streamers in the wind. Tomodata threw his\nhorse's rein over a branch of one of them, and called for admittance to\nthe longed-for shelter.\n\nAt once the cottage door was opened by an old woman, very poorly but\nneatly clad.\n\n\"Who rides abroad upon such a night?\" she asked, \"and what wills he\nhere?\"\n\n\"I am a weary traveller, lost and benighted upon your lonely moor. My\nname is Tomodata. I am a _samurai_ in the service of the Lord of Noto,\nupon whose business I ride. Show me hospitality for the love of the\ngods. I crave food and shelter for myself and my horse.\"\n\nAs the young man stood speaking the water streamed from his garments. He\nreeled a little, and put out a hand to hold on by the side-post of the\ndoor.\n\n\"Come in, come in, young sir!\" cried the old woman, full of pity. \"Come\nin to the warm fire. You are very welcome. We have but coarse fare to\noffer, but it shall be set before you with great good-will. As to your\nhorse, I see you have delivered him to my daughter; he is in good\nhands.\"\n\nAt this Tomodata turned sharply round. Just behind him, in the dim\nlight, stood a very young girl with the horse's rein thrown over her\narm. Her garments were blown about and her long loose hair streamed out\nupon the wind. The _samurai_ wondered how she had come there. Then the\nold woman drew him into the cottage and shut the door. Before the fire\nsat the good man of the house, and the two old people did the very best\nthey could for Tomodata. They gave him dry garments, comforted him with\nhot rice wine, and quickly prepared a good supper for him.\n\nPresently the daughter of the house came in, and retired behind a screen\nto comb her hair and to dress afresh. Then she came forth to wait upon\nhim. She wore a blue robe of homespun cotton. Her feet were bare. Her\nhair was not tied nor confined in any way, but lay along her smooth\ncheeks, and hung, straight and long and black, to her very knees. She\nwas slender and graceful. Tomodata judged her to be about fifteen years\nold, and knew well that she was the fairest maiden he had ever seen.\n\nAt length she knelt at his side to pour wine into his cup. She held the\nwine-bottle in two hands and bent her head. Tomodata turned to look at\nher. When she had made an end of pouring the wine and had set down the\nbottle, their glances met, and Tomodata looked at her full between the\neyes, for he forgot altogether the warning of his _daimyo_, the Lord of\nNoto.\n\n\"Maiden,\" he said, \"what is your name?\"\n\nShe answered: \"They call me the Green Willow.\"\n\n\"The dearest name on earth,\" he said, and again he looked her between\nthe eyes. And because he looked so long her face grew rosy red, from\nchin to forehead, and though she smiled her eyes filled with tears.\n\nAh me, for the Lord of Noto's quest!\n\nThen Tomodata made this little song:\n\n    \"Long-haired maiden, do you know\n     That with the red dawn I must go?\n     Do you wish me far away?\n     Cruel long-haired maiden, say--\n     Long-haired maiden, if you know\n     That with the red dawn I must go,\n     Why, oh why, do you blush so?\"\n\nAnd the maiden, the Green Willow, answered:\n\n    \"The dawn comes if I will or no;\n     Never leave me, never go.\n     My sleeve shall hide the blush away.\n     The dawn comes if I will or no;\n     Never leave me, never go.\n     Lord, I lift my long sleeve so....\"\n\n\"Oh, Green Willow, Green Willow ...\" sighed Tomodata.\n\nThat night he lay before the fire--still, but with wide eyes, for no\nsleep came to him though he was weary. He was sick for love of the Green\nWillow. Yet by the rules of his service he was bound in honour to think\nof no such thing. Moreover, he had the quest of the Lord of Noto that\nlay heavy on his heart, and he longed to keep truth and loyalty.\n\nAt the first peep of day he rose up. He looked upon the kind old man who\nhad been his host, and left a purse of gold at his side as he slept. The\nmaiden and her mother lay behind the screen.\n\nTomodata saddled and bridled his horse, and mounting, rode slowly away\nthrough the mist of the early morning. The storm was quite over and it\nwas as still as Paradise. The green grass and the leaves shone with the\nwet. The sky was clear, and the path very bright with autumn flowers;\nbut Tomodata was sad.\n\nWhen the sunlight streamed across his saddlebow, \"Ah, Green Willow,\nGreen Willow,\" he sighed; and at noontide it was \"Green Willow, Green\nWillow\"; and \"Green Willow, Green Willow,\" when the twilight fell. That\nnight he lay in a deserted shrine, and the place was so holy that in\nspite of all he slept from midnight till the dawn. Then he rose, having\nit in his mind to wash himself in a cold stream that flowed near by, so\nas to go refreshed upon his journey; but he was stopped upon the\nshrine's threshold. There lay the Green Willow, prone upon the ground. A\nslender thing she lay, face downwards, with her black hair flung about\nher. She lifted a hand and held Tomodata by the sleeve. \"My lord, my\nlord,\" she said, and fell to sobbing piteously.\n\nHe took her in his arms without a word, and soon he set her on his horse\nbefore him, and together they rode the livelong day. It was little they\nrecked of the road they went, for all the while they looked into each\nother's eyes. The heat and the cold were nothing to them. They felt not\nthe sun nor the rain; of truth or falsehood they thought nothing at all;\nnor of filial piety, nor of the Lord of Noto's quest, nor of honour nor\nplighted word. They knew but the one thing. Alas, for the ways of love!\n\nAt last they came to an unknown city, where they stayed. Tomodata\ncarried gold and jewels in his girdle, so they found a house built of\nwhite wood, spread with sweet white mats. In every dim room there could\nbe heard the sound of the garden waterfall, whilst the swallow flitted\nacross and across the paper lattice. Here they dwelt, knowing but the\none thing. Here they dwelt three years of happy days, and for Tomodata\nand the Green Willow the years were like garlands of sweet flowers.\n\nIn the autumn of the third year it chanced that the two of them went\nforth into the garden at dusk, for they had a wish to see the round moon\nrise; and as they watched, the Green Willow began to shake and shiver.\n\n\"My dear,\" said Tomodata, \"you shake and shiver; and it is no wonder,\nthe night wind is chill. Come in.\" And he put his arm around her.\n\nAt this she gave a long and pitiful cry, very loud and full of agony,\nand when she had uttered the cry she failed, and dropped her head upon\nher love's breast.\n\n\"Tomodata,\" she whispered, \"say a prayer for me; I die.\"\n\n\"Oh, say not so, my sweet, my sweet! You are but weary; you are faint.\"\n\nHe carried her to the stream's side, where the iris grew like swords,\nand the lotus-leaves like shields, and laved her forehead with water. He\nsaid: \"What is it, my dear? Look up and live.\"\n\n\"The tree,\" she moaned, \"the tree ... they have cut down my tree.\nRemember the Green Willow.\"\n\nWith that she slipped, as it seemed, from his arms to his feet; and he,\ncasting himself upon the ground, found only silken garments, bright\ncoloured, warm and sweet, and straw sandals, scarlet-thonged.\n\nIn after years, when Tomodata was a holy man, he travelled from shrine\nto shrine, painfully upon his feet, and acquired much merit.\n\nOnce, at nightfall, he found himself upon a lonely moor. On his right\nhand he beheld a little hill, and on it the sad ruins of a poor thatched\ncottage. The door swung to and fro with broken latch and creaking hinge.\nBefore it stood three old stumps of willow trees that had long since\nbeen cut down. Tomodata stood for a long time still and silent. Then he\nsang gently to himself:\n\n    \"Long-haired maiden, do you know\n     That with the red dawn I must go?\n     Do you wish me far away?\n     Cruel long-haired maiden, say--\n     Long-haired maiden, if you know\n     That with the red dawn I must go,\n     Why, oh why, do you blush so?\"\n\n\"Ah, foolish song! The gods forgive me.... I should have recited the\nHoly Sutra for the Dead,\" said Tomodata.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE FLUTE\n\n\nLong since, there lived in Yedo a gentleman of good lineage and very\nhonest conversation. His wife was a gentle and loving lady. To his\nsecret grief, she bore him no sons. But a daughter she did give him,\nwhom they called O'Yon\u00e9, which, being interpreted, is \"Rice in the ear.\"\nEach of them loved this child more than life, and guarded her as the\napple of their eye. And the child grew up red and white, and long-eyed,\nstraight and slender as the green bamboo.\n\nWhen O'Yon\u00e9 was twelve years old, her mother drooped with the fall of\nthe year, sickened, and pined, and ere the red had faded from the leaves\nof the maples she was dead and shrouded and laid in the earth. The\nhusband was wild in his grief. He cried aloud, he beat his breast, he\nlay upon the ground and refused comfort, and for days he neither broke\nhis fast nor slept. The child was quite silent.\n\n[Illustration: The Flute.--_P. 10._]\n\nTime passed by. The man perforce went about his business. The snows of\nwinter fell and covered his wife's grave. The beaten pathway from his\nhouse to the dwelling of the dead was snow also, undisturbed save for\nthe faint prints of a child's sandalled feet. In the spring-time he\ngirded up his robe and went forth to see the cherry blossom, making\nmerry enough, and writing a poem upon gilded paper, which he hung to a\ncherry-tree branch to flutter in the wind. The poem was in praise of the\nspring and of _sak\u00e9_. Later, he planted the orange lily of\nforgetfulness, and thought of his wife no more. But the child\nremembered.\n\nBefore the year was out he brought a new bride home, a woman with a fair\nface and a black heart. But the man, poor fool, was happy, and commended\nhis child to her, and believed that all was well.\n\nNow because her father loved O'Yon\u00e9, her stepmother hated her with a\njealous and deadly hatred, and every day she dealt cruelly by the child,\nwhose gentle ways and patience only angered her the more. But because of\nher father's presence she did not dare to do O'Yon\u00e9 any great ill;\ntherefore she waited, biding her time. The poor child passed her days\nand her nights in torment and horrible fear. But of these things she\nsaid not a word to her father. Such is the manner of children.\n\nNow, after some time, it chanced that the man was called away by his\nbusiness to a distant city. Kioto was the name of the city, and from\nYedo it is many days' journey on foot or on horseback. Howbeit, go the\nman needs must, and stay there three moons or more. Therefore he made\nready, and equipped himself, and his servants that were to go with him,\nwith all things needful; and so came to the last night before his\ndeparture, which was to be very early in the morning.\n\nHe called O'Yon\u00e9 to him and said: \"Come here, then, my dear little\ndaughter.\" So O'Yon\u00e9 went and knelt before him.\n\n\"What gift shall I bring you home from Kioto?\" he said.\n\nBut she hung her head and did not answer.\n\n\"Answer, then, rude little one,\" he bade her. \"Shall it be a golden fan,\nor a roll of silk, or a new _obi_ of red brocade, or a great battledore\nwith images upon it and many light-feathered shuttlecocks?\"\n\nThen she burst into bitter weeping, and he took her upon his knees to\nsoothe her. But she hid her face with her sleeves and cried as if her\nheart would break. And, \"O father, father, father,\" she said, \"do not go\naway--do not go away!\"\n\n\"But, my sweet, I needs must,\" he answered, \"and soon I shall be\nback--so soon, scarcely it will seem that I am gone, when I shall be\nhere again with fair gifts in my hand.\"\n\n\"Father, take me with you,\" she said.\n\n\"Alas, what a great way for a little girl! Will you walk on your feet,\nmy little pilgrim, or mount a pack-horse? And how would you fare in the\ninns of Kioto? Nay, my dear, stay; it is but for a little time, and your\nkind mother will be with you.\"\n\nShe shuddered in his arms.\n\n\"Father, if you go, you will never see me more.\"\n\nThen the father felt a sudden chill about his heart, that gave him\npause. But he would not heed it. What! Must he, a strong man grown, be\nswayed by a child's fancies? He put O'Yon\u00e9 gently from him, and she\nslipped away as silently as a shadow.\n\nBut in the morning she came to him before sunrise with a little flute in\nher hand, fashioned of bamboo and smoothly polished. \"I made it myself,\"\nshe said, \"from a bamboo in the grove that is behind our garden. I made\nit for you. As you cannot take me with you, take the little flute,\nhonourable father. Play on it sometimes, if you will, and think of me.\"\nThen she wrapped it in a handkerchief of white silk, lined with scarlet,\nand wound a scarlet cord about it, and gave it to her father, who put it\nin his sleeve. After this he departed and went his way, taking the road\nto Kioto. As he went he looked back thrice, and beheld his child,\nstanding at the gate, looking after him. Then the road turned and he saw\nher no more.\n\nThe city of Kioto was passing great and beautiful, and so the father of\nO'Yon\u00e9 found it. And what with his business during the day, which sped\nvery well, and his pleasure in the evening, and his sound sleep at\nnight, the time passed merrily, and small thought he gave to Yedo, to\nhis home, or to his child. Two moons passed, and three, and he made no\nplans for return.\n\nOne evening he was making ready to go forth to a great supper of his\nfriends, and as he searched in his chest for certain brave silken\n_hakama_ which he intended to wear as an honour to the feast, he came\nupon the little flute, which had lain hidden all this time in the sleeve\nof his travelling dress. He drew it forth from its red and white\nhandkerchief, and as he did so, felt strangely cold with an icy chill\nthat crept about his heart. He hung over the live charcoal of the\n_hibachi_ as one in a dream. He put the flute to his lips, when there\ncame from it a long-drawn wail.\n\nHe dropped it hastily upon the mats and clapped his hands for his\nservant, and told him he would not go forth that night. He was not well,\nhe would be alone. After a long time he reached out his hand for the\nflute. Again that long, melancholy cry. He shook from head to foot, but\nhe blew into the flute. \"Come back to Yedo ... come back to Yedo....\nFather! Father!\" The quavering childish voice rose to a shriek and then\nbroke.\n\nA horrible foreboding now took possession of the man, and he was as one\nbeside himself. He flung himself from the house and from the city, and\njourneyed day and night, denying himself sleep and food. So pale was he\nand wild that the people deemed him a madman and fled from him, or\npitied him as the afflicted of the gods. At last he came to his\njourney's end, travel-stained from head to heel, with bleeding feet and\nhalf-dead of weariness.\n\nHis wife met him in the gate.\n\nHe said: \"Where is the child?\"\n\n\"The child...?\" she answered.\n\n\"Ay, the child--my child ... where is she?\" he cried in an agony.\n\nThe woman laughed: \"Nay, my lord, how should I know? She is within at\nher books, or she is in the garden, or she is asleep, or mayhap she has\ngone forth with her playmates, or ...\"\n\nHe said: \"Enough; no more of this. Come, where is my child?\"\n\nThen she was afraid. And, \"In the Bamboo Grove,\" she said, looking at\nhim with wide eyes.\n\nThere the man ran, and sought O'Yon\u00e9 among the green stems of the\nbamboos. But he did not find her. He called, \"Yon\u00e9! Yon\u00e9!\" and again,\n\"Yon\u00e9! Yon\u00e9!\" But he had no answer; only the wind sighed in the dry\nbamboo leaves. Then he felt in his sleeve and brought forth the little\nflute, and very tenderly put it to his lips. There was a faint sighing\nsound. Then a voice spoke, thin and pitiful:\n\n\"Father, dear father, my wicked stepmother killed me. Three moons since\nshe killed me. She buried me in the clearing of the Bamboo Grove. You\nmay find my bones. As for me, you will never see me any more--you will\nnever see me more....\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith his own two-handed sword the man did justice, and slew his wicked\nwife, avenging the death of his innocent child. Then he dressed himself\nin coarse white raiment, with a great rice-straw hat that shadowed his\nface. And he took a staff and a straw rain-coat and bound sandals on\nhis feet, and thus he set forth upon a pilgrimage to the holy places of\nJapan.\n\nAnd he carried the little flute with him, in a fold of his garment, upon\nhis breast.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE TEA-KETTLE\n\n\nLong ago, as I've heard tell, there dwelt at the temple of Morinji, in\nthe Province of Kotsuke, a holy priest.\n\nNow there were three things about this reverend man. First, he was\nwrapped up in meditations and observances and forms and doctrines. He\nwas a great one for the Sacred Sutras, and knew strange and mystical\nthings. Then he had a fine exquisite taste of his own, and nothing\npleased him so much as the ancient tea ceremony of the _Cha-no-yu_; and\nfor the third thing about him, he knew both sides of a copper coin well\nenough and loved a bargain.\n\nNone so pleased as he when he happened upon an ancient tea-kettle, lying\nrusty and dirty and half-forgotten in a corner of a poor shop in a back\nstreet of his town.\n\n\"An ugly bit of old metal,\" says the holy man to the shopkeeper; \"but it\nwill do well enough to boil my humble drop of water of an evening. I'll\ngive you three _rin_ for it.\" This he did and took the kettle home,\nrejoicing; for it was of bronze, fine work, the very thing for the\n_Cha-no-yu_.\n\nA novice cleaned and scoured the tea-kettle, and it came out as pretty\nas you please. The priest turned it this way and that, and upside down,\nlooked into it, tapped it with his finger-nail. He smiled. \"A bargain,\"\nhe cried, \"a bargain!\" and rubbed his hands. He set the kettle upon a\nbox covered over with a purple cloth, and looked at it so long that\nfirst he was fain to rub his eyes many times, and then to close them\naltogether. His head dropped forward and he slept.\n\nAnd then, believe me, the wonderful thing happened. The tea-kettle\nmoved, though no hand was near it. A hairy head, with two bright eyes,\nlooked out of the spout. The lid jumped up and down. Four brown and\nhairy paws appeared, and a fine bushy tail. In a minute the kettle was\ndown from the box and going round and round looking at things.\n\n\"A very comfortable room, to be sure,\" says the tea-kettle.\n\nPleased enough to find itself so well lodged, it soon began to dance and\nto caper nimbly and to sing at the top of its voice. Three or four\nnovices were studying in the next room. \"The old man is lively,\" they\nsaid; \"only hark to him. What can he be at?\" And they laughed in their\nsleeves.\n\nHeaven's mercy, the noise that the tea-kettle made! Bang! bang! Thud!\nthud! thud!\n\nThe novices soon stopped laughing. One of them slid aside the\n_kara-kami_ and peeped through.\n\n\"Arah, the devil and all's in it!\" he cried. \"Here's the master's old\ntea-kettle turned into a sort of a badger. The gods protect us from\nwitchcraft, or for certain we shall be lost!\"\n\n\"And I scoured it not an hour since,\" said another novice, and he fell\nto reciting the Holy Sutras on his knees.\n\nA third laughed. \"I'm for a nearer view of the hobgoblin,\" he said.\n\nSo the lot of them left their books in a twinkling, and gave chase to\nthe tea-kettle to catch it. But could they come up with the tea-kettle?\nNot a bit of it. It danced and it leapt and it flew up into the air. The\nnovices rushed here and there, slipping upon the mats. They grew hot.\nThey grew breathless.\n\n\"Ha, ha! Ha, ha!\" laughed the tea-kettle; and \"Catch me if you can!\"\nlaughed the wonderful tea-kettle.\n\nPresently the priest awoke, all rosy, the holy man.\n\n\"And what's the meaning of this racket,\" he says, \"disturbing me at my\nholy meditations and all?\"\n\n\"Master, master,\" cry the novices, panting and mopping their brows,\n\"your tea-kettle is bewitched. It was a badger, no less. And the dance\nit has been giving us, you'd never believe!\"\n\n\"Stuff and nonsense,\" says the priest; \"bewitched? Not a bit of it.\nThere it rests on its box, good quiet thing, just where I put it.\"\n\nSure enough, so it did, looking as hard and cold and innocent as you\nplease. There was not a hair of a badger near it. It was the novices\nthat looked foolish.\n\n\"A likely story indeed,\" says the priest. \"I have heard of the pestle\nthat took wings to itself and flew away, parting company with the\nmortar. That is easily to be understood by any man. But a kettle that\nturned into a badger--no, no! To your books, my sons, and pray to be\npreserved from the perils of illusion.\"\n\nThat very night the holy man filled the kettle with water from the\nspring and set it on the _hibachi_ to boil for his cup of tea. When the\nwater began to boil--\n\n\"Ai! Ai!\" the kettle cried; \"Ai! Ai! The heat of the Great Hell!\" And it\nlost no time at all, but hopped off the fire as quick as you please.\n\n\"Sorcery!\" cried the priest. \"Black magic! A devil! A devil! A devil!\nMercy on me! Help! Help! Help!\" He was frightened out of his wits, the\ndear good man. All the novices came running to see what was the matter.\n\n\"The tea-kettle is bewitched,\" he gasped; \"it was a badger, assuredly it\nwas a badger ... it both speaks and leaps about the room.\"\n\n\"Nay, master,\" said a novice, \"see where it rests upon its box, good\nquiet thing.\"\n\nAnd sure enough, so it did.\n\n\"Most reverend sir,\" said the novice, \"let us all pray to be preserved\nfrom the perils of illusion.\"\n\nThe priest sold the tea-kettle to a tinker and got for it twenty copper\ncoins.\n\n\"It's a mighty fine bit of bronze,\" says the priest. \"Mind, I'm giving\nit away to you, I'm sure I cannot tell what for.\" Ah, he was the one for\na bargain! The tinker was a happy man and carried home the kettle. He\nturned it this way and that, and upside down, and looked into it.\n\n\"A pretty piece,\" says the tinker; \"a very good bargain.\" And when he\nwent to bed that night he put the kettle by him, to see it first thing\nin the morning.\n\nHe awoke at midnight and fell to looking at the kettle by the bright\nlight of the moon.\n\nPresently it moved, though there was no hand near it.\n\n\"Strange,\" said the tinker; but he was a man who took things as they\ncame.\n\nA hairy head, with two bright eyes, looked out of the kettle's spout.\nThe lid jumped up and down. Four brown and hairy paws appeared, and a\nfine bushy tail. It came quite close to the tinker and laid a paw upon\nhim.\n\n\"Well?\" says the tinker.\n\n\"I am not wicked,\" says the tea-kettle.\n\n\"No,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"But I like to be well treated. I am a badger tea-kettle.\"\n\n\"So it seems,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"At the temple they called me names, and beat me and set me on the fire.\nI couldn't stand it, you know.\"\n\n\"I like your spirit,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"I think I shall settle down with you.\"\n\n\"Shall I keep you in a lacquer box?\" says the tinker.\n\n\"Not a bit of it, keep me with you; let us have a talk now and again. I\nam very fond of a pipe. I like rice to eat, and beans and sweet things.\"\n\n\"A cup of _sak\u00e9_ sometimes?\" says the tinker.\n\n\"Well, yes, now you mention it.\"\n\n\"I'm willing,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"Thank you kindly,\" says the tea-kettle; \"and, as a beginning, would you\nobject to my sharing your bed? The night has turned a little chilly.\"\n\n\"Not the least in the world,\" says the tinker.\n\nThe tinker and the tea-kettle became the best of friends. They ate and\ntalked together. The kettle knew a thing or two and was very good\ncompany.\n\nOne day: \"Are you poor?\" says the kettle.\n\n\"Yes,\" says the tinker, \"middling poor.\"\n\n\"Well, I have a happy thought. For a tea-kettle, I am\nout-of-the-way--really very accomplished.\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"My name is _Bumbuku-Chagama_; I am the very prince of Badger\nTea-Kettles.\"\n\n\"Your servant, my lord,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"If you'll take my advice,\" says the tea-kettle, \"you'll carry me round\nas a show; I really am out-of-the-way, and it's my opinion you'd make a\nmint of money.\"\n\n\"That would be hard work for you, my dear _Bumbuku_,\" says the tinker.\n\n\"Not at all; let us start forthwith,\" says the tea-kettle.\n\nSo they did. The tinker bought hangings for a theatre, and he called the\nshow _Bumbuku-Chagama_. How the people flocked to see the fun! For the\nwonderful and most accomplished tea-kettle danced and sang, and walked\nthe tight rope as to the manner born. It played such tricks and had such\ndroll ways that the people laughed till their sides ached. It was a\ntreat to see the tea-kettle bow as gracefully as a lord and thank the\npeople for their patience.\n\nThe _Bumbuku-Chagama_ was the talk of the country-side, and all the\ngentry came to see it as well as the commonalty. As for the tinker, he\nwaved a fan and took the money. You may believe that he grew fat and\nrich. He even went to Court, where the great ladies and the royal\nprincesses made much of the wonderful tea-kettle.\n\nAt last the tinker retired from business, and to him the tea-kettle came\nwith tears in its bright eyes.\n\n\"I'm much afraid it's time to leave you,\" it says.\n\n\"Now, don't say that, _Bumbuku_, dear,\" says the tinker. \"We'll be so\nhappy together now we are rich.\"\n\n\"I've come to the end of my time,\" says the tea-kettle. \"You'll not see\nold _Bumbuku_ any more; henceforth I shall be an ordinary kettle,\nnothing more or less.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear _Bumbuku_, what shall I do?\" cried the poor tinker in\ntears.\n\n\"I think I should like to be given to the temple of Morinji, as a very\nsacred treasure,\" says the tea-kettle.\n\nIt never spoke or moved again. So the tinker presented it as a very\nsacred treasure to the temple, and the half of his wealth with it.\n\nAnd the tea-kettle was held in wondrous fame for many a long year. Some\npersons even worshipped it as a saint.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE PEONY LANTERN\n\n[Illustration: The Peony Lantern.--_P. 25._]\n\n\nIn Yedo there dwelt a _samurai_ called Hagiwara. He was a _samurai_ of\nthe _hatamoto_, which is of all the ranks of _samurai_ the most\nhonourable. He possessed a noble figure and a very beautiful face, and\nwas beloved of many a lady of Yedo, both openly and in secret. For\nhimself, being yet very young, his thoughts turned to pleasure rather\nthan to love, and morning, noon and night he was wont to disport himself\nwith the gay youth of the city. He was the prince and leader of joyous\nrevels within doors and without, and would often parade the streets for\nlong together with bands of his boon companions.\n\nOne bright and wintry day during the Festival of the New Year he found\nhimself with a company of laughing youths and maidens playing at\nbattledore and shuttlecock. He had wandered far away from his own\nquarter of the city, and was now in a suburb quite the other side of\nYedo, where the streets were empty, more or less, and the quiet houses\nstood in gardens. Hagiwara wielded his heavy battledore with great skill\nand grace, catching the gilded shuttlecock and tossing it lightly into\nthe air; but at length with a careless or an ill-judged stroke, he sent\nit flying over the heads of the players, and over the bamboo fence of a\ngarden near by. Immediately he started after it. Then his companions\ncried, \"Stay, Hagiwara; here we have more than a dozen shuttlecocks.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" he said, \"but this was dove-coloured and gilded.\"\n\n\"Foolish one!\" answered his friends; \"here we have six shuttlecocks all\ndove-coloured and gilded.\"\n\nBut he paid them no heed, for he had become full of a very strange\ndesire for the shuttlecock he had lost. He scaled the bamboo fence and\ndropped into the garden which was upon the farther side. Now he had\nmarked the very spot where the shuttlecock should have fallen, but it\nwas not there; so he searched along the foot of the bamboo fence--but\nno, he could not find it. Up and down he went, beating the bushes with\nhis battledore, his eyes on the ground, drawing breath heavily as if he\nhad lost his dearest treasure. His friends called him, but he did not\ncome, and they grew tired and went to their own homes. The light of day\nbegan to fail. Hagiwara, the _samurai_, looked up and saw a girl\nstanding a few yards away from him. She beckoned him with her right\nhand, and in her left she held a gilded shuttlecock with dove-coloured\nfeathers.\n\nThe _samurai_ shouted joyfully and ran forward. Then the girl drew away\nfrom him, still beckoning him with the right hand. The shuttlecock\nlured him, and he followed. So they went, the two of them, till they\ncame to the house that was in the garden, and three stone steps that led\nup to it. Beside the lowest step there grew a plum tree in blossom, and\nupon the highest step there stood a fair and very young lady. She was\nmost splendidly attired in robes of high festival. Her _kimono_ was of\nwater-blue silk, with sleeves of ceremony so long that they touched the\nground; her under-dress was scarlet, and her great girdle of brocade was\nstiff and heavy with gold. In her hair were pins of gold and\ntortoiseshell and coral.\n\nWhen Hagiwara saw the lady, he knelt down forthwith and made her due\nobeisance, till his forehead touched the ground.\n\nThen the lady spoke, smiling with pleasure like a child. \"Come into my\nhouse, Hagiwara Sama, _samurai_ of the _hatamoto_. I am O'Tsuyu, the\nLady of the Morning Dew. My dear handmaiden, O'Yon\u00e9, has brought you to\nme. Come in, Hagiwara Sama, _samurai_ of the _hatamoto_; for indeed I am\nglad to see you, and happy is this hour.\"\n\nSo the _samurai_ went in, and they brought him to a room of ten mats,\nwhere they entertained him; for the Lady of the Morning Dew danced\nbefore him in the ancient manner, whilst O'Yon\u00e9, the handmaiden, beat\nupon a small scarlet-tasselled drum.\n\nAfterwards they set food before him, the red rice of the festival and\nsweet warm wine, and he ate and drank of the food they gave him.\n\nIt was dark night when Hagiwara took his leave. \"Come again, honourable\nlord, come again,\" said O'Yon\u00e9 the handmaiden.\n\n\"Yea, lord, you needs must come,\" whispered the Lady of the Morning Dew.\n\nThe _samurai_ laughed. \"And if I do not come?\" he said mockingly. \"What\nif I do not come?\"\n\nThe lady stiffened, and her child's face grew grey, but she laid her\nhand upon Hagiwara's shoulder.\n\n\"Then,\" she said, \"it will be death, lord. Death it will be for you and\nfor me. There is no other way.\" O'Yon\u00e9 shuddered and hid her eyes with\nher sleeve.\n\nThe _samurai_ went out into the night, being very much afraid.\n\nLong, long he sought for his home and could not find it, wandering in\nthe black darkness from end to end of the sleeping city. When at last he\nreached his familiar door the late dawn was almost come, and wearily he\nthrew himself upon his bed. Then he laughed. \"After all, I have left\nbehind me my shuttlecock,\" said Hagiwara the _samurai_.\n\nThe next day Hagiwara sat alone in his house from morning till evening.\nHe had his hands before him; and he thought, but did nothing more. At\nthe end of the time he said, \"It is a joke that a couple of _geisha_\nhave sought to play on me. Excellent, in faith, but they shall not have\nme!\" So he dressed himself in his best and went forth to join his\nfriends. For five or six days he was at joustings and junketings, the\ngayest of the gay. His wit was ready, his spirits were wild.\n\nThen he said, \"By the gods, I am deathly sick of this,\" and took to\nwalking the streets of Yedo alone. From end to end of the great city he\nwent. He wandered by day and he wandered by night, by street and alley\nhe went, by hill and moat and castle wall, but he found not what he\nsought. He could not come upon the garden where his shuttlecock was\nlost, nor yet upon the Lady of the Morning Dew. His spirit had no rest.\nHe fell sick and took to his bed, where he neither ate nor slept, but\ngrew spectre-thin. This was about the third month. In the sixth month,\nat the time of _niubai_, the hot and rainy season, he rose up, and, in\nspite of all his faithful servant could say or do to dissuade him, he\nwrapped a loose summer robe about him and at once went forth.\n\n\"Alack! Alack!\" cried the servant, \"the youth has the fever, or he is\nperchance mad.\"\n\nHagiwara faltered not at all. He looked neither to the right nor to the\nleft. Straight forward he went, for he said to himself, \"All roads lead\npast my love's house.\" Soon he came to a quiet suburb, and to a certain\nhouse whose garden had a split bamboo fence. Hagiwara laughed softly and\nscaled the fence.\n\n\"The same, the very same shall be the manner of our meeting,\" he said.\nHe found the garden wild and overgrown. Moss covered the three stone\nsteps. The plum tree that grew there fluttered its green leaves\ndisconsolate. The house was still, its shutters were all closed, it was\nforlorn and deserted.\n\nThe _samurai_ grew cold as he stood and wondered. A soaking rain fell.\n\nThere came an old man into the garden. He said to Hagiwara:\n\n\"Sir, what do you do here?\"\n\n\"The white flower has fallen from the plum tree,\" said the _samurai_.\n\"Where is the Lady of the Morning Dew?\"\n\n\"She is dead,\" answered the old man; \"dead these five or six moons, of a\nstrange and sudden sickness. She lies in the graveyard on the hill, and\nO'Yon\u00e9, her handmaid, lies by her side. She could not suffer her\nmistress to wander alone through the long night of Yomi. For their sweet\nspirits' sake I would still tend this garden, but I am old and it is\nlittle that I can do. Oh, sir, they are dead indeed. The grass grows on\ntheir graves.\"\n\nHagiwara went to his own home. He took a slip of pure white wood and he\nwrote upon it, in large fair characters, the dear name of his lady. This\nhe set up, and burned before it incense and sweet odours, and made every\noffering that was meet, and did due observance, and all for the welfare\nof her departed spirit.\n\nThen drew near the Festival of _Bon_, the time of returning souls. The\ngood folk of Yedo took lanterns and visited their graves. Bringing food\nand flowers, they cared for their beloved dead. On the thirteenth day\nof the seventh month, which, in the _Bon_, is the day of days, Hagiwara\nthe _samurai_ walked in his garden by night for the sake of the\ncoolness. It was windless and dark. A cicala hidden in the heart of a\npomegranate flower sang shrilly now and again. Now and again a carp\nleaped in the round pond. For the rest it was still, and never a leaf\nstirred.\n\nAbout the hour of the Ox, Hagiwara heard the sound of footsteps in the\nlane that lay beyond his garden hedge. Nearer and nearer they came.\n\n\"Women's _geta_,\" said the _samurai_. He knew them by the hollow echoing\nnoise. Looking over his rose hedge, he saw two slender women come out of\nthe dimness hand in hand. One of them carried a lantern with a bunch of\npeony flowers tied to the handle. It was such a lantern as is used at\nthe time of the _Bon_ in the service of the dead. It swung as the two\nwomen walked, casting an uncertain light. As they came abreast of the\n_samurai_ upon the other side of the hedge, they turned their faces to\nhim. He knew them at once, and gave one great cry.\n\nThe girl with the peony lantern held it up so that the light fell upon\nhim.\n\n\"Hagiwara Sama,\" she cried, \"by all that is most wonderful! Why, lord,\nwe were told that you were dead. We have daily recited the _Nembutsu_\nfor your soul these many moons!\"\n\n\"Come in, come in, O'Yon\u00e9,\" he said; \"and is it indeed your mistress\nthat you hold by the hand? Can it be my lady?... Oh, my love!\"\n\nO'Yon\u00e9 answered, \"Who else should it be?\" and the two came in at the\ngarden gate.\n\nBut the Lady of the Morning Dew held up her sleeve to hide her face.\n\n\"How was it I lost you?\" said the _samurai_; \"how was it I lost you,\nO'Yon\u00e9?\"\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, \"we have moved to a little house, a very little house,\nin the quarter of the city which is called the Green Hill. We were\nsuffered to take nothing with us there, and we are grown very poor. With\ngrief and want my mistress is become pale.\"\n\nThen Hagiwara took his lady's sleeve to draw it gently from her face.\n\n\"Lord,\" she sobbed, \"you will not love me, I am not fair.\"\n\nBut when he looked upon her his love flamed up within him like a\nconsuming fire, and shook him from head to foot. He said never a word.\n\nShe drooped. \"Lord,\" she murmured, \"shall I go or stay?\"\n\nAnd he said, \"Stay.\"\n\nA little before daybreak the _samurai_ fell into a deep sleep, and awoke\nto find himself alone in the clear light of the morning. He lost not an\ninstant, but rose and went forth, and immediately made his way through\nYedo to the quarter of the city which is called the Green Hill. Here he\ninquired for the house of the Lady of the Morning Dew, but no one could\ndirect him. High and low he searched fruitlessly. It seemed to him that\nfor the second time he had lost his dear lady, and he turned homewards\nin bitter despair. His way led him through the grounds of a certain\ntemple, and as he went he marked two graves that were side by side. One\nwas little and obscure, but the other was marked by a fair monument,\nlike the tomb of some great one. Before the monument there hung a\nlantern with a bunch of peony flowers tied to its handle. It was such a\nlantern as is used at the time of _Bon_ in the service of the dead.\n\nLong, long did the _samurai_ stand as one in a dream. Then he smiled a\nlittle and said:\n\n\"'_We have moved to a little house ... a very little house ... upon the\nGreen Hill ... we were suffered to take nothing with us there and we are\ngrown very poor ... with grief and want my mistress is become pale...._'\nA little house, a dark house, yet you will make room for me, oh, my\nbeloved, pale one of my desires. We have loved for the space of ten\nexistences, leave me not now ... my dear.\" Then he went home.\n\nHis faithful servant met him and cried:\n\n\"Now what ails you, master?\"\n\nHe said, \"Why, nothing at all.... I was never merrier.\"\n\nBut the servant departed weeping, and saying, \"The mark of death is on\nhis face ... and I, whither shall I go that bore him as a child in these\narms?\"\n\nEvery night, for seven nights, the maidens with the peony lantern came\nto Hagiwara's dwelling. Fair weather or foul was the same to them. They\ncame at the hour of the Ox. There was mystic wooing. By the strong bond\nof illusion the living and the dead were bound together.\n\nOn the seventh night the servant of the _samurai_, wakeful with fear and\nsorrow, made bold to peer into his lord's room through a crack in the\nwooden shutters. His hair stood on end and his blood ran cold to see\nHagiwara in the arms of a fearful thing, smiling up at the horror that\nwas its face, stroking its dank green robe with languid fingers. With\ndaylight the servant made his way to a holy man of his acquaintance.\nWhen he had told his tale he asked, \"Is there any hope for Hagiwara\nSama?\"\n\n\"Alack,\" said the holy man, \"who can withstand the power of Karma?\nNevertheless, there is a little hope.\" So he told the servant what he\nmust do. Before nightfall, this one had set a sacred text above every\ndoor and window-place of his master's house, and he had rolled in the\nsilk of his master's girdle a golden emblem of the Tathagata. When these\nthings were done, Hagiwara being drawn two ways became himself as weak\nas water. And his servant took him in his arms, laid him upon his bed\nand covered him lightly, and saw him fall into a deep sleep.\n\nAt the hour of the Ox there was heard the sound of footsteps in the\nlane, without the garden hedge. Nearer and nearer they came. They grew\nslow and stopped.\n\n\"What means this, O'Yon\u00e9, O'Yon\u00e9?\" said a piteous voice. \"The house is\nasleep, and I do not see my lord.\"\n\n\"Come home, sweet lady, Hagiwara's heart is changed.\"\n\n\"That I will not, O'Yon\u00e9, O'Yon\u00e9 ... you must find a way to bring me to\nmy lord.\"\n\n\"Lady, we cannot enter here. See the Holy Writing over every door and\nwindow-place ... we may not enter here.\"\n\nThere was a sound of bitter weeping and a long wail.\n\n\"Lord, I have loved thee through the space of ten existences.\" Then the\nfootsteps retreated and their echo died away.\n\nThe next night it was quite the same. Hagiwara slept in his weakness;\nhis servant watched; the wraiths came and departed in sobbing despair.\n\nThe third day, when Hagiwara went to the bath, a thief stole the emblem,\nthe golden emblem of the Tathagata, from his girdle. Hagiwara did not\nmark it. But that night he lay awake. It was his servant that slept,\nworn out with watching. Presently a great rain fell and Hagiwara,\nwaking, heard the sound of it upon the roof. The heavens were opened and\nfor hours the rain fell. And it tore the holy text from over the round\nwindow in Hagiwara's chamber.\n\nAt the hour of the Ox there was heard the sound of footsteps in the lane\nwithout the garden hedge. Nearer and nearer they came. They grew slow\nand stopped.\n\n\"This is the last time, O'Yon\u00e9, O'Yon\u00e9, therefore bring me to my lord.\nThink of the love of ten existences. Great is the power of Karma. There\nmust be a way....\"\n\n\"Come, my beloved,\" called Hagiwara with a great voice.\n\n\"Open, lord ... open and I come.\"\n\nBut Hagiwara could not move from his couch.\n\n\"Come, my beloved,\" he called for the second time.\n\n\"I cannot come, though the separation wounds me like a sharp sword. Thus\nwe suffer for the sins of a former life.\" So the lady spoke and moaned\nlike the lost soul that she was. But O'Yon\u00e9 took her hand.\n\n\"See the round window,\" she said.\n\nHand in hand the two rose lightly from the earth. Like vapour they\npassed through the unguarded window. The _samurai_ called, \"Come to me,\nbeloved,\" for the third time.\n\nHe was answered, \"Lord, I come.\"\n\nIn the grey morning Hagiwara's servant found his master cold and dead.\nAt his feet stood the peony lantern burning with a weird yellow flame.\nThe servant shivered, took up the lantern and blew out the light; for \"I\ncannot bear it,\" he said.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE SEA KING AND THE MAGIC JEWELS\n\n\nThis is a tale beloved by the children of Japan, and by the old folk--a\ntale of magical jewels and a visit to the Sea King's palace.\n\nPrince Rice-Ear-Ruddy-Plenty loved a beautiful and royal maiden,\nand made her his bride. And the lady was called Princess\nBlossoming-Brightly-as-the-Flowers-of-the-Trees, so sweetly fair was\nshe. But her father was augustly wrath at her betrothal, for his\nAugustness, Prince Rice-Ear-Ruddy-Plenty, had put aside her elder\nsister, the Princess of the Rocks (and, indeed, this lady was not fair),\nfor he loved only Princess Blossoming-Brightly. So the old King said,\n\"Because of this, the offspring of these heavenly deities shall be\nfrail, fading and falling like the flowers of the trees.\" So it is. At\nthis day, the lives of their Augustnesses, the Heavenly Sovereigns, are\nnot long.\n\nHowbeit, in the fullness of time, the lady,\nBlossoming-Brightly-as-the-Flowers-of-the-Trees, bore two lovely men\nchildren, and called the elder Fire Flash and the younger Fire Fade.\n\nPrince Fire Flash was a fisherman, who got his luck upon the wide sea,\nand ran upon the shore with his august garments girded. And again, he\ntarried all the night in his boat, upon the high wave-crests. And he\ncaught things broad of fin and things narrow of fin, and he was a deity\nof the water weeds and of the waters and of the fishes of the sea.\n\nBut Prince Fire Fade was a hunter, who got his luck upon the mountains\nand in the forest, who bound sandals fast upon his feet, and bore a bow\nand heavenly-feathered arrows. And he caught things rough of hair and\nthings soft of hair, and he knew the trail of the badger and the wild\ncherry's time of flowering. For he was a deity of the woods.\n\nNow Prince Fire Fade spoke to his elder brother, Prince Fire Flash, and\nsaid, \"Brother, I am aweary of the green hills. Therefore let us now\nexchange our luck. Give me thy rod and I will go to the cool waters.\nThou mayest take my great bow and all my heavenly-feathered arrows and\ntry the mountains, where, trust me, thou shalt see many strange and\nbeautiful things, unknown to thee before.\"\n\nBut Prince Fire Flash answered, \"Not so ... not so.\"\n\nAnd again, after not many days were past, Prince Fire Fade came and\nsighed, \"I am aweary of the green hills ... the fair waters call me.\nWoe to be a younger brother!\" And when Prince Fire Flash took no heed of\nhim, but angled with his rod, day and night, and caught things broad of\nfin and things narrow of fin, Prince Fire Fade drooped with desire, and\nlet his long hair fall untended upon his shoulders. And he murmured,\n\"Oh, to try my luck upon the sea!\" till at last Prince Fire Flash,\nhis elder brother, gave him the rod for very weariness, and betook\nhimself to the mountains. And all day he hunted, and let fly the\nheavenly-feathered arrows; but rough of hair or soft of hair, never a\nthing did he catch. And he cried, \"Fool, fool, to barter the heavenly\nluck of the gods!\" So he returned.\n\nAnd his Augustness, Prince Fire Fade, took the luck of the sea, and\nangled in sunshine and in gloom; but broad of fin or narrow of fin,\nnever a fish did he catch. And, moreover, he lost his brother's\nfish-hook in the sea. So he hung his head, and returned.\n\nAnd Prince Fire Flash said, \"Each to his own, the hunter to the\nmountain, and the fisherman to the sea ... for thou and I have brought\nnothing home, and this night we sleep hungry. We may not barter the luck\nof the gods. And now, where is my fish-hook?\"\n\nSo Prince Fire Fade replied, saying softly, \"Sweet brother, be not angry\n... but, toiling all day with thy fish-hook, broad of fin or narrow of\nfin, not a fish did I catch; and, at the last, I lost thy fish-hook in\nthe sea.\"\n\nAt this his Highness, Prince Fire Flash, flew into a great rage, and\nstamping his feet, required the fish-hook of his brother.\n\nAnd Prince Fire Fade made answer, \"Sweet brother, I have not thy\nfish-hook, but the deep sea, whose bottom no man may search. Though I\nshould die for thee, yet could I not give thee back thy fish-hook.\"\n\nBut his elder brother required it of him the more urgently.\n\nThen Prince Fire Fade burst the wild wistaria tendrils which bound his\naugust ten-grasp sword to his side. And he said, \"Farewell, good sword.\"\nAnd he broke it into many fragments, and made five hundred fish-hooks to\ngive to his brother, Prince Fire Flash. But Prince Fire Flash would have\nnone of them.\n\nAnd again Prince Fire Fade toiled at a great furnace, and made one\nthousand fish-hooks; and upon his knees he humbly offered them to his\nbrother, Prince Fire Flash. For he loved his brother. Nevertheless\nPrince Fire Flash would not so much as look at them, but sat moody, his\nhead on his hand, saying, \"Mine own lost fish-hook will I have, that and\nno other.\"\n\nSo Prince Fire Fade went grieving from the palace gates, and wandered\nlamenting by the seashore; and his tears fell and mingled with the foam.\nAnd, when night came, he had no heart to return homewards, but sat down,\nweary, upon a rock amid the salt pools. And he cried, \"Alas, my brother,\nI am all to blame, and through my foolishness has this come upon me. But\noh, my brother, together were we nursed upon the sweet breast of our\nmother, Princess Blossoming-Brightly-as-the-Flowers-of-the-Trees, for\nalmost hand in hand did we come into the world.\"\n\nAnd the moon rose so that the sea and the Central Land of Reed Plains\nwas light. But Prince Fire Fade ceased not to lament.\n\nThen Shiko-Tsuchi-no-Kami, the Lord of Sea Salt, came with the rising\ntide, and spoke, \"Wherefore weeps the Heaven's Sky Height?\"\n\nAnd Prince Fire Fade made answer: \"I have taken my brother's fish-hook,\nand I have lost it in the sea. And though I have given him many other\nfish-hooks for compensation, he will have none of them, but desires only\nthe original fish-hook. Truly, the gods know, I would give my life to\nfind it; but how should that serve?\"\n\nAnd Shiko-Tsuchi-no-Kami took him by the sleeve to where a boat moved\nupon the water, and set him in the boat and pushed it from the shore,\nsaying, \"My son, pursue the pleasant path that Tsuki-Yomi-no-Kami, His\nAugustness, the Moon Night Possessor, has made for thee upon the waters.\nAnd, at the end, thou shalt come to a palace made of fishes' scales,\nwhich is the palace of the great King of the Sea. Before the gate there\nis a clear well, and by the well-side there grows a cassia tree with\nmany spreading branches. Therefore climb thou into the branches of the\ncassia tree, and there wait for the King's daughter, who shall come to\ngive thee counsel.\"\n\nAnd Prince Fire Fade, standing up in the boat, made obeisance, and\nthanked the Lord of Sea Salt. But this one girded his august garments\nand pushed the boat before him, till he was thigh-deep in the water. And\nhe said, \"Nay, nay, fair youth, no thanks, only do my bidding.\"\n\nSo his Augustness, Prince Fire Fade, came to the Sea King's palace. And\nhe forthwith climbed the cassia tree and waited among its green\nbranches.\n\nAt the day's dawning came the handmaidens of the Sea King's daughter,\nwith their jewelled vessels, to draw water from the well. And as they\nstooped to dip their vessels, Prince Fire Fade leaned and watched them\nfrom the branches of the cassia tree. And the glory of his august\ncountenance made a brightness upon the waters of the well. So all the\nmaidens looked up and beheld his comeliness, and were amazed. But he\nspoke them fairly, and desired of them a little water from their\nvessels. So the maidens drew him water in a jewelled cup (howbeit the\njewels were clouded, because of the coldness of the well water), and\nthey presented it to him with all reverence. Then, not drinking the\nwater, Prince Fire Fade took the royal jewel from his neck, and holding\nit between his two lips he dropped it into the cup, and the cup he gave\nagain to the maidens.\n\nNow they saw the great jewel shining in the cup, but they could not move\nit, for it clung fast to the gold. So the maidens departed, skimming the\nwater like the white birds of the offing. And they came to the Sea\nKing's daughter, bearing the cup and the jewel in it.\n\nAnd the Princess, looking at the jewel, asked them, \"Is there,\nperchance, a stranger at the gate?\"\n\nAnd one of the maidens answered, \"There is some one sitting in the\nbranches of the cassia tree which is by our well.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"It is a very beautiful young man.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"He is even more glorious than our king. And he asked\nwater of us, so we respectfully gave him water in this cup. And he drank\nnone of it, but dropped a jewel into it from his lips. So we have\nbrought them unto Thine Augustness, both the cup and the jewel.\"\n\nThen the Princess herself took a vessel and went to draw water at the\nwell. And her long sleeves, and certain of the folds of her august\ngarments, floated behind her, and her head was bound with a garland of\nsea flowers. And coming to the well she looked up through the branches\nof the cassia tree. And her eyes met the eyes of Prince Fire Fade.\n\nAnd presently she fetched her father, the Sea King, saying, \"Father,\nthere is a beautiful person at our gate.\" So the Sea King came out and\nwelcomed Prince Fire Fade, and said, \"This is the August Child of the\nHeaven's Sun Height.\" And leading him into his palace he caused the\nfloor to be spread with eight layers of rugs of asses' skins, and eight\nlayers of rugs of silk, and set the Prince upon them.\n\nAnd that night he made a great banquet, and celebrated the betrothal of\nPrince Fire Fade to his daughter, the fair Jewel Princess. And for very\nmany days there was held high revel and rejoicing in the Sea King's\npalace.\n\nBut one night, as they took their ease upon the silken floor, and all\nthe fishes of the sea brought rich dishes, and sweetmeats in vessels of\ngold and coral and jade to set before them, the fair Jewel Princess\nherself sat at Prince Fire Fade's right hand to pour the wine into his\ncup. And the silver scales upon the palace walls glittered in the\nmoonlight. But Prince Fire Fade looked out across the Sea Path and\nthought of what had gone before, and so heaved a deep sigh.\n\nThen the Sea King was troubled, and asked him, saying, \"Wherefore dost\nthou sigh?\" But Prince Fire Fade answered nothing.\n\nAnd the fair Jewel Princess, his betrothed wife, came closer, and\ntouched him on the breast, and said softly, \"Oh, Thine Augustness, my\nsweet spouse, art thou not happy in our water palace, where the shadows\nfall green, that thou lookest so longingly across the Sea Path? Or do\nour maidens not please thee, who move silently, like the birds of the\noffing? Oh, my lord, despise me not, but tell me what is in thine\nheart.\"\n\nThen Prince Fire Fade answered, \"My lovely lady, Thine Augustness, let\nnothing be hidden from thee, because of our love.\" And he told them all\nthe story of the fish-hook, and of his elder brother's wrath.\n\n[Illustration: The Sea King and the Magic Jewels.--_P. 45._]\n\n\"And now,\" he said, \"will the Jewel Princess give me counsel?\"\n\nThen the Jewel Princess smiled, and rose up lightly, and her hair was so\nlong that it hung to the edge and hem of her silken red robe. And she\npassed to where the palace steps led down into the water. And standing\nupon the last step she called to the fishes of the sea, and summoned\nthem, great and small, from far and near. So the fishes of the sea, both\ngreat and small, swam about her feet, and the water was silver with\ntheir scales. And the King's daughter cried, \"O fishes of the sea, find\nand bring me the august fish-hook of Prince Fire Flash.\"\n\nAnd the fishes answered, \"Lady, the _Tai_ is in misery, for something\nsticks in his throat so that he cannot eat. Perchance this may be the\naugust fish-hook of his Augustness, Prince Fire Flash.\"\n\nThen the Princess stooped down and lifted the _Tai_ from the water, and\nwith her white hand she took the lost fish-hook from his throat. And\nafter she had washed and dabbled it for a little, she took it in to\nPrince Fire Fade. And he rejoiced and said, \"This is indeed my brother's\nfish-hook. I go to restore it instantly, and we shall be reconciled.\"\nFor he loved his brother.\n\nBut the fair Jewel Princess stood silent and sorrowing, for she thought,\n\"Now will he depart and leave me lonely.\"\n\nAnd Prince Fire Fade hastened to the water's edge, and there bestrode a\nvaliant crocodile, who should bring him to his journey's end. And ere\nhe went, the Sea King spoke: \"Fair youth, now listen to my counsel. If\nthy brother sow rice upon the uplands, do thou sow thy rice low, in the\nwater meads. But if thy brother sow his rice in the water meads, then do\nthou, Thine Augustness, sow thy rice upon the uplands. And I who rule\nthe rains and the floods will continually prosper the labours of Thine\nAugustness. Moreover, here are two magic jewels. If thy brother should\nbe moved by envy to attack thee, then put forth the Tide Flowing Jewel\nand the waters shall arise to drown him. But if thou shouldst have\ncompassion upon him, then put forth the Tide Ebbing Jewel, and all the\nwaters shall subside, and his life be spared.\"\n\nAnd his Augustness Prince Fire Fade gave thanks with obeisance. And he\nhid the fish-hook in his long sleeve, and hung the two great jewels\nabout his neck. Then the fair Jewel Princess came near and bade him\nfarewell, with many tears. And the Sea King charged the crocodile,\nsaying, \"While crossing the middle of the sea, do not alarm him.\"\n\nSo Prince Fire Fade sat upon the crocodile's head; and in one day he\ncame to his own place and sprang lightly to shore. And unsheathing his\ndagger, he hung it upon the crocodile's neck for a token.\n\nHereupon, Prince Fire Fade found his brother, and gave him back his own\nfish-hook that had been lost. Nevertheless, because of the two great\njewels, which he wore in the folds of his raiment, he had everlasting\ndominion over his brother, and flourished in all his doings.\n\nAnd, after some time, there came to Prince Fire Fade the daughter of the\nSea King, the fair Jewel Princess. And she came across the Sea Path\nbearing in her arms a young child. And she, weeping, laid down the child\nat the feet of His Augustness and said, \"My lord, I have brought thy\nson.\"\n\nBut Prince Fire Fade raised her up and made her welcome, and built for\nher a palace on the seashore, at the limit of the waves. And the palace\nwas thatched with cormorant's feathers. So they dwelt there with the\nAugust Child.\n\nAnd the fair Jewel Princess besought her lord, saying, \"Sweet husband,\nlook not on me in the dark night, for then I must take my native shape;\nwith those of my land it is ever so. Howbeit, look not on me, lest I\nshould be ashamed and misfortune should follow.\" So Prince Fire Fade\npromised her, and spoke many fair words of assurance.\n\nNevertheless, there came a night when Prince Fire Fade lay awake, and\ncould get no rest. And, at length, when it was very dark, before the\ndawn, he arose and struck a light to look upon his bride as she slept.\nAnd he beheld a great scal\u00e8d dragon, with translucent eyes, which was\ncoiled up at the couch's foot. And Prince Fire Fade cried out aloud for\nterror, and dropped the light. Then morning broke very grey upon the\nsea. And at the same instant the great dragon stirred, and from its\ncoils the Jewel Princess lifted up her lovely head. And the green scales\nfell away from her like a garment. So she stood, in a white robe, with\nher child upon her breast. And she hung her head and wept, saying, \"O\nThine Augustness, my sweet spouse, I had thought to have made the Sea\nPath a highway between thy land and mine, that we might go and come at\npleasure. But now, though I warned thee, thou hast looked upon me in the\nnight. Therefore, my lord, between me and thee it is farewell. I go\nacross the Sea Path, and of this going there is no return. Take thou the\nAugust Child.\"\n\nShe spoke, and departed immediately upon the Sea Path, weeping and\ncovering her face with her hair and looking back to the shore. And she\nwas never more seen upon the Central Land of Reed Plains. Moreover, she\nshut the gates of the sea and closed the way to her father's palace. But\nthe young maid, her sister, she sent to be a nurse to her babe, and\nbecause, for all that had been, she could not restrain her loving heart,\nshe made a little song, and sent it to her lord by the maid, her sister.\nAnd the song said:\n\n    \"Oh, fair are the red jewels,\n     And fair is the string on which they are strung ...\n     Even so, fair is my babe.\n     But brighter far, and more renowned are the white jewels,\n     The jewels that are like my lord.\"\n\nThen the husband answered, in a song which said:\n\n    \"As for thee, my lady, whom I took to be my bride,\n     To the island where lights the wild duck--the bird of the offing,\n     I shall not forget thee till the end of my life.\"\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE GOOD THUNDER\n\n\nFolks say that Rai-den, the Thunder, is an unloving spirit, fearful and\nrevengeful, cruel to man. These are folks who are mortally afraid of the\nstorm, and who hate lightning and tempest; they speak all the evil they\ncan of Rai-den and of Rai-Taro, his son. But they are wrong.\n\nRai-den Sama lived in a Castle of Cloud set high in the blue heaven. He\nwas a great and mighty god, a Lord of the Elements. Rai-Taro was his one\nand only son, a brave boy, and his father loved him.\n\nIn the cool of the evening Rai-den and Rai-Taro walked upon the ramparts\nof the Castle of Cloud, and from the ramparts they viewed the doings of\nmen upon the Land of Reed Plains. North and South and East and West they\nlooked. Often they laughed--oh, very often; sometimes they sighed.\nSometimes Rai-Taro leaned far over the castle walls to see the children\nthat went to and fro upon earth.\n\nOne night Rai-den Sama said to Rai-Taro, \"Child, look well this night\nupon the doings of men!\"\n\nRai-Taro answered, \"Father, I will look well.\"\n\nFrom the northern rampart they looked, and saw great lords and\nmen-at-arms going forth to battle. From the southern rampart they\nlooked, and saw priests and acolytes serving in a holy temple where the\nair was dim with incense, and images of gold and bronze gleamed in the\ntwilight. From the eastern rampart they looked, and saw a lady's bower,\nwhere was a fair princess, and a troop of maidens, clad in rose colour,\nthat made music for her. There were children there, too, playing with a\nlittle cart of flowers.\n\n\"Ah, the pretty children!\" said Rai-Taro.\n\nFrom the western rampart they looked, and saw a peasant toiling in a\nrice-field. He was weary enough and his back ached. His wife toiled with\nhim by his side. If he was weary, it is easy to believe that she was\nmore weary still. They were very poor and their garments were ragged.\n\n\"Have they no children?\" said Rai-Taro. Rai-den shook his head.\n\nPresently, \"Have you looked well, Rai-Taro?\" he said. \"Have you looked\nwell this night upon the doings of men?\"\n\n\"Father,\" said Rai-Taro, \"indeed, I have looked well.\"\n\n\"Then choose, my son, choose, for I send you to take up your habitation\nupon the earth.\"\n\n\"Must I go among men?\" said Rai-Taro.\n\n\"My child, you must.\"\n\n\"I will not go with the men-at-arms,\" said Rai-Taro; \"fighting likes me\nvery ill.\"\n\n\"Oho, say you so, my son? Will you go, then, to the fair lady's bower?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Rai-Taro, \"I am a man. Neither will I have my head shaved to\ngo and live with priests.\"\n\n\"What, then, do you choose the poor peasant? You will have a hard life\nand scanty fare, Rai-Taro.\"\n\nRai-Taro said, \"They have no children. Perhaps they will love me.\"\n\n\"Go, go in peace,\" said Rai-den Sama; \"for you have chosen wisely.\"\n\n\"How shall I go, my father?\" said Rai-Taro.\n\n\"Honourably,\" said his father, \"as it befits a Prince of High Heaven.\"\n\nNow the poor peasant man toiled in his rice-field, which was at the foot\nof the mountain Hakusan, in the province of Ichizen. Day after day and\nweek after week the bright sun shone. The rice-field was dry, and young\nrice was burnt up.\n\n\"Alack and alas!\" cried the poor peasant man, \"and what shall I do if my\nrice-crop fails? May the dear gods have mercy on all poor people!\"\n\nWith that he sat himself down on a stone at the rice-field's edge and\nfell asleep for very weariness and sorrow.\n\nWhen he woke the sky was black with clouds. It was but noonday, but it\ngrew as dark as night. The leaves of the trees shuddered together and\nthe birds ceased their singing.\n\n\"A storm, a storm!\" cried the peasant. \"Rai-den Sama goes abroad upon\nhis black horse, beating the great drum of the Thunder. We shall have\nrain in plenty, thanks be.\"\n\nRain in plenty he had, sure enough, for it fell in torrents, with\nblinding lightning and roaring thunder.\n\n\"Oh, Rai-den Sama,\" said the peasant, \"saving your greatness, this is\neven more than sufficient.\"\n\nAt this the bright lightning flashed anew and fell to the earth in a\nball of living fire, and the heavens cracked with a mighty peal of\nthunder.\n\n\"Ai! Ai!\" cried the poor peasant man. \"Kwannon have mercy on a sinful\nsoul, for now the Thunder Dragon has me indeed.\" And he lay on the\nground and hid his face.\n\nHowbeit the Thunder Dragon spared him. And soon he sat up and rubbed his\neyes. The ball of fire was gone, but a babe lay upon the wet earth; a\nfine fresh boy with the rain upon his cheeks and his hair.\n\n\"Oh, Lady, Lady Kwannon,\" said the poor peasant man, \"this is thy sweet\nmercy.\" And he took the boy in his arms and carried him to his own home.\n\nAs he went the rain still fell, but the sun came out in the blue sky,\nand every flower in the cooler air shone and lifted up its grateful\nhead.\n\nThe peasant came to his cottage door.\n\n\"Wife, wife,\" he called, \"I have brought you something home.\"\n\n\"What may it be?\" said his wife.\n\nThe man answered, \"Rai-Taro, the little eldest son of the Thunder.\"\n\nRai-Taro grew up straight and strong, the tallest, gayest boy of all\nthat country-side. He was the delight of his foster-parents, and all the\nneighbours loved him. When he was ten years old he worked in the\nrice-fields like a man. He was the wonderful weather prophet.\n\n\"My father,\" he said, \"let us do this and that, for we shall have fair\nweather\"; or he said, \"My father, let us the rather do this or that, for\nto-night there will be a storm,\" and whatever he had said, so, sure\nenough, it came to pass. And he brought great good fortune to the poor\npeasant man, and all his works prospered.\n\nWhen Rai-Taro was eighteen years old all the neighbours were bidden to\nhis birthday feast. There was plenty of good _sak\u00e9_, and the good folk\nwere merry enough; only Rai-Taro was silent and sad and sorry.\n\n\"What ails you, Rai-Taro?\" said his foster-mother. \"You who are wont to\nbe the gayest of the gay, why are you silent, sad and sorry?\"\n\n\"It is because I must leave you,\" Rai-Taro said.\n\n\"Nay,\" said his foster-mother, \"never leave us, Rai-Taro, my son. Why\nwould you leave us?\"\n\n\"Mother, because I must,\" said Rai-Taro in tears.\n\n\"You have been our great good fortune; you have given us all things.\nWhat have I given you? What have I given you, Rai-Taro, my son?\"\n\nRai-Taro answered, \"Three things have you taught me--to labour, to\nsuffer, and to love. I am more learned than the Immortals.\"\n\nThen he went from them. And in the likeness of a white cloud he scaled\nheaven's blue height till he gained his father's castle. And Rai-den\nreceived him. The two of them stood upon the western rampart of the\nCastle of Cloud and looked down to earth.\n\nThe foster-mother stood weeping bitterly, but her husband took her hand.\n\n\"My dear,\" he said, \"it will not be for long. We grow old apace.\"\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE BLACK BOWL\n\n\nLong ago, in a part of the country not very remote from Kioto, the great\ngay city, there dwelt an honest couple. In a lonely place was their\ncottage, upon the outskirts of a deep wood of pine trees. Folks had it\nthat the wood was haunted. They said it was full of deceiving foxes;\nthey said that beneath the mossy ground the elves built their kitchens;\nthey said that long-nosed _Tengu_ had tea-parties in the forest thrice a\nmonth, and that the fairies' children played at hide-and-seek there\nevery morning before seven. Over and above all this they didn't mind\nsaying that the honest couple were queer in their ways, that the woman\nwas a wise woman, and that the man was a warlock--which was as may be.\nBut sure it was that they did no harm to living soul, that they lived as\npoor as poor, and that they had one fair daughter. She was as neat and\npretty as a princess, and her manners were very fine; but for all that\nshe worked as hard as a boy in the rice-fields, and within doors she was\nthe housewife indeed, for she washed and cooked and drew water. She\nwent barefoot in a grey homespun gown, and tied her back hair with a\ntough wistaria tendril. Brown she was and thin, but the sweetest\nbeggar-maid that ever made shift with a bed of dry moss and no supper.\n\nBy-and-by the good man her father dies, and the wise woman her mother\nsickens within the year, and soon she lies in a corner of the cottage\nwaiting for her end, with the maid near her crying bitter tears.\n\n\"Child,\" says the mother, \"do you know you are as pretty as a princess?\"\n\n\"Am I that?\" says the maid, and goes on with her crying.\n\n\"Do you know that your manners are fine?\" says the mother.\n\n\"Are they, then?\" says the maid, and goes on with her crying.\n\n\"My own baby,\" says the mother, \"could you stop your crying a minute and\nlisten to me?\"\n\nSo the maid stopped crying and put her head close by her mother's on the\npoor pillow.\n\n\"Now listen,\" says the mother, \"and afterwards remember. It is a bad\nthing for a poor girl to be pretty. If she is pretty and lonely and\ninnocent, none but the gods will help her. They will help you, my poor\nchild, and I have thought of a way besides. Fetch me the great black\nrice-bowl from the shelf.\"\n\nThe girl fetched it.\n\n\"See, now, I put it on your head and all your beauty is hidden away.\"\n\n\"Alack, mother,\" said the poor child, \"it is heavy.\"\n\n\"It will save you from what is heavier to bear,\" said the mother. \"If\nyou love me, promise me that you will not move it till the time comes.\"\n\n\"I promise! I promise! But how shall I know when the time comes?\"\n\n\"That you shall know.... And now help me outside, for the sweet morning\ndawns and I've a fancy to see the fairies' children once again, as they\nrun in the forest.\"\n\nSo the child, having the black bowl upon her head, held her mother in\nher arms in a grassy place near the great trees, and presently they saw\nthe fairies' children threading their way between the dark trunks as\nthey played at hide-and-seek. Their bright garments fluttered, and they\nlaughed lightly as they went. The mother smiled to see them; before\nseven she died very sweetly as she smiled.\n\nWhen her little store of rice was done, the maid with the wooden bowl\nknew well enough that she must starve or go and find more. So first she\ntended her father's and mother's graves and poured water for the dead,\nas is meet, and recited many a holy text. Then she bound on her sandals,\nkilted her grey skirts to show her scarlet petticoat, tied her household\ngods in a blue printed handkerchief, and set out all alone to seek her\nfortunes, the brave girl!\n\nFor all her slenderness and pretty feet she was a rarely odd sight, and\nsoon she was to know it. The great black bowl covered her head and\nshadowed her face. As she went through a village two women looked up\nfrom washing in the stream, stared and laughed.\n\n\"It's a boggart come alive,\" says one.\n\n\"Out upon her,\" cries the other, \"for a shameless wench! Out upon her\nfalse modesty to roam the country thus with her head in a black bowl, as\nwho should cry aloud to every passing man, 'Come and see what is\nhidden!' It is enough to make a wholesome body sick.\"\n\nOn went the poor maid, and sometimes the children pelted her with mud\nand pebbles for sport. Sometimes she was handled roughly by village\nlouts, who scoffed and caught at her dress as she went; they even laid\nhands upon the bowl itself and sought to drag it from her head by force.\nBut they only played at that game once, for the bowl stung them as\nfiercely as if it had been a nettle, and the bullies ran away howling.\n\nThe beggar-maiden might seek her fortune, but it was very hard to find.\nShe might ask for work; but see, would she get it? None were wishful to\nemploy a girl with a black bowl on her head.\n\nAt last, on a fine day when she was tired out, she sat her upon a stone\nand began to cry as if her heart would break. Down rolled her tears from\nunder the black bowl. They rolled down her cheeks and reached her white\nchin.\n\nA wandering ballad-singer passed that way, with his _biwa_ slung across\nhis back. He had a sharp eye and marked the tears upon the maid's white\nchin. It was all he could see of her face, and, \"Oh, girl with the black\nbowl on your head,\" quoth he, \"why do you sit weeping by the roadside?\"\n\n\"I weep,\" she answered, \"because the world is hard. I am hungry and\ntired.... No one will give me work or pay me money.\"\n\n\"Now that's unfortunate,\" said the ballad-singer, for he had a kind\nheart; \"but I haven't a _rin_ of my own, or it would be yours. Indeed I\nam sorry for you. In the circumstances the best I can do for you is to\nmake you a little song.\" With that he whips his _biwa_ round, thrums on\nit with his fingers and starts as easy as you please. \"To the tears on\nyour white chin,\" he says, and sings:\n\n    \"The white cherry blooms by the roadside,\n     How black is the canopy of cloud!\n     The wild cherry droops by the roadside,\n     Beware of the black canopy of cloud.\n     Hark, hear the rain, hear the rainfall\n     From the black canopy of cloud.\n     Alas, the wild cherry, its sweet flowers are marred,\n     Marred are the sweet flowers, forlorn on the spray!\"\n\n\"Sir, I do not understand your song,\" said the girl with the bowl on her\nhead.\n\n\"Yet it is plain enough,\" said the ballad-singer, and went his way. He\ncame to the house of a passing rich farmer. In he went, and they asked\nhim to sing before the master of the house.\n\n\"With all the will in the world,\" says the ballad-singer. \"I will sing\nhim a new song that I have just made.\" So he sang of the wild cherry and\nthe great black cloud.\n\nWhen he had made an end, \"Tell us the interpretation of your song,\" says\nthe master of the house.\n\n\"With all the will in the world,\" quoth the ballad-singer. \"The wild\ncherry is the face of a maiden whom I saw sitting by the wayside. She\nwore a great black wooden bowl upon her head, which is the great black\ncloud in my song, and from under it her tears flowed like rain, for I\nsaw the drops upon her white chin. And she said that she wept for\nhunger, and because no one would give her work nor pay her money.\"\n\n\"Now I would I might help the poor girl with the bowl on her head,\" said\nthe master of the house.\n\n\"That you may if you wish,\" quoth the ballad-singer. \"She sits but a\nstone's throw from your gate.\"\n\nThe long and short of it was that the maid was put to labour in the rich\nfarmer's harvest-fields. All the day long she worked in the waving rice,\nwith her grey skirts kilted and her sleeves bound back with cords. All\nday long she plied the sickle, and the sun shone down upon the black\nbowl; but she had food to eat and good rest at night, and was well\ncontent.\n\nShe found favour in her master's eyes, and he kept her in the fields\ntill all the harvest was gathered in. Then he took her into his house,\nwhere there was plenty for her to do, for his wife was but sickly. Now\nthe maiden lived well and happily as a bird, and went singing about her\nlabours. And every night she thanked the august gods for her good\nfortune. Still she wore the black bowl upon her head.\n\nAt the New Year time, \"Bustle, bustle,\" says the farmer's wife; \"scrub\nand cook and sew; put your best foot foremost, my dear, for we must have\nthe house look at its very neatest.\"\n\n\"To be sure, and with all my heart,\" says the girl, and she put her back\ninto the work; \"but, mistress,\" she says, \"if I may be so bold as to\nask, are we having a party, or what?\"\n\n\"Indeed we are, and many of them,\" says the farmer's wife. \"My son that\nis in Kioto, the great and gay, is coming home for a visit.\"\n\nPresently home he comes, the handsome young man. Then the neighbours\nwere called in, and great was the merry-making. They feasted and they\ndanced, they jested and they sang, many a bowl of good red rice they\nate, and many a cup of good _sak\u00e9_ they drank. All this time the girl,\nwith bowl on her head, plied her work modestly in the kitchen, and well\nout of the way she was--the farmer's wife saw to that, good soul! All\nthe same, one fine day the company called for more wine, and the wine\nwas done, so the son of the house takes up the _sak\u00e9_ bottle and goes\nwith it himself to the kitchen. What should he see there but the maiden\nsitting upon a pile of faggots, and fanning the kitchen fire with a\nsplit bamboo fan!\n\n\"My life, but I must see what is under that black bowl,\" says the\nhandsome young man to himself. And sure enough he made it his daily\ncare, and peeped as much as he could, which was not very much; but\nseemingly it was enough for him, for he thought no more of Kioto, the\ngreat and gay, but stayed at home to do his courting.\n\nHis father laughed and his mother fretted, the neighbours held up their\nhands, all to no purpose.\n\n\"Oh, dear, dear maiden with the wooden bowl, she shall be my bride and\nno other. I must and will have her,\" cried the impetuous young man, and\nvery soon he fixed the wedding-day himself.\n\nWhen the time came, the young maidens of the village went to array the\nbride. They dressed her in a fair and costly robe of white brocade, and\nin trailing _hakama_ of scarlet silk, and on her shoulders they hung a\ncloak of blue and purple and gold. They chattered, but as for the bride\nshe said never a word. She was sad because she brought her bridegroom\nnothing, and because his parents were sore at his choice of a\nbeggar-maid. She said nothing, but the tears glistened on her white\nchin.\n\n\"Now off with the ugly old bowl,\" cried the maidens; \"it is time to\ndress the bride's hair and to do it with golden combs.\" So they laid\nhands to the bowl and would have lifted it away, but they could not move\nit.\n\n\"Try again,\" they said, and tugged at it with all their might. But it\nwould not stir.\n\n\"There's witchcraft in it,\" they said; \"try a third time.\" They tried a\nthird time, and still the bowl stuck fast, but it gave out fearsome\nmoans and cries.\n\n\"Ah! Let be, let be for pity's sake,\" said the poor bride, \"for you make\nmy head ache.\"\n\nThey were forced to lead her as she was to the bridegroom's presence.\n\n\"My dear, I am not afraid of the wooden bowl,\" said the young man.\n\nSo they poured the _sak\u00e9_ from the silver flagon, and from the silver\ncup the two of them drank the mystic \"Three Times Three\" that made them\nman and wife.\n\nThen the black bowl burst asunder with a loud noise, and fell to the\nground in a thousand pieces. With it fell a shower of silver and gold,\nand pearls and rubies and emeralds, and every jewel of price. Great was\nthe astonishment of the company as they gazed upon a dowry that for a\nprincess would have been rich and rare.\n\nBut the bridegroom looked into the bride's face. \"My dear,\" he said,\n\"there are no jewels that shine like your eyes.\"\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE STAR LOVERS\n\n[Illustration: The Star Lovers.--_P. 65._]\n\n\nAll you that are true lovers, I beseech you pray the gods for fair\nweather upon the seventh night of the seventh moon.\n\nFor patience' sake and for dear love's sake, pray, and be pitiful that\nupon that night there may be neither rain, nor hail, nor cloud, nor\nthunder, nor creeping mist.\n\nHear the sad tale of the Star Lovers and give them your prayers.\n\nThe Weaving Maiden was the daughter of a Deity of Light. Her dwelling\nwas upon the shore of the Milky Way, which is the Bright River of\nHeaven. All the day long she sat at her loom and plied her shuttle,\nweaving the gay garments of the gods. Warp and woof, hour by hour the\ncoloured web grew till it lay fold on fold piled at her feet. Still she\nnever ceased her labour, for she was afraid. She had heard a saying:\n\n\"Sorrow, age-long sorrow, shall come upon the Weaving Maiden when she\nleaves her loom.\"\n\nSo she laboured, and the gods had garments to spare. But she herself,\npoor maiden, was ill-clad; she recked nothing of her attire or of the\njewels that her father gave her. She went barefoot, and let her hair\nhang down unconfined. Ever and anon a long lock fell upon the loom, and\nback she flung it over her shoulder. She did not play with the children\nof Heaven, or take her pleasure with celestial youths and maidens. She\ndid not love or weep. She was neither glad nor sorry. She sat weaving,\nweaving ... and wove her being into the many-coloured web.\n\nNow her father, the Deity of Light, grew angry. He said, \"Daughter, you\nweave too much.\"\n\n\"It is my duty,\" she said.\n\n\"At your age to talk of duty!\" said her father. \"Out upon you!\"\n\n\"Wherefore are you displeased with me, my father?\" she said, and her\nfingers plied the shuttle.\n\n\"Are you a stock or a stone, or a pale flower by the wayside?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she said, \"I am none of these.\"\n\n\"Then leave your loom, my child, and live; take your pleasure, be as\nothers are.\"\n\n\"And wherefore should I be as others are?\" she said.\n\n\"Never dare to question me. Come, will you leave your loom?\"\n\nShe said, \"Sorrow, age-long sorrow, shall come upon the Weaving Maiden\nwhen she leaves her loom.\"\n\n\"A foolish saying,\" cried her father, \"not worthy of credence. What do\nwe know of age-long sorrow? Are we not gods?\" With that he took her\nshuttle from her hand gently, and covered the loom with a cloth. And he\ncaused her to be very richly attired, and they put jewels upon her and\ngarlanded her head with flowers of Paradise. And her father gave her for\nspouse the Herd Boy of Heaven, who tended his flocks upon the banks of\nthe Bright River.\n\nNow the Maiden was changed indeed. Her eyes were stars and her lips were\nruddy. She went dancing and singing all the day. Long hours she played\nwith the children of Heaven, and she took her pleasure with the\ncelestial youths and maidens. Lightly she went; her feet were shod with\nsilver. Her lover, the Herd Boy, held her by the hand. She laughed so\nthat the very gods laughed with her, and High Heaven re-echoed with\nsounds of mirth. She was careless; little did she think of duty or of\nthe garments of the gods. As for her loom, she never went near it from\none moon's end to another.\n\n\"I have my life to live,\" she said; \"I'll weave it into a web no more.\"\n\nAnd the Herd Boy, her lover, clasped her in his arms. Her face was all\ntears and smiles, and she hid it on his breast. So she lived her life.\nBut her father, the Deity of Light, was angry.\n\n\"It is too much,\" he said. \"Is the girl mad? She will become the\nlaughing-stock of Heaven. Besides, who is to weave the new spring\ngarments of the gods?\"\n\nThree times he warned his daughter.\n\nThree times she laughed softly and shook her head.\n\n\"Your hand opened the door, my father,\" she said, \"but of a surety no\nhand either of god or of mortal can shut it.\"\n\nHe said, \"You shall find it otherwise to your cost.\" And he banished the\nHerd Boy for ever and ever to the farther side of the Bright River. The\nmagpies flew together, from far and near, and they spread their wings\nfor a frail bridge across the river, and the Herd Boy went over by the\nfrail bridge. And immediately the magpies flew away to the ends of the\nearth and the Weaving Maiden could not follow. She was the saddest thing\nin Heaven. Long, long she stood upon the shore, and held out her arms to\nthe Herd Boy, who tended his oxen desolate and in tears. Long, long she\nlay and wept upon the sand. Long, long she brooded, looking on the\nground.\n\nShe arose and went to her loom. She cast aside the cloth that covered\nit. She took her shuttle in her hand.\n\n\"Age-long sorrow,\" she said, \"age-long sorrow!\" Presently she dropped\nthe shuttle. \"Ah,\" she moaned, \"the pain of it,\" and she leaned her head\nagainst the loom.\n\nBut in a little while she said, \"Yet I would not be as once I was. I did\nnot love or weep, I was neither glad nor sorry. Now I love and I weep--I\nam glad, and I am sorry.\"\n\nHer tears fell like rain, but she took up the shuttle and laboured\ndiligently, weaving the garments of the gods. Sometimes the web was grey\nwith grief, sometimes it was rosy with dreams. The gods were fain to go\nstrangely clad. The Maiden's father, the Deity of Light, for once was\nwell pleased.\n\n\"That is my good, diligent child,\" he said. \"Now you are quiet and\nhappy.\"\n\n\"The quiet of dark despair,\" she said. \"Happy! I am the saddest thing in\nHeaven.\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" said the Deity of Light; \"what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Give me back my lover.\"\n\n\"Nay, child, that I cannot do. He is banished for ever and ever by the\ndecree of a Deity, that cannot be broken.\"\n\n\"I knew it,\" she said.\n\n\"Yet something I can do. Listen. On the seventh day of the seventh moon,\nI will summon the magpies together from the ends of the earth, and they\nshall be a bridge over the Bright River of Heaven, so that the Weaving\nMaiden shall lightly cross to the waiting Herd Boy on the farther\nshore.\"\n\nSo it was. On the seventh day of the seventh moon came the magpies from\nfar and near. And they spread their wings for a frail bridge. And the\nWeaving Maiden went over by the frail bridge. Her eyes were like stars,\nand her heart like a bird in her bosom. And the Herd Boy was there to\nmeet her upon the farther shore.\n\nAnd so it is still, oh, true lovers--upon the seventh day of the\nseventh moon these two keep their tryst. Only if the rain falls with\nthunder and cloud and hail, and the Bright River of Heaven is swollen\nand swift, the magpies cannot make a bridge for the Weaving Maiden.\nAlack, the dreary time!\n\nTherefore, true lovers, pray the gods for fair weather.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nHORAIZAN\n\n\nJofuku was the Wise Man of China. Many books he read, and he never\nforgot what was in them. All the characters he knew as he knew the lines\nin the palm of his hand. He learned secrets from birds and beasts, and\nherbs and flowers and trees, and rocks and metals. He knew magic and\npoetry and philosophy. He grew full of years and wisdom. All the people\nhonoured him; but he was not happy, for he had a word written upon his\nheart.\n\nThe word was _Mutability_. It was with him day and night, and sorely it\ntroubled him. Moreover, in the days of Jofuku a tyrant ruled over China,\nand he made the Wise Man's life a burden.\n\n\"Jofuku,\" he said, \"teach the nightingales of my wood to sing me the\nsongs of the Chinese poets.\"\n\nJofuku could not do it for all his wisdom.\n\n\"Alas, liege,\" he said, \"ask me another thing and I will give it you,\nthough it cost me the blood of my heart.\"\n\n\"Have a care,\" said the Emperor, \"look to your ways. Wise men are cheap\nin China; am I one to be dishonoured?\"\n\n\"Ask me another thing,\" said the Wise Man.\n\n\"Well, then, scent me the peony with the scent of the jessamine. The\npeony is brilliant, imperial; the jessamine is small, pale, foolish.\nNevertheless, its perfume is sweet. Scent me the peony with the scent of\nthe jessamine.\"\n\nBut Jofuku stood silent and downcast.\n\n\"By the gods,\" cried the Emperor, \"this wise man is a fool! Here, some\nof you, off with his head.\"\n\n\"Liege,\" said the Wise Man, \"spare me my life and I will set sail for\nHoraizan where grows the herb Immortality. I will pluck this herb and\nbring it back to you again, that you may live and reign for ever.\"\n\nThe Emperor considered.\n\n\"Well, go,\" he said, \"and linger not, or it will be the worse for you.\"\n\nJofuku went and found brave companions to go with him on the great\nadventure, and he manned a junk with the most famous mariners of China,\nand he took stores on board, and gold; and when he had made all things\nready he set sail in the seventh month, about the time of the full moon.\n\nThe Emperor himself came down to the seashore.\n\n\"Speed, speed, Wise Man,\" he said; \"fetch me the herb Immortality, and\nsee that you do it presently. If you return without it, you and your\ncompanions shall die the death.\"\n\n\"Farewell, liege,\" called Jofuku from the junk. So they went with a fair\nwind for their white sails. The boards creaked, the ropes quivered, the\nwater splashed against the junk's side, the sailors sang as they steered\na course eastward, the brave companions were merry. But the Wise Man of\nChina looked forward and looked back, and was sad because of the word\nwritten upon his heart--_Mutability_.\n\nThe junk of Jofuku was for many days upon the wild sea, steering a\ncourse eastwards. He and the sailors and the brave companions suffered\nmany things. The great heat burnt them, and the great cold froze them.\nHungry and thirsty they were, and some of them fell sick and died. More\nwere slain in a fight with pirates. Then came the dread typhoon, and\nmountain waves that swept the junk. The masts and the sails were washed\naway with the rich stores, and the gold was lost for ever. Drowned were\nthe famous mariners, and the brave companions every one. Jofuku was left\nalone.\n\nIn the grey dawn he looked up. Far to the east he saw a mountain, very\nfaint, the colour of pearl, and on the mountain top there grew a tree,\ntall, with spreading branches. The Wise Man murmured:\n\n\"The Island of Horaizan is east of the east, and there is Fusan, the\nWonder Mountain. On the heights of Fusan there grows a tree whose\nbranches hide the Mysteries of Life.\"\n\nJofuku lay weak and weary and could not lift a finger. Nevertheless,\nthe junk glided nearer and nearer to the shore. Still and blue grew the\nwaters of the sea, and Jofuku saw the bright green grass and the\nmany-coloured flowers of the island. Soon there came troops of young men\nand maidens bearing garlands and singing songs of welcome; and they\nwaded out into the water and drew the junk to land. Jofuku was aware of\nthe sweet and spicy odours that clung to their garments and their hair.\nAt their invitation he left the junk, which drifted away and was no more\nseen.\n\nHe said, \"I have come to Horaizan the Blest.\" Looking up he saw that the\ntrees were full of birds with blue and golden feathers. The birds filled\nthe air with delightful melody. On all sides there hung the orange and\nthe citron, the persimmon and the pomegranate, the peach and the plum\nand the loquat. The ground at his feet was as a rich brocade,\nembroidered with every flower that is. The happy dwellers in Horaizan\ntook him by the hands and spoke lovingly to him.\n\n\"How strange it is,\" said Jofuku, \"I do not feel my old age any more.\"\n\n\"What is old age?\" they said.\n\n\"Neither do I feel any pain.\"\n\n\"Now what is pain?\" they said.\n\n\"The word is no longer written on my heart.\"\n\n\"What word do you speak of, beloved?\"\n\n\"_Mutability_ is the word.\"\n\n\"And what may be its interpretation?\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the Wise Man, \"is this death?\"\n\n\"We have never heard of death,\" said the inhabitants of Horaizan.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Wise Man of Japan was Wasobiobe. He was full as wise as the Wise Man\nof China. He was not old but young. The people honoured him and loved\nhim. Often he was happy enough.\n\nIt was his pleasure to venture alone in a frail boat out to sea, there\nto meditate in the wild and watery waste. Once as he did this it chanced\nthat he fell asleep in his boat, and he slept all night long, while his\nboat drifted out to the eastward. So, when he awoke in the bright light\nof morning, he found himself beneath the shadow of Fusan, the Wonder\nMountain. His boat lay in the waters of a river of Horaizan, and he\nsteered her amongst the flowering iris and the lotus, and sprang on\nshore.\n\n\"The sweetest spot in the world!\" he said. \"I think I have come to\nHoraizan the Blest.\"\n\nSoon came the youths and maidens of the island, and with them the Wise\nMan of China, as young and as happy as they.\n\n\"Welcome, welcome, dear brother,\" they cried, \"welcome to the Island of\nEternal Youth.\"\n\nWhen they had given him to eat of the delicious fruit of the island,\nthey laid them down upon a bank of flowers to hear sweet music.\nAfterwards they wandered in the woods and groves. They rode and hunted,\nor bathed in the warm sea-water. They feasted and enjoyed every\ndelightful pleasure. So the long day lingered, and there was no night,\nfor there was no need of sleep, there was no weariness and no pain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Wise Man of Japan came to the Wise Man of China. He said:\n\n\"I cannot find my boat.\"\n\n\"What matter, brother?\" said Jofuku. \"You want no boat here.\"\n\n\"Indeed, my brother, I do. I want my boat to take me home. I am sick for\nhome. There's the truth.\"\n\n\"Are you not happy in Horaizan?\"\n\n\"No, for I have a word written upon my heart. The word is _Humanity_.\nBecause of it I am troubled and have no peace.\"\n\n\"Strange,\" said the Wise Man of China. \"Once I too had a word written on\nmy heart. The word was _Mutability_, but I have forgotten what it means.\nDo you too forget.\"\n\n\"Nay, I can never forget,\" said the Wise Man of Japan.\n\nHe sought out the Crane, who is a great traveller, and besought her,\n\"Take me home to my own land.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" the Crane said, \"if I did so you would die. This is the Island\nof Eternal Youth; do you know you have been here for a hundred years? If\nyou go away you will feel old age and weariness and pain, then you will\ndie.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" said Wasobiobe, \"take me home.\"\n\nThen the Crane took him on her strong back and flew with him. Day and\nnight she flew and never tarried and never tired. At last she said, \"Do\nyou see the shore?\"\n\nAnd he said, \"I see it. Praise be to the gods.\"\n\nShe said, \"Where shall I carry you?... You have but a little time to\nlive.\"\n\n\"Good Crane, upon the dear sand of my country, under the spreading pine,\nthere sits a poor fisherman mending his net. Take me to him that I may\ndie in his arms.\"\n\nSo the Crane laid Wasobiobe at the poor fisherman's feet. And the\nfisherman raised him in his arms. And Wasobiobe laid his head against\nthe fisherman's humble breast.\n\n\"I might have lived for ever,\" he said, \"but for the word that is\nwritten on my heart.\"\n\n\"What word?\" said the fisherman.\n\n\"_Humanity_ is the word,\" the Wise Man murmured. \"I am grown old--hold\nme closer. Ah, the pain....\" He gave a great cry.\n\nAfterwards he smiled. Then his breath left him with a sigh, and he was\ndead.\n\n\"It is the way of all flesh,\" said the fisherman.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nREFLECTIONS\n\n[Illustration: Reflections.--_P. 78._]\n\n\nLong enough ago there dwelt within a day's journey of the city of Kioto\na gentleman of simple mind and manners, but good estate. His wife, rest\nher soul, had been dead these many years, and the good man lived in\ngreat peace and quiet with his only son. They kept clear of women-kind,\nand knew nothing at all either of their winning or their bothering ways.\nThey had good steady men-servants in their house, and never set eyes on\na pair of long sleeves or a scarlet _obi_ from morning till night.\n\nThe truth is that they were as happy as the day is long. Sometimes they\nlaboured in the rice-fields. Other days they went a-fishing. In the\nspring, forth they went to admire the cherry flower or the plum, and\nlater they set out to view the iris or the peony or the lotus, as the\ncase might be. At these times they would drink a little _sak\u00e9_, and\ntwist their blue and white _tenegui_ about their heads and be as jolly\nas you please, for there was no one to say them nay. Often enough they\ncame home by lantern light. They wore their oldest clothes, and were\nmighty irregular at their meals.\n\nBut the pleasures of life are fleeting--more's the pity!--and presently\nthe father felt old age creeping upon him.\n\nOne night, as he sat smoking and warming his hands over the charcoal,\n\"Boy,\" says he, \"it's high time you got married.\"\n\n\"Now the gods forbid!\" cries the young man. \"Father, what makes you say\nsuch terrible things? Or are you joking? You must be joking,\" he says.\n\n\"I'm not joking at all,\" says the father; \"I never spoke a truer word,\nand that you'll know soon enough.\"\n\n\"But, father, I am mortally afraid of women.\"\n\n\"And am I not the same?\" says the father. \"I'm sorry for you, my boy.\"\n\n\"Then what for must I marry?\" says the son.\n\n\"In the way of nature I shall die before long, and you'll need a wife to\ntake care of you.\"\n\nNow the tears stood in the young man's eyes when he heard this, for he\nwas tender-hearted; but all he said was, \"I can take care of myself very\nwell.\"\n\n\"That's the very thing you cannot,\" says his father.\n\nThe long and short of it was that they found the young man a wife. She\nwas young, and as pretty as a picture. Her name was Tassel, just that,\nor Fusa, as they say in her language.\n\nAfter they had drunk down the \"Three Times Three\" together and so\nbecame man and wife, they stood alone, the young man looking hard at the\ngirl. For the life of him he did not know what to say to her. He took a\nbit of her sleeve and stroked it with his hand. Still he said nothing\nand looked mighty foolish. The girl turned red, turned pale, turned red\nagain, and burst into tears.\n\n\"Honourable Tassel, don't do that, for the dear gods' sake,\" says the\nyoung man.\n\n\"I suppose you don't like me,\" sobs the girl. \"I suppose you don't think\nI'm pretty.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" he says, \"you're prettier than the bean-flower in the field;\nyou're prettier than the little bantam hen in the farm-yard; you're\nprettier than the rose carp in the pond. I hope you'll be happy with my\nfather and me.\"\n\nAt this she laughed a little and dried her eyes. \"Get on another pair of\n_hakama_,\" she says, \"and give me those you've got on you; there's a\ngreat hole in them--I was noticing it all the time of the wedding!\"\n\nWell, this was not a bad beginning, and taking one thing with another\nthey got on pretty well, though of course things were not as they had\nbeen in that blessed time when the young man and his father did not set\neyes upon a pair of long sleeves or an _obi_ from morning till night.\n\nBy and by, in the way of nature, the old man died. It is said he made a\nvery good end, and left that in his strong-box which made his son the\nrichest man in the country-side. But this was no comfort at all to the\npoor young man, who mourned his father with all his heart. Day and night\nhe paid reverence to the tomb. Little sleep or rest he got, and little\nheed he gave to his wife, Mistress Tassel, and her whimsies, or even to\nthe delicate dishes she set before him. He grew thin and pale, and she,\npoor maid, was at her wits' end to know what to do with him. At last she\nsaid, \"My dear, and how would it be if you were to go to Kioto for a\nlittle?\"\n\n\"And what for should I do that?\" he says.\n\nIt was on the tip of her tongue to answer, \"To enjoy yourself,\" but she\nsaw it would never do to say that.\n\n\"Oh,\" she says, \"as a kind of a duty. They say every man that loves his\ncountry should see Kioto; and besides, you might give an eye to the\nfashions, so as to tell me what like they are when you get home. My\nthings,\" she says, \"are sadly behind the times! I'd like well enough to\nknow what people are wearing!\"\n\n\"I've no heart to go to Kioto,\" says the young man, \"and if I had, it's\nthe planting-out time of the rice, and the thing's not to be done, so\nthere's an end of it.\"\n\nAll the same, after two days he bids his wife get out his best _hakama_\nand _haouri_, and to make up his _bento_ for a journey. \"I'm thinking of\ngoing to Kioto,\" he tells her.\n\n\"Well, I am surprised,\" says Mistress Tassel. \"And what put such an idea\ninto your head, if I may ask?\"\n\n\"I've been thinking it's a kind of duty,\" says the young man.\n\n\"Oh, indeed,\" says Mistress Tassel to this, and nothing more, for she\nhad some grains of sense. And the next morning as ever was she packs her\nhusband off bright and early for Kioto, and betakes herself to some\nlittle matter of house cleaning she has on hand.\n\nThe young man stepped out along the road, feeling a little better in his\nspirits, and before long he reached Kioto. It is likely he saw many\nthings to wonder at. Amongst temples and palaces he went. He saw castles\nand gardens, and marched up and down fine streets of shops, gazing about\nhim with his eyes wide open, and his mouth too, very like, for he was a\nsimple soul.\n\nAt length, one fine day he came upon a shop full of metal mirrors that\nglittered in the sunshine.\n\n\"Oh, the pretty silver moons!\" says the simple soul to himself. And he\ndared to come near and take up a mirror in his hand.\n\nThe next minute he turned as white as rice and sat him down on the seat\nin the shop door, still holding the mirror in his hand and looking into\nit.\n\n\"Why, father,\" he said, \"how did you come here? You are not dead, then?\nNow the dear gods be praised for that! Yet I could have sworn---- But no\nmatter, since you are here alive and well. You are something pale still,\nbut how young you look. You move your lips, father, and seem to speak,\nbut I do not hear you. You'll come home with me, dear, and live with us\njust as you used to do? You smile, you smile, that is well.\"\n\n\"Fine mirrors, my young gentleman,\" said the shopman, \"the best that can\nbe made, and that's one of the best of the lot you have there. I see you\nare a judge.\"\n\nThe young man clutched his mirror tight and sat staring stupidly enough\nno doubt. He trembled. \"How much?\" he whispered. \"Is it for sale?\" He\nwas in a taking lest his father should be snatched from him.\n\n\"For sale it is, indeed, most noble sir,\" said the shopman, \"and the\nprice is a trifle, only two _bu_. It's almost giving it away I am, as\nyou'll understand.\"\n\n\"Two _bu_--only two _bu_! Now the gods be praised for this their mercy!\"\ncried the happy young man. He smiled from ear to ear, and he had the\npurse out of his girdle, and the money out of his purse, in a twinkling.\n\nNow it was the shopman who wished he had asked three _bu_ or even five.\nAll the same he put a good face upon it, and packed the mirror in a fine\nwhite box and tied it up with green cords.\n\n\"Father,\" said the young man, when he had got away with it, \"before we\nset out for home we must buy some gauds for the young woman there, my\nwife, you know.\"\n\nNow, for the life of him, he could not have told why, but when he came\nto his home the young man never said a word to Mistress Tassel about\nbuying his old father for two _bu_ in the Kioto shop. That was where he\nmade his mistake, as things turned out.\n\nShe was as pleased as you like with her coral hair-pins, and her fine\nnew _obi_ from Kioto. \"And I'm glad to see him so well and so happy,\"\nshe said to herself; \"but I must say he's been mighty quick to get over\nhis sorrow after all. But men are just like children.\" As for her\nhusband, unbeknown to her he took a bit of green silk from her\ntreasure-box and spread it in the cupboard of the _toko no ma_. There he\nplaced the mirror in its box of white wood.\n\nEvery morning early and every evening late, he went to the cupboard of\nthe _toko no ma_ and spoke with his father. Many a jolly talk they had\nand many a hearty laugh together, and the son was the happiest young man\nof all that country-side, for he was a simple soul.\n\nBut Mistress Tassel had a quick eye and a sharp ear, and it was not long\nbefore she marked her husband's new ways.\n\n\"What for does he go so often to the _toko no ma_,\" she asked herself,\n\"and what has he got there? I should be glad enough to know.\" Not being\none to suffer much in silence, she very soon asked her husband these\nsame things.\n\nHe told her the truth, the good young man. \"And now I have my dear old\nfather home again, I'm as happy as the day is long,\" he says.\n\n\"H'm,\" she says.\n\n\"And wasn't two _bu_ cheap,\" he says, \"and wasn't it a strange thing\naltogether?\"\n\n\"Cheap, indeed,\" says she, \"and passing strange; and why, if I may ask,\"\nshe says, \"did you say nought of all this at the first?\"\n\nThe young man grew red.\n\n\"Indeed, then, I cannot tell you, my dear,\" he says. \"I'm sorry, but I\ndon't know,\" and with that he went out to his work.\n\nUp jumped Mistress Tassel the minute his back was turned, and to the\n_toko no ma_ she flew on the wings of the wind and flung open the doors\nwith a clang.\n\n\"My green silk for sleeve-linings!\" she cried at once; \"but I don't see\nany old father here, only a white wooden box. What can he keep in it?\"\n\nShe opened the box quickly enough.\n\n\"What an odd flat shining thing!\" she said, and, taking up the mirror,\nlooked into it.\n\nFor a moment she said nothing at all, but the great tears of anger and\njealousy stood in her pretty eyes, and her face flushed from forehead to\nchin.\n\n\"A woman!\" she cried, \"a woman! So that is his secret! He keeps a woman\nin this cupboard. A woman, very young and very pretty--no, not pretty at\nall, but she thinks herself so. A dancing-girl from Kioto, I'll be\nbound; ill-tempered too--her face is scarlet; and oh, how she frowns,\nnasty little spitfire. Ah, who could have thought it of him? Ah, it's a\nmiserable girl I am--and I've cooked his _daikon_ and mended his\n_hakama_ a hundred times. Oh! oh! oh!\"\n\nWith that, she threw the mirror into its case, and slammed-to the\ncupboard door upon it. Herself she flung upon the mats, and cried and\nsobbed as if her heart would break.\n\nIn comes her husband.\n\n\"I've broken the thong of my sandal,\" says he, \"and I've come to---- But\nwhat in the world?\" and in an instant he was down on his knees beside\nMistress Tassel doing what he could to comfort her, and to get her face\nup from the floor where she kept it.\n\n\"Why, what is it, my own darling?\" says he.\n\n\"_Your_ own darling!\" she answers very fierce through her sobs; and \"I\nwant to go home,\" she cries.\n\n\"But, my sweet, you are at home, and with your own husband.\"\n\n\"Pretty husband!\" she says, \"and pretty goings-on, with a woman in the\ncupboard! A hateful, ugly woman that thinks herself beautiful; and she\nhas _my_ green sleeve-linings there with her to boot.\"\n\n\"Now, what's all this about women and sleeve-linings? Sure you wouldn't\ngrudge poor old father that little green rag for his bed? Come, my dear,\nI'll buy you twenty sleeve-linings.\"\n\nAt that she jumped to her feet and fairly danced with rage.\n\n\"Old father! old father! old father!\" she screamed; \"am I a fool or a\nchild? I saw the woman with my own eyes.\"\n\nThe poor young man didn't know whether he was on his head or his heels.\n\"Is it possible that my father is gone?\" he said, and he took the mirror\nfrom the _toko no ma_.\n\n\"That's well; still the same old father that I bought for two _bu_. You\nseem worried, father; nay, then, smile as I do. There, that's well.\"\n\nMistress Tassel came like a little fury and snatched the mirror from his\nhand. She gave but one look into it and hurled it to the other end of\nthe room. It made such a clang against the woodwork, that servants and\nneighbours came rushing in to see what was the matter.\n\n\"It is my father,\" said the young man. \"I bought him in Kioto for two\n_bu_.\"\n\n\"He keeps a woman in the cupboard who has stolen my green\nsleeve-linings,\" sobbed the wife.\n\nAfter this there was a great to-do. Some of the neighbours took the\nman's part and some the woman's, with such a clatter and chatter and\nnoise as never was; but settle the thing they could not, and none of\nthem would look into the mirror, because they said it was bewitched.\n\nThey might have gone on the way they were till doomsday, but that one of\nthem said, \"Let us ask the Lady Abbess, for she is a wise woman.\" And\noff they all went to do what they might have done sooner.\n\nThe Lady Abbess was a pious woman, the head of a convent of holy nuns.\nShe was the great one at prayers and meditations and at mortifyings of\nthe flesh, and she was the clever one, none the less, at human affairs.\nThey took her the mirror, and she held it in her hands and looked into\nit for a long time. At last she spoke:\n\n\"This poor woman,\" she said, touching the mirror, \"for it's as plain as\ndaylight that it is a woman--this poor woman was so troubled in her mind\nat the disturbance that she caused in a quiet house, that she has taken\nvows, shaved her head, and become a holy nun. Thus she is in her right\nplace here. I will keep her, and instruct her in prayers and\nmeditations. Go you home, my children; forgive and forget, be friends.\"\n\nThen all the people said, \"The Lady Abbess is the wise woman.\"\n\nAnd she kept the mirror in her treasure.\n\nMistress Tassel and her husband went home hand in hand.\n\n\"So I was right, you see, after all,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes, yes, my dear,\" said the simple young man, \"of course. But I was\nwondering how my old father would get on at the holy convent. He was\nnever much of a one for religion.\"\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE STORY OF SUSA, THE IMPETUOUS\n\n\nWhen Izanagi, the Lord who Invites, turned his back upon the unclean\nplace, and bade farewell to Yomi, the World of the Dead, whither he had\njourneyed upon a quest, he beheld once more the Land of Fresh Rice Ears,\nand was glad. And he rested by the side of a clear river that he might\nperform purification.\n\nAnd Izanagi-no-Mikoto bathed in the upper reach. But he said, \"The water\nof the upper reach is too rapid.\" Then he bathed in the lower reach; but\nhe said, \"The water of the lower reach is too sluggish.\" So he went down\nfor the third time and bathed in the middle reach of the river. And as\nthe water dropped from his beautiful countenance there were created\nthree sublime deities--Ama Terassu, the Glory of High Heaven;\nTsuki-Yomi-no-Kami, the Moon-Night-Possessor; and Susa, the Impetuous,\nthe Lord of the Sea.\n\nThen Izanagi-no-Mikoto rejoiced, saying, \"Behold the three august\nchildren that are mine, who shall also be illustrious for ever.\" And,\ntaking the great string of jewels from his neck, he bestowed it upon\nAma Terassu, the Glorious, and said to her, \"Do Thine Augustness rule\nthe Plain of High Heaven, shining in thy beauty by day.\" So she took the\naugust jewels and hid them in the storehouse of the gods.\n\nAnd the Lord of Invitation commanded Tsuki-Yomi-no-Kami, saying, \"Do\nThine Augustness rule the Dominion of the Night.\" Now this was a youth\nof a fair and pleasant countenance.\n\nAnd to the youngest of the deities, his Augustness the Lord Izanagi gave\nthe Sea Plain.\n\nSo Ama Terassu ruled the day, and Tsuki-Yomi-no-Kami softly ruled the\nnight. But Susa, the Impetuous, flung himself upon the ground and\nviolently wept, for he said, \"Ah, miserable, to dwell for ever upon the\nconfines of the cold sea!\" So he ceased not in his weeping, and took the\nmoisture of the valley for his tears, so that the green places were\nwithered and the rivers and streams were dried up. And evil deities\nincreased and flourished, and as they swarmed upon the earth their noise\nwas as the noise of flies in the fifth moon; and far and wide there\narose portents of woe.\n\nThen his father, the Lord of Invitation, came and stood terribly by him\nand said, \"What is this that I do see and hear? Why dost thou not rule\nthe dominions with which I charged thee, but lie here, like a child,\nwith tears and wailings? Answer.\"\n\nAnd Susa, the Impetuous, answered, \"I wail because I am in misery and\nlove not this place, but would depart to my mother who rules the Nether\nDistant Land, who is called the Queen of Yomi, the World of the Dead.\"\n\nThen Izanagi was wroth and expelled him with a divine expulsion, and\ncharged him that he should depart and show his face no more.\n\nAnd Susa, the Impetuous, answered, \"So be it. But first I will ascend to\nHigh Heaven to take leave of Her Augustness, my sister, who is the Glory\nof Heaven, and then I will depart.\"\n\nSo he went up to Heaven with a noise and a great speed, and at his going\nall the mountains shook and every land and country quaked. And Ama\nTerassu, the Light of Heaven, she also trembled at his coming, and said,\n\"This coming of His Augustness, my brother, is of no good intent, but to\nlay hold of mine inheritance, and to take it by force. For this alone\ndoes he invade the fastness of High Heaven.\"\n\nAnd forthwith she divided the hair that hung upon her shoulders and\nrolled it in two august bunches to the left and to the right, and\nadorned it with jewels. So she made her head like the head of a young\nwarrior. And she slung upon her back a great bow and a quiver of arrows,\none thousand and five hundred arrows, and she took in her hand a bamboo\nstaff and brandished it and stamped upon the ground with her armed feet,\nso that the earth flew like powdered snow. So she came to the bank of\nthe Tranquil River of Heaven and stood valiantly, like unto a mighty\nman, and waited.\n\nAnd Susa, the Impetuous, spoke from the farther bank: \"My lovely\nsister, Thine Augustness, why comest thou thus armed against me?\"\n\nAnd she answered, \"Nay, but wherefore ascendest thou hither?\"\n\nAnd Susa replied, \"There is nothing evil in my mind. Because I desired\nto dwell in the Land of Yomi, therefore has my father deigned to expel\nme with a divine expulsion, and I thought to take leave of thee, and so\nI have ascended hither. I have no evil intention.\"\n\nAnd she, bending her great eyes on him, said \"Swear.\"\n\nAnd he swore, by the ten-grasp sword that was girded on him, and after\nthat he swore by the jewels in her hair. Then she suffered him to cross\nover the Tranquil River of Heaven, and also to cross over the Floating\nBridge. So Susa, the Impetuous, entered the dominions of his sister, the\nSun Goddess.\n\nBut his wild spirit never ceased to chafe. And he pillaged the fair\nlands of Ama Terassu and broke down the divisions of the rice-fields\nwhich she had planted, and filled in the ditches. Still the Light of\nHeaven upbraided him not, but said, \"His Augustness, my brother,\nbelieves that the land should not be wasted by ditches and divisions,\nand that rice should be sown everywhere, without distinction.\" But\nnotwithstanding her soft words Susa, the Impetuous, continued in his\nevil ways and became more and more violent.\n\nNow, as the great Sun Goddess sat with her maidens in the awful Weaving\nHall of High Heaven, seeing to the weaving of the august garments of\nthe gods, her brother made a mighty chasm in the roof of the Weaving\nHall, and through the chasm he let down a heavenly piebald horse. And\nthe horse fled hither and thither in terror, and wrought great havoc\namongst the looms and amongst the weaving maidens. And Susa himself\nfollowed like a rushing tempest and like a storm of waters flooding the\nhall, and all was confusion and horror. And in the press the Sun Goddess\nwas wounded with her golden shuttle. So with a cry she fled from High\nHeaven and hid herself in a cave; and she rolled a rock across the\ncave's mouth.\n\nThen dark was the Plain of High Heaven, and black dark the Central Land\nof Reed Plains, and eternal night prevailed. Hereupon the voices of the\ndeities as they wandered over the face of the earth were like unto the\nflies in the fifth moon, and from far and near there arose portents of\nwoe. Therefore did the Eight Hundred Myriad Deities assemble with a\ndivine assembly in the dry bed of the Tranquil River of Heaven, there to\nhold parley, and to make decision what should be done. And His\nAugustness the Lord of Deep Thoughts commanded them. So they called\ntogether the Singing Birds of Eternal Night. And they charged\nAma-tsu-mara, the Divine Smith, to make them a mirror of shining white\nmetal. And they charged Tama-noya-no-mikoto to string together many\nhundreds of curved jewels. And, having performed divination by the\nshoulder-blade of a stag of Mount Kagu, they uprooted a sacred tree, a\n_sakaki_, of five hundred branches. And they hung the jewels upon the\nbranches of the tree, and they hung the mirror upon its branches. And\nall the lower branches they covered with offerings, streamers of white\nand streamers of blue, and they bore the tree before the rock cavern\nwhere the Sun Goddess was. And immediately the assembled birds sang.\nThen a divine maiden of fair renown, who for grace and skill in dancing\nhad no sister, either in the Land of Rice Ears or upon the Plain of High\nHeaven, stood before the cavern door. And there was hung about her for a\ngarland the club moss from Mount Kagu, and her head was bound with the\nleaves of the spindle-tree and with flowers of gold and flowers of\nsilver, and a sheaf of green bamboo-grass was in her hands. And she\ndanced before the cavern door as one possessed, for heaven and earth\nhave not seen the like of her dancing. It was more lovely than the\npine-tops waving in the wind or the floating of sea foam, and the cloud\nrace upon the Plain of High Heaven is not to be compared with it. And\nthe earth quaked and High Heaven shook, and all the Eight Hundred Myriad\nDeities laughed together.\n\nNow Ama Terassu, the Glory of Heaven, lay in the rock cavern, and the\nbright light streamed from her fair body in rays, so that she was as a\ngreat jewel of price. And pools of water gleamed in the floor of the\ncavern, and the slime upon the walls gleamed with many colours, and the\nsmall rock-plants flourished in the unwonted heat, so that the heavenly\nlady lay in a bower and slept. And she awoke because of the song of the\nEternal Singing Birds, and she raised herself and flung the hair back\nover her shoulder, and said, \"Alack, the poor birds that sing in the\nlong night!\" And there came to her the sound of dancing and of high\nrevel and of the merriment of the gods, so she was still and listened.\nAnd presently she felt the Plain of High Heaven shake, and heard the\nEight Hundred Myriad Deities as they laughed together. And she arose and\ncame to the door of the cavern, and rolled back the great stone a little\nway. And a beam of light fell upon the dancing maiden where she stood,\npanting, in all her array; but the other deities were yet in darkness,\nand they looked at each other and were still. Then spoke the Fair Glory\nof Heaven: \"Methought that because I was hidden the Plain of High Heaven\nshould be dark, and black dark the Central Land of Reed Plains. How,\nthen, doth the Dancing Maiden go thus, adorned with garlands and her\nhead tired? And why do the Eight Hundred Myriad Deities laugh together?\"\n\nThen the Dancing Maiden made answer: \"O Thine Augustness, that art the\nsweet delight of all the deities, behold the divine maidens are decked\nwith flowers, and the gods assemble with shouts. We rejoice and are glad\nbecause there is a goddess more illustrious than Thine Augustness.\"\n\nAnd Ama Terassu heard and was wroth. And she covered her face with her\nlong sleeves, so that the deities should not see her tears; howbeit,\nthey fell like the falling stars. Then the youths of the Court of\nHeaven stood by the _sakaki_ tree, where hung the mirror that was made\nby Ama-tsu-Mara, the Divine Smith. And they cried, \"Lady, look and\nbehold the new paragon of Heaven!\"\n\nAnd Ama Terassu said, \"Indeed, I will not behold.\" Nevertheless, she\npresently let slip the sleeves that covered her countenance and looked\nin the mirror. And as she looked, and beheld, and was dazzled by her own\nbeauty, that was without peer, she came forth slowly from the rocks of\nthe cavern. And the light of her flooded High Heaven, and below the rice\nears waved and shook themselves, and the wild cherry rushed into flower.\nAnd all the deities joined their hands in a ring about Ama Terassu, the\nGoddess of the Sun, and the door of the rock cavern was shut. Then the\nDancing Maiden cried, \"O Lady, Thine Augustness, how should any Deity be\nborn to compare with thee, the Glory of Heaven?\"\n\nSo with joy they bore the goddess to her place.\n\nBut Susa, the Swift, the Brave, the Impetuous, the Long-Haired, the\nThrice Unhappy, the Lord of the Sea, him the deities arraigned to stand\ntrial in the dry bed of the Tranquil River of Heaven. And they took\ncounsel, and fined him with a great fine. And, having shorn him of his\nhair, which was his beauty and his pride (for it was blue-black as an\niris, and hung below his knee), they banished him for ever from the\nheavenly precincts.\n\nSo Susa descended to earth by the Floating Bridge with bitterness in his\nheart, and for many days he wandered in despair, he knew not whither. By\nfair rice-fields he came, and by barren moors, heeding nothing; and at\nlast he stayed to rest by the side of the river called Hi, which is in\nthe land of Izumo.\n\nAnd as he sat, moody, his head on his hand, and looked down at the\nwater, he beheld a chopstick floating on the surface of the stream. So\nSusa, the Impetuous, arose immediately, saying, \"There are people at the\nriver head.\" And he pursued his way up the bank in quest of them. And\nwhen he had gone not a great way, he found an old man weeping and\nlamenting very grievously, among the reeds and willows by the\nwater-side. And there was with him a lady of great state and beauty,\nlike unto the daughter of a deity; but her fair eyes were marred with\nmany tears, and she moaned continually and wrung her hands. And these\ntwain had between them a young maid of very slender and delicate form;\nbut her face Susa could not see, for she covered it with a veil. And\never and anon she moved and trembled with fear, or seemed to beseech the\nold man earnestly, or plucked the lady by the sleeve; at which these\nlast but shook their heads sorrowfully, and returned to their\nlamentations.\n\nAnd Susa, full of wonder, drew near and asked the old man, \"Who art\nthou?\"\n\nAnd the old man answered, \"I am an earthly deity of the mountains. This\nis my wife, who weeps with me by the water-side, and the child is my\nyoungest daughter.\"\n\nAnd Susa inquired of him again, \"What is the cause of your weeping and\nlamentation?\"\n\nAnd he answered, \"Know, sir, that I am an earthly deity of renown, and I\nwas the father of eight fair daughters. But a horror broods over the\nland, for every year at this time it is ravaged by a monster, the\neight-forked serpent of Koshi, that delights in the flesh of young\nvirgins. In seven years have my seven sweet children been devoured. And\nnow the time of my youngest-born is at hand. Therefore do we weep, O\nThine Augustness.\"\n\nThen said Susa, the Impetuous, \"What is the likeness of this monster?\"\n\nAnd the deities of the mountain made answer: \"His eyes are fiery and red\nas the _akakagachi_ (that is, the winter cherry). He has but one body,\nwith eight heads and eight scaly tails. Moreover, on his body grows\nmoss, together with the fir and the cryptomeria of the forest. In his\ngoing he covers eight valleys and eight hills, and upon his under side\nhe is red and gory.\"\n\nThen the Lord Susa, the Impetuous, cried, \"My lord, give me thy\ndaughter.\"\n\nAnd the earthly deity, seeing his strength and great beauty and the\nbrightness of his countenance, knew that he was a god, and answered,\n\"With all reverence do I offer her unto thee. Howbeit, I know not thine\naugust name.\"\n\nAnd Susa said, \"I am Susa, the Sea God, the exile of High Heaven.\"\n\n[Illustration: The Story of Susa, the Impetuous.--_P. 99._]\n\nAnd the mountain deity and also his fair wife spoke, saying, \"So be it,\nThine Augustness, take the young maid.\"\n\nAnd immediately Susa flung away the veil and saw the face of his bride,\npale as the moon in winter. And he touched her on the forehead, and\nsaid, \"Fair and beloved, fair and beloved....\"\n\nAnd the maid flushed faintly to stand thus barefaced. Howbeit, she had\nlittle need, for the tears that stood in my lord Susa's eyes were veil\nenough for her modesty. And he said again, \"Dear and beautiful, our\npleasure shall be hereafter, now we may not tarry.\"\n\nSo he took the young maid at once, and changed her into a crown for his\nhead. And Susa wore the crown gallantly. And he instructed the earthly\ndeity, and together they brewed _sak\u00e9_, refined eight-fold; and with the\n_sak\u00e9_ they filled eight vats and set them in readiness; and when all\nwas prepared they waited. And presently there was a mighty noise, like\nthe sound of an earthquake, and the hills and valleys shook. And the\nserpent crawled in sight, huge and horrible, so that the earthly deities\nhid their faces for fear. But Susa, the Impetuous, gazed upon the\nserpent with his sword drawn.\n\nNow the serpent had eight heads, and immediately he dipped a head into\neach vat of _sak\u00e9_ and drank long. Thereupon he became drunken with the\ndistilled liquor, and all the heads lay down and slept.\n\nThen the Lord Susa brandished his ten-grasp sword, and leapt upon the\nmonster and cut off the eight heads with eight valiant strokes. So the\nserpent was slain with a great slaying, and the river Hi flowed on, a\nriver of blood. And Susa cut the tails of the serpent also, and as he\nstruck the fourth tail the edge of his august sword was turned back. So\nhe probed with its point, and found a great jewelled sword with a blade\nsharp as no known smith could temper it. And he took the sword and sent\nit for an offering to the Sun Goddess, his august sister. This is the\nherb-quelling sword.\n\nAnd Susa, the Impetuous, built him a palace at the place called Suga,\nand dwelt there with his bride. And the clouds of heaven hung like a\ncurtain round about the palace. Then the Lord Susa sang this song:\n\n    \"Many clouds arise.\n       The manifold fence of the forth-issuing clouds\n     Makes a manifold fence,\n       For the spouses to be within.\n     Oh, the manifold fence....\"\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE WIND IN THE PINE TREE\n\n\nIt was a Deity from High Heaven that planted the Pine Tree.\n\nSo long ago that the crane cannot remember it, and the tortoise knows it\nonly by hearsay from his great-grandmother, the heavenly deity\ndescended. Lightly, lightly he came by way of the Floating Bridge,\nbearing the tree in his right hand. Lightly, lightly his feet touched\nthe earth.\n\nHe said, \"I have come to the Land of the Reed Plains. I have come to the\nLand of Fresh Rice Ears. It is a good land; I am satisfied.\" And he\nplanted the Pine Tree within the sound of the sea at Takasaga, which is\nin the Province of Harima. Then he went up again to High Heaven by way\nof the Floating Bridge.\n\nBut the Pine Tree flourished. So great it grew, there was not a greater\nin all the Land of the Reed Plains. Its trunk was rosy red, and beneath\nit spread a brown carpet of fallen needles.\n\nIn the sweet nights of summer the Children of the Woods came hand in\nhand to the Pine Tree by moonlight, slipping their slim dark feet upon\nthe moss, and tossing back their long green hair.\n\nThe Children of the Water came by moonlight, all drenching wet their\nsleeves, and the bright drops fell from their finger-tips. The Children\nof the Air rested in the Pine Tree's branches, and made murmuring music\nall the live-long night. The Children of the Sea Foam crept up the\nyellow sands; and from the confines of Yomi came the Mysteries, the\nSounds and the Scents of the Dark--with faces veiled and thin grey\nforms, they came, and they hung upon the air about the place where the\nPine Tree was, so that the place was holy and haunted.\n\nLovers wandering upon the beach at Takasaga would hear the great company\nof Spirits singing together.\n\n\"Joy of my heart,\" they said to one another, \"do you hear the wind in\nthe Pine Tree?\"\n\nPoor souls lying sick a-bed would listen, and fishermen far out at sea\nwould pause in their labour to whisper, \"The wind, the wind in the Pine\nTree! How the sound carries over the water!\"\n\nAs for the coming of the Maiden, the crane cannot remember it, but the\ntortoise has it of his great-grandmother that she was born of poor\nparents in Takasaga. The Maiden was brown and tall and slender; in face\nand form most lovely. Her hair hung down to her knees. She rose at dawn\nto help her mother; she found sticks for the fire, she drew water at the\nwell. She could spin and weave with the best; and for long, long hours\nshe sat and plied her wheel or her shuttle in the shade of the great\nPine Tree, whilst her ears heard the sound of the wind in its branches.\nSometimes her eyes looked out over the paths of the sea, as one who\nwaits and watches. She was calm, not restless, more grave than gay,\nthough she smiled not seldom. Her voice was the voice of a Heavenly\nBeing.\n\nNow concerning the Youth from the far province, of him the crane knows\nsomething, for the crane is a great traveller. She was flying over the\nstreams and the valleys of the far province, so she says, when she saw\nthe Youth at work in the green rice-fields. The crane lingered, circling\nslowly in the bright air. The Youth stood up. He looked round upon the\nvalleys and streams; he looked into the sky.\n\n\"I hear the call,\" he said. \"I may tarry no longer. Voice in my heart, I\nhear and I obey.\"\n\nWith that he left the rice-field, and bade farewell to his mother and\nhis father and his sisters and his brothers and his friends. All\ntogether, they came down to the seashore, weeping and clinging to each\nother. The Youth took a boat and went away to sea, and the rest of them\nstood upon the beach.\n\nOn sped the boat for many a day over the unknown paths of the sea. And\nthe white crane flew behind the boat. And when the wind failed, she\npushed the boat forward with the wind of her strong wings.\n\nAt last, one evening about the hour of sunset, the Youth heard the\nsound of sweet singing. The sound came to him from the land, and it\ntravelled over the paths of the sea. He stood up in his boat, and the\ncrane beat her strong white wings and guided his boat to the shore till\nits keel touched the yellow sand of the sea-beach of Takasaga.\n\nWhen the Youth had come ashore he pushed the boat out again with the\nwaves, and watched it drift away. Then he turned his face inland. The\nsound of music was still in his ears. The voice was like the voice of a\nHeavenly Being, and strange and mystical were the words of the song:--\n\n    \"The lover brought a love gift to his mistress,\n     Jewels of jade upon a silken string;\n     Well-carved jewels,\n     Well-rounded jewels,\n     Green as the grass,\n     Upon a silken string.\n     The jewels know not one another,\n     The string they know,\n     Oh, the strength of the silken string!\"\n\nThe Youth went inland and came to the great Pine Tree and to the Maid\nthat sat beneath, weaving diligently and singing. The crane came flying\nwith her strong white wings, and perched upon the Tree's topmost\nbranches. The tortoise lay below on the brown carpet of needles. He\nwatched and saw much with his little eyes, but he said nothing, being\nvery silent by nature.\n\nThe Youth stood before the Maiden, waiting.\n\n\"Whence come you?\" she said, lifting up her eyes.\n\n\"I have come across the sea path. I have come from afar.\"\n\n\"And wherefore came you?\"\n\n\"That you must know best, seeing it was your voice that sang in my\nheart.\"\n\n\"Do you bring me the gift?\" she said.\n\n\"Indeed, I bring you the complete gift, jewels of jade upon a silken\nstring.\"\n\n\"Come,\" she said, and rose and took him by the hand. And they went to\nher father's house.\n\nSo they drank the \"Three Times Three,\" and were made man and wife, and\nlived in sweet tranquillity many, many years.\n\nAll the time the crane dwelt in the Pine Tree's topmost branches, and\nthe tortoise on the brown carpet of needles below.\n\nAt last the Youth and Maiden, that once were, became white-haired, old,\nand withered, by the swift, relentless passage of years.\n\n\"Fair love,\" said the old man, \"how weary I grow! It is sad to be old.\"\n\n\"Say not so, dear delight of my heart,\" said the old woman; \"say not so,\nthe best of all is to come.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said the old man, \"I have a desire to see the great Pine Tree\nbefore I die, and to listen once more to the song of the wind in its\nbranches.\"\n\n\"Come, then,\" she said, and rose and took him by the hand.\n\nOld and faint and worn, with feeble, tottering steps, and hand in hand\nthey came.\n\n\"How faint I grow,\" said the old man. \"Ah, I am afraid! How dark it is!\nHold you my hand....\"\n\n\"I have it fast in mine. There, lie down, lie down, dear love; be still\nand listen to the wind in the Pine Tree.\"\n\nHe lay on the soft brown bed beneath the Pine Tree's boughs; and the\nwind sang.\n\nShe who was his love and his wife bent over him and sheltered him. And\nhe suffered the great change.\n\nThen he opened his eyes and looked at her. She was tall and straight and\nslender, in face and form most lovely, and each of them was young as the\ngods are young. He put out his hand and touched her. \"Your long black\nhair ...\" he said.\n\nOnce more she bade him, \"Come.\" Lightly they left the ground. To the\nsound of the wind's music they swayed, they floated, they rose into the\nair. Higher they rose and higher. The branches of the Pine Tree received\nthem, and they were no more seen.\n\nStill, in the sweet nights of summer, the Children of the Woods come\nhand in hand to the Pine Tree by moonlight, slipping their slim dark\nfeet upon the moss, and tossing back their long green hair.\n\nThe Children of the Water come by moonlight, all drenching wet their\nsleeves, and the bright drops fall from their finger-tips. The Children\nof the Air rest in the Pine Tree's branches, and make murmuring music\nall the live-long night. The Children of the Sea Foam creep up the\nyellow sands; and from the confines of Yomi come the Mysteries, the\nSounds and the Scents of the Dark--with faces veiled and thin grey\nforms, they come, and they hang upon the air about the place where the\nPine Tree is, so that the place is holy and haunted.\n\nLovers wandering upon the beach at Takasaga hear the great company of\nSpirits singing together.\n\n\"Joy of my heart,\" they say to one another, \"do you hear the wind in the\nPine Tree?\"\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nFLOWER OF THE PEONY\n\n\nAya, sweet maid, was the only child of a _daimyo_ of the Province of\nOmi. Mother had she none, and her father was a noble lord and a warrior.\nHe was at the Court of the Shogun, or he had weighty affairs at the\ncapital, or he went here and there with armies and overcame his enemies.\nAya saw little of him.\n\nLong years she dwelt with her nurse and her maidens within the walls of\nher father's castle. High walls were they and well-guarded, and at their\nfoot was a deep moat which was rosy with lotus flowers all the seventh\nmonth.\n\nWhen the Lady Aya was some sixteen years old her father the _daimyo_\ncame home victorious from a foray, and she went with her maidens to meet\nhim in the gate. She was dressed in her bravest, and as became her rank.\n\n\"My lord and father,\" she said, \"sweet is your honourable return.\"\n\n\"Child, how you have grown!\" her father said, astonished. \"How old are\nyou, Aya?\"\n\n\"Sixteen years old, lord,\" she said.\n\n\"By all the gods, you are become a little great young lady, and I\nthought you were a baby and brought you home a doll for a home-coming\ngift.\"\n\nHe laughed, but presently afterwards grew grave, and in deep thought he\nwent into the castle.\n\nSoon after this he began to look about him, to find a fitting husband\nfor his daughter.\n\n\"Best it should be done now,\" he said, \"for a wonder has come to pass,\nand I am at peace with every _daimyo_ in the land--and it will not\nlast.\"\n\nThe Lord of Ako, in Harima, had three tall sons, fine young men and\nwarriors all.\n\n\"The eldest is over old,\" said the Lord of Omi. \"The youngest is a\nboy--but what of the middle brother? It seems to me that the middle\nbrother should do well. They say that second thoughts are best,\" said\nthe Lord of Omi.\n\nSo after messengers had come and gone, the Lady Aya was betrothed to the\nyoung Lord of Ako, and there was great rejoicing in all the\ncountry-side, for all the man and the maiden had never set eyes on one\nanother.\n\nThe Lady Aya was very glad when she saw the presents that came from her\nbridegroom's house. She sat with the seamstress of the castle and\nfingered the soft stuffs of her fine new robes. For the rest, she played\nwith her maidens the live-long day, or took her broidery frame, plying\nthe needle and long silken thread. It was the month of May, and very\noften they took the air in a garden gallery, where Aya and her maids\nlaughed together, and sometimes they spoke of the young Lord of Ako and\nhow brave and beautiful he was, how skilful in art and in war, and how\nrich. When evening came they slipped down the gallery steps and into the\ngarden, where they went hither and thither, hand in hand, to enjoy the\ncool air and the sweet scent of the flowers.\n\nOne night the Lady Aya walked in the garden according to her wont. The\nmoon rose, round and silver.\n\n\"Ah me,\" sighed one of the maidens, \"the moon is a love-lorn lady. Look\nhow pale and wan she goes, and even now she will hide her eyes with her\nlong sleeve of cloud.\"\n\n\"You speak sooth,\" returned Aya, \"the moon is a love-lorn lady; but have\nyou seen her faint sister who is sadder and fairer than she?\"\n\n\"Who, then, is the moon's sister?\" asked all the maidens at once.\n\nAya said, \"Come and see--come.\"\n\nWith that she drew them along the paths of the garden to the still pond,\nwhere were the dancing fireflies and the frogs that sang musically.\nHolding each other's hands, the maidens looked down into the water, and\none and all they beheld the moon's sister, and they laughed softly\ntogether. While they played by the water's brim, the Lady Aya's foot\nslipped upon a smooth stone, and most assuredly she would have fallen\ninto the pond. But all of a sudden a youth leapt forward out of the\nsweet secrecy of the night, and caught her in his arms. For a moment all\nthe maidens beheld the glimmer of his garments. Then he was gone. Aya\nstood alone, trembling. Down gazed the moon, wide-eyed and sorrowful;\nand still more sorrowful and sweet, upwards gazed the moon's pale\nsister. They saw a band of silent maidens who stood in a wilderness of\nblossoming peony flowers, that grew to the water's edge. It was the Lady\nAya who loved them and had them planted so.\n\nNow the lady turned without a word and moved along the paths of the\ngarden very slowly, hanging her head. When she came to the garden\ngallery she left all her maidens save one, and went silently to her\nbower.\n\nThere she was for a long space, saying nothing. She sat and traced the\npattern on her robe with the point of her finger. And Sada, her maiden,\nwas over against her.\n\nAt length, \"He was a great lord,\" said Aya.\n\n\"Truth, lady.\"\n\n\"He was young.\"\n\n\"He was passing well-favoured.\"\n\n\"Alas! he saved my life, and I had not time to thank him.\"\n\n\"The moon shone upon the jewelled mounting of his sword.\"\n\n\"And his robe that was broidered with peony flowers--my peony flowers.\"\n\n\"Lady, the hour grows very late.\"\n\n\"Well, then, untie my girdle.\"\n\n\"You look pale, lady.\"\n\n\"Small marvel, I am weary.\"\n\n\"Lady, what of the young Lord of Ako?\"\n\n\"What of him? Why, I have not seen him. Enough, let be--no more of him.\nAlas! I am drowsy, I know not what I say.\"\n\nAfter this night the Lady Aya, that had been so fresh and fair and\ndancing gay as a wave of the sea, fell into a pale melancholy. By day\nshe sighed, and by night she wept. She smiled no more as she beheld her\nrich wedding-garments, and she would not play any more with her maidens\nupon the garden gallery. She wandered like a shadow, or lay speechless\nin her bower. And all the wise men and all the wise women of that\ncountry-side were not able to heal her of her sickness.\n\nThen the maid Sada, weeping and hiding her face with her sleeve, went to\nthe Lord of the House and told him of the moonlight adventure and the\nfair youth of the peony bed.\n\n\"Ah me,\" she said, \"my sweet mistress pines and dies for the love of\nthis beautiful young man.\"\n\n\"Child,\" said the _daimyo_, \"how you talk! My daughter's garden is well\nguarded by walls and by men-at-arms. It is not possible that any\nstranger should enter it. What, then, is this tale of the moon and a\n_samurai_ in peony garments and all manner of other foolishness, and how\nwill such a tale sound in the ears of the Lord of Ako?\"\n\nBut Sada wept and said, \"My mistress will die.\"\n\n\"To fight in the field, to flatter at Court and to speak in Council, all\nthese are easy,\" said the _daimyo_, \"but preserve me from the affairs of\nmy women, for they are too hard for me.\"\n\nWith that he made a search of all the castle and the castle grounds, but\nnot a trace did he find of any stranger in hiding.\n\nThat night the Lady Aya called piteously for the cooler air, so they\nbore her out on to her garden gallery, where she lay in O Sada's arms. A\nminstrel of the household took his _biwa_, and to soothe her he made\nthis song:\n\n    \"Music of my lute--\n     Is it born, does it die,\n     Is it truth or a lie?\n     Whence, whence and where,\n     Enchanted air?\n     Music of my lute\n          Is mute.\n\n    \"Sweet scents in the night--\n     Do they float, do they seem,\n     Are they essence of dream,\n     Or thus are they said\n     The thoughts of the Dead?\n     Sweet scents in the night\n          Delight.\"\n\nNow, while the minstrel sang and touched his instrument, a fair youth\nstood up from the rosy sea of peonies by the pond. All there saw him\nclearly, his bright eyes, his sword, and his dress broidered with\nflowers. The Lady Aya gave a wild cry and ran to the edge of the garden\ngallery, holding out her white arms. And immediately the vision passed\naway. But the minstrel took up his _biwa_ once more and sang:\n\n    \"Love more strange than death--\n     Is it longer than life,\n     Is it hotter than strife?\n     Strong, strong and blind,\n     Transcending kind--\n     Love more strange than death\n          Or breath.\"\n\nAt this the mysterious knight of the flowers stood once again straight\nand tall, and his shining eyes were fixed upon the Lady Aya.\n\nThen a gentleman of the company of the _daimyo_, who was a mighty man of\nwar, drew his sword forthwith and leapt down amongst the peonies to do\nbattle with the bold stranger that so gazed upon his master's daughter.\nAnd at that a cloud drew across the moon's face as if by faery, and of a\nsudden a great hot wind blew from the south. The lights died upon the\ngarden gallery, the maidens held their garments together while their\nlong gossamer sleeves floated out. All the peony bed was tossed about\nlike a troubled sea, and the pink and white petals flew like foam. A\nmist, damp and over-sweet, hung upon the wind, so that all who were\nthere grew faint and clung to one another, trembling.\n\nWhen they were recovered, they found the night still and the moon\nundimmed. The soldier of the _daimyo's_ company stood panting and white\nas death at the steps of the garden gallery. In his right hand he held\nhis unstained sword, in his left a perfect peony flower.\n\n\"I have him,\" he shouted; \"he could not escape me. I have him fast.\"\n\nAya said, \"Give me the flower\"; and he gave it her without a word, as\none in a dream.\n\nThen Aya went to her bower and slept with the peony upon her breast and\nwas satisfied.\n\nFor nine days she kept the flower. The sweet colour came to her face,\nand the light to her eyes. She was perfectly healed of her sickness.\n\nShe set the peony in a bronze vase and it did not droop or fade, but\ngrew larger and more lovely all the nine days.\n\nAt the end of this time the young Lord of Ako came riding in great pomp\nand state to claim his long-promised lady. So he and the Lady Aya were\nwed in the midst of much feasting and rejoicing. Howbeit, they say she\nmade but a pale bride. And the same day the peony withered and was\nthrown away.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE MALLET\n\n\nThere were once two farmer men who were brothers. Both of them worked\nhard in seed-time and in harvest-time. They stood knee-deep in water to\nplant out the young rice, bending their backs a thousand times an hour;\nthey wielded the sickle when the hot sun shone; when the rain poured\ndown in torrents, there they were still at their digging or such like,\nhuddled up in their rice-straw rain coats, for in the sweat of their\nbrows did they eat their bread.\n\nThe elder of the two brothers was called Cho. For all he laboured so\nhard he was passing rich. From a boy he had had a saving way with him,\nand had put by a mint of money. He had a big farm, too, and not a year\nbut that he did well, what with his rice, and his silk-worms, and his\ngranaries and storehouses. But there was nothing to show for all this,\nif it will be believed. He was a mean, sour man with not so much as a\n\"good day\" and a cup of tea for a wayfarer, or a cake of cold rice for a\nbeggar man. His children whimpered when he came near them, and his wife\nwas much to be pitied.\n\nThe younger of the two brothers was called Kan\u00e8. For all he laboured so\nhard he was as poor as a church mouse. Bad was his luck, his silk-worms\ndied, and his rice would not flourish. In spite of this he was a merry\nfellow, a bachelor who loved a song and an honest cup of _sak\u00e9_. His\nroof, his pipe, his meagre supper, all these he would share, very\ngladly, with the first-comer. He had the nimblest tongue for a comical\njoke, and the kindest heart in the world. But it is a true thing, though\nit is a pity all the same, that a man cannot live on love and laughter,\nand presently Kan\u00e8 was in a bad way.\n\n\"There's nothing for it,\" he says, \"but to pocket my pride\" (for he had\nsome) \"and go and see what my brother Cho will do for me, and I'm\ngreatly mistaken if it will be much.\"\n\nSo he borrows some clothes from a friend for the visit, and sets off in\nvery neat _hakama_, looking quite the gentleman, and singing a song to\nkeep his heart up.\n\nHe sees his brother standing outside his house, and the first minute he\nthinks he is seeing a boggart, Cho is in such ragged gear. But presently\nhe sings out, \"You're early, Cho.\"\n\n\"You're early, Kan\u00e8,\" says Cho.\n\n\"May I come in and talk a bit?\" asks Kan\u00e8.\n\n\"Yes,\" says Cho, \"you can; but you won't find anything to eat at this\ntime of day, nor yet to drink, so let disappointments be avoided.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says Kan\u00e8; \"as it happens, it's not food I've come for.\"\n\nWhen they were inside the house and sitting on the mats, Cho says,\n\"That's a fine suit of clothes you've got on you, Kan\u00e8. You must be\ndoing well. It's not me that can afford to go about the muddy roads\ndressed up like a prince. Times are bad, very bad.\"\n\nIn spite of this not being a good beginning, Kan\u00e8 plucks up his courage\nand laughs. And presently he says:\n\n\"Look here, brother. These are borrowed clothes, my own will hardly hold\ntogether. My rice crop was ruined, and my silk-worms are dead. I have\nnot a _rin_ to buy rice seed or new worms. I am at my wits' end, and I\nhave come to you begging, so now you have it. For the sake of the mother\nthat bore us both, give me a handful of seed and a few silk-worms'\neggs.\"\n\nAt this Cho made as if he would faint with astonishment and dismay.\n\n\"Alack! Alack!\" he says. \"I am a poor man, a very poor man. Must I rob\nmy wife and my miserable children?\" And thus he bewailed himself and\ntalked for half an hour.\n\nBut to make a long story short, Cho says that out of filial piety, and\nbecause of the blessed mother of them both, he must make shift to give\nKan\u00e8 the silk-worms' eggs and the rice. So he gets a handful of dead\neggs and a handful of musty and mouldy rice. \"These are no good to man\nor beast,\" says the old fox to himself, and he laughs. But to his own\nblood-brother he says, \"Here, Kan\u00e8. It's the best silk-worms' eggs I am\ngiving you, and the best rice of all my poor store, and I cannot afford\nit at all; and may the gods forgive me for robbing my poor wife and my\nchildren.\"\n\nKan\u00e8 thanks his brother with all his heart for his great generosity, and\nbows his head to the mats three times. Then off he goes, with the\nsilk-worms' eggs and the rice in his sleeve, skipping and jumping with\njoy, for he thought that his luck had turned at last. But in the muddy\nparts of the road he was careful to hold up his _hakama_, for they were\nborrowed.\n\nWhen he reached home he gathered great store of green mulberry leaves.\nThis was for the silk-worms that were going to be hatched out of the\ndead eggs. And he sat down and waited for the silk-worms to come. And\ncome they did, too, and that was very strange, because the eggs were\ndead eggs for sure. The silk-worms were a lively lot; they ate the\nmulberry leaves in a twinkling, and lost no time at all, but began to\nwind themselves into cocoons that minute. Then Kan\u00e8 was the happy man.\nHe went out and told his good fortune to all the neighbours. This was\nwhere he made his mistake. And he found a peddlar man who did his rounds\nin those parts, and gave him a message to take to his brother Cho, with\nhis compliments and respectful thanks, that the silk-worms were doing\nuncommonly well. This was where he made a bigger mistake. It was a pity\nhe could not let well alone.\n\nWhen Cho heard of his brother's luck he was not pleased. Pretty soon he\ntied on his straw sandals and was off to Kan\u00e8's farm. Kan\u00e8 was out when\nhe got there, but Cho did not care for that. He went to have a look at\nthe silk-worms. And when he saw how they were beginning to spin\nthemselves into cocoons, as neat as you please, he took a sharp knife\nand cut every one of them in two. Then he went away home, the bad man!\nWhen Kan\u00e8 came to look after his silk-worms he could not help thinking\nthey looked a bit queer. He scratches his head and he says, \"It almost\nappears as though each of them has been cut in half. They seem dead,\" he\nsays. Then out he goes and gathers a great lot of mulberry leaves. And\nall those half silk-worms set to and ate up the mulberry leaves, and\nafter that there were just twice as many silk-worms spinning away as\nthere were before. And that was very strange, because the silk-worms\nwere dead for sure.\n\nWhen Cho heard of this he goes and chops his own silk-worms in two with\na sharp knife; but he gained nothing by that, for the silk-worms never\nmoved again, but stayed as dead as dead, and his wife had to throw them\naway next morning.\n\nAfter this Kan\u00e8 sowed the rice seed that he had from his brother, and\nwhen the young rice came up as green as you please he planted it out\nwith care, and it flourished wonderfully, and soon the rice was formed\nin the ear.\n\nOne day an immense flight of swallows came and settled on Kan\u00e8's\nrice-field.\n\n\"Arah! Arah!\" Kan\u00e8 shouted. He clapped his hands and beat about with a\nbamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they came.\n\n\"Arah! Arah!\" Kan\u00e8 shouted, and he clapped his hands and beat about with\nhis bamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they\ncame.\n\n\"Arah! Arah!\" Kan\u00e8 shouted. He clapped his hands and beat about with his\nbamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they came.\n\nWhen he had scared them away for the ninth time, Kan\u00e8 takes his\n_tenegui_ and wipes his face. \"This grows into a habit,\" he says. But in\ntwo minutes back came the swallows for the tenth time. \"Arah! Arah!\"\nKan\u00e8 shouted, and he chased them over hill and dale, hedge and ditch,\nrice-field and mulberry-field, till at last they flew away from his\nsight, and he found himself in a mossy dell shaded by spreading pine\ntrees. Being very tired with running he lies down his full length upon\nthe moss, and presently falls fast asleep and snoring.\n\nThe next thing was that he dreamed. He thought he saw a troop of\nchildren come to the mossy glade, for in his dream he remembered very\nwell where he was. The children fluttered here and there among the\npine-trees' trunks. They were as pretty as flowers or butterflies. One\nand all of them had dancing bare feet; their hair hung down, long, loose\nand black; their skins were white like the plum blossom.\n\n\"For good or for evil,\" says Kan\u00e8 to himself, \"I have seen the fairies'\nchildren.\"\n\nThe children made an end of their dancing, and sat them upon the ground\nin a ring. \"Leader! Leader!\" they cried. \"Fetch us the mallet.\" Then\nthere rose up a beautiful boy, about fourteen or fifteen years old, the\neldest and the tallest there. He lifted a mossy stone quite close to\nKan\u00e8's head. Underneath was a plain little mallet of white wood. The boy\ntook it up and went and stood within the circle of children. He laughed\nand cried, \"Now what will you have?\"\n\n\"A kite, a kite,\" calls out one of the children.\n\nThe boy shakes the mallet, and lo and behold he shakes a kite out of\nit!--a great kite with a tail to it, and a good ball of twine as well.\n\n\"Now what else?\" asks the boy.\n\n\"Battledore and shuttlecock for me,\" says a little girl.\n\nAnd sure enough there they are, a battledore of the best, and twenty\nshuttlecocks, meetly feathered and gilded.\n\n\"Now what else?\" says the boy.\n\n\"A lot of sweets.\"\n\n\"Greedy!\" says the boy, but he shakes the mallet, and there are the\nsweets.\n\n\"A red cr\u00eape frock and a brocade _obi_.\"\n\n\"Miss Vanity!\" says the boy, but he shakes all this gravely out of the\nmallet.\n\n\"Books, story books.\"\n\n\"That's better,\" says the boy, and out come the books by the dozen and\nscore, all open to show the lovely pictures.\n\nNow, when the children had their hearts' desires, the leader put away\nthe mallet beneath its mossy stone, and after they had played for some\ntime they became tired; their bright attires melted away into the gloom\nof the wood, and their pretty voices grew distant and then were heard no\nmore. It was very still.\n\nKan\u00e8 awoke, good man, and found the sun set and darkness beginning to\nfall. There was the mossy stone right under his hand. He lifted it, and\nthere was the mallet.\n\n\"Now,\" said Kan\u00e8, taking it up, \"begging the pardon of the fairies'\nchildren, I'll make bold to borrow that mallet.\" So he took it home in\nhis sleeve and spent a pleasant evening shaking gold pieces out of it,\nand _sak\u00e9_, and new clothes, and farmers' tools, and musical\ninstruments, and who knows what all!\n\nIt is not hard to believe that pretty soon he became the richest and\njolliest farmer in all that country-side. Sleek and fat he grew, and his\nheart was bigger and kinder than ever.\n\nBut what like was Cho's heart when he got wind of all this? Ay, there's\nthe question. Cho turned green with envy, as green as grass. \"I'll have\na fairy mallet, too,\" he says, \"and be rich for nothing. Why should that\nidiot spendthrift Kan\u00e8 have all the good fortune?\" So he goes and begs\nrice from his brother, which his brother gives him very willingly, a\ngood sackful. And he waits for it to ripen, quite wild with impatience.\nIt ripens sure enough, and sure enough a flight of swallows comes and\nsettles upon the good grain in the ear.\n\n\"Arah! Arah!\" shouted Cho, clapping his hands and laughing aloud for\njoy. The swallows flew away, and Cho was after them. He chased them over\nhill and dale, hedge and ditch, rice-field and mulberry-field, till at\nlast they flew away from his sight, and he found himself in a mossy dell\nshaded by spreading pine-trees. Cho looks about him.\n\n\"This should be the place,\" says he. So he lies down and waits with one\nwily eye shut and one wily eye open.\n\nPresently who should trip into the dell but the fairies' children! Very\nfresh they were as they moved among the pine-tree trunks.\n\n\"Leader! Leader! Fetch us the mallet,\" they cried. Up stepped the leader\nand lifted away the mossy stone. And behold there was no mallet there!\n\nNow the fairies' children became very angry. They stamped their little\nfeet, and cried and rushed wildly to and fro, and were beside themselves\naltogether because the mallet was gone.\n\n\"See,\" cried the leader at last, \"see this ugly old farmer man; he must\nhave taken our mallet. Let us pull his nose for him.\"\n\nWith a shrill scream the fairies' children set upon Cho. They pinched\nhim, and pulled him, and buffeted him, and set their sharp teeth in his\nflesh till he yelled in agony. Worst of all, they laid hold of his nose\nand pulled it. Long it grew, and longer. It reached his waist. It\nreached his feet.\n\nLord, how they laughed, the fairies' children! Then they scampered away\nlike fallen leaves before the wind.\n\nCho sighed, and he groaned, and he cursed, and he swore, but for all\nthat his nose was not an inch shorter. So, sad and sorry, he gathered it\nup in his two hands and went to Kan\u00e8's house.\n\n\"Kan\u00e8, I am very sick,\" says he.\n\n\"Indeed, so I see,\" says Kan\u00e8, \"a terrible sickness; and how did you\ncatch it?\" he says. And so kind he was that he never laughed at Cho's\nnose, nor yet he never smiled, but there were tears in his eyes at his\nbrother's misfortunes. Then Cho's heart melted and he told his brother\nall the tale, and he never kept back how mean he had been about the dead\nsilk-worms' eggs, and about the other things that have been told of. And\nhe asked Kan\u00e8 to forgive him and to help him.\n\n\"Wait you still a minute,\" says Kan\u00e8.\n\nHe goes to his chest, and he brings out the mallet. And he rubs it very\ngently up and down Cho's long nose, and sure enough it shortened up very\nquickly. In two minutes it was a natural size. Cho danced for joy.\n\nKan\u00e8 looks at him and says, \"If I were you, I'd just go home and try to\nbe different.\"\n\nWhen Cho had gone, Kan\u00e8 sat still and thought for a long time. When the\nmoon rose that night he went out and took the mallet with him. He came\nto the mossy dell that was shaded with spreading pine trees, and he laid\nthe mallet in its old place under the stone.\n\n\"I'm the last man in the world,\" he said, \"to be unfriendly to the\nfairies' children.\"\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE BELL OF DOJOJI\n\n[Illustration: The Bell of Dojoji.--_P. 127._]\n\n\nThe monk Anchin was young in years but old in scholarship. Every day for\nmany hours he read the Great Books of the Good Law and never wearied,\nand hard characters were not hard to him.\n\nThe monk Anchin was young in years but old in holiness; he kept his body\nunder by fastings and watchings and long prayers. He was acquainted with\nthe blessedness of sublime meditations. His countenance was white as\nivory and as smooth; his eyes were deep as a brown pool in autumn; his\nsmile was that of a Buddha; his voice was like an angel's. He dwelt with\na score of holy men in a monastery of the mountains, where he learned\nthe mystic \"Way of the Gods.\" He was bound to his order by the strictest\nvows, but was content, rejoicing in the shade of the great pine trees\nand the sound of the running water of the streams.\n\nNow it happened that on a day in spring-time, the old man, his Abbot,\nsent the young monk Anchin upon an errand of mercy. And he said, \"My\nson, bind your sandals fast and tie spare sandals to your girdle, take\nyour hat and your staff and your rosary and begging bowl, for you have\nfar to go, over mountain and stream, and across the great plain.\"\n\nSo the monk Anchin made him ready.\n\n\"My son,\" the Abbot said, \"if any wayfarer do you a kindness, forget not\nto commend him to the gods for the space of nine existences.\"\n\n\"I will remember,\" said the monk, and so he set forth upon his way.\n\nOver mountain and stream he passed, and as he went his spirit was\nwrapped in contemplation, and he recited the Holy Sutras aloud in a\nsinging voice. And the Wise Birds called and twittered from branch to\nbranch of the tall trees, the birds that are beloved of Buddha. One bird\nchanted the grand Scripture of the Nicheten, the Praise of the Sutra of\nthe Lotus, of the Good Law, and the other bird called upon his Master's\nname, for he cried:\n\n\"O thou Compassionate Mind! O thou Compassionate Mind!\"\n\nThe monk smiled. \"Sweet and happy bird,\" he said.\n\nAnd the bird answered, \"O thou Compassionate Mind!... O thou\nCompassionate Mind!\"\n\nWhen the monk Anchin came to the great plain, the sun was high in the\nheavens, and all the blue and golden flowers of the plain languished in\nthe noon-tide heat. The monk likewise became very weary, and when he\nbeheld the Marshy Mere, where were bulrush and sedge that cooled their\nfeet in the water, he laid him down to rest under a sycamore tree that\ngrew by the Marshy Mere.\n\nOver the mere and upon the farther side of it there hung a glittering\nhaze.\n\nLong did the monk Anchin lie; and as he lay he looked through the\nglittering haze, and as he looked the haze quivered and moved and grew\nand gathered upon the farther side of the mere. At the last it drew into\na slender column of vapour, and out of the vapour there came forth a\nvery dazzling lady. She wore a robe of green and gold, interwoven, and\ngolden sandals on her slender feet. In her hands were jewels--in each\nhand one bright jewel like a star. Her hair was tied with a braid of\nscarlet, and she had a crown of scarlet flowers. She came, skirting the\nMarshy Mere. She came, gliding in and out of the bulrush and the sedge.\nIn the silence there could be heard the rustle of her green skirt upon\nthe green grass.\n\nThe monk Anchin stumbled to his feet and, trembling, he leaned against\nthe sycamore tree.\n\nNearer and nearer came the lady, till she stood before Anchin and looked\ninto his eyes. With the jewel that was in her right hand she touched his\nforehead and his lips. With the jewel that was in her left hand she\ntouched his rice-straw hat and his staff and his rosary and his begging\nbowl. After this she had him safe in thrall. Then the wind blew a tress\nof her hair across his face, and when he felt it he gave one sob.\n\nFor the rest of his journey the monk went as a man in a dream. Once a\nrich traveller riding on horseback threw a silver coin into Anchin's\nbegging bowl; once a woman gave him a piece of cake made of millet; and\nonce a little boy knelt down and tied the fastening of his sandal that\nhad become loose. But each time the monk passed on without a word, for\nhe forgot to commend the souls of these compassionate ones for the space\nof nine existences. In the tree-tops the Wise Birds of Buddha sang for\nhim no more, only from the thicket was heard the cry of the\n_Hototogisu_, the bird lovelorn and forsaken.\n\nNevertheless, well or ill, he performed his errand of mercy and returned\nto the monastery by another way.\n\nHowbeit, sweet peace left him from the hour in which he had seen the\nlady of the Marshy Mere. The Great Books of the Good Law sufficed him no\nlonger; no more was he acquainted with the blessedness of divine\nmeditations. His heart was hot within him; his eyes burned and his soul\nlonged after the lady of the green and golden robe.\n\nShe had told him her name, and he murmured it in his sleep.\n\"Kiohim\u00e9--Kiohim\u00e9!\" Waking, he repeated it instead of his prayers--to\nthe great scandal of the brethren, who whispered together and said, \"Is\nour brother mad?\"\n\nAt length Anchin went to the good Abbot, and in his ear poured forth all\nhis tale in a passion of mingled love and grief, humbly asking what he\nmust do.\n\nThe Abbot said, \"Alack, my son, now you suffer for sin committed in a\nformer life, for Karma must needs be worked out.\"\n\nAnchin asked him, \"Then is it past help?\"\n\n\"Not that,\" said the Abbot, \"but you are in a very great strait.\"\n\n\"Are you angry with me?\" said Anchin.\n\n\"Nay, Heaven forbid, my poor son.\"\n\n\"Then what must I do?\"\n\n\"Fast and pray, and for a penance stand in the ice-cold water of our\nmountain torrent an hour at sunrise and an hour at sunset. Thus shall\nyou be purged from carnal affection and escape the perils of illusion.\"\n\nSo Anchin fasted and prayed, he scourged his body, and hour after hour\nhe did penance in the ice-cold water of the torrent. Wan as a ghost he\ngrew, and his eyes were like flames. His trouble would not leave him. A\nbattle raged in his breast. He could not be faithful to his vows and\nfaithful to his love.\n\nThe brethren wondered, \"What can ail the monk Anchin, who was so learned\nand so holy--is he bewitched by a fox or a badger, or can he have a\ndevil?\"\n\nBut the Abbot said, \"Let be.\"\n\nNow on a hot night of summer, the monk being sleepless in his cell, he\nwas visited by Kiohim\u00e9, the magic lady of the mere. The moonlight was on\nher hands and her long sleeves. Her robe was green and gold, interwoven;\ngolden were her sandals. Her hair was braided with scarlet and adorned\nwith scarlet flowers.\n\n\"Long, long have I waited for thee on the plains,\" she said. \"The night\nwind sighs in the sedge--the frogs sing by the Marshy Mere. Come,\nlord....\"\n\nBut he cried, \"My vows that I have vowed--alas! the love that I love. I\nkeep faith and loyalty, the bird in my bosom ... I may not come.\"\n\nShe smiled, \"_May_ not?\" she said, and with that she lifted the monk\nAnchin in her arms.\n\nBut he, gathering all his strength together, tore himself from her and\nfled from the place. Barefooted and bareheaded he went, his white robe\nflying, through the dark halls of the monastery, where the air was heavy\nwith incense and sweet with prayers, where the golden Amida rested upon\nher lotus, ineffably smiling. He leaped the grey stone steps that led\ndown from her shrine and gained the pine trees and the mountain path.\nDown, down he fled on the rough way, the nymph Kiohim\u00e9 pursuing. As for\nher, her feet never touched the ground, and she spread her green sleeves\nlike wings. Down, down they fled together, and so close was she behind\nhim that the monk felt her breath upon his neck.\n\n\"As a young goddess, she is fleet of foot ...\" he moaned.\n\nAt last they came to the famed temple of Dojoji, which was upon the\nplains. By this Anchin sobbed and staggered as he ran; his knees failed\nhim and his head swam.\n\n\"I am lost,\" he cried, \"for a hundred existences.\" But with that he saw\nthe great temple bell of Dojoji that hung but a little way from the\nground. He cast himself down and crept beneath it, and so deemed himself\nsheltered and secure.\n\nThen came Kiohim\u00e9, the Merciless Lady, and the moonlight shone upon her\nlong sleeves. She did not sigh, nor cry, nor call upon her love. She\nstood still for a little space and smiled. Then lightly she sprang to\nthe top of the great bronze bell of Dojoji, and with her sharp teeth she\nbit through the ropes that held it, so that the bell came to the ground\nand the monk was a prisoner. And Kiohim\u00e9 embraced the bell with her\narms. She crept about it, she crawled about it and her green robe flowed\nover it. Her green robe glittered with a thousand golden scales; long\nflames burst from her lips and from her eyes; a huge and fearsome\nDragon, she wound and coiled herself about the bell of Dojoji. With her\nDragon's tail she lashed the bell, and lashed it till its bronze was red\nhot.\n\nStill she lashed the bell, while the monk called piteously for mercy.\nAnd when he was very quiet she did not stop. All the night long the\nfrogs sang by the Marshy Mere and the wind sighed in the sedges. But the\nDragon Lady was upon the bell of Dojoji, and she lashed it furiously\nwith her tail till dawn.\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE MAIDEN OF UNAI\n\n\nThe Maiden of Unai was fair as an earthly deity, but the eyes of man\nmight not behold her. She dwelt in a hidden place in her father's house,\nand of what cheer she made the live-long day not a soul could tell, but\nher father who kept watch, and her mother who kept ward, and her ancient\nnurse who tended her. The cause was this.\n\nWhen the maid was about seven years old, with her black hair loose and\nhanging to her shoulder, an ancient man, a traveller, came, footsore and\nweary, to her father's house. He was made welcome, served with rice and\nwith tea, whilst the master of the house sat by, and the mistress, to do\nhim honour. Meanwhile the little maid was here and there, catching at\nher mother's sleeve, pattering with bare feet over the mats, or bouncing\na great green and scarlet ball in a corner. And the stranger lifted his\neyes and marked the child.\n\nAfter he had eaten, he called for a bowl of clear water, and taking from\nhis wallet a handful of fine silver sand he let it slip through his\nfingers and it sank to the bottom of the bowl. In a little he spoke.\n\n\"My lord,\" he said to the master of the house, \"I was hungry and weary,\nand you have fed me and refreshed me. I am a poor man and it is hard for\nme to show my gratitude. Now I am a soothsayer by profession, very\nfar-famed for the skill of my divination. Therefore, in return for your\nkindness I have looked into the future of your child. Will you hear her\ndestiny?\"\n\nThe child knelt in a corner of the room bouncing her green and scarlet\nball.\n\nThe master of the house bade the soothsayer speak on.\n\nThis one looked down into the bowl of water where the sand was, and\nsaid: \"The Maiden of Unai shall grow up fairer than the children of men.\nHer beauty shall shine as the beauty of an earthly deity. Every man who\nlooks upon her shall pine with love and longing, and when she is fifteen\nyears old there shall die for her sake a mighty hero from near, and a\nvaliant hero from afar. And there shall be sorrow and mourning because\nof her, loud and grievous, so that the sound of it shall reach High\nHeaven and offend the peace of the gods.\"\n\nThe master of the house said, \"Is this a true divination?\"\n\n\"Indeed, my lord,\" said the soothsayer, \"it is too true.\" And with that\nhe bound on his sandals, and taking his staff and his great hat of\nrice-straw, he spoke no other word, but went his ways; neither was he\nany more seen nor heard tell of upon that country-side.\n\nAnd the child knelt in a corner of the room, bouncing her green and\nscarlet ball.\n\nThe father and mother took counsel.\n\nThe mother wept, but she said, \"Let be, for who can alter the pattern\nset up upon the looms of the weaving women of Heaven?\" But the father\ncried, \"I will fight. I will avert the portent; the thing shall not come\nto pass. Who am I that I should give credence to a dog of a soothsayer\nwho lies in his teeth?\" And though his wife shook her head and moaned,\nhe gave her counsel no heed, for he was a man.\n\nSo they hid the child in a secret chamber, where an old wise woman\ntended her, fed her, bathed her, combed her hair, taught her to make\nsongs and to sing, to dance so that her feet moved like rosy butterflies\nover the white mats, or to sit at a frame with a wonder of needlework\nstretched upon it, drawing the needle and the silken thread hour after\nhour.\n\nFor eight years the maid set eyes upon no human being save her father,\nher mother, and her nurse, these three only. All the day she spent in\nher distant chamber, far removed from the sights and the sounds of the\nworld. Only in the night she came forth into her father's garden, when\nthe moon shone and the birds slept and the flowers had no colour. And\nwith every season that passed the maid grew more beautiful. Her hair\nhung down to her knees and was black as a thundercloud. Her forehead\nwas the plum blossom, her cheek the wild cherry, and her mouth the\nflower of the pomegranate. At fifteen years old she was the loveliest\nthing that ever saw the light, and the sun was sick with jealousy\nbecause only the moon might shine upon her.\n\nIn spite of all, the fame of her beauty became known, and because she\nwas kept so guarded men thought of her the more, and because she might\nnot be seen men longed to behold her. And because of the mystery and the\nmaiden, gallants and warriors and men of note came from far and near and\nflocked to the house of Unai; and they made a hedge about it with\nthemselves and their bright swords; and they swore that they would not\nleave the place till they had sight of the maid, and this they would\nhave either by favour or by force.\n\nThen the master of the house did even as he must, and he sent her mother\nto bring the maid down. So the mother went, taking with her a robe of\ngrey silk and a great girdle of brocade, green and gold; and she found\nthe maid, her daughter, sitting in her secret chamber singing.\n\nThe maid sang thus:\n\n    \"Nothing has changed since the time of the gods,\n     Neither the running of water nor the way of love.\"\n\nAnd the mother was astonished and said, \"What manner of song is this,\nand where heard you of such a thing as love?\"\n\nAnd she answered, \"I have read of it in a book.\"\n\nThen they took her, her mother and the wise woman, and they tied her\nhair and pinned it high upon her head with gold and coral pins, and held\nit with a great lacquer comb. She said, \"How heavy it is!\"\n\nWhile they dressed her in the robe of grey silk, and tied the girdle of\nbrocade, first she shuddered and said, \"I am cold.\" Then they would have\nthrown over her a mantle broidered with plum blossom and pine, but she\nwould have none of it, saying, \"No, no, I burn.\"\n\nThey painted her lips with _beni_, and when she saw it she murmured,\n\"Alack, there is blood upon my lips!\" But they led her down and out on\nto a balcony, where the men who were assembled might see her. She was\nfairer than the children of men, and her beauty shone like the beauty of\nan earthly deity. And all the warriors who were there looked upon her\nand were silent, for already they were faint with love and longing. And\nthe maid stood with eyes cast down, and slowly the hot blush rose to her\ncheek and she was lovelier than before.\n\nThree or four score men of name sought her hand, being distraught for\nlove of her, and amongst them were two braver and nobler than the rest.\nThe one came from afar and was the champion of Chinu, and the other came\nfrom near, the champion of Unai. They were young, strong, and\nblack-haired. They were equal in years, in strength, and in valour.\nBoth were girded with great swords, and full-charged quivers were upon\ntheir backs, and six-foot bows of white wood were in their hands.\nTogether they stood beneath the balcony of the maiden of Unai, like twin\nbrothers in beauty and attainments. Together they cried aloud with\npassionate voices, telling of their eternal love, and bidding the maiden\nchoose between them.\n\nShe lifted up her eyes and looked fixedly upon them, but spoke no word.\n\nThen they drew their swords and made as if to fight the matter out there\nand then; but the maid's father spoke: \"Put up your swords, fair sirs; I\nhave devised a better way for the decision of this thing. If it please\nyou, enter my house.\"\n\nNow part of the house of Unai was built out upon a platform over the\nriver that flowed past. It was the fifth month and the wistaria was in\nblossom upon the trellis, and hung downwards nearly into the water. The\nriver was swift and deep. Here the master of the house brought the\nchampions, and the maiden was there also. But the mother and the wise\nwoman stood a little way apart, and hid their faces in their long\nsleeves. Presently a white water-bird dropped from the blue sky, and\nrocked to and fro upon the water of the river.\n\n\"Now, champions,\" cried the father of the maiden, \"draw me your bows and\nlet fly each of you an arrow at yonder white bird that floats upon the\nriver. He that shall strike the bird and prove himself to be the better\nmarksman, he shall wed my daughter, the peerless Maiden of Unai.\"\n\nThen immediately the two champions drew their bows of white wood and let\nfly each of them an arrow. Each arrow sped swift; each arrow struck\ntrue. The champion of Chinu struck the water-bird in the head, but the\nchampion of Unai struck her in the tail so that the white feathers were\nscattered. Then the champions cried, \"Enough of this trifling. There is\nbut one way.\" And again their bright swords leapt from their scabbards.\n\nBut the maid stood trembling, holding the gnarled stem of the wistaria\nin her hands. She trembled and shook the branches so that the frail\nflowers fell about her. \"My lords, my lords,\" she cried, \"oh, brave and\nbeautiful heroes of fame, it is not meet that one of you should die for\nsuch as I am. I honour you; I love you both--therefore farewell.\" With\nthat, still holding to the wistaria, she swung herself clear of the\nbalcony and dropped into the deep and swift-flowing river. \"Weep not,\"\nshe cried, \"for no woman dies to-day. It is but a child that is lost.\"\nAnd so she sank.\n\nDown sprang the champion of Chinu into the flood, and in the same\ninstant down sprang the champion of Unai. Alack, they were heavy with\nthe arms that they bore, and they sank and were entangled in the long\nwater weeds. And so the three of them were drowned.\n\nBut at night when the moon shone, the pale dead rose, floating to the\nsurface of the water. The champion of Unai held the maiden's right hand\nin his own, but the champion of Chinu lay with his head against the\nmaiden's heart, bound close to her by a tress of her long hair; and as\nhe lay he smiled.\n\nThe three corpses they lifted from the water, and laid them together\nupon a bier of fair white wood, and over them they strewed herbs and\nsweet flowers, and laid a veil over their faces of fine white silk. And\nthey lighted fires and burned incense. Gallants and warriors and men of\nnote who loved the maiden, alive or dead, stood about her bier and made\na hedge with themselves and their bright swords. And there was sorrow\nand mourning, loud and grievous, so that the sound of it reached High\nHeaven and offended the peace of the gods.\n\nA grave was dug wide and deep, and the three were buried therein. The\nmaid they laid in the middle, and the two champions upon either side.\nIdzumo was the native place of the champion of Chinu, so they brought\nearth from thence in a junk, and with this earth they covered him.\n\nSo the maid slept there in the grave, the champions faithfully guarding\nher, for they had buried with them their bows of white wood and their\ngood armour and their spears and their bright swords. Nothing was\nforgotten that is needful for adventure in the Land of Yomi.\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE ROBE OF FEATHERS\n\n\nMio Strand is in the Province of Suruga. Its sand is yellow and fine,\nstrewn with rose shells at the ebb tide. Its pine trees are ancient and\nthey lean all one way, which is the way that the wild wind wills. Before\nMio rolls the deep sea, and behind Mio rises Fugi, the most sacred, the\nmountain of mountains. Small marvel that the Strange People should come\nto Mio.\n\nOf the Strange People not much is known, even at Mio, though it is sure\nthey come there. It seems they are shy indeed, more's the pity. They\ncome through the blue air, or across the mysterious paths of the sea.\nTheir footprints are never, never seen upon the wet beach, for they\ntread too lightly. But sometimes in their dancing they sweep their robes\nupon the sand and leave it ribbed and ruffled; so, often enough, it may\nbe seen at Mio.\n\nThis is not all. Once a fisherman of Mio set eyes upon a maiden of the\nStrange People, and talked with her and made her do his bidding. This is\na true thing, and thus it came about.\n\nThe fisherman was out in his boat all night. He cast his net here and he\ncast his net there, but he caught nothing at all for his pains. It may\nbe believed that he grew weary enough before the morning. In the cold of\nthe dawn he brought his boat to shore and set foot on Mio Strand,\nshivering.\n\nThen, so he says, a warm wind met him and blew through his garments and\nhis hair, so that he flushed and glowed. The very sand was full of\ncomfort to his chilly feet. Upon the warm wind a fragrance was borne,\ncedar and vervain, and the scent of a hundred flowers.\n\nFlowers dropped softly through the air like bright rain. The fisherman\nstretched out his hands and caught them, lotus and jessamine and\npomegranate. And all the while sweet music sounded.\n\n\"This is never Mio Strand,\" cried the fisherman, bewildered, \"where I\nhave pulled my boat ashore a thousand times or flown kites upon a\nholiday. Alack, I fear me I have sailed to the Fortunate Isles unawares,\nor come unwilling to the Sea King's garden; or very like I am dead and\nnever knew it, and this is Yomi. O Yomi, Land of Yomi, how like thou art\nto Mio Strand, my dear home!\"\n\nAfter he had said this, the fisherman looked up the beach and down the\nbeach, and he turned and saw Fuji, the mountain of mountains, and then\nhe turned and saw the deep rolling sea and knew he was at Mio and no\nother place, and gave a long sigh.\n\n\"Thanks be,\" he said, and lifting his eyes he saw a robe of feathers\nhanging upon the branch of a pine tree. In the robe were feathers of\nall the birds that fly, every one; the kingfisher and the golden\npheasant, the love bird, the swan, the crow, the cormorant, the dove,\nthe bullfinch, the falcon, the plover, and the heron.\n\n\"Ah, the pretty fluttering thing!\" said the fisherman, and he took it\nfrom the pine tree where it hung.\n\n\"Ah, the warm, sweet, fairy thing!\" said the fisherman; \"I'll take it\nhome for a treasure, sure no money could buy it, and I'll show it to all\nthe folk of the village.\" And off he set for home with the fairy\nfeathers over his arm.\n\nNow the maiden of the Strange People had been playing all this time with\nthe White Children of the Foam that live in the salt sea. She looked up\nthrough the cold clear water and marked that her robe hung no longer on\nthe pine-tree branch.\n\n\"Alas, alas!\" she cried, \"my robe, my feather robe!\" Swifter than any\narrow she sprang from the water, and sped, fleet of foot, along the wet\nsand. The White Children of the Foam followed at her flashing heels.\nClad in the cloak of her long hair, she came up with the fisherman.\n\n\"Give me my feather robe,\" she said, and held out her hand for it.\n\n\"Why?\" said the fisherman.\n\n\"'Tis mine. I want it. I must have it.\"\n\n\"Oho,\" said the fisherman, \"finding's keeping,\" and he didn't give her\nthe feather robe.\n\n\"I am a Fairy,\" she said.\n\n\"Farewell, Fairy,\" said the fisherman.\n\n\"A Moon Fairy,\" she said.\n\n\"Farewell, Moon Fairy,\" said the fisherman, and he made to take his way\nalong Mio Strand. At that she snatched at the feather robe, but the\nfisherman held fast. The feathers fluttered out and dropped upon the\nsand.\n\n\"I wouldn't do that,\" said the fisherman. \"You'll have it all to\npieces.\"\n\n\"I am a Moon Fairy, and at dawn I came to play upon fair Mio Strand;\nwithout my feathers I cannot go back to my place, my home in High\nHeaven. Therefore give me my feathers.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the fisherman.\n\n\"Oh, fisherman, fisherman, give me my robe.\"\n\n\"I couldn't think of it,\" said the fisherman.\n\nAt this the maiden fell upon her knees and drooped like a lily in the\nheat of the day. With her arms she held the fisherman about the knees,\nand as she clung to him beseeching him, he felt her tears upon his bare\nfeet.\n\nShe wept and said:\n\n    \"I am a bird, a frail bird,\n     A wounded bird with broken wings,\n     I must die far from home,\n     For the Five Woes are come upon me.\n     The red flowers in my hair are faded;\n     My robe is made unclean;\n     Faintness comes upon me;\n     I cannot see--farewell, dear sight of my eyes;\n     I have lost joy.\n     Oh, blessed flying clouds, and happy birds,\n     And golden dust in the wind,\n     And flying thoughts and flying prayers!\n     I have lost all joy.\"\n\n\"Oh, stop,\" said the fisherman, \"you may have your robe.\"\n\n\"Give,\" she cried.\n\n\"Softly, softly,\" said the fisherman. \"Not so fast. I will give you your\nrobe if you will dance for me here on Mio Strand.\"\n\n\"What must I dance?\" she asked.\n\n\"You must dance the mystic dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn\nround.\"\n\nShe said, \"Give me my feathers and I will dance it. I cannot dance\nwithout my feathers.\"\n\n\"What if you cheat me, what if you break your promise and fly\nimmediately to the moon and no dancing at all?\"\n\n\"Ah, fisherman,\" she said, \"the faith of a Fairy!\"\n\nThen he gave her the robe.\n\nNow, when she had arrayed herself and flung back her hair, the Fairy\nbegan to dance upon the yellow sand. In and out of the feather robe\ncrept her fairy feet. Slowly, softly, she went with folded wings and\nsang:\n\n    \"Oh, the gold and silver mountains of the Moon,\n     And the sweet Singing Birds of Heaven!\n     They sing in the branches of the cinnamon tree,\n     To entertain the thirty kings that are there.\n     Fifteen kings in white garments,\n     To reign for fifteen days.\n     Fifteen kings in black garments,\n     To reign for fifteen days.\n     I hear the music of Heaven;\n     Away, away, I fly to Fairy Places.\"\n\nAt this the Fairy spread her rainbow-coloured wings, and the wind that\nthey made fluttered the red flowers in her hair. Out streamed the robe\nof feathers bright and gay.\n\nThe Fairy laughed. Her feet touched the waves of the sea; her feet\ntouched the grass and the flowers inshore. They touched the high\nbranches of the pines and then the white clouds.\n\n\"Farewell, fisherman!\" the Fairy cried, and he saw her no more.\n\nLong, long he stood gazing up into the sky. At length he stooped and\npicked up a little feather from the shore, a grey dove's feather. He\nsmoothed it out with his finger and hid it in his girdle.\n\nThen he went to his home.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTHE SINGING BIRD OF HEAVEN\n\n[Illustration: The Singing Bird of Heaven.--_P. 148._]\n\n\nAma Terassu, the Glorious, the Light of High Heaven, commanded, saying,\n\"His Augustness, my August Child, who is called the Conqueror, shall\ndescend to the land. For it is a Land of Luxuriant Reed Plains, a Land\nof Fresh Rice Ears, a Land of a Thousand Autumns. So of this land he\nshall be king.\"\n\nNow his Augustness, the August Child, the Conqueror, stood upon the\nFloating Bridge of Heaven and looked down, and he saw that there was a\ngreat unquietness upon the Land of the Reed Plains. For earthly deities\nmade strife, and blood ran, and fearful sounds of war arose, even to\nHigh Heaven. So the August Child, the heavenly born, turned back across\nthe Floating Bridge, and swore he would not descend to rule the land\nuntil it should be cleansed.\n\nAnd Ama Terassu, the Light of High Heaven, who had the sun set fast\nbetween her eyes, bound her head with jewels, and gathered the deities\ntogether in a divine assembly, to hold council in the Tranquil River\nBed. And she spoke and said, \"Who shall subdue the land that I have\ngiven to the August Child?\"\n\nAnd all the deities cried, \"O Thine Augustness, send down the Lord of\nSpears.\" Therefore the Lord of Spears went lightly down by the Floating\nBridge; and there were bound upon his back eight hundred spears.\nHowbeit, he made a truce with the Lord of the Reed Plains and tarried\nthere; and for three years there was no report.\n\nTherefore, once more the Queen of Heaven called him whom the gods name\nWonderful, and she called the Lord of Deep Thoughts, and likewise she\ncalled every deity of Heaven, and they came to council in the Tranquil\nRiver Bed, so that upon the sand there was left the print of their\naugust feet. And Ama Terassu said, \"Behold now the Lord of Spears is\nfaithless. Whom shall we send to rule the land?\" And the Young Prince\nanswered, \"O Mother of Heaven, Thine Augustness, send me.\" And all the\ndeities assented with one accord and cried, \"Send him, send him,\" till\nthere was a sound like thunder in the River Bed.\n\nSo the Young Prince bound on his sandals, and they brought to him the\ngreat bow that stands in the Hall of High Heaven, and bestowed it upon\nhim, and they gave him many heavenly-feathered arrows. So they made him\nready, and they brought him to the Floating Bridge. And the Young Prince\ndescended lightly, while his garments shone with the glory of Heaven.\nBut when he touched the tops of the high hills, his heart beat fast and\nhis blood ran warm. Therefore he cut the fastening of his sandals and\ncast them behind him, and he ran upon his bare feet, like an earthly\ndeity, and came to the palace upon the Reed Plains.\n\nNow, at the door of the palace the Princess Undershining stood, like a\ngrowing flower. So the Young Prince beheld her and loved her, and he\nbuilt him a dwelling upon the Reed Plains, and took the Princess for his\nbride. And, because he loved her and her earthly children, he brought no\nreport to High Heaven, and he forgot the waiting deities. For Heaven was\nvague to him as a dream.\n\nBut the gods were weary.\n\nAnd Ama Terassu said, \"Long, long tarries our messenger, and brings no\nword again. My Lord, the August Child, waxes impatient; whom now shall\nwe send?\" Thereupon, all the deities, and the Lord of Deep Thoughts,\nreplied, \"Send down the Singing Bird, the beloved of High Heaven.\"\n\nSo Ama Terassu took the golden Singing Bird, and said, \"Sweet music of\nthe divine gods, spread thou thy bright wings, and fly to the Land of\nReed Plains, and there search out the Young Prince, the messenger of\nHeaven, and, when thou hast found him, sing in his ear this song: 'Ama\nTerassu, the Goddess of the Sun, has sent me saying, How fares the quest\nof High Heaven, and how fares the message? Where is the report of the\ngods?'\"\n\nSo the bird departed, singing. And she came to the Land of the Reed\nPlains, and perched upon the branch of a fair cassia tree which grew\nhard by the Young Prince's dwelling. Day and night, she sang, and the\ngods in Heaven thought long for their sweet Singing Bird. Howbeit she\nreturned not again, but sat upon the branch of the cassia tree.\n\nBut the Young Prince gave no heed.\n\nAnd She that Speaketh Evil heard the words that the bird sang. And she\nwhispered in the Young Prince's ear, \"See now, my lord, this is an evil\nbird, and evil is its cry; therefore take thou thine arrows and go forth\nand slay it.\" So she urged continually, and, by glamour, she prevailed\nupon him. Then the Young Prince arose, and took his bow and his\nheavenly-feathered arrows, and he let fly an arrow into the branches of\nthe cassia tree. And suddenly the sweet sound of singing ceased, and the\ngolden bird fell dead, for the aim was true.\n\nBut the heavenly-feathered arrow took wing and pierced the floor of\nHeaven, and reached the high place, where sat the Sun Goddess, together\nwith her August Counsellors, in the Tranquil River Bed of Heaven. And\nthe god called Wonderful took up the arrow, and beheld the blood upon\nits feathers. And the Lord of Deep Thoughts said, \"This is the arrow\nthat was given to the Young Prince,\" and he showed it to all the\ndeities. And he said, \"If the Young Prince has shot this arrow at the\nevil deities, according to our command, let it do him no hurt. But, if\nhis heart be not pure, then let the Young Prince perish by this arrow.\"\nAnd he hurled the arrow back to earth.\n\nNow the Young Prince lay upon a couch, sleeping. And the arrow fell,\nand pierced his heart that he died.\n\nYet the sweet Singing Bird of Heaven returned no more; and the gods were\nsorrowful.\n\nHowbeit, the Young Prince lay dead upon his bed; and the wailing of his\nspouse, the Princess Undershining, re-echoed in the wind, and was heard\nin Heaven. So the Young Prince's father descended with cries and\nlamentations, and there was built a mourning house upon the Land of Reed\nPlains, and the Young Prince was laid there.\n\nAnd there came to mourn for him the wild goose of the river, and the\npheasant, and the kingfisher. And they mourned for him eight days and\neight nights.\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nTHE COLD LADY\n\n\nOnce an old man and a young man left their village in company, in order\nto make a journey into a distant province. Now, whether they went for\npleasure or for profit, for matters of money, of love or war, or because\nof some small or great vow that they had laid upon their souls, it is no\nlonger known. All these things were very long since forgotten. It is\nenough to say that it is likely they accomplished their desires, for\nthey turned their faces homewards about the setting-in of the winter\nseason, which is an evil time for wayfarers, Heaven knows.\n\nNow as they journeyed, it happened that they missed their way, and,\nbeing in a lonely part of the country, they wandered all the day long\nand came upon no good soul to guide them. Near nightfall they found\nthemselves upon the brink of a broad and swift-flowing river. There was\nno bridge, no ford, no ferry. Down came the night, with pitch-black\nclouds and a little shrewd wind that blew the dry and scanty reeds.\nPresently the snow came. The flakes fell upon the dark water of the\nriver.\n\n\"How white, how white they are!\" cried the young man.\n\nBut the old man shivered. In truth it was bitter cold, and they were in\na bad case. Tired out, the old man sat him down upon the ground; he drew\nhis cloak round him and clasped his hands about his knees. The young man\nblew upon his fingers to warm them. He went up the bank a little, and at\nlast he found a small poor hut, deserted by a charcoal-burner or\nferryman.\n\n\"Bad it is at the best,\" said the young man, \"yet the gods be praised\nfor any shelter on such a night.\" So he carried his companion to the\nhut. They had no food and no fire, but there was a bundle of dried\nleaves in the corner. Here they lay down and covered themselves with\ntheir straw rain-coats; and in spite of the cold, they soon fell asleep.\n\nAbout midnight the young man was awakened by an icy air upon his cheek.\nThe door of the hut stood wide open, and he could see the whirling\nsnow-storm without. It was not very dark. \"A pest upon the wind!\" said\nthe young man. \"It has blown open the door, and the snow has drifted in\nand covered my feet,\" and he raised himself upon his elbow. Then he saw\nthat there was a woman in the hut.\n\nShe knelt by the side of the old man, his companion, and bent low over\nhim till their faces almost met. White was her face and beautiful; white\nwere her trailing garments; her hair was white with the snow that had\nfallen upon it. Her hands were stretched forth over the man that slept,\nand bright icicles hung from her finger-tips. Her breath was quite\nplainly to be seen as it came from her parted lips. It was like a fair\nwhite smoke. Presently she made an end of leaning over the old man, and\nrose up very tall and slender. Snow fell from her in a shower as she\nmoved.\n\n\"That was easy,\" she murmured, and came to the young man, and sinking\ndown beside him took his hand in hers. If the young man was cold before,\nhe was colder now. He grew numb from head to heel. It seemed to him as\nif his very blood froze, and his heart was a lump of ice that stood\nstill in his bosom. A deathly sleep stole over him.\n\n\"This is my death,\" he thought. \"Can this be all? Thank the gods there\nis no pain.\" But the Cold Lady spoke.\n\n\"It is only a boy,\" she said. \"A pretty boy,\" she said, stroking his\nhair; \"I cannot kill him.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" she said. The young man moaned.\n\n\"You must never speak of me, nor of this night,\" she said. \"Not to\nfather, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother, nor to betrothed maid, nor\nto wedded wife, nor to boy child, nor to girl child, nor to sun, nor\nmoon, nor water, fire, wind, rain, snow. Now swear it.\"\n\nHe swore it. \"Fire--wind--rain--snow ...\" he murmured, and fell into a\ndeep swoon.\n\nWhen he came to himself it was high noon, the warm sun shone. A kind\ncountryman held him in his arms and made him drink from a steaming cup.\n\n\"Now, boy,\" said the countryman, \"you should do. By the mercy of the\ngods I came in time, though what brought me to this hut, a good three\n_ri_ out of my way, the August Gods alone know. So you may thank them\nand your wondrous youth. As for the good old man, your companion, it is\na different matter. He is past help. Already his feet have come to the\nParting of the Three Ways.\"\n\n\"Alack!\" cried the young man. \"Alack, for the snow and the storm, and\nthe bitter, bitter night! My friend is dead.\"\n\nBut he said no more then, nor did he when a day's journey brought him\nhome to his own village. For he remembered his oath. And the Cold Lady's\nwords were in his ear.\n\n\"You must never speak of me, nor of this night, not to father, nor\nmother, nor sister, nor brother, nor to betrothed maid, nor to wedded\nwife, nor to boy child, nor to girl child, nor to sun, nor moon, nor\nwater, fire, wind, rain, snow....\"\n\nSome years after this, in the leafy summer time, it chanced that the\nyoung man took his walks abroad alone, and as he was returning\nhomewards, about sundown, he was aware of a girl walking in the path a\nlittle way before him. It seemed as though she had come some distance,\nfor her robe was kilted up, she wore sandals tied to her feet, and she\ncarried a bundle. Moreover, she drooped and went wearily. It was not\nstrange that the young man should presently come up with her, nor that\nhe should pass the time of day. He saw at once that the girl was very\nyoung, fair, and slender.\n\n\"Young maiden,\" he said, \"whither are you bound?\"\n\nShe answered, \"Sir, I am bound for Yedo, where I intend to take service.\nI have a sister there who will find me a place.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" he asked.\n\n\"My name is O'Yuki.\"\n\n\"O'Yuki,\" said the young man, \"you look very pale.\"\n\n\"Alas! sir,\" she murmured, \"I faint with the heat of this summer day.\"\nAnd as she stood in the path her slender body swayed, and she slid to\nhis feet in a swoon.\n\nThe young man lifted her gently, and carried her in his arms to his\nmother's house. Her head lay upon his breast, and as he looked upon her\nface, he shivered slightly.\n\n\"All the same,\" he said to himself, \"these summer days turn chilly about\nsundown, or so it seems to me.\"\n\nWhen O'Yuki was recovered of her swoon, she thanked the young man and\nhis mother sweetly for their kindness, and as she had little strength to\ncontinue her journey, she passed the night in their house. In truth she\npassed many nights there, and the streets of Yedo never knew her, for\nthe young man grew to love her, and made her his wife ere many moons\nwere out. Daily she became more beautiful--fair she was, and white. Her\nlittle hands, for all she used them for work in the house and work in\nthe fields, were as white as jasmine flowers; the hot sun could not burn\nher neck, or her pale and delicate cheek. In the fulness of time she\nbore seven children, all as fair as she, and they grew up tall and\nstrong with straight noble limbs; their equal could not be found upon\nthat country-side. Their mother loved them, reared them, laboured for\nthem. In spite of passing years, in spite of the joys and pains of\nmotherhood, she looked like a slender maiden; there came no line upon\nher forehead, no dimness to her eyes, and no grey hairs.\n\nAll the women of the place marvelled at these things, and talked of them\ntill they were tired. But O'Yuki's husband was the happiest man for\nmiles round, what with his fair wife and his fair children. Morning and\nevening he prayed and said, \"Let not the gods visit it upon me if I have\ntoo much joy.\"\n\nOn a certain evening in winter, O'Yuki, having put her children to bed\nand warmly covered them, was with her husband in the next room. The\ncharcoal glowed in the _hibachi_; all the doors of the house were\nclosely shut, for it was bitter cold, and outside the first big flakes\nof a snow-storm had begun to fall. O'Yuki stitched diligently at little\nbright-coloured garments. An _andon_ stood on the floor beside her, and\nits light fell full upon her face.\n\nHer husband looked at her, musing....\n\n\"Dear,\" he said, \"when I look at you to-night I am reminded of an\nadventure that came to me many years since.\"\n\nO'Yuki spoke not at all, but stitched diligently.\n\n\"It was an adventure or a dream,\" said the man her husband, \"and which\nit was I cannot tell. Strange it was as a dream, yet I think I did not\nsleep.\"\n\nO'Yuki went on sewing.\n\n\"Then, only then, I saw a woman, who was as beautiful as you are and as\nwhite ... indeed, she was very like you.\"\n\n\"Tell me about her,\" said O'Yuki, not lifting her eyes from her work.\n\n\"Why,\" said the man, \"I have never spoken of her to anybody.\" Yet he\nspoke then to his undoing. He told of his journey, and how he and his\ncompanion, being benighted in a snow-storm, took shelter in a hut. He\nspoke of the white Cold Lady, and of how his friend had died in her\nchill embrace.\n\n\"Then she came to my side and leaned over me, but she said, 'It is only\na boy ... a pretty boy ... I cannot kill him.' Gods! How cold she was\n... how cold.... Afterwards she made me swear, before she left me she\nmade me swear....\"\n\n\"You must never speak of me, nor of this night,\" O'Yuki said, \"not to\nfather, nor mother, nor brother, nor sister, nor to betrothed maid, nor\nto wedded wife, nor to boy child, nor to girl child, nor to sun, nor\nmoon, nor water, fire, wind, rain, snow. All this you swore to me, my\nhusband, even to me. And after all these years you have broken your\noath. Unkind, unfaithful, and untrue!\" She folded her work together and\nlaid it aside. Then she went to where the children were, and bent her\nface over each in turn.\n\nThe eldest murmured \"Cold ... Cold ...\" so she drew the quilt up over\nhis shoulder.\n\nThe youngest cried, \"Mother\" ... and threw out his little arms.\n\nShe said, \"I have grown too cold to weep any more.\"\n\nWith that she came back to her husband. \"Farewell,\" she said. \"Even now\nI cannot kill you for my little children's sakes. Guard them well.\"\n\nThe man lifted up his eyes and saw her. White was her face and\nbeautiful; white were her trailing garments; her hair was white as it\nwere with snow that had fallen upon it. Her breath was quite plainly to\nbe seen as it came from her parted lips. It was like a fair white smoke.\n\n\"Farewell! Farewell!\" she cried, and her voice grew thin and chill like\na piercing winter wind. Her form grew vague as a snow wreath or a white\nvaporous cloud. For an instant it hung upon the air. Then it rose slowly\nthrough the smoke-hole in the ceiling and was no more seen.\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE FIRE QUEST\n\n\nThe Wise Poet sat reading by the light of his taper. It was a night of\nthe seventh month. The cicala sang in the flower of the pomegranate, the\nfrog sang by the pond. The moon was out and all the stars, the air was\nheavy and sweet-scented. But the Poet was not happy, for moths came by\nthe score to the light of his taper; not moths only, but cockchafers and\ndragon-flies with their wings rainbow-tinted. One and all they came upon\nthe Fire Quest; one and all they burned their bright wings in the flame\nand so died. And the Poet was grieved.\n\n\"Little harmless children of the night,\" he said, \"why will you still\nfly upon the Fire Quest? Never, never can you attain, yet you strive and\ndie. Foolish ones, have you never heard the story of the Firefly Queen?\"\n\nThe moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies fluttered about the\ntaper and paid him no heed.\n\n\"They have never heard it,\" said the Poet; \"yet it is old enough.\nListen:\n\n\"The Firefly Queen was the brightest and most beautiful of small things\nthat fly. She dwelt in the heart of a rosy lotus. The lotus grew on a\nstill lake, and it swayed to and fro upon the lake's bosom while the\nFirefly Queen slept within. It was like the reflection of a star in the\nwater.\n\n\"You must know, oh, little children of the night, that the Firefly Queen\nhad many suitors. Moths and cockchafers and dragon-flies innumerable\nflew to the lotus on the lake. And their hearts were filled with\npassionate love. 'Have pity, have pity,' they cried, 'Queen of the\nFireflies, Bright Light of the Lake.' But the Firefly Queen sat and\nsmiled and shone. It seemed that she was not sensible of the incense of\nlove that arose about her.\n\n\"At last she said, 'Oh, you lovers, one and all, what make you here\nidly, cumbering my lotus house? Prove your love, if you love me indeed.\nGo, you lovers, and bring me fire, and then I will answer.'\n\n\"Then, oh, little children of the night, there was a swift whirr of\nwings, for the moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies\ninnumerable swiftly departed upon the Fire Quest. But the Firefly Queen\nlaughed. Afterwards I will tell you the reason of her laughter.\n\n\"So the lovers flew here and there in the still night, taking with them\ntheir desire. They found lighted lattices ajar and entered forthwith. In\none chamber there was a girl who took a love-letter from her pillow and\nread it in tears, by the light of a taper. In another a woman sat\nholding the light close to a mirror, where she looked and painted her\nface. A great white moth put out the trembling candle-flame with his\nwings.\n\n\"'Alack! I am afraid,' shrieked the woman; 'the horrible dark!'\n\n\"In another place there lay a man dying. He said, 'For pity's sake light\nme the lamp, for the black night falls.'\n\n\"'We have lighted it,' they said, 'long since. It is close beside you,\nand a legion of moths and dragon-flies flutter about it.'\n\n\"'I cannot see anything at all,' murmured the man.\n\n\"But those that flew on the Fire Quest burnt their frail wings in the\nfire. In the morning they lay dead by the hundred and were swept away\nand forgotten.\n\n\"The Firefly Queen was safe in her lotus bower with her beloved, who was\nas bright as she, for he was a great lord of the Fireflies. No need had\nhe to go upon the Fire Quest. He carried the living flame beneath his\nwings.\n\n\"Thus the Firefly Queen deceived her lovers, and therefore she laughed\nwhen she sent them from her on a vain adventure.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Be not deceived,\" cried the Wise Poet, \"oh, little children of the\nnight. The Firefly Queen is always the same. Give over the Fire Quest.\"\n\nBut the moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies paid no heed to\nthe words of the Wise Poet. Still they fluttered about his taper, and\nthey burnt their bright wings in the flame and so died.\n\nPresently the Poet blew out the light. \"I must needs sit in the dark,\"\nhe said; \"it is the only way.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nA LEGEND OF KWANNON\n\n[Illustration: A Legend of Kwannon.--_P. 165._]\n\n\nIn the days of the gods, Ama-no-Hashidate was the Floating Bridge of\nHeaven. By way of this bridge came the deities from heaven to earth,\nbearing their jewelled spears, their great bows and heavenly-feathered\narrows, their wonder robes and their magic mirrors. Afterwards, when the\ndirect way was closed that had been between earth and heaven, and the\ndeities walked no more upon the Land of Fresh Rice Ears, the people\nstill called a place Ama-no-Hashidate, for the sake of happy memory.\nThis place is one of the Three Fair Views of Yamato. It is where a strip\nof land runs out into the blue sea, like a floating bridge covered with\ndark pine trees.\n\nThere was a holy man of Kioto called Saion Zenji. He had followed the\nWay of the Gods from his youth up. He was also a disciple of the great\nBuddha; well versed was he in doctrines and philosophies; he knew the\nperils of illusion and the ineffable joys of Nirvana. Long hours would\nhe pass in mystic meditation, and many of the Scriptures he had by\nheart. When he was on a pilgrimage he came to Ama-no-Hashidate, and he\noffered up thanks because the place was so lovely in his eyes.\n\nHe said, \"The blind and ignorant have it that trees and rocks and the\ngreen sea-water are not sentient things, but the wise know that they\nalso sing aloud and praise the Tathagata. Here will I take up my rest,\nand join my voice with theirs, and will not see my home again.\"\n\nSo Saion Zenji, the holy man, climbed Nariai-San, the mountain over\nagainst Ama-no-Hashidate. And when he had come to the place of the Lone\nPine, he built him a shrine to Kwannon the Merciful, and a hut to cover\nhis own head.\n\nAll day he chanted the Holy Sutras. From dawn to eventide he sang, till\nhis very being was exalted and seemed to float in an ecstasy of praise.\nThen his voice grew so loud and clear that it was a marvel. The blue\ncampanula of the mountain in reverence bowed its head; the great white\nlily distilled incense from its deep heart; the cicala shrilled aloud;\nthe Forsaken Bird gave a long note from the thicket. About the hermit's\nhut there fluttered dragon-flies and butterflies innumerable, which are\nthe souls of the happy dead. In the far valleys the peasant people were\ncomforted in their toil, whether they planted out the green young rice,\nor gathered in the ears. The sun and the wind were tempered, and the\nrain fell softly upon their faces. Ever and again they climbed the steep\nhillside to kneel at the shrine of Kwannon the Merciful, and to speak\nwith the holy man, whose wooden bowl they would fill with rice or\nmillet, or barley-meal or beans. Sometimes he came down and went through\nthe villages, where he soothed the sick and touched the little children.\nFolks said that his very garments shone.\n\nNow in that country there came a winter season the like of which there\nhad not been within the memory of man. First came the wind blowing\nwildly from the north, and then came the snow in great flakes which\nnever ceased to fall for the period of nine days. All the folk of the\nvalleys kept within doors as warm as might be, and those that had their\nwinter stores fared none so ill. But, ah me, for the bitter cold upon\nthe heights of Nariai-San! At the Lone Pine, and about the hermit's hut,\nthe snow was piled and drifted. The shrine of Kwannon the Merciful could\nno more be seen. Saion Zenji, the holy man, lived for some time upon the\nfood that was in his wooden bowl. Then he drew about him the warm\ngarment of thought, and passed many days in meditation, which was meat\nand drink and sleep to him. Howbeit, even his clear spirit could not\nutterly dispel the clouds of illusion. At length it came to earth and\nall the man trembled with bodily weakness.\n\n\"Forgive me, O Kwannon the Merciful,\" said Saion Zenji; \"but verily it\nseems to me that if I have no food I die.\"\n\nSlowly he rose, and painfully he pushed open the door of his hut. The\nsnow had ceased; it was clear and cold. White were the branches of the\nLone Pine, and all white the Floating Bridge.\n\n\"Forgive me, O Kwannon the Merciful,\" said Saion Zenji; \"I know not the\nreason, but I am loath to depart and be with the Shades of Yomi. Save me\nthis life, O Kwannon the Merciful.\"\n\nTurning, he beheld a dappled hind lying on the snow, newly dead of the\ncold. He bowed his head. \"Poor gentle creature,\" he said, \"never more\nshalt thou run in the hills, and nibble the grass and the sweet\nflowers.\" And he stroked the hind's soft flank, sorrowing.\n\n\"Poor deer, I would not eat thy flesh. Is it not forbidden by the Law of\nthe Blessed One? Is it not forbidden by the word of Kwannon the\nMerciful?\" Thus he mused. But even as he mused he seemed to hear a voice\nthat spoke to him, and the voice said:\n\n\"Alas, Saion Zenji, if thou die of hunger and cold, what shall become of\nmy people, the poor folk of the valleys? Shall they not be comforted any\nmore by the Sutras of the Tathagata? Break the law to keep the law,\nbeloved, thou that countest the world well lost for a divine song.\"\n\nThen presently Saion Zenji took a knife, and cut him a piece of flesh\nfrom the side of the dappled hind. And he gathered fir cones and made a\nlittle fire and cooked the deer's flesh in an iron pot. When it was\nready he ate half of it. And his strength came to him again, and he\nopened his lips and sang praises to the Tathagata, and the very embers\nof the dying fire leapt up in flame to hear him.\n\n\"Howbeit I must bury the poor deer,\" said Saion Zenji. So he went to the\ndoor of his hut. But look where he might no deer nor dappled hind did he\nsee, nor yet the mark of one in the deep snow.\n\n\"It is passing strange,\" he said, and wondered.\n\nAs soon as might be, up came the poor folk from the valley to see how\ntheir hermit had fared through the snow and the stormy weather. \"The\ngods send he be not dead of cold or hunger,\" they said one to another.\nBut they found him chanting in his hut, and he told them how he had\neaten of the flesh of a dappled hind and was satisfied.\n\n\"I cut but a hand's breadth of the meat,\" he said, \"and half of it is\nyet in the iron pot.\"\n\nBut when they came to look in the pot, they found there no flesh of\ndeer, but a piece of cedar wood gilded upon the one side. Marvelling\ngreatly, they carried it to the shrine of Kwannon the Merciful, and when\nthey had cleared away the deep snow, all of them went in to worship.\nThere smiled the image of the sweet heavenly lady, golden among her\ngolden flowers. In her right side there was a gash where the gilded wood\nwas cut away. Then the poor folk from the valley reverently brought that\nwhich they had found in the hermit's pot, and set it in the gash. And\nimmediately the wound was healed and the smooth gold shone over the\nplace. All the people fell on their faces, but the hermit stood singing\nthe high praise of Kwannon the Merciful.\n\nThe sun set in glory. The valley folk crept softly from the shrine and\nwent down to their own homes. The cold moon and the stars shone upon the\nLone Pine and the Floating Bridge and the sea. Through a rent in the\nshrine's roof they illumined the face of Kwannon the Merciful, and made\nvisible her manifold arms of love. Yet Saion Zenji, her servant, stood\nbefore her singing in an ecstasy, with tears upon his face:\n\n    \"O wonder-woman, strong and beautiful,\n     Tender-hearted, pitiful, and thousand-armed!\n     Thou hast fed me with thine own flesh--\n     Mystery of mysteries!\n     Poor dead dappled hind thou cam'st to me;\n     In the deep of mine own heart thou spoke to me\n     To keep, yet break, and breaking, keep thy law--\n     Mystery of mysteries!\n     Kwannon, the Merciful Lady, stay with me,\n     Save me from the perils of illusion;\n     Let me not be afraid of the snow or the Lone Pine.\n     Mystery of mysteries--\n     Thou hast refused Nirvana,\n     Help me that I may lose the world, content,\n     And sing the Divine Song.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nTHE ESPOUSAL OF THE RAT'S DAUGHTER\n\n[Illustration: The Espousal of the Rat's Daughter.--_P. 171._]\n\n\nMr. Nedzumi, the Rat, was an important personage in the hamlet where he\nlived--at least he was so in his own and his wife's estimation. This was\nin part, of course, due to the long line of ancestors from whom he was\ndescended, and to their intimate association with the gods of Good\nFortune. For, be it remembered, his ancestry went back into a remote\npast, in fact as far as time itself; for had not one of his race been\nselected as the first animal in the cycle of the hours, precedence being\neven given him over the dragon, the tiger, and the horse? As to his\nintimacy with the gods, had not one of his forebears been the chosen\ncompanion of the great Daikoku, the most revered and the most beneficent\nof the gods of Good Fortune?\n\nMr. Rat was well-to-do in life. His home had for generations been\nestablished in a snug, warm and cosy bank, hard by one of the most\nfertile rice-fields on the country-side, where crops never failed, and\nwhere in spring he could nibble his fill of the young green shoots, and\nin autumn gather into his storerooms supplies of the ripened grain\nsufficient for all his wants during the coming winter.\n\nFor his needs were not great. Entertainment cost him but little, and,\nunlike his fellows, he had the smallest of families, in fact a family of\none only.\n\nBut, as regards that one, quality more than compensated for quantity,\nfor it consisted of a daughter, of a beauty unsurpassed in the whole\nprovince. He himself had been the object of envy in his married life,\nfor he had had the good fortune to marry into a family of a very select\npiebald breed, which seldom condescended to mix its blood with the\nordinary self-coloured tribe, and now his daughter had been born a\npeerless white, and had received the name of Yuki, owing to her\nresemblance to pure snow.\n\nIt is little wonder, then, that as she grew up beautiful in form and\nfeature, her father's ambitions were fired, and that he aspired to marry\nher to the highest in the land.\n\nAs it happened, the hamlet where he lived was not very far removed from\na celebrated temple, and Mr. Rat, having been brought up in the odour of\nsanctity, had all his life long been accustomed to make pilgrimages to\nthe great shrine. There he had formed the acquaintance of an old priest,\nwho was good enough to provide for him out of the temple offerings in\nreturn for gossip as to the doings of his village, which happened to be\nthat in which the priest had been born and bred. To him the rat had\noften unburdened his mind, and the old priest had come to see his\nfriend's self-importance and his little weaknesses, and had in vain\nimpressed upon him the virtues of humility.\n\nNow Mr. Rat could find no one amongst his village companions to inform\nhim where to attain what had now become an insatiable desire, namely, a\nfine marriage for his daughter. So he turned to the temple custodian for\nadvice, and one summer morn found him hammering on the gong which\nsummoned his friend the priest.\n\n\"Welcome, Mr. Rat; to what am I indebted for your visit?\" said the old\npriest, for experience had shown him that his friend seldom came so far\nafield unless he had some request to make.\n\nThereupon Mr. Rat unburdened himself of all that was in his mind, of his\naspiration, and of the difficulty he had in ascertaining in what manner\nhe could obtain it.\n\nNor did the priest immediately satisfy him, for he said the matter was a\ndifficult one, and would require much consideration. However, on the\nthird day the oracle gave answer as follows: \"There is no doubt that\napart from the gods there is no one so powerful, or who exercises so\nbeneficent a rule over us, as His Majesty the Sun. Had I a daughter, and\ndid I aspire to such heights for her as you do, I should make my suit to\nhim, and I should take the opportunity of so doing when he comes down to\nour earth at sundown, for then it is that he decks himself in his most\ngorgeous apparel; moreover, he is more readily approached when his day's\nwork is done, and he is about to take his well-earned rest. Were I you\nI would lose no time, but present myself in company with your honourable\nwife and daughter to him this very evening at the end of the great\nCryptomeria Avenue at the hour when he especially honours it by flooding\nit with his beams.\"\n\n\"A thousand thanks,\" said Mr. Rat. \"No time is to be lost if I am to get\nmy folk together at the time and place you mention.\"\n\n\"Good fortune to you,\" said the priest; \"may I hail you the next time I\nsee you as father-in-law to His Majesty the Sun.\"\n\nAt the appointed hour parents and daughter were to be seen in the\navenue, robed in their finest clothes; and as the sun came earthwards\nand his rays illumined the gloom under the great pines, Mr. Rat, noway\nabashed, addressed His Majesty and at once informed him of his desire.\n\nHis Majesty, evidently considering that one business personage\naddressing another should not waste time in beating about the bush,\nreplied as follows: \"I am extremely beholden to you for your kind\nintention of allowing me to wed your honourable and beautiful daughter,\nO Yuki San, but may I ask your reason for selecting me to be your\nhonourable son-in-law?\"\n\nTo this Mr. Rat replied, \"We have determined to marry our daughter to\nwhoever is the most powerful personage in the world, and that is why we\ndesire to offer her to you in marriage.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said His Majesty, \"you are certainly not without reason in\nimagining me to be the most august and powerful person in the world;\nbut, unfortunately, it has been my misfortune to discover that there is\none other even more powerful than myself, against whose plottings I have\nno power. It is to him that you should very certainly marry your\ndaughter.\"\n\n\"And may we honourably ask you who that potentate may be?\" said Mr. Rat.\n\n\"Certainly,\" rejoined the Sun. \"It is the Cloud. Oftentimes when I have\nset myself to illumine the world he comes across my path and covers my\nface so that my subjects may not see me, and so long as he does this I\nam altogether in his power. If, therefore, it is the most powerful\npersonage in the world whom you seek for your daughter, the honourable O\nYuki San, you must bestow her on no one else than the Cloud.\"\n\nIt required little consideration for both father and mother to see the\nwisdom of the Sun's advice, and upon his suggestion they determined to\nwait on the Cloud at the very earliest opportunity, and at an hour\nbefore he rose from his bed, which he usually made on the slopes of a\nmountain some leagues removed from their village. So they set out, and a\nlong journey they had, so long that Mr. Rat decided that if he was to\npresent his daughter when she was looking her best, the journey must not\nbe hurried. Consequently, instead of arriving at early dawn, it was full\nafternoon when they neared the summit where the Cloud was apparently\nwrapped in slumber. But he roused himself as he saw the family\napproaching, and bade them welcome in so urbane a manner that the Rat\nat once proceeded to lay his request before him.\n\nTo this the Cloud answered, \"I am indeed honoured by your condescension\nin proposing that I should marry your beauteous daughter, O Yuki San. It\nis quite true, as His August Majesty the Sun says, that when I so desire\nI have the strength to stay him from exercising his power upon his\nsubjects, and I should much esteem the privilege of wedding your\ndaughter. But as you would single out for that honour the most powerful\nperson in the world, you must seek out His Majesty the Wind, against\nwhom I have no strength, for as soon as he competes with me for\nsupremacy I must fain fly away to the ends of the earth.\"\n\n\"You surprise me,\" said the Rat, \"but I take your word for it. I would,\ntherefore, ask you whether His Majesty the Wind will be this way\nshortly, and where I may best meet him.\"\n\n\"I am afraid I cannot tell you at the moment when he is likely to be\nthis way. He usually announces his coming by harrying some of my\nsubjects who act as my outposts, but, as you see, they are now all\nresting quietly. His Majesty is at this moment, I believe, holding a\ncourt far out in the Eastern Seas. Were I you I would go down to the\nseashore and await his coming. He is often somewhat inclined to be\nshort-tempered by the time he gets up into these mountainous parts,\nowing to the obstructions he has met with on his journey, and he will\nhave had few of these vexatious annoyances during his ride over the\nsea.\"\n\nNow, although from the slopes of the mountain the sea looked not very\nfar distant, it was in reality a long way for a delicately-nurtured\nyoung lady such as Yuki, and every mile of the journey that she had to\ntraverse increased her querulousness. Her father had often boasted of\nthe journeys that he had taken down to the coast, free of cost,\nconcealed in a truck-load of rice, and she would take no excuses that\nthere was no railway to the point at which they were to await His\nHighness the Wind, although had there been it would never have done for\na party engaged on such an embassy to ride in a railway truck. Nor was\nher humour improved by the time they had to wait in the very second-rate\naccommodation afforded by a fishing hamlet, as none of them were\naccustomed to a fish fare. But after many days there were signs that the\ngreat personage was arriving, and they watched with some trepidation his\npassage over the sea, although when, in due time, he neared the shore\nthey could hardly credit the Cloud's assurance as to his strength, for\nhe seemed the personification of all that was gentle; and Madame Rat at\nonce interposed the remark that you should never judge a person's\ncharacter by what you hear, and that the Cloud evidently owed the Wind a\ngrudge.\n\nSo the Rat at once unburdened himself to the Wind as it came over the\nwater towards him, making its face ripple with smiles. And the Wind\nitself was in the fairest good humour and addressed the Rat as follows:\n\"Mr. Cloud is a flatterer, and knows full well that I have no power\nagainst him when he really comes up against me in one of his thunderous\nmoods. To call me the most powerful person in the world is nonsense.\nWhere do you come from? Why, in that very village there is one stronger\nthan me, namely, the high wall that fences in the house of your good\nneighbour. If your daughter must fain marry the strongest thing in the\nworld, wed her to the wall. You will find him a very stalwart spouse. I\nwish you good day. I am sorry I cannot offer you a seat in my chariot,\nbut I am not going in the direction of that wall to-day, else I should\nhave had much pleasure in introducing your honourable self to my\npowerful antagonist.\"\n\nBy this time the party was getting much disheartened, and the stress of\nthe journey and the chagrin of so many disappointments were beginning to\ntell on O Yuki San's beauty. But Mr. Rat said there was nothing for it\nbut to return home; he knew the wall in question very well, but had no\nidea it stood so high in the world's estimation--he had always thought\nof it as somewhat of a dullard.\n\nSo they trudged homewards, and it was weary work, for the Cloud had\nhidden the Sun, and the Wind had fretted the Cloud, who showed his\nill-humour by discharging a surplusage of moisture he had in his pocket,\nand they approached their home wet through, bedraggled and worn out. As\nluck would have it, just as they gained the wall which the wind had\nsingled out for its power, a heavier downpour than ever came on and they\nwere glad to take shelter under the lee of the wall. Now Mr. Wall had\nalways been known for his inquisitive nature, which, it is said, arose\nfrom one side of his face never being able to see what was going on on\nthe other; and so hearing his leeward side addressing Mr. Rat, and\nascertaining that he had come from the sea, the windward side at once\nasked whether he had any tidings of that scoundrel the Wind, who was\nalways coming and chafing his complexion.\n\n\"Why,\" said Mr. Rat, \"we met him but recently, and he desired to be\nremembered to you, who, he said, was the strongest person in the world.\"\n\n\"I the strongest! It shows his ignorance. Why, only yesterday your\nnephew, the big brown rat, because he would not be at the trouble of\ngoing round, must needs gnaw a hole through me. The strongest thing in\nthe world! Why, next time the wind comes this way he'll rush through the\nhole and be telling your nephew that he's the strongest person in the\nworld.\"\n\nAt this moment the rain stopped, the clouds rolled by, and the sun shone\nout, and Mr. and Mrs. Rat went home congratulating themselves that they\nhad not had to demean themselves by proposing their daughter in marriage\nto a neighbour with such a false character.\n\nAnd a month afterwards O Yuki San expressed her determination to marry\nher cousin, and her parents were fain to give their consent, for had he\nnot proved himself to be the most powerful person in the world?\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nTHE LAND OF YOMI\n\n\nFrom the glorious clouds of High Heaven, from the divine ether, the\nvital essence, and the great concourse of eternal deities, there issued\nforth the heavenly pair--Izanagi, His Augustness, the Lord of\nInvitation, and with him, Izanami, Her Augustness, the Lady of\nInvitation.\n\nTogether they stood upon the Floating Bridge of High Heaven, and they\nlooked down to where the mists swirled in confusion beneath their feet.\nFor to them had been given power and commandment to make, consolidate\nand give birth to the drifting lands. And to this end the august powers\nhad granted them a heavenly jewelled spear. And the two deities,\nstanding upon the Floating Bridge of Heaven, lowered the jewelled spear\nhead-first into chaos, so that the mists were divided. And, as they\nwaited, the brine dripped from the jewels upon the spear-head, and there\nwas formed an island. This is the island of Onogoro.\n\nAnd His Augustness, the Lord of Invitation, took by the hand Her\nAugustness, the Lady of Invitation, his lovely Younger Sister, and\ntogether they descended to the island that was created. And they made\nthe islands of Japan; the land of Iyo, which is called Lovely Princess;\nthe land of Toyo, which is called Luxuriant Sun Youth; the land of\nSanuki, which is called Good Prince Boiled Rice; and Great Yamato, the\nLuxuriant Island of the Dragon Fly; and many more, of which to tell were\nweariness.\n\nFurthermore, they gave birth to many myriads of deities to rule over the\nearth, and the air, and the deep sea; and for every season there were\ndeities, and every place was sacred, for the deities were like the\nneedles of the pine trees in number.\n\nNow, when the time came for the Fire God, Kagu-Tsuchi, to be born, his\nmother, the Lady Izanami, was burned, and suffered a change; and she\nlaid herself upon the ground. Then Izanagi, the Prince who Invites,\nasked, \"What is it that has come to thee, my lovely Younger Sister?\"\n\nAnd she answered, weeping, \"The time of my departure draws near ... I go\nto the land of Yomi.\"\n\nAnd His Augustness Izanagi wept aloud, dropping his tears upon her feet\nand upon her pillow. And all his tears fell down and became deities.\nNevertheless, the Lady Izanami departed.\n\nThen His Augustness, the Prince who Invites, was wroth, and lifted his\nface to High Heaven, and cried, \"O Thine Augustness, my lovely Younger\nSister, that I should have given thee in exchange for this single\nchild!\"\n\nAnd, drawing the ten-grasp sword that was girded upon him, he slew the\nFire God, his child; and binding up his long hair, he followed the Lady\nIzanami to the entrance of Yomi, the world of the dead. And she, the\nPrincess who Invites, appearing as lovely as she was when alive, came\nforth to greet him. And she lifted up the curtain of the Palace of Hades\nthat they might speak together.\n\nAnd the Lord Izanagi said, \"I weary for thee, my lovely Younger Sister,\nand the lands that thou and I created together are not finished making.\nTherefore come back.\"\n\nThen the Lady made answer, saying, \"My sweet lord, and my spouse, it is\nvery lamentable that thou camest not sooner unto me, for I have eaten of\nthe baked meats of Yomi. Nevertheless, as thou hast dearly honoured me\nin thy coming here, Thine Augustness, my lovely Elder Brother, if it may\nbe, I will return with thee. I go to lay my desire before the Gods of\nYomi. Wait thou here until I come again, and, if thou love me, seek not\nto look upon me till the time.\" And so she spoke and left him.\n\nIzanagi sat upon a stone at the entrance of the Palace of Hades until\nthe sun set, and he was weary of that valley of gloom. And because she\ntarried long, he arose and plucked a comb from the left tress of his\nhair, and broke off a tooth from one end of the comb, and lighting it to\nbe a torch, he drew back the curtain of the Palace of Yomi. But he saw\nhis beloved lying in corruption, and round about her were the eight\ndeities of Thunder. They are the Fire Thunder, and the Black Thunder,\nand the Cleaving Thunder, and the Earth Thunder, and the Roaring\nThunder, and the Couchant Thunder, and the Young Thunder. And by her\nterrible head was the Great Thunder.\n\nAnd Izanagi, being overawed, turned to flee away, but Izanami arose and\ncried, \"Thou hast put me to shame, for thou hast seen my defilement. Now\nI will see thine also.\"\n\nAnd she called to her the Hideous Females of Yomi, and bade them take\nand slay His Augustness, the Lord who Invites. But he ran for his life,\nin the gloom stumbling upon the rocks of the valley of Yomi. And tearing\nthe vine wreath from his long hair he flung it behind him, and it fell\nto the ground and became many bunches of grapes, which the Hideous\nFemales stayed to devour. And he fled on. But the Females of Yomi still\npursued him; so then he took a multitudinous and close-toothed comb from\nthe right tresses of his long hair, and cast it behind him. When it\ntouched the ground it became a groove of bamboo shoots, and again the\nfemales stayed to devour; and Izanagi fled on, panting.\n\nBut, in her wrath and despair, his Younger Sister sent after him the\nEight Thunders, together with a thousand and five hundred warriors of\nHades; yet he, the Prince of Invitation, drew the ten-grasp sword that\nwas augustly girded upon him, and brandishing it behind him gained at\nlast the base of the Even Pass of Hades, the black mouth of Yomi. And he\nplucked there three peaches that grew upon a tree, and smote his\nenemies that they all fled back; and the peaches were called Their\nAugustnesses, Great Divine Fruit.\n\nThen, last of all, his Younger Sister, the Princess who Invites, herself\ncame out to pursue. So Izanagi took a rock which could not have been\nlifted by a thousand men, and placed it between them in the Even Pass of\nHades. And standing behind the rock, he pronounced a leave-taking and\nwords of separation. But, from the farther side of the rock, Izanami\ncalled to him, \"My lovely Elder Brother, Thine Augustness, of small\navail shall be thy making of lands, and thy creating of deities, for I,\nwith my powers, shall strangle every day a thousand of thy people.\"\n\nSo she cried, taunting him.\n\nBut he answered her, \"My lovely Younger Sister, Thine Augustness, if\nthou dost so, I shall cause, in one day, fifteen hundred to be born.\nFarewell.\"\n\nSo Her Augustness, the Lady who Invites, is called the Queen of the\nDead.\n\nBut the great lord, His Highness, the Prince who Invites, departed,\ncrying, \"Horror! Horror! Horror! I have come to a hideous and polluted\nland.\" And he lay still by the river-side, until such time as he should\nrecover strength to perform purification.\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nTHE SPRING LOVER AND THE AUTUMN LOVER\n\n\nThis is a story of the youth of Yamato, when the gods still walked upon\nthe Land of the Reed Plains and took pleasure in the fresh and waving\nrice-ears of the country-side.\n\nThere was a lady having in her something of earth and something of\nheaven. She was a king's daughter. She was augustly radiant and\nrenowned. She was called the Dear Delight of the World, the Greatly\nDesired, the Fairest of the Fair. She was slender and strong, at once\nmysterious and gay, fickle yet faithful, gentle yet hard to please. The\ngods loved her, but men worshipped her.\n\nThe coming of the Dear Delight was on this wise. Prince Ama Boko had a\nred jewel of one of his enemies. The jewel was a peace-offering. Prince\nAma Boko set it in a casket upon a stand. He said, \"This is a jewel of\nprice.\" Then the jewel was transformed into an exceeding fair lady. Her\nname was the Lady of the Red Jewel, and Prince Ama Boko took her to\nwife. There was born to them one only daughter, who was the Greatly\nDesired, the Fairest of the Fair.\n\nIt is true that eighty men of name came to seek her hand. Princes they\nwere, and warriors, and deities. They came from near and they came from\nfar. Across the Sea Path they came in great ships, white sails or\ncreaking oars, with brave and lusty sailors. Through the forests dark\nand dangerous they made their way to the Princess, the Greatly Desired;\nor lightly, lightly they descended by way of the Floating Bridge in\ngarments of glamour and silver-shod. They brought their gifts with\nthem--gold, fair jewels upon a string, light garments of feathers,\nsinging birds, sweet things to eat, silk cocoons, oranges in a basket.\nThey brought minstrels and singers and dancers and tellers of tales to\nentertain the Princess, the Greatly Desired.\n\nAs for the Princess, she sat still in her white bower with her maidens\nabout her. Passing rich was her robe, and ever and anon her maidens\nspread it afresh over the mats, set out her deep sleeves, or combed her\nlong hair with a golden comb.\n\nRound about the bower was a gallery of white wood, and here the suitors\ncame and knelt in the presence of their liege lady.\n\nMany and many a time the carp leapt in the garden fish-pond. Many and\nmany a time a scarlet pomegranate flower fluttered and dropped from the\ntree. Many and many a time the lady shook her head and a lover went his\nway, sad and sorry.\n\nNow it happened that the God of Autumn went to try his fortune with the\nPrincess. He was a brave young man indeed. Ardent were his eyes; the\ncolour flamed in his dark cheek. He was girded with a sword that ten men\ncould not lift. The chrysanthemums of autumn burned upon his coat in\ncunning broidery. He came and bent his proud head to the very ground\nbefore the Princess, then raised it and looked her full in the eyes. She\nopened her sweet red lips--waited--said nothing--but shook her head.\n\nSo the God of Autumn went forth from her presence, blinded with his\nbitter tears.\n\nHe found his younger brother, the God of Spring.\n\n\"How fares it with you, my brother?\" said the God of Spring.\n\n\"Ill, ill indeed, for she will not have me. She is the proud lady. Mine\nis the broken heart.\"\n\n\"Ah, my brother!\" said the God of Spring.\n\n\"You'd best come home with me, for all is over with us,\" said the God of\nAutumn.\n\nBut the God of Spring said, \"I stay here.\"\n\n\"What,\" cried his brother, \"is it likely, then, that she will take you\nif she'll have none of me? Will she love the smooth cheeks of a child\nand flout the man full grown? Will you go to her, brother? She'll laugh\nat you for your pains.\"\n\n\"Still I will go,\" said the God of Spring.\n\n\"A wager! A wager!\" the God of Autumn cried. \"I'll give you a cask of\n_sak\u00e9_ if you win her--_sak\u00e9_ for the merry feast of your wedding. If\nyou lose her, the _sak\u00e9_ will be for me. I'll drown my grief in it.\"\n\n\"Well, brother,\" said the God of Spring, \"I take the wager. You'll have\nyour _sak\u00e9_ like enough indeed.\"\n\n\"And so I think,\" said the God of Autumn, and went his ways.\n\nThen the young God of Spring went to his mother, who loved him.\n\n\"Do you love me, my mother?\" he said.\n\nShe answered, \"More than a hundred existences.\"\n\n\"Mother,\" he said, \"get me for my wife the Princess, the Fairest of the\nFair. She is called the Greatly Desired; greatly, oh, greatly, do I\ndesire her.\"\n\n\"You love her, my son?\" said his mother.\n\n\"More than a hundred existences,\" he said.\n\n\"Then lie down, my son, my best beloved, lie down and sleep, and I will\nwork for you.\"\n\nSo she spread a couch for him, and when he was asleep she looked on him.\n\n\"Your face,\" she said, \"is the sweetest thing in the world.\"\n\nThere was no sleep for her the live-long night, but she went swiftly to\na place she knew of, where the wistaria drooped over a still pool. She\nplucked her sprays and tendrils and brought home as much as she could\ncarry. The wistaria was white and purple, and you must know it was not\nyet in flower, but hidden in the unopened bud. From it she wove\nmagically a robe. She fashioned sandals also, and a bow and arrows.\n\nIn the morning she waked the God of Spring.\n\n\"Come, my son,\" she said, \"let me put this robe on you.\"\n\nThe God of Spring rubbed his eyes. \"A sober suit for courting,\" he said.\nBut he did as his mother bade him. And he bound the sandals on his feet,\nand slung the bow and the arrows in their quiver on his back.\n\n\"Will all be well, my mother?\" he said.\n\n\"All will be well, beloved,\" she answered him.\n\nSo the God of Spring came before the Fairest of the Fair. And one of her\nmaidens laughed and said:\n\n\"See, mistress, there comes to woo you to-day only a little plain boy,\nall in sober grey.\"\n\nBut the Fairest of the Fair lifted up her eyes and looked upon the God\nof Spring. And in the same moment the wistaria with which he was clothed\nburst into flower. He was sweet-scented, white and purple from head to\nheel.\n\nThe Princess rose from the white mats.\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, \"I am yours if you will have me.\"\n\nHand in hand they went together to the mother of the God of Spring.\n\n\"Ah, my mother,\" he said, \"what shall I do now? My brother the God of\nAutumn is angry with me. He will not give me the _sak\u00e9_ I have won from\nhim in a wager. Great is his rage. He will seek to take our lives.\"\n\n\"Be still, beloved,\" said his mother, \"and fear not.\"\n\nShe took a cane of hollow bamboo, and in the hollow she put salt and\nstones; and when she had wrapped the cane round with leaves, she hung it\nin the smoke of the fire. She said:\n\n\"The green leaves fade and die. So you must do, my eldest born, the God\nof Autumn. The stone sinks in the sea, so must you sink. You must sink,\nyou must fail, like the ebb tide.\"\n\nNow the tale is told, and all the world knows why Spring is fresh and\nmerry and young, and Autumn the saddest thing that is.\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nTHE STRANGE STORY OF THE GOLDEN COMB\n\n[Illustration: The Strange Story of the Golden Comb.--_P. 191._]\n\n\nIn ancient days two _samurai_ dwelt in Sendai of the North. They were\nfriends and brothers in arms.\n\nHasunuma one was named, and the other Saito. Now it happened that a\ndaughter was born to the house of Hasunuma, and upon the selfsame day,\nand in the selfsame hour, there was born to the house of Saito a son.\nThe boy child they called Konojo, and the girl they called Aiko, which\nmeans the Child of Love.\n\nOr ever a year had passed over their innocent heads the children were\nbetrothed to one another. And as a token the wife of Saito gave a golden\ncomb to the wife of Hasunuma, saying: \"For the child's hair when she\nshall be old enough.\" Aiko's mother wrapped the comb in a handkerchief,\nand laid it away in her chest. It was of gold lacquer, very fine work,\nadorned with golden dragon-flies.\n\nThis was very well; but before long misfortune came upon Saito and his\nhouse, for, by sad mischance, he aroused the ire of his feudal lord, and\nhe was fain to fly from Sendai by night, and his wife was with him, and\nthe child. No man knew where they went, or had any news of them, nor of\nhow they fared, and for long, long years Hasunuma heard not one word of\nthem.\n\nThe child Aiko grew to be the loveliest lady in Sendai. She had longer\nhair than any maiden in the city, and she was the most graceful dancer\never seen. She moved as a wave of the sea, or a cloud of the sky, or the\nwild bamboo grass in the wind. She had a sister eleven moons younger\nthan she, who was called Aiyam\u00e9, or the Water Iris; and she was the\nsecond loveliest lady in Sendai. Aiko was white, but Aiyam\u00e9 was brown,\nquick, and light, and laughing. When they went abroad in the streets of\nSendai, folk said, \"There go the moon and the south wind.\"\n\nUpon an idle summer day when all the air was languid, and the cicala\nsang ceaselessly as he swung on the pomegranate bough, the maidens\nrested on the cool white mats of their lady mother's bower. Their dark\nlocks were loose, and their slender feet were bare. They had between\nthem an ancient chest of red lacquer, a Bride Box of their lady\nmother's, and in the chest they searched and rummaged for treasure.\n\n\"See, sister,\" said Aiyam\u00e9, \"here are scarlet thongs, the very thing for\nmy sandals ... and what is this? A crystal rosary, I declare! How\nbeautiful!\"\n\nAiko said, \"My mother, I pray you give me this length of violet silk, it\nwill make me very fine undersleeves to my new grey gown; and, mother,\nlet me have the crimson for a petticoat; and surely, mother, you do not\nneed this little bit of brocade?\"\n\n\"And what an _obi_,\" cried Aiyam\u00e9, as she dragged it from the chest,\n\"grass green and silver!\" Springing lightly up, she wound the length\nabout her slender body. \"Now behold me for the finest lady in all\nSendai. Very envious shall be the daughter of the rich Hachiman, when\nshe sees this wonder _obi_; but I shall be calm and careless, and say,\nlooking down thus humbly, 'Your pardon, noble lady, that I wear this\nfoolish trifling _obi_, unmeet for your great presence!' Mother, mother,\ngive me the _obi_.\"\n\n\"Arah! Arah! Little pirates!\" said the mother, and smiled.\n\nAiko thrust her hand to the bottom of the chest. \"Here is something\nhard,\" she murmured, \"a little casket wrapped in a silken handkerchief.\nHow it smells of orris and ancient spices!--now what may it be?\" So\nsaying, she unwound the kerchief and opened the casket. \"A golden comb!\"\nshe said, and laid it on her knee.\n\n\"Give it here, child,\" cried the mother quickly; \"it is not for your\neyes.\"\n\nBut the maiden sat quite still, her eyes upon the golden comb. It was of\ngold lacquer, very fine work, adorned with golden dragon-flies.\n\nFor a time the maiden said not a word, nor did her mother, though she\nwas troubled; and even the light Lady of the South Wind seemed stricken\ninto silence, and drew the scarlet sandal thongs through and through\nher fingers.\n\n\"Mother, what of this golden comb?\" said Aiko at last.\n\n\"My sweet, it is the love-token between you and Konojo, the son of\nSaito, for you two were betrothed in your cradles. But now it is full\nfifteen years since Saito went from Sendai in the night, he and all his\nhouse, and left no trace behind.\"\n\n\"Is my love dead?\" said Aiko.\n\n\"Nay, that I know not--but he will never come; so, I beseech you, think\nno more of him, my pretty bird. There, get you your fan, and dance for\nme and for your sister.\"\n\nAiko first set the golden comb in her hair. Then she flung open her fan\nto dance. She moved like a wave of the sea, or a cloud of the sky, or\nthe wild bamboo grass in the wind. She had not danced long before she\ndropped the fan, with a long cry, and she herself fell her length upon\nthe ground. From that hour she was in a piteous way, and lay in her bed\nsighing, like a maid lovelorn and forsaken. She could not eat nor sleep;\nshe had no pleasure in life. The sunrise and the sound of rain at night\nwere nothing to her any more. Not her father, nor her mother, nor her\nsister, the Lady of the South Wind, were able to give her any ease.\n\nPresently she turned her face to the wall. \"It is more than I can\nunderstand,\" she said, and so died.\n\nWhen they had prepared the poor young maid for her grave, her mother\ncame, crying, to look at her for the last time. And she set the golden\ncomb in the maid's hair, saying:\n\n\"My own dear little child, I pray that in other lives you may know\nhappiness. Therefore take your golden token with you; you will have need\nof it when you meet the wraith of your lover.\" For she believed that\nKonojo was dead.\n\nBut, alas, for Karma that is so pitiless, one short moon had the maid\nbeen in her grave when the brave young man, her betrothed, came to claim\nher at her father's house.\n\n\"Alas and alack, Konojo, the son of Saito, alas, my brave young man, too\nlate you have come! Your joy is turned to mourning, for your bride lies\nunder the green grass, and her sister goes weeping in the moonlight to\npour the water of the dead.\" Thus spoke Hasunuma the _samurai_.\n\n\"Lord,\" said the brave young man, \"there are three ways left, the sword,\nthe strong girdle, and the river. These are the short roads to Yomi.\nFarewell.\"\n\nBut Hasunuma held the young man by the arm. \"Nay, then, thou son of\nSaito,\" he said, \"but hear the fourth way, which is far better. The road\nto Yomi is short, but it is very dark; moreover, from the confines of\nthat country few return. Therefore stay with me, Konojo, and comfort me\nin my old age, for I have no sons.\"\n\nSo Konojo entered the household of Hasunuma the _samurai_, and dwelt in\nthe garden house by the gate.\n\nNow in the third month Hasunuma and his wife and the daughter that was\nleft them arose early and dressed them in garments of ceremony, and\npresently were borne away in _kago_, for to the temple they were bound,\nand to their ancestral tombs, where they offered prayers and incense the\nlive-long day.\n\nIt was bright starlight when they returned, and cold the night was,\nstill and frosty. Konojo stood and waited at the garden gate. He waited\nfor their home-coming, as was meet. He drew his cloak about him and gave\near to the noises of the evening. He heard the sound of the blind man's\nwhistle, and the blind man's staff upon the stones. Far off he heard a\nchild laugh twice; then he heard men singing in chorus, as men who sing\nto cheer themselves in their labour, and in the pauses of song he heard\nthe creak, creak of swinging _kago_ that the men bore upon their\nshoulders, and he said, \"They come.\"\n\n    \"I go to the house of the Beloved,\n     Her plum tree stands by the eaves;\n     It is full of blossom.\n     The dew lies in the heart of the flowers,\n     So they are the drinking-cups of the sparrows.\n     How do you go to your love's house?\n     Even upon the wings of the night wind.\n     Which road leads to your love's house?\n     All the roads in the world.\"\n\nThis was the song of the _kago_ men. First the _kago_ of Hasunuma the\n_samurai_ turned in at the garden gate, then followed his lady; last\ncame Aiyam\u00e9 of the South Wind. Upon the roof of her _kago_ there lay a\nblossoming bough.\n\n\"Rest well, lady,\" said Konojo, as she passed, and had no answer back.\nHowbeit it seemed that some light thing dropped from the _kago_, and\nfell with a little noise to the ground. He stooped and picked up a\nwoman's comb. It was of gold lacquer, very fine work, adorned with\ngolden dragon-flies. Smooth and warm it lay in the hand of Konojo. And\nhe went his way to the garden house. At the hour of the rat the young\n_samurai_ threw down his book of verse, laid himself upon his bed, and\nblew out his light. And the selfsame moment he heard a wandering step\nwithout.\n\n\"And who may it be that visits the garden house by night?\" said Konojo,\nand he wondered. About and about went the wandering feet till at length\nthey stayed, and the door was touched with an uncertain hand.\n\n\"Konojo! Konojo!\"\n\n\"What is it?\" said the _samurai_.\n\n\"Open, open; I am afraid.\"\n\n\"Who are you, and why are you afraid?\"\n\n\"I am afraid of the night. I am the daughter of Hasunuma the\n_samurai_.... Open to me for the love of the gods.\"\n\nKonojo undid the latch and slid back the door of the garden house to\nfind a slender and drooping lady upon the threshold. He could not see\nher face, for she held her long sleeve so as to hide it from him; but\nshe swayed and trembled, and her frail shoulders shook with sobbing.\n\n\"Let me in,\" she moaned, and forthwith entered the garden house.\n\nHalf smiling and much perplexed, Konojo asked her:\n\n\"Are you Aiyam\u00e9, whom they call the Lady of the South Wind?\"\n\n\"I am she.\"\n\n\"Lady, you do me much honour.\"\n\n\"The comb!\" she said, \"the golden comb!\"\n\nAs she said this, she threw the veil from her face, and taking the robe\nof Konojo in both her little hands, she looked into his eyes as though\nshe would draw forth his very soul. The lady was brown and quick and\nlight. Her eyes and her lips were made for laughing, and passing strange\nshe looked in the guise that she wore then.\n\n\"The comb!\" she said, \"the golden comb!\"\n\n\"I have it here,\" said Konojo; \"only let go my robe, and I will fetch it\nyou.\"\n\nAt this the lady cast herself down upon the white mats in a passion of\nbitter tears, and Konojo, poor unfortunate, pressed his hands together,\nquite beside himself.\n\n\"What to do?\" he said; \"what to do?\"\n\nAt last he raised the lady in his arms, and stroked her little hand to\ncomfort her.\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, as simply as a child, \"lord, do you love me?\"\n\nAnd he answered her in a moment, \"I love you more than many lives, O\nLady of the South Wind.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, \"will you come with me then?\"\n\nHe answered her, \"Even to the land of Yomi,\" and took her hand.\n\nForth they went into the night, and they took the road together. By\nriver-side they went, and over plains of flowers; they went by rocky\nways, or through the whispering pines, and when they had wandered far\nenough, of the green bamboos they built them a little house to dwell in.\nAnd they were there for a year of happy days and nights.\n\nNow upon a morning of the third month Konojo beheld men with _kago_ come\nswinging through the bamboo grove. And he said:\n\n\"What have they to do with us, these men and their _kago_?\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said Aiyam\u00e9, \"they come to bear us to my father's house.\"\n\nHe cried, \"What is this foolishness? We will not go.\"\n\n\"Indeed, and we must go,\" said the lady.\n\n\"Go you, then,\" said Konojo; \"as for me, I stay here where I am happy.\"\n\n\"Ah, lord,\" she said, \"ah, my dear, do you then love me less, who vowed\nto go with me, even to the Land of Yomi?\"\n\nThen he did all that she would. And he broke a blossoming bough from a\ntree that grew near by and laid it upon the roof of her _kago_.\n\nSwiftly, swiftly they were borne, and the _kago_ men sang as they went,\na song to make labour light.\n\n    \"I go to the house of the Beloved,\n     Her plum tree stands by the eaves;\n     It is full of blossom.\n     The dew lies in the heart of the flowers,\n     So they are the drinking-cups of the sparrows.\n     How do you go to your love's house?\n     Even upon the wings of the night wind.\n     Which road leads to your love's house?\n     All the roads in the world.\"\n\nThis was the song of the _kago_ men.\n\nAbout nightfall they came to the house of Hasunuma the _samurai_.\n\n\"Go you in, my dear lord,\" said the Lady of the South Wind. \"I will wait\nwithout; if my father is very wroth with you, only show him the golden\ncomb.\" And with that she took it from her hair and gave it him. Smooth\nand warm it lay in his hand. Then Konojo went into the house.\n\n\"Welcome, welcome home, Konojo, son of Saito!\" cried Hasunuma. \"How has\nit fared with your knightly adventure?\"\n\n\"Knightly adventure!\" said Konojo, and blushed.\n\n\"It is a year since your sudden departure, and we supposed that you had\ngone upon a quest, or in the expiation of some vow laid upon your soul.\"\n\n\"Alas, my good lord,\" said Konojo, \"I have sinned against you and\nagainst your house.\" And he told Hasunuma what he had done.\n\nWhen he had made an end of his tale:\n\n\"Boy,\" said the _samurai_, \"you jest, but your merry jest is ill-timed.\nKnow that my child lies even as one dead. For a year she has neither\nrisen nor spoken nor smiled. She is visited by a heavy sickness and none\ncan heal her.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Konojo, \"your child, the Lady of the South Wind, waits in a\n_kago_ without your garden wall. I will fetch her in presently.\"\n\nForth they went together, the young man and the _samurai_, but they\nfound no _kago_ without the garden wall, no _kago_-bearers and no lady.\nOnly a broken bough of withered blossom lay upon the ground.\n\n\"Indeed, indeed, she was here but now!\" cried Konojo. \"She gave me her\ncomb--her golden comb. See, my lord, here it is.\"\n\n\"What comb is this, Konojo? Where got you this comb that was set in a\ndead maid's hair, and buried with her beneath the green grass? Where got\nyou the comb of Aiko, the Lady of the Moon, that died for love? Speak,\nKonojo, son of Saito. This is a strange thing.\"\n\nNow whilst Konojo stood amazed, and leaned silent and bewildered against\nthe garden wall, a lady came lightly through the trees. She moved as a\nwave of the sea, or a cloud of the sky, or the wild bamboo grass in the\nwind.\n\n\"Aiyam\u00e9,\" cried the _samurai_, \"how are you able to leave your bed?\"\n\nThe young man said nothing, but fell on his knees beside the garden\nwall. There the lady came to him and bent so that her hair and her\ngarments overshadowed him, and her eyes held his.\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, \"I am the spirit of Aiko your love. I went with a\nbroken heart to dwell with the shades of Yomi. The very dead took pity\non my tears. I was permitted to return, and for one short year to\ninhabit the sweet body of my sister. And now my time is come. I go my\nways to the grey country. I shall be the happiest soul in Yomi--I have\nknown you, beloved. Now take me in your arms, for I grow very faint.\"\n\nWith that she sank to the ground, and Konojo put his arms about her and\nlaid her head against his heart. His tears fell upon her forehead.\n\n\"Promise me,\" she said, \"that you will take to wife Aiyam\u00e9, my sister,\nthe Lady of the South Wind.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" he cried, \"my lady and my love!\"\n\n\"Promise, promise,\" she said.\n\nThen he promised.\n\nAfter a little she stirred in his arms.\n\n\"What is it?\" he said.\n\nSo soft her voice that it did not break the silence but floated upon it.\n\n\"The comb,\" she murmured, \"the golden comb.\"\n\nAnd Konojo set it in her hair.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA burden, pale but breathing, Konojo carried into the house of Hasunuma\nand laid upon the white mats and silken cushions. And after three hours\na young maid sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes. She was brown and quick\nand light and laughing. Her hair was tumbled about her rosy cheeks,\nunconfined by any braid or comb. She stared first at her father, and\nthen at the young man that was in her bower. She smiled, then flushed,\nand put her little hands before her face.\n\n\"Greeting, O Lady of the South Wind,\" said Konojo.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nTHE JELLY-FISH TAKES A JOURNEY\n\n\nOnce upon a time the jelly-fish was a very handsome fellow. His form was\nbeautiful, and round as the full moon. He had glittering scales and fins\nand a tail as other fishes have, but he had more than these. He had\nlittle feet as well, so that he could walk upon the land as well as swim\nin the sea. He was merry and he was gay, he was beloved and trusted of\nthe Dragon King. In spite of all this, his grandmother always said he\nwould come to a bad end, because he would not mind his books at school.\nShe was right. It all came about in this wise.\n\nThe Dragon King was but lately wed when the young Lady Dragon his wife\nfell very sick. She took to her bed and stayed there, and wise folk in\nDragonland shook their heads and said her last day was at hand. Doctors\ncame from far and near, and they dosed her and they bled her, but no\ngood at all could they do her, the poor young thing, nor recover her of\nher sickness.\n\nThe Dragon King was beside himself.\n\n\"Heart's Desire,\" he said to his pale bride, \"I would give my life for\nyou.\"\n\n\"Little good would it do me,\" she answered. \"Howbeit, if you will fetch\nme a monkey's liver I will eat it and live.\"\n\n\"A monkey's liver!\" cried the Dragon King. \"A monkey's liver! You talk\nwildly, O light of mine eyes. How shall I find a monkey's liver? Know\nyou not, sweet one, that monkeys dwell in the trees of the forest,\nwhilst we are in the deep sea?\"\n\nTears ran down the Dragon Queen's lovely countenance.\n\n\"If I do not have the monkey's liver, I shall die,\" she said.\n\nThen the Dragon went forth and called to him the jelly-fish.\n\n\"The Queen must have a monkey's liver,\" he said, \"to cure her of her\nsickness.\"\n\n\"What will she do with the monkey's liver?\" asked the jelly-fish.\n\n\"Why, she will eat it,\" said the Dragon King.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the jelly-fish.\n\n\"Now,\" said the King, \"you must go and fetch me a live monkey. I have\nheard that they dwell in the tall trees of the forest. Therefore swim\nquickly, O jelly-fish, and bring a monkey with you back again.\"\n\n\"How will I get the monkey to come back with me?\" said the jelly-fish.\n\n\"Tell him of all the beauties and pleasures of Dragonland. Tell him he\nwill be happy here and that he may play with mermaids all the day\nlong.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the jelly-fish, \"I'll tell him that.\"\n\nOff set the jelly-fish; and he swam and he swam, till at last he reached\nthe shore where grew the tall trees of the forest. And, sure enough,\nthere was a monkey sitting in the branches of a persimmon tree, eating\npersimmons.\n\n\"The very thing,\" said the jelly-fish to himself; \"I'm in luck.\"\n\n\"Noble monkey,\" he said, \"will you come to Dragonland with me?\"\n\n\"How should I get there?\" said the monkey.\n\n\"Only sit on my back,\" said the jelly-fish, \"and I'll take you there;\nyou'll have no trouble at all.\"\n\n\"Why should I go there, after all?\" said the monkey. \"I am very well off\nas I am.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the jelly-fish, \"it's plain that you know little of all the\nbeauties and pleasures of Dragonland. There you will be happy as the day\nis long. You will win great riches and honour. Besides, you may play\nwith the mermaids from morn till eve.\"\n\n\"I'll come,\" said the monkey.\n\nAnd he slipped down from the persimmon tree and jumped on the\njelly-fish's back.\n\nWhen the two of them were about half-way over to Dragonland, the\njelly-fish laughed.\n\n\"Now, jelly-fish, why do you laugh?\"\n\n\"I laugh for joy,\" said the jelly-fish. \"When you come to Dragonland,\nmy master, the Dragon King, will get your liver, and give it to my\nmistress the Dragon Queen to eat, and then she will recover from her\nsickness.\"\n\n\"My liver?\" said the monkey.\n\n\"Why, of course,\" said the jelly-fish.\n\n\"Alas and alack,\" cried the monkey, \"I'm grieved indeed, but if it's my\nliver you're wanting I haven't it with me. To tell you the truth, it\nweighs pretty heavy, so I just took it out and hung it upon a branch of\nthat persimmon tree where you found me. Quick, quick, let's go back for\nit.\"\n\nBack they went, and the monkey was up in the persimmon tree in a\ntwinkling.\n\n\"Mercy me, I don't see it at all,\" he said. \"Where can I have mislaid\nit? I should not be surprised if some rascal has stolen it,\" he said.\n\nNow if the jelly-fish had minded his books at school, would he have been\nhoodwinked by the monkey? You may believe not. But his grandmother\nalways said he would come to a bad end.\n\n\"I shall be some time finding it,\" said the monkey. \"You'd best be\ngetting home to Dragonland. The King would be loath for you to be out\nafter dark. You can call for me another day. _Sayonara._\"\n\nThe monkey and the jelly-fish parted on the best of terms.\n\nThe minute the Dragon King set eyes on the jelly-fish, \"Where's the\nmonkey?\" he said.\n\n\"I'm to call for him another day,\" said the jelly-fish. And he told all\nthe tale.\n\nThe Dragon King flew into a towering rage. He called his executioners\nand bid them beat the jelly-fish.\n\n\"Break every bone in his body,\" he cried; \"beat him to a jelly.\"\n\nAlas for the sad fate of the jelly-fish! Jelly he remains to this very\nday.\n\nAs for the young Dragon Queen, she was fain to laugh when she heard the\nstory.\n\n\"If I can't have a monkey's liver I must needs do without it,\" she said.\n\"Give me my best brocade gown and I will get up, for I feel a good deal\nbetter.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\nURASHIMA\n\n\nUrashima was a fisherman of the Inland Sea.\n\nEvery night he plied his trade. He caught fishes both great and small,\nbeing upon the sea through the long hours of darkness. Thus he made his\nliving.\n\nUpon a certain night the moon shone brightly, making plain the paths of\nthe sea. And Urashima kneeled in his boat and dabbled his right hand in\nthe green water. Low he leaned, till his hair lay spread upon the waves,\nand he paid no heed to his boat that listed or to his trailing\nfishing-net. He drifted in his boat till he came to a haunted place. And\nhe was neither waking nor sleeping, for the moon made him mad.\n\nThen the Daughter of the Deep Sea arose, and she took the fisherman in\nher arms, and sank with him, down, down, to her cold sea cave. She laid\nhim upon a sandy bed, and long did she look upon him. She cast her sea\nspell upon him, and sang her sea songs to him and held his eyes with\nhers.\n\nHe said, \"Who are you, lady?\"\n\nShe told him, \"The Daughter of the Deep Sea.\"\n\n\"Let me go home,\" he said; \"my little children wait and are tired.\"\n\n\"Nay, rather stay with me,\" she said:\n\n    \"Urashima,\n     Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,\n     Thou art beautiful;\n     Thy long hair is twisted round my heart;\n     Go not from me,\n     Only forget thy home.\"\n\n\"Ah, now,\" said the fisherman, \"let be, for the dear gods' sake.... I\nwould go to mine own.\"\n\nBut she said again:\n\n    \"Urashima,\n     Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,\n     I'll set thy couch with pearl;\n     I'll spread thy couch with seaweed and sea flowers;\n     Thou shalt be King of the Deep Sea,\n     And we will reign together.\"\n\n\"Let me go home,\" said Urashima; \"my little children wait and are\ntired.\"\n\nBut she said:\n\n    \"Urashima:\n     Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,\n     Never be afraid of the Deep Sea tempest;\n     We will roll rocks about our cavern doors;\n     Neither be afraid of the drowned dead;\n     Thou shalt not die.\"\n\n\"Ah, now,\" said the fisherman, \"let be, for the dear gods' sake.... I\nwould go to mine own.\"\n\n\"Stay with me this one night.\"\n\n\"Nay, not one.\"\n\nThen the Daughter of the Deep Sea wept, and Urashima saw her tears.\n\n\"I will stay with you this one night,\" he said.\n\nSo after the night was passed, she brought him up to the sand and the\nseashore.\n\n\"Are we near your home?\" she said.\n\nHe told her, \"Within a stone's throw.\"\n\n\"Take this,\" she said, \"in memory of me.\" She gave him a casket of\nmother-of-pearl; it was rainbow-tinted and its clasps were of coral and\nof jade.\n\n\"Do not open it,\" she said; \"O fisherman, do not open it.\" And with that\nshe sank and was no more seen, the Daughter of the Deep Sea.\n\nAs for Urashima, he ran beneath the pine trees to come to his dear home.\nAnd as he went he laughed for joy. And he tossed up the casket to catch\nthe sun.\n\n\"Ah, me,\" he said, \"the sweet scent of the pines!\" So he went calling to\nhis children with a call that he had taught them, like a sea-bird's\nnote. Soon he said, \"Are they yet asleep? It is strange they do not\nanswer me.\"\n\nNow when he came to his house he found four lonely walls, moss-grown.\nNightshade flourished on the threshold, death lilies by the hearth,\ndianthus and lady fern. No living soul was there.\n\n\"Now what is this?\" cried Urashima. \"Have I lost my wits? Have I left\nmy eyes in the deep sea?\"\n\nHe sat down upon the grassy floor and thought long. \"The dear gods help\nme!\" he said. \"Where is my wife, and where are my little children?\"\n\nHe went to the village, where he knew the stones in the way, and every\ntiled and tilted eave was to him most familiar; and here he found folk\nwalking to and fro, going upon their business. But they were all strange\nto him.\n\n\"Good morrow,\" they said, \"good morrow, wayfarer. Do you tarry in our\ntown?\"\n\nHe saw children at their play, and often he put his hand beneath their\nchins to turn their faces up. Alas! he did it all in vain.\n\n\"Where are my little children,\" he said, \"O Lady Kwannon the Merciful?\nPeradventure the gods know the meaning of all this; it is too much for\nme.\"\n\nWhen sunset came, his heart was heavy as stone, and he went and stood at\nthe parting of the ways outside the town. As men passed by he pulled\nthem by the sleeve:\n\n\"Friend,\" he said, \"I ask your pardon, did you know a fisherman of this\nplace called Urashima?\"\n\nAnd the men that passed by answered him, \"We never heard of such an\none.\"\n\nThere passed by the peasant people from the mountains. Some went a-foot,\nsome rode on patient pack-horses. They went singing their country songs,\nand they carried baskets of wild strawberries or sheaves of lilies\nbound upon their backs. And the lilies nodded as they went. Pilgrims\npassed by, all clad in white, with staves and rice-straw hats, sandals\nfast bound and gourds of water. Swiftly they went, softly they went,\nthinking of holy things. And lords and ladies passed by, in brave attire\nand great array, borne in their gilded _kago_. The night fell.\n\n\"I lose sweet hope,\" said Urashima.\n\nBut there passed by an old, old man.\n\n\"Oh, old, old man,\" cried the fisherman, \"you have seen many days; know\nyou ought of Urashima? In this place was he born and bred.\"\n\nThen the old man said, \"There was one of that name, but, sir, that one\nwas drowned long years ago. My grandfather could scarce remember him in\nthe time that I was a little boy. Good stranger, it was many, many years\nago.\"\n\nUrashima said, \"He is dead?\"\n\n\"No man more dead than he. His sons are dead and their sons are dead.\nGood even to you, stranger.\"\n\nThen Urashima was afraid. But he said, \"I must go to the green valley\nwhere the dead sleep.\" And to the valley he took his way.\n\nHe said, \"How chill the night wind blows through the grass! The trees\nshiver and the leaves turn their pale backs to me.\"\n\nHe said, \"Hail, sad moon, that showest me all the quiet graves. Thou art\nnothing different from the moon of old.\"\n\nHe said, \"Here are my sons' graves and their sons' graves. Poor\nUrashima, there is no man more dead than he. Yet am I lonely among the\nghosts....\"\n\n\"Who will comfort me?\" said Urashima.\n\nThe night wind sighed and nothing more.\n\nThen he went back to the seashore. \"Who will comfort me?\" cried\nUrashima. But the sky was unmoved, and the mountain waves of the sea\nrolled on.\n\nUrashima said, \"There is the casket.\" And he took it from his sleeve and\nopened it. There rose from it a faint white smoke that floated away and\nout to the far horizon.\n\n\"I grow very weary,\" said Urashima. In a moment his hair turned as white\nas snow. He trembled, his body shrank, his eyes grew dim. He that had\nbeen so young and lusty swayed and tottered where he stood.\n\n\"I am old,\" said Urashima.\n\nHe made to shut the casket lid, but dropped it, saying, \"Nay, the vapour\nof smoke is gone for ever. What matters it?\"\n\nHe laid down his length upon the sand and died.\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\nTAMAMO, THE FOX MAIDEN\n\n\nA pedlar journeyed with his pack upon the great high-road which leads to\nthe city of Kioto. He found a child sitting all alone by the wayside.\n\n\"Well, my little girl,\" he said, \"and what make you all alone by the\nwayside?\"\n\n\"What do you,\" said the child, \"with a staff and a pack, and sandals\noutworn?\"\n\n\"I am bound for Kioto, and the Mikado's Palace, to sell my gauds to the\nladies of the Court.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the child, \"take me too.\"\n\n\"What is your name, my little girl?\"\n\n\"I have no name.\"\n\n\"Whence come you?\"\n\n\"I come from nowhere.\"\n\n\"You seem to be about seven years old.\"\n\n\"I have no age.\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\"\n\n\"I have been waiting for you.\"\n\n\"How long have you waited?\"\n\n\"For more than a hundred years.\"\n\nThe Pedlar laughed.\n\n\"Take me to Kioto,\" said the child.\n\n\"You may come if you will,\" said the Pedlar. So they went their ways\ntogether, and in time they came to Kioto and to the Mikado's Palace.\nHere the child danced in the august presence of the Son of Heaven. She\nwas as light as the sea-bird upon a wave's crest. When she had made an\nend of dancing, the Mikado called her to him.\n\n\"Little maid,\" he said, \"what guerdon shall I give you? Ask!\"\n\n\"O Divinely Descended,\" said the child, \"Son of the Gods ... I cannot\nask.... I am afraid.\"\n\n\"Ask without fear,\" said the Mikado.\n\nThe child murmured, \"Let me stay in the bright presence of your\nAugustness.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said the Mikado, and he received the child into his\nhousehold. And he called her Tamamo.\n\nVery speedily she became mistress of every lovely art. She could sing,\nand she could play upon any instrument of music. She had more skill in\npainting than any painter in the land; she was a wonder with the needle\nand a wonder at the loom. The poetry that she made moved men to tears\nand to laughter. The many thousand characters were child's play to her,\nand all the hard philosophies she had at her fingers' ends. She knew\nConfucius well enough, the Scriptures of Buddha, and the lore of Cathay.\nShe was called the Exquisite Perfection, the Gold Unalloyed, the Jewel\nwithout Flaw.\n\nAnd the Mikado loved her.\n\nSoon he clean forgot honour and duty and kingly state. Day and night he\nkept Tamamo by his side. He grew rough and fierce and passionate, so\nthat his servants feared to approach him. He grew sick, listless, and\nlanguid, he pined, and his physicians could do nothing for him.\n\n\"Alas and alack,\" they cried, \"what ails the Divinely Descended? Of a\nsurety he is bewitched. Woe! woe! for he will die upon our hands.\"\n\n\"Out upon them, every one,\" cried the Mikado, \"for a pack of tedious\nfools. As for me, I will do my own will and pleasure.\"\n\nHe was mad for love of Tamamo.\n\nHe took her to his Summer Palace, where he prepared a great feast in her\nhonour. To the feast were bidden all the highest of the land, princes\nand lords and ladies of high estate; and, willy-nilly, to the Summer\nPalace they all repaired, where was the Mikado, wan and wild, and mad\nwith love, and Tamamo by his side, attired in scarlet and cloth of gold.\nRadiantly fair she was, and she poured the Mikado's _sak\u00e9_ out of a\ngolden flagon.\n\nHe looked into her eyes.\n\n\"Other women are feeble toys beside you,\" he said. \"There's not a woman\nhere that's fit to touch the end of your sleeve. O Tamamo, how I love\nyou....\"\n\nHe spoke loudly so that all could hear him, and laughed bitterly when he\nhad spoken.\n\n\"My lord ... my lord ...\" said Tamamo.\n\nNow as the high company sat and feasted, the sky became overcast with\nblack clouds, and the moon and the stars were hid. Suddenly a fearful\nwind tore through the Summer Palace and put out every torch in the great\nHall of Feasting. And the rain came down in torrents. In the pitchy\ndarkness fear and horror fell upon the assembly. The courtiers ran to\nand fro in a panic, the air was full of cries, the tables were\noverturned. The dishes and drinking-vessels crashed together, the _sak\u00e9_\nspilled and soaked into the white mats. Then a radiance was made\nvisible. It came from the place where Tamamo was, and it streamed in\nlong flames of fire from her body.\n\nThe Mikado cried aloud in a terrible voice, \"Tamamo! Tamamo! Tamamo!\"\nthree times. And when he had done this he fell in a deathly swoon upon\nthe ground.\n\nAnd for many days he was thus, and he seemed either asleep or dead, and\nno one could recover him from his swoon.\n\nThen the Wise and Holy Men of the land met together, and when they had\nprayed to the gods, they called to them Ab\u00e9 Yasu, the Diviner. They\nsaid:\n\n\"O Ab\u00e9 Yasu, learned in dark things, find out for us the cause, and if\nit may be, the cure, of our Lord's strange sickness. Perform divination\nfor us, O Ab\u00e9 Yasu.\"\n\nThen Ab\u00e9 Yasu performed divination, and he came before the Wise Men and\nsaid:\n\n    \"The wine is sweet, but the aftertaste is bitter.\n     Set not your teeth in the golden persimmon,\n     It is rotten at the core.\n     Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily,\n     Pluck it not.\n     What is beauty?\n     What is wisdom?\n     What is love?\n     Be not deceived. They are threads in the fabric of illusion!\"\n\nThen the Wise Men said, \"Speak out, Ab\u00e9 Yasu, for your saying is dark,\nand we cannot understand it.\"\n\n\"I will do more than speak,\" said Ab\u00e9 Yasu. And he spent three days in\nfasting and in prayer. Then he took the sacred _Gohei_ from its place in\nthe Temple, and calling the Wise Men to him he waved the sacred _Gohei_\nand with it touched each one of them. And together they went to Tamamo's\nbower, and Ab\u00e9 Yasu took the sacred _Gohei_ in his right hand.\n\nTamamo was in her bower adorning herself, and her maidens were with her.\n\n\"My lords,\" she said, \"you come all unbidden. What would you have with\nme?\"\n\n\"My lady Tamamo,\" said Ab\u00e9 Yasu the Diviner, \"I have made a song after\nthe fashion of the Chinese. You who are learned in poetry, I pray you\nhear and judge my song.\"\n\n\"I am in no mood for songs,\" she said, \"with my dear lord lying sick to\ndeath.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless, my lady Tamamo, this song of mine you needs must hear.\"\n\n\"Why, then, if I must ...\" she said.\n\nThen spoke Ab\u00e9 Yasu:\n\n    \"The wine is sweet, the aftertaste is bitter.\n     Set not your teeth in the golden persimmon,\n     It is rotten at the core.\n     Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily,\n     Pluck it not.\n     What is beauty?\n     What is wisdom?\n     What is love?\n     Be not deceived. They are threads in the fabric of illusion!\"\n\nWhen Ab\u00e9 Yasu the Diviner had spoken, he came to Tamamo and he touched\nher with the sacred _Gohei_.\n\nShe gave a loud and terrible cry, and on the instant her form was\nchanged into that of a great fox having nine long tails and hair like\ngolden wire. The fox fled from Tamamo's bower, away and away, until it\nreached the far plain of Nasu, and it hid itself beneath a great black\nstone that was upon that plain.\n\nBut the Mikado was immediately recovered from his sickness.\n\nSoon, strange and terrible things were told concerning the great stone\nof Nasu. A stream of poisonous water flowed from under it and withered\nthe bright flowers of the plain. All who drank of the stream died, both\nman and beast. Moreover, nothing could go near the stone and live. The\ntraveller who rested in its shadow arose no more, and the birds that\nperched upon it fell dead in a moment. People named it the Death Stone,\nand thus it was called for more than a hundred years.\n\nThen it chanced that Genyo, the High Priest, who was a holy man indeed,\ntook his staff and his begging bowl and went upon a pilgrimage.\n\nWhen he came to Nasu, the dwellers upon the plain put rice into his\nbowl.\n\n\"O thou Holy Man,\" they said, \"beware the Death Stone of Nasu. Rest not\nin its shade.\"\n\nBut Genyo, the High Priest, having remained a while in thought, made\nanswer thus:\n\n\"Know, my children, what is written in the Book of the Good Law: 'Herbs,\ntrees and rocks shall all enter into Nirvana.'\"\n\nWith that he took his way to the Death Stone. He burnt incense, he\nstruck the stone with his staff, and he cried, \"Come forth, Spirit of\nthe Death Stone; come forth, I conjure thee.\"\n\nThen there was a great flame of fire and a rending noise, and the Stone\nburst and split in sunder. From the stone and from the fire there came a\nwoman.\n\nShe stood before the Holy Man. She said:\n\n    \"I am Tamamo, once called the Proud Perfection;\n     I am the golden-haired Fox;\n     I know the Sorceries of the East;\n     I was worshipped by the Princes of Ind;\n     I was great Cathay's undoing;\n     I was wise and beautiful,\n     Evil incarnate.\n     The power of the Buddha has changed me;\n     I have dwelt in grief for a hundred years;\n     Tears have washed away my beauty and my sin.\n     Shrive me, Genyo, shrive me, Holy Man;\n     Let me have peace.\"\n\n\"Poor Spirit,\" said Genyo. \"Take my staff and my priestly robe and my\nbegging bowl and set forth upon the long journey of repentance.\"\n\nTamamo took the priestly robe and put it upon her; in one hand she took\nthe staff, in the other the bowl. And when she had done this, she\nvanished for ever from the sight of earthly men.\n\n\"O thou, Tathagatha,\" said Genyo, \"and thou, Kwannon, Merciful Lady,\nmake it possible that one day even she may attain Nirvana.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\nMOMOTARO\n\n\nIf you'll believe me there was a time when the fairies were none so shy\nas they are now. That was the time when beasts talked to men, when there\nwere spells and enchantments and magic every day, when there was great\nstore of hidden treasure to be dug up, and adventures for the asking.\n\nAt that time, you must know, an old man and an old woman lived alone by\nthemselves. They were good and they were poor and they had no children\nat all.\n\nOne fine day, \"What are you doing this morning, good man?\" says the old\nwoman.\n\n\"Oh,\" says the old man, \"I'm off to the mountains with my billhook to\ngather a faggot of sticks for our fire. And what are you doing, good\nwife?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" says the old woman, \"I'm off to the stream to wash clothes. It's\nmy washing day,\" she adds.\n\nSo the old man went to the mountains and the old woman went to the\nstream.\n\nNow, while she was washing the clothes, what should she see but a fine\nripe peach that came floating down the stream? The peach was big enough,\nand rosy red on both sides.\n\n\"I'm in luck this morning,\" said the dame, and she pulled the peach to\nshore with a split bamboo stick.\n\nBy-and-by, when her good man came home from the hills, she set the peach\nbefore him. \"Eat, good man,\" she said; \"this is a lucky peach I found in\nthe stream and brought home for you.\"\n\nBut the old man never got a taste of the peach. And why did he not?\n\nAll of a sudden the peach burst in two and there was no stone to it, but\na fine boy baby where the stone should have been.\n\n\"Mercy me!\" says the old woman.\n\n\"Mercy me!\" says the old man.\n\nThe boy baby first ate up one half of the peach and then he ate up the\nother half. When he had done this he was finer and stronger than ever.\n\n\"Momotaro! Momotaro!\" cries the old man; \"the eldest son of the peach.\"\n\n\"Truth it is indeed,\" says the old woman; \"he was born in a peach.\"\n\nBoth of them took such good care of Momotaro that soon he was the\nstoutest and bravest boy of all that country-side. He was a credit to\nthem, you may believe. The neighbours nodded their heads and they said,\n\"Momotaro is the fine young man!\"\n\n\"Mother,\" says Momotaro one day to the old woman, \"make me a good store\nof _kimi-dango_\" (which is the way that they call millet dumplings in\nthose parts).\n\n\"What for do you want _kimi-dango_?\" says his mother.\n\n\"Why,\" says Momotaro, \"I'm going on a journey, or as you may say, an\nadventure, and I shall be needing the _kimi-dango_ on the way.\"\n\n\"Where are you going, Momotaro?\" says his mother.\n\n\"I'm off to the Ogres' Island,\" says Momotaro, \"to get their treasure,\nand I should be obliged if you'd let me have the _kimi-dango_ as soon as\nmay be,\" he says.\n\nSo they made him the _kimi-dango_, and he put them in a wallet, and he\ntied the wallet to his girdle and off he set.\n\n\"_Sayonara_, and good luck to you, Momotaro!\" cried the old man and the\nold woman.\n\n\"_Sayonara! Sayonara!_\" cried Momotaro.\n\nHe hadn't gone far when he fell in with a monkey.\n\n\"Kia! Kia!\" says the monkey. \"Where are you off to, Momotaro?\"\n\nSays Momotaro, \"I'm off to the Ogres' Island for an adventure.\"\n\n\"What have you got in the wallet hanging at your girdle?\"\n\n\"Now you're asking me something,\" says Momotaro; \"sure, I've some of the\nbest millet dumplings in all Japan.\"\n\n\"Give me one,\" says the monkey, \"and I will go with you.\"\n\nSo Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the monkey, and the two of them\njogged on together. They hadn't gone far when they fell in with a\npheasant.\n\n\"Ken! Ken!\" said the pheasant. \"Where are you off to, Momotaro?\"\n\nSays Momotaro, \"I'm off to the Ogres' Island for an adventure.\"\n\n\"What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?\"\n\n\"I've got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.\"\n\n\"Give me one,\" says the pheasant, \"and I will go with you.\"\n\nSo Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the pheasant, and the three of\nthem jogged on together.\n\nThey hadn't gone far when they fell in with a dog.\n\n\"Bow! Wow! Wow!\" says the dog. \"Where are you off to, Momotaro?\"\n\nSays Momotaro, \"I'm off to the Ogres' Island.\"\n\n\"What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?\"\n\n\"I've got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.\"\n\n\"Give me one,\" says the dog, \"and I will go with you.\"\n\nSo Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the dog, and the four of them\njogged on together. By-and-by they came to the Ogres' Island.\n\n\"Now, brothers,\" says Momotaro, \"listen to my plan. The pheasant must\nfly over the castle gate and peck the Ogres. The monkey must climb over\nthe castle wall and pinch the Ogres. The dog and I will break the bolts\nand bars. He will bite the Ogres, and I will fight the Ogres.\"\n\nThen there was the great battle.\n\nThe pheasant flew over the castle gate: \"Ken! Ken! Ken!\"\n\nMomotaro broke the bolts and bars, and the dog leapt into the castle\ncourtyard. \"Bow! Wow! Wow!\"\n\nThe brave companions fought till sundown and overcame the Ogres. Those\nthat were left alive they took prisoners and bound with cords--a wicked\nlot they were.\n\n\"Now, brothers,\" says Momotaro, \"bring out the Ogres' treasure.\"\n\nSo they did.\n\nThe treasure was worth having, indeed. There were magic jewels there,\nand caps and coats to make you invisible. There was gold and silver, and\njade and coral, and amber and tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl.\n\n\"Here's riches for all,\" says Momotaro. \"Choose, brothers, and take your\nfill.\"\n\n\"Kia! Kia!\" says the monkey. \"Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.\"\n\n\"Ken! Ken!\" says the pheasant. \"Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.\"\n\n\"Bow! Wow! Wow!\" says the dog. \"Thanks, my dear Lord Momotaro.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\nTHE MATSUYAMA MIRROR\n\n[Illustration: The Matsuyama Mirror.--_P. 228._]\n\n\nA long, long time ago there lived in a quiet spot a young man and his\nwife. They had one child, a little daughter, whom they both loved with\nall their hearts. I cannot tell you their names, for they have long\nsince been forgotten; but the name of the place where they lived was\nMatsuyama, in the Province of Echigo.\n\nIt happened once, while the little girl was still a baby, that the\nfather was obliged to go to the great city, the capital of Japan, upon\nsome business. It was too far for the mother and her little baby to go,\nso he set out alone, after bidding them goodbye and promising to bring\nthem home some pretty present.\n\nThe mother had never been farther from home than the next village, and\nshe could not help being a little frightened at the thought of her\nhusband taking such a long journey; and yet she was a little proud too,\nfor he was the first man in all that country-side who had been to the\nbig town where the king and his great lords lived, and where there\nwere so many beautiful and curious things to be seen.\n\nAt last the time came when she might expect her husband back, so she\ndressed the baby in its best clothes, and herself put on a pretty blue\ndress which she knew her husband liked.\n\nYou may fancy how glad this good wife was to see him come home safe and\nsound, and how the little girl clapped her hands, and laughed with\ndelight when she saw the pretty toys her father had brought for her. He\nhad much to tell of all the wonderful things he had seen upon the\njourney, and in the town itself.\n\n\"I have brought you a very pretty thing,\" said he to his wife; \"it is\ncalled a mirror. Look and tell me what you see inside.\" He gave to her a\nplain white wooden box, in which, when she had opened it, she found a\nround piece of metal. One side was white, like frosted silver, and\nornamented with raised figures of birds and flowers; the other was\nbright as the clearest crystal. Into it the young mother looked with\ndelight and astonishment, for, from its depths was looking at her with\nparted lips and bright eyes, a smiling happy face.\n\n\"What do you see?\" again asked the husband, pleased at her astonishment\nand glad to show that he had learned something while he had been away.\n\n\"I see a pretty woman looking at me, and she moves her lips as if she\nwas speaking, and--dear me, how odd, she has on a blue dress just like\nmine!\"\n\n\"Why, you silly woman, it is your own face that you see!\" said the\nhusband, proud of knowing something that his wife didn't know. \"That\nround piece of metal is called a mirror. In the town everybody has one,\nalthough we have not seen them in this country-place before.\"\n\nThe wife was charmed with her present, and for a few days could not look\ninto the mirror often enough; for you must remember that as this was the\nfirst time she had seen a mirror, so, of course, it was the first time\nshe had ever seen the reflection of her own pretty face. But she\nconsidered such a wonderful thing far too precious for everyday use, and\nsoon shut it up in its box again and put it away carefully among her\nmost valued treasures.\n\nYears passed on, and the husband and wife still lived happily. The joy\nof their life was their little daughter, who grew up the very image of\nher mother, and who was so dutiful and affectionate that everybody loved\nher. Mindful of her own little passing vanity on finding herself so\nlovely, the mother kept the mirror carefully hidden away, fearing that\nthe use of it might breed a spirit of pride in her little girl.\n\nShe never spoke of it, and as for the father he had forgotten all about\nit. So it happened that the daughter grew up as simple as the mother had\nbeen, and knew nothing of her own good looks, or of the mirror which\nwould have reflected them.\n\nBut by-and-by a terrible misfortune happened to this happy little\nfamily. The good, kind mother fell sick; and, although her daughter\nwaited upon her, day and night, with loving care, she got worse and\nworse, until at last there was no doubt but that she must die.\n\nWhen she found that she must so soon leave her husband and child, the\npoor woman felt very sorrowful, grieving for those she was going to\nleave behind, and most of all for her little daughter.\n\nShe called the girl to her and said, \"My darling child, you know that I\nam very sick; soon I must die and leave your dear father and you alone.\nWhen I am gone, promise me that you will look into this mirror every\nnight and every morning; there you will see me, and know that I am still\nwatching over you.\" With these words she took the mirror from its\nhiding-place and gave it to her daughter. The child promised, with many\ntears, and so the mother, seeming now calm and resigned, died a short\ntime after.\n\nNow this obedient and dutiful daughter never forgot her mother's last\nrequest, but each morning and evening took the mirror from its\nhiding-place, and looked in it long and earnestly. There she saw the\nbright and smiling vision of her lost mother. Not pale and sickly as in\nher last days, but the beautiful young mother of long ago. To her at\nnight she told the story of the trials and difficulties of the day; to\nher in the morning she looked for sympathy and encouragement in whatever\nmight be in store for her.\n\nSo day by day she lived as in her mother's sight, striving still to\nplease her as she had done in her lifetime, and careful always to avoid\nwhatever might pain or grieve her.\n\nHer greatest joy was to be able to look in the mirror and say, \"Mother,\nI have been to-day what you would have me to be.\"\n\nSeeing her look into the mirror every night and morning without fail,\nand seem to hold converse with it, her father at length asked her the\nreason of her strange behaviour. \"Father,\" she said, \"I look in the\nmirror every day to see my dear mother and to talk with her.\" Then she\ntold him of her mother's dying wish, and how she had never failed to\nfulfil it. Touched by so much simplicity, and such faithful, loving\nobedience, the father shed tears of pity and affection. Nor could he\nfind it in his heart to tell the child that the image she saw in the\nmirror was but the reflection of her own sweet face, becoming by\nconstant sympathy and association more and more like her dead mother's\nday by day.\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\nBROKEN IMAGES\n\n\nOnce there lived two brothers who were princes in the land.\n\nThe elder brother was a hunter. He loved the deep woods and the chase.\nHe went from dawn to dark with his bow and his arrows. Swiftly he could\nrun; he was strong and bright-eyed. The younger brother was a dreamer;\nhis eyes were gentle. From dawn to dark he would sit with his book or\nwith his thoughts. Sweetly could he sing of love, or of war, or of the\ngreen fields, and tell stories of the fairies and of the time of the\ngods.\n\nUpon a fair day of summer the hunter betook himself very early to the\nwoods, as was his wont. But the dreamer took his book in his hand, and,\nmusing, he wandered by the stream's side, where grew the yellow mimulus.\n\n\"It is the fairies' money,\" he said; \"it will buy all the joys of\nfairyland!\" So he went on his way, smiling.\n\nAnd when he had continued for some time, he came to a holy shrine. And\nthere led to the shrine a hundred steps, moss-grown and grey. Beside\nthe steps were guardian lions, carved in stone. Behind the shrine was\nFugi, the Mystic Mountain, white and beautiful, and all the lesser hills\nrose softly up like prayers.\n\n\"O peerless Fugi,\" said the dreamer, \"O passionless wonder mountain! To\nsee thee is to hear sweet music without sound, the blessed harmony of\nsilence.\"\n\nThen he climbed the steps, moss-grown and grey. And the lions that were\ncarved in stone rose up and followed him, and they came with him to the\ninner gates of the shrine and stayed there.\n\nIn the shrine there was a hush of noonday. The smoke of incense curled\nand hung upon the air. Dimly shone the gold and the bronze, the lights\nand the mystic mirrors.\n\nThere was a sound of singing in the shrine, and turning, the dreamer saw\na man who stood at his right hand. The man was taller than any child of\nearth. Moreover, his face shone with the glory of a youth that cannot\npass away. He held a year-old child upon his arm and hushed it to sleep,\nsinging a strange melody. When the babe fell asleep he was well pleased,\nand smiled.\n\n\"What babe is that?\" said the dreamer.\n\n\"O dreamer, it is no babe, but a spirit.\"\n\n\"Then, my lord, what are you?\" said the dreamer.\n\n\"I am Jizo, who guards the souls of little children. It is most pitiful\nto hear their crying when they come to the sandy river-bed, the\n_Sai-no-kawara_. O dreamer, they come alone, as needs they must, wailing\nand wandering, stretching out their pretty hands. They have a task,\nwhich is to pile stones for a tower of prayer. But in the night come the\n_Oni_ to throw down the towers and to scatter all the stones. So the\nchildren are made afraid, and their labour is lost.\"\n\n\"What then, my lord Jizo?\" said the dreamer.\n\n\"Why, then I come, for the Great One gives me leave. And I call 'Come\nhither, wandering souls.' And they fly to me that I may hide them in my\nlong sleeves. I carry them in my arms and on my breast, where they lie\nlight and cold,--as light and cold as the morning mist upon the\nmountains.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken, the year-old child stirred and murmured: so he\nrocked it, and wandered to and fro in the quiet temple court and hushed\nit as he went.\n\nSo the swift moments flew and the noontide passed away.\n\nPresently there came to the shrine a lady most gentle and beautiful.\nGrey was her robe, and she had silver sandals on her feet. She said, \"I\nam called The Merciful. For mankind's dear sake, I have refused eternal\npeace. The Great One has given to me a thousand loving arms, arms of\nmercy. And my hands are full of gifts. O dreamer, when you dream your\ndreams you shall see me in my lotus boat when I sail upon the mystic\nmere.\"\n\n\"Lady, Lady Kwannon ...\" said the dreamer.\n\nThen came one clothed in blue, speaking with a sweet, deep, well-known\nvoice.\n\n\"I am Benten, the Goddess of the Sea and the Goddess of Song. My dragons\nare about me and beneath my feet. See their green scales and their opal\neyes. Greeting, O dreamer!\"\n\nAfter her there came a band of blooming boys, laughing and holding out\ntheir rosy arms. \"We are the Sons of the Sea Goddess,\" they said. \"Come,\ndreamer, come to our cool caves.\"\n\nThe God of Roads came, and his three messengers with him. Three apes\nwere the three messengers. The first ape covered his eyes with his\nhands, for he could see no evil thing. The second ape covered his ears\nwith his hands, for he could hear no evil thing. The third ape covered\nhis mouth with his hands, for he could speak no evil thing. Then came\nShe, the fearful woman who takes the clothes of the dead who are not\nable to pay their toll, so that they must stand shivering at the\nentrance of the mysterious Three Ways. They are unfortunate indeed.\n\nAnd many and many a vision the dreamer saw in that enchanted shrine.\n\nAnd dark night fell, with storm and tempest and the sound of rain upon\nthe roof. Yet the dreamer never stirred. Suddenly there was a sound of\nhurrying feet without. A voice called loud, \"My brother, my brother, my\nbrother!...\" In sprang the hunter through the golden temple doors.\n\n\"Where are you?\" he cried, \"my brother, my brother!\" He had his swinging\nlantern in his hand and held it high, as he flung his long blown hair\nback over his shoulder. His face was bright with the rain upon it, his\neyes were as keen as an eagle's.\n\n\"O brother ...\" said the dreamer, and ran to meet him.\n\n\"Now the dear gods be thanked that I have you safe and sound,\" said the\nhunter. \"Half the night I have sought you, wandering in the forest and\nby the stream's side. I was all to blame for leaving you ... my little\nbrother.\" With that, he took his brother's face between his two warm\nhands.\n\nBut the dreamer sighed, \"I have been with the gods all night,\" he said,\n\"and I think I see them still. The place is holy.\"\n\nThen the hunter flashed his light upon the temple walls, upon the\ngilding and the bronze.\n\n\"I see no gods,\" he said.\n\n\"What see you, brother?\"\n\n\"I see a row of stones, broken images, grey, with moss-grown feet.\"\n\n\"They are grey because they are sad, they are sad because they are\nforgotten,\" said the dreamer.\n\nBut the hunter took him by the hand and led him into the night.\n\nThe dreamer said, \"O brother, how sweet is the scent of the bean fields\nafter the rain.\"\n\n\"Now bind your sandals on,\" said the hunter, \"and I'll run you a race to\nour home.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\nTHE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old man who lived all alone. And there was\nan old woman who lived all alone. The old man was merry and kind and\ngentle, with a good word and a smile for all the world. The old woman\nwas sour and sad, as cross a patch as could be found in all the\ncountry-side. She grumbled and growled for ever, and would not so much\nas pass the time of day with respectable folk.\n\nThe old man had a pet sparrow that he kept as the apple of his eye. The\nsparrow could talk and sing and dance and do all manner of tricks, and\nwas very good company. So the old man found when he came home from his\nwork at night. There would be the sparrow twittering on the doorstep,\nand \"Welcome home, master,\" he would say, his head on one side, as pert\nand pretty as you please.\n\nOne day the old man went off to cut wood in the mountains. The old\nwoman, she stayed at home for it was her washing day. She made some\ngood starch in a bowl and she put it outside her door to cool.\n\n\"It will be all ready when I want it,\" she said to herself. But that's\njust where she made a mistake. The little sparrow flew over the bamboo\nfence and lighted on the edge of the starch bowl. And he pecked at the\nstarch with his little beak. He pecked and he pecked till all the starch\nwas gone, and a good meal he made, to be sure.\n\nThen out came the old woman for the starch to starch her clothes.\n\nYou may believe she was angry. She caught the little sparrow roughly in\nher hand, and, alas and alack! she took a sharp, sharp scissors and cut\nhis little tongue. Then she let him go.\n\nAway and away flew the little sparrow, over hill and over dale.\n\n\"And a good riddance, too!\" said the cruel old woman.\n\nWhen the old man came home from the mountains he found his pet sparrow\ngone. And before long he knew all the tale. He lost no time, the good\nold man; he set out at once on foot, calling \"Sparrow, sparrow, where\nare you, my tongue-cut sparrow?\"\n\nOver hill and over dale he went, calling \"Sparrow, sparrow, where are\nyou, my tongue-cut sparrow?\"\n\nAt last and at length he came to the sparrow's house, and the sparrow\nflew out to greet his master. Then there was a twittering, to be sure.\nThe sparrow called his brothers and sisters and his children and his\nwife and his mother-in-law and his mother and his grandmother. And they\nall flew out to do the old man honour. They brought him into the house\nand they set him down upon mats of silk. Then they spread a great feast;\nred rice and _daikon_ and fish, and who knows what all besides, and the\nvery best _sak\u00e9_ to drink. The sparrow waited upon the good old man, and\nhis brothers and sisters and his children and his wife and his\nmother-in-law and his mother and his grandmother with him.\n\nAfter supper the sparrow danced, whilst his grandmother played the\n_samisen_ and the good old man beat time.\n\nIt was a merry evening.\n\nAt last, \"All good things come to an end,\" says the old man; \"I fear\n'tis late and high time I was getting home.\"\n\n\"Not without a little present,\" says the sparrow.\n\n\"Ah, sparrow dear,\" says the old man, \"I'd sooner have yourself than any\npresent.\"\n\nBut the sparrow shook his head.\n\nPresently they brought in two wicker baskets.\n\n\"One of them is heavy,\" says the sparrow, \"and the other is light. Say,\nmaster, will you take the heavy basket or the light?\"\n\n\"I'm not so young as I once was,\" says the good old man. \"Thanking you\nkindly, I'd sooner have the light basket; it will suit me better to\ncarry--that is, if it's the same to you,\" he says.\n\nSo he went home with the light basket. When he opened it, wonderful to\ntell, it was full of gold and silver and tortoise-shell and coral and\njade and fine rolls of silk. So the good old man was rich for life.\n\nNow, when the bad old woman heard tell of all this, she tied on her\nsandals and kilted her skirts and took a stout stick in her hand. Over\nhill and over dale she went, and took the straight road to the sparrow's\nhouse. There was the sparrow, and there were his brothers and sisters\nand children and his wife and his mother and his mother-in-law and his\ngrandmother. They were not too pleased to see the bad old woman, but\nthey couldn't do less than ask her in as she'd come so far. They gave\nher red rice and white rice and _daikon_ and fish, and who knows what\nbesides, and she gobbled it up in a twinkling, and drank a good cup of\n_sak\u00e9_. Then up she got. \"I can't waste any more time here,\" she says,\n\"so you'd best bring out your presents.\"\n\nThey brought in two wicker baskets.\n\n\"One of them is heavy,\" says the sparrow, \"and the other is light. Say,\nmistress, will you take the heavy basket or the light?\"\n\n\"I'll take the heavy one,\" says the old woman, quick as a thought. So\nshe heaved it up on her back and off she set. Sure enough it was as\nheavy as lead.\n\nWhen she was gone, Lord! how the sparrows did laugh!\n\nNo sooner did she reach home than she undid the cords of the basket.\n\n\"Now for the gold and silver,\" she said, and smiled--though she hadn't\nsmiled for a twelve-month. And she lifted up the lid.\n\n\"_Ai! Ai! Kowai! Obak\u00e9 da! Obak\u00e9!_\" she screeched.\n\nThe basket was full of ugly imps and elves and pixies and demons and\ndevils. Out they came to tease the old woman, to pull her and to poke\nher, to push her and to pinch her. She had the fine fright of her life,\nI warrant you.\n\n\n\n\nXXXIII\n\nTHE NURSE\n\n[Illustration: The Nurse.--_P. 243._]\n\n\nId\u00e9 the _samurai_ was wedded to a fair wife and had an only child, a boy\ncalled Fugiwaka. Id\u00e9 was a mighty man of war, and as often as not he was\naway from home upon the business of his liege lord. So the child\nFugiwaka was reared by his mother and by the faithful woman, his nurse.\nMatsu was her name, which is, in the speech of the country, the Pine\nTree. And even as the pine tree, strong and evergreen, was she,\nunchanging and enduring.\n\nIn the house of Id\u00e9 there was a very precious sword. Aforetime a hero of\nId\u00e9's clan slew eight-and-forty of his enemies with this sword in one\nbattle. The sword was Id\u00e9's most sacred treasure. He kept it laid away\nin a safe place with his household gods.\n\nMorning and evening the child Fugiwaka came to make salutations before\nthe household gods, and to reverence the glorious memory of his\nancestors. And Matsu, the nurse, knelt by his side.\n\nMorning and evening, \"Show me the sword, O Matsu, my nurse,\" said\nFugiwaka.\n\nAnd O Matsu made answer, \"Of a surety, my lord, I will show it to you.\"\n\nThen she brought the sword from its place, wrapped in a covering of red\nand gold brocade. And she drew off the covering and she took the sword\nfrom its golden sheath and displayed the bright steel to Fugiwaka. And\nthe child made obeisance till his forehead touched the mats.\n\nAt bedtime O Matsu sang songs and lullabies. She sang this song:\n\n    \"Sleep, my little child, sweetly sleep--\n         Would you know the secret,\n     The secret of the hare o Nennin Yama?\n     Sleep, my little child, sweetly sleep--\n         You shall know the secret.\n     Oh, the august hare of Nennin Yama,\n     How augustly long are his ears!\n     Why should this be, oh, best beloved?\n         You shall know the secret.\n     His mother ate the bamboo seed.\n         Hush! Hush!\n     His mother ate the loquat seed.\n         Hush! Hush!\n     Sleep, my little child, sweetly sleep--\n         Now you know the secret.\"\n\nThen O Matsu said, \"Will you sleep now, my lord Fugiwaka?\"\n\nAnd the child answered, \"I will sleep now, O Matsu.\"\n\n\"Listen, my lord,\" she said, \"and, sleeping or waking, remember. The\nsword is your treasure. The sword is your trust. The sword is your\nfortune. Cherish it, guard it, keep it.\"\n\n\"Sleeping or waking, I will remember,\" said Fugiwaka.\n\nNow in an evil day the mother of Fugiwaka fell sick and died. And there\nwas mourning in the house of Id\u00e9. Howbeit, when years were past, the\n_samurai_ took another bride, and he had a son by her and called him\nGoro. And after this Id\u00e9 himself was slain in an ambush, and his\nretainers brought his body home and laid him with his fathers.\n\nFugiwaka was chief of the House of Id\u00e9. But the Lady Sadako, his\nstepmother, was ill-pleased. Black mischief stirred in her heart; she\nbent her brows and she brooded as she went her ways, bearing her babe in\nher arms. At night she tossed upon her bed.\n\n\"My child is a beggar,\" she said. \"Fugiwaka is chief of the House of\nId\u00e9. Evil fortune betide him! It is too much,\" said the proud lady. \"I\nwill not brook it; my child a beggar! I would rather strangle him with\nmy hands....\" Thus she spoke and tossed upon her bed, thinking of a\nplan.\n\nWhen Fugiwaka was fifteen years old she turned him out of the house with\na poor garment upon his back, barefooted, with never a bite nor a sup\nnor a gold piece to see him on his way.\n\n\"Ah, lady mother,\" he said, \"you use me ill. Why do you take my\nbirthright?\"\n\n\"I know nought of birthrights,\" she said. \"Go, make your own fortune if\nyou can. Your brother Goro is chief of the House of Id\u00e9.\"\n\nWith that she bade them shut the door in his face.\n\nFugiwaka departed sorrowfully, and at the cross-roads O Matsu, his\nnurse, met him. She had made herself ready for a journey: her robe was\nkilted, she had a staff in her hand and sandals on her feet.\n\n\"My lord,\" she said, \"I am come to follow you to the world's end.\"\n\nThen Fugiwaka wept and laid his head upon the woman's breast.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"my nurse, my nurse! And,\" he said, \"what of my father's\nsword? I have lost the precious sword of Id\u00e9. The sword is my treasure,\nthe sword is my trust, the sword is my fortune. I am bound to cherish\nit, to guard it, to keep it. But now I have lost it. Woe is me! I am\nundone, and so is all the House of Id\u00e9!\"\n\n\"Oh, say not so, my lord,\" said O Matsu. \"Here is gold; go you your way\nand I will return and guard the sword of Id\u00e9.\"\n\nSo Fugiwaka went his way with the gold that his nurse gave him.\n\nAs for O Matsu, she went straightway and took the sword from its place\nwhere it lay with the household gods, and she buried it deep in the\nground until such time as she might bear it in safety to her young\nlord.\n\nBut soon the Lady Sadako became aware that the sacred sword was gone.\n\n\"It is the nurse!\" she cried. \"The nurse has stolen it.... Some of you\nbring her to me.\"\n\nThen the Lady Sadako's people laid their hands roughly upon O Matsu and\nbrought her before their mistress. But for all they could do O Matsu's\nlips were sealed. She spoke never a word, neither could the Lady Sadako\nfind out where the sword was. She pressed her thin lips together.\n\n\"The woman is obstinate,\" she said. \"No matter; for such a fault I know\nthe sovereign cure.\"\n\nSo she locked O Matsu in a dark dungeon and gave her neither food nor\ndrink. Every day the Lady Sadako went to the door of the dark dungeon.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"where is the sword of Id\u00e9? Will you say?\"\n\nBut O Matsu answered not a word.\n\nHowbeit she wept and sighed to herself in the darkness--\"Alas! Alas!\nnever alive may I come to my young lord. Yet he must have the sword of\nId\u00e9, and I shall find a way.\"\n\nNow after seven days the Lady Sadako sat in the garden-house to cool\nherself, for it was summer. The time was evening. Presently she saw a\nwoman that came towards her through the garden flowers and trees. Frail\nand slender was the woman; as she came her body swayed and her slow\nsteps faltered.\n\n\"Why, this is strange!\" said the Lady Sadako. \"Here is O Matsu, that was\nlocked in the dark dungeon.\" And she sat still, watching.\n\nBut O Matsu went to the place where she had buried the sword and\nscratched at the ground with her fingers. There she was, weeping and\nmoaning and dragging at the earth. The stones cut her hands and they\nbled. Still she tore away the earth and found the sword at last. It was\nin its wrapping of gold and scarlet, and she clasped it to her bosom\nwith a loud cry.\n\n\"Woman, I have you now,\" shrieked the Lady Sadako, \"and the sword of Id\u00e9\nas well!\" And she leaped from the garden-house and ran at full speed.\nShe stretched forth her hand to catch O Matsu by the sleeve, but did not\nhave her or the sword either, for both of them were gone in a flash, and\nthe lady beat the empty air. Swiftly she sped to the dark dungeon, and\nas she went she called her people to bring torches. There lay the body\nof poor O Matsu, cold and dead upon the dungeon floor.\n\n\"Send me the Wise Woman,\" said the Lady Sadako.\n\nSo they sent for the Wise Woman. And the Lady Sadako asked, \"How long\nhas she been dead?\"\n\nThe Wise Woman said, \"She was starved to death; she has been dead two\ndays. It were well you gave her fit burial; she was a good soul.\"\n\nAs for the sword of Id\u00e9, it was not found.\n\nFugiwaka tossed to and fro upon his lowly bed in a wayside tavern. And\nit seemed to him that his nurse came to him and knelt by his side. Then\nhe was soothed.\n\nO Matsu said, \"Will you sleep now, my lord Fugiwaka?\"\n\nAnd he answered, \"I will sleep now, O Matsu.\"\n\n\"Listen, my lord,\" she said, \"and, sleeping or waking, remember. The\nsword is your treasure. The sword is your trust. The sword is your\nfortune. Cherish it, guard it, keep it.\"\n\nThe sword was in its wrapping of gold and scarlet, and she laid it by\nFugiwaka's side. The boy turned over to sleep, and his hand clasped the\nsword of Id\u00e9.\n\n\"Waking or sleeping,\" he said, \"I will remember.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXXIV\n\nTHE BEAUTIFUL DANCER OF YEDO\n\n[Illustration: The Beautiful Dancer of Yedo.--_P. 250._]\n\n\nThis is the tale of Sakura-ko, Flower of the Cherry, who was the\nbeautiful dancer of Yedo. She was a _geisha_, born a _samurai's_\ndaughter, that sold herself into bondage after her father died, so that\nher mother might have food to eat. Ah, the pity of it! The money that\nbought her was called _Namida no Kan\u00e9_, that is \"the money of tears.\"\n\nShe dwelt in the narrow street of the _geisha_, where the red and white\nlanterns swing and the plum trees flourish by the low eves. The street\nof the _geisha_ is full of music, for they play the _samisen_ there all\nday long.\n\nSakura-ko played it too; indeed she was skilful in every lovely art. She\nplayed the _samisen_, the _kotto_, the _biwa_, and the small hand-drum.\nShe could make songs and sing them. Her eyes were long, her hair was\nblack, her hands were white. Her beauty was wonderful, and wonderful her\npower to please. From dawn to dusk, and from dusk to dawn she could go\nsmiling and hide her heart. In the cool of the day she would stand\nupon the gallery of her mistress's house, and muse as she stood and\nlooked down into the street of the _geisha_. And the folk that passed\nthat way said to one another, \"See, yonder stands Sakura-ko, Flower of\nthe Cherry, the beautiful dancer of Yedo, the _geisha_ without peer.\"\n\nBut Sakura-ko looked down and mused and said, \"Little narrow street of\nthe _geisha_, paved with bitterness and broken hearts, your houses are\nfull of vain hopes and vain regrets; youth and love and grief dwell\nhere. The flowers in your gardens are watered with tears.\"\n\nThe gentlemen of Yedo must needs have their pleasure, so Sakura-ko\nserved at feasts every night. They whitened her cheeks and her forehead,\nand gilded her lips with _beni_. She wore silk attires, gold and purple\nand grey and green and black, _obi_ of brocade magnificently tied. Her\nhair was pinned with coral and jade, fastened with combs of gold lacquer\nand tortoise-shell. She poured _sak\u00e9_, she made merry with the good\ncompany. More than this, she danced.\n\nThree poets sang of her dancing. One said, \"She is lighter than the\nrainbow-tinted dragonfly.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"She moves like the mist of the morning when the\nbright sun shines.\"\n\nAnd the third said, \"She is like the shadow in the river of the waving\nwillow-branch.\"\n\nBut it is time to tell of her three lovers.\n\nThe first lover was neither old nor young. He was passing rich, and a\ngreat man in Yedo. He sent his servant to the street of the _geisha_\nwith money in his girdle. Sakura-ko shut the door in his face.\n\n\"You are wrong, fellow,\" she said, \"you have lost your way. You should\nhave gone to the street of the toy-shops and bought your master a doll;\nlet him know there are no dolls here.\"\n\nAfter this the master came himself. \"Come to me, O Flower of the\nCherry,\" he said, \"for I must have you.\"\n\n\"_Must?_\" she said, and looked down with her long eyes.\n\n\"Aye,\" he said, \"must is the word, O Flower of the Cherry.\"\n\n\"What will you give me?\" she said.\n\n\"Fine attires, silk and brocade, a house, white mats and cool galleries;\nservants to wait on you, gold hairpins--what you will.\"\n\n\"What do I give you?\" she said.\n\n\"Yourself, just that, O Flower of the Cherry.\"\n\n\"Body and soul?\" she said.\n\nAnd he answered her, \"Body and soul.\"\n\n\"Now, fare you well,\" she said, \"I have a fancy to remain a _geisha_. It\nis a merry life,\" she said, and she laughed.\n\nSo that was the end of the first lover.\n\nThe second lover was old. To be old and wise is very well, but he was\nold and foolish. \"Sakura-ko,\" he cried, \"ah, cruel one, I am mad for\nlove of you!\"\n\n\"My lord,\" she said, \"I can easily believe it.\"\n\nHe said, \"I am not so very old.\"\n\n\"By the divine compassion of the gods,\" she told him, \"you may yet have\ntime to prepare for your end. Go home and read the good law.\" But the\nold lover would hear nothing of her counsel. Instead, he bade her to his\nhouse by night to a great feast which he had prepared for her. And when\nthey had made an end of the feast she danced before him wearing scarlet\n_hakama_ and a robe of gold brocade. After the dancing he made her sit\nbeside him and he called for wine, that they might drink together. And\nthe _geisha_ who poured the _sak\u00e9_ was called Silver Wave.\n\nWhen they had drunk together, Sakura-ko and her old lover, he drew her\nto him and cried:\n\n\"Come, my love, my bride, you are mine for the time of many existences;\nthere was poison in the cup. Be not afraid, for we shall die together.\nCome with me to the Meido.\"\n\nBut Sakura-ko said, \"My sister, the Silver Wave, and I are not children,\nneither are we old and foolish to be deceived. I drank no _sak\u00e9_ and no\npoison. My sister, the Silver Wave, poured fresh tea in my cup. Howbeit\nI am sorry for you, and so I will stay with you till you die.\"\n\nHe died in her arms and was fain to take his way alone to the Meido.\n\n\"Alas! alas!\" cried the Flower of the Cherry. But her sister, Silver\nWave, gave her counsel thus: \"Keep your tears, you will yet have cause\nfor weeping. Waste not grief for such as he.\"\n\nAnd that was the end of the second lover.\n\nThe third lover was young and brave and gay. Impetuous he was, and\nbeautiful. He first set eyes on the Flower of the Cherry at a festival\nin his father's house. Afterwards he went to seek her out in the street\nof the _geisha_. He found her as she leaned against the gallery railing\nof her mistress's house.\n\nShe looked down into the street of the _geisha_ and sang this song:\n\n    \"My mother bade me spin fine thread\n     Out of the yellow sea sand--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\n     My father gave me a basket of reeds;\n     He said, 'Draw water from the spring\n     And carry it a mile'--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\n     My heart would remember,\n     My heart must forget;\n     Forget, my heart, forget--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\"\n\nWhen she had made an end of singing, the lover saw that her eyes were\nfull of tears.\n\n\"Do you remember me,\" he said, \"O Flower of the Cherry? I saw you last\nnight at my father's house.\"\n\n\"Aye, my young lord,\" she answered him, \"I remember you very well.\"\n\nHe said, \"I am not so very young. And I love you, O Flower of the\nCherry. Be gentle, hear me, be free, be my dear wife.\"\n\nAt this she flushed neck and chin, cheeks and forehead.\n\n\"My dear,\" said the young man, \"now you are Flower of the Cherry\nindeed.\"\n\n\"Child,\" she said, \"go home and think of me no more. I am too old for\nsuch as you.\"\n\n\"Old!\" he said; \"why, there lies not a year between us!\"\n\n\"No, not a year--no year, but an eternity,\" said Flower of the Cherry.\n\"Think no more of me,\" she said; but the lover thought of nothing else.\nHis young blood was on fire. He could not eat, nor drink, nor sleep. He\npined and grew pale, he wandered day and night, his heart heavy with\nlonging. He lived in torment; weak he grew, and weaker. One night he\nfell fainting at the entrance of the street of the _geisha_. Sakura-ko\ncame home at dawn from a festival in a great house. There she found him.\nShe said no word, but she bore him to his house outside Yedo, and stayed\nwith him there full three moons. And after that time he was nursed back\nto ruddy health. Swiftly, swiftly, the glad days sped by for both of\nthem.\n\n\"This is the happy time of all my life. I thank the dear gods,\" said\nFlower of the Cherry one evening.\n\n\"My dear,\" the young man bade her, \"fetch hither your _samisen_ and let\nme hear you sing.\"\n\nSo she did. She said, \"I shall sing you a song you have heard already.\"\n\n    \"My mother bade me spin fine thread\n     Out of the yellow sea sand--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\n     My father gave me a basket of reeds;\n     He said, 'Draw water from the spring\n     And carry it a mile'--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\n     My heart would remember,\n     My heart must forget;\n     Forget, my heart, forget--\n     A hard task, a hard task.\n     May the dear gods speed me!\"\n\n\"Sweet,\" he said, \"what does this song mean, and why do you sing it?\"\n\nShe answered, \"My lord, it means that I must leave you, and therefore do\nI sing it. I must forget you; you must forget me. That is my desire.\"\n\nHe said, \"I will never forget you, not in a thousand existences.\"\n\nShe smiled, \"Pray the gods you may wed a sweet wife and have children.\"\n\nHe cried, \"No wife but you, and no children but yours, O Flower of the\nCherry.\"\n\n\"The gods forbid, my dear, my dear. All the world lies between us.\"\n\nThe next day she was gone. High and low the lover wandered, weeping and\nlamenting and seeking her both near and far. It was all in vain, for he\nfound her not. The city of Yedo knew her no more--Sakura-ko, the\nbeautiful dancer.\n\nAnd her lover mourned many many days. Howbeit at last he was comforted,\nand they found for him a very sweet fair lady whom he took to wife\nwillingly enough, and soon she bore him a son. And he was glad, for time\ndries all tears.\n\nNow when the boy was five years old he sat in the gate of his father's\nhouse. And it chanced that a wandering nun came that way begging for\nalms. The servants of the house brought rice and would have put it into\nher begging bowl, but the child said, \"Let me give.\"\n\nSo he did as he would.\n\nAs he filled the begging bowl and patted down the rice with a wooden\nspoon and laughed, the nun caught him by the sleeve and held him and\nlooked into his eyes.\n\n\"Holy nun, why do you look at me so?\" cried the child.\n\nShe said, \"Because I once had a little boy like you, and I went away and\nleft him.\"\n\n\"Poor little boy!\" said the child.\n\n\"It was better for him, my dear, my dear--far, far better.\"\n\nAnd when she had said this, she went her way.\n\n\n\n\nXXXV\n\nHANA-SAKA-JIJI\n\n\nIn the early days there lived a good old couple. All their lives long\nthey had been honest and hard-working, but they had always been poor.\nNow in their old age it was all they could do to make both ends meet,\nthe poor old creatures.\n\nBut they did not complain, not a bit of it. They were merry as the day\nis long. If they ever went to bed cold or hungry they said nothing about\nit, and if they had bite or sup in the house you may be sure they shared\nit with their dog, for they were very fond of him. He was faithful,\ngood, and clever. One evening the old man and the old woman went out to\ndo a bit of digging in their garden, and the dog went with them.\n\nWhile they were working the dog was sniffing the ground, and presently\nhe began to scratch up the earth with his paws.\n\n\"What can the dog be about now?\" says the old woman.\n\n\"Oh, just nothing at all,\" says the old man; \"he's playing.\"\n\n\"It's more than playing,\" says the old woman. \"It's my belief he's found\nsomething worth having.\"\n\nSo off she went to see what the dog would be at, and the old man\nfollowed her and leaned on his spade. Sure enough the dog had dug a\npretty big hole by this time, and he went on scratching with his paws\nfor dear life and barking short and sharp. The old man helped with his\nspade, and before long they came on a big box of hidden treasure, silver\nand gold and jewels and rich stuffs.\n\nIt is easy to believe that the good old couple were glad. They patted\ntheir clever dog, and he jumped up and licked their faces. After this\nthey carried the treasure into the house. The dog ran to and fro and\nbarked.\n\nNow, next door to the good old couple lived another old couple, not so\ngood as they, but envious and discontented. When the dog found the\nhidden treasure they looked through a hole in the bamboo hedge and saw\nthe whole affair. Do you think they were pleased? Why, not a bit of it.\nThey were so angry and envious that they could get no pleasure by day\nnor rest at night.\n\nAt last the bad old man came to the good old man.\n\n\"I've come to ask for the loan of your dog,\" he says.\n\n\"With all my heart,\" says the good old man; \"take him and welcome.\"\n\nSo the bad old man took the dog and brought him to their best room. And\nthe bad old man and his wife put a supper, of all manner of fine things\nto eat, before the dog, and bade him fall to.\n\n\"Honourable Dog,\" they said, \"you are good and wise, eat and afterwards\nfind us treasure.\"\n\nBut the dog would not eat.\n\n\"All the more left for us,\" said the greedy old couple, and they ate up\nthe dog's supper in a twinkling. Then they tied a string round his neck\nand dragged him into the garden to find treasure. But never a morsel of\ntreasure did he find, nor a glint of gold, nor a shred of rich stuff.\n\n\"The devil's in the beast,\" cries the bad old man, and he beat the dog\nwith a big stick. Then the dog began to scratch up the earth with his\npaws.\n\n\"Oho! Oho!\" says the bad old man to his wife, \"now for the treasure.\"\n\nBut was it treasure that the dog dug up? Not a bit of it. It was a heap\nof loathly rubbish, too bad to tell of. But they say it smelt most\nvilely and the bad old couple were fain to run away, hiding their noses\nwith their sleeves.\n\n\"Arah, arah!\" they cried, \"the dog has deceived us.\" And that very night\nthey killed the poor dog and buried him at the foot of a tall pine tree.\n\nAlack for the good old man and the good old woman when they heard the\ndog was gone! It was they that wept the bitter tears. They pulled\nflowers and strewed them on the poor dog's grave. They burned incense\nand they spread out good things to eat, and the vapour that rose from\nthem comforted the poor dog's spirit.\n\nThen the good old man cut down the pine tree, and made a mortar of its\nwood. He put rice in the mortar and pounded the rice with a pestle.\n\n\"Wonder of wonders,\" cried the old woman, who was looking on, \"wonder of\nwonders, good man, our rice is all turned into broad gold pieces!\"\n\nSo it was sure enough.\n\nPresently, in comes the bad old man to ask for the loan of the mortar.\n\n\"For I'm needing a mortar something very special,\" says he.\n\n\"Take it,\" says the good old man; \"I'm sure you're welcome.\"\n\nSo the bad old man took away the mortar under his arm, and when he had\ngot it home he filled it with rice in a twinkling. And he pounded away\nat it for dear life's sake.\n\n\"Do you see any gold coming?\" he says to his wife, who was looking on.\n\n\"Never a bit,\" she says, \"but the rice looks queer.\"\n\nQueer enough it was, mildewed and rotten, no use to man or beast.\n\n\"Arah, arah!\" they cried, \"the mortar has deceived us.\" And they didn't\nlet the grass grow under their feet, but lit a fire and burnt the\nmortar.\n\nNow the good old couple had lost their fairy mortar. But they never said\na word, the patient old folk. The good old man took some of the ashes of\nthe mortar and went his way.\n\nNow it was mid-winter time, and all the trees were bare. There was not a\nflower to be seen, nor yet a little green leaf.\n\nWhat does the good old man do but climb into a cherry tree and scatter a\nhandful of his ashes over the branches? In a moment the tree was covered\nwith blossoms.\n\n\"It will do,\" says the good old man, and down he gets from the tree and\noff he sets for the Prince's palace, where he knocks at the gate as bold\nas brass.\n\n\"Who are you?\" they ask him.\n\n\"I am _Hana-saka-jiji_,\" says the old man, \"the man who makes dead trees\nto blossom; my business is with the Prince.\"\n\nMighty pleased the Prince was when he saw his cherry trees and his peach\ntrees and his plum trees rush into blossom.\n\n\"Why,\" he said, \"it is mid-winter, and we have the joys of spring.\" And\nhe called forth his lady wife and her maidens and all his own retainers\nto see the work of _Hana-saka-jiji_. At last he sent the old man home\nwith a passing rich reward.\n\nNow what of the bad old couple? Were they content to let well alone? Oh\nno.\n\nThey gathered together all the ashes that were left, and when they had\nput them in a basket they went about the town crying:\n\n\"We are the _Hana-saka-jiji_. We can make dead trees blossom.\"\n\nPresently out comes the Prince and all his company to see the show. And\nthe bad old man climbs up into a tree forthwith and scatters his ashes.\n\nBut the tree never blossomed, never a bit. The ashes flew into the\nPrince's eyes, and the Prince flew into a rage. There was a pretty\nto-do. The bad old couple were caught and well beaten. Sad and sorry\nthey crept home at night. It is to be hoped that they mended their ways.\nHowbeit the good people, their neighbours, grew rich and lived happy all\ntheir days.\n\n\n\n\nXXXVI\n\nTHE MOON MAIDEN\n\n\nThere was an old bamboo cutter called Tak\u00e9 Tori. He was an honest old\nman, very poor and hard-working, and he lived with his good old wife in\na cottage on the hills. Children they had none, and little comfort in\ntheir old age, poor souls.\n\nTak\u00e9 Tori rose early upon a summer morning, and went forth to cut\nbamboos as was his wont, for he sold them for a fair price in the town,\nand thus he gained his humble living.\n\nUp the steep hillside he went, and came to the bamboo grove quite\nwearied out. He took his blue _tenegui_ and wiped his forehead, \"Alack\nfor my old bones!\" he said. \"I am not so young as I once was, nor the\ngood wife either, and there's no chick nor child to help us in our old\nage, more's the pity.\" He sighed as he got to work, poor Tak\u00e9 Tori.\n\nSoon he saw a bright light shining among the green stems of the bamboos.\n\n\"What is this?\" said Tak\u00e9 Tori, for as a rule it was dim and shady\nenough in the bamboo grove. \"Is it the sun?\" said Tak\u00e9 Tori. \"No, that\ncannot well be, for it comes from the ground.\" Very soon he pushed his\nway through the bamboo stems to see what the bright light came from.\nSure enough it came from the root of a great big green bamboo. Tak\u00e9 Tori\ntook his axe and cut down the great big green bamboo, and there was a\nfine shining green jewel, the size of his two fists.\n\n\"Wonder of wonders!\" cried Tak\u00e9 Tori. \"Wonder of wonders! For\nfive-and-thirty years I've cut bamboo. This is the very first time I've\nfound a great big green jewel at the root of one of them.\" With that he\ntakes up the jewel in his hands, and as soon as he does that, it bursts\nin two with a loud noise, if you'll believe it, and out of it came a\nyoung person and stood on Tak\u00e9 Tori's hand.\n\nYou must understand the young person was small but very beautiful. She\nwas dressed all in green silk.\n\n\"Greetings to you, Tak\u00e9 Tori,\" she says, as easy as you please.\n\n\"Mercy me!\" says Tak\u00e9 Tori. \"Thank you kindly. I suppose, now, you'll be\na fairy,\" he says, \"if I'm not making too bold in asking?\"\n\n\"You're right,\" she says, \"it's a fairy I am, and I'm come to live with\nyou and your good wife for a little.\"\n\n\"Well, now,\" says Tak\u00e9 Tori, \"begging your pardon, we're very poor. Our\ncottage is good enough, but I'm afraid there'd be no comforts for a lady\nlike you.\"\n\n\"Where's the big green jewel?\" says the fairy.\n\nTake Tori picks up the two halves. \"Why, it's full of gold pieces,\" he\nsays.\n\n\"That will do to go on with,\" says the fairy; \"and now, Tak\u00e9 Tori, let\nus make for home.\"\n\nHome they went. \"Wife! wife!\" cried Tak\u00e9 Tori, \"here's a fairy come to\nlive with us, and she has brought us a shining jewel as big as a\npersimmon, full of gold pieces.\"\n\nThe good wife came running to the door. She could hardly believe her\neyes.\n\n\"What is this,\" she said, \"about a persimmon and gold pieces? Persimmons\nI have seen often enough--moreover, it is the season--but gold pieces\nare hard to come by.\"\n\n\"Let be, woman,\" said Tak\u00e9 Tori, \"you are dull.\" And he brought the\nfairy into the house.\n\nWondrous fast the fairy grew. Before many days were gone she was a fine\ntall maiden, as fresh and as fair as the morning, as bright as the\nnoonday, as sweet and still as the evening, and as deep as the night.\nTak\u00e9 Tori called her the Lady Beaming Bright, because she had come out\nof the shining jewel.\n\nTake Tori had the gold pieces out of the jewel every day. He grew rich,\nand spent his money like a man, but there was always plenty and to\nspare. He built him a fine house, he had servants to wait on him. The\nLady Beaming Bright was lodged like an empress. Her beauty was famed\nboth near and far, and scores of lovers came to seek her hand.\n\nBut she would have none of them. \"Tak\u00e9 Tori and the dear good wife are\nmy true lovers,\" she said; \"I will live with them and be their\ndaughter.\"\n\nSo three happy years went by; and in the third year the Mikado himself\ncame to woo the Lady Beaming Bright. He was the brave lover, indeed.\n\n\"Lady,\" he said, \"I bow before you, my soul salutes you. Sweet lady, be\nmy Queen.\"\n\nThen the Lady Beaming Bright sighed and great tears stood in her eyes,\nand she hid her face with her sleeve.\n\n\"Lord, I cannot,\" she said.\n\n\"Cannot?\" said the Mikado; \"and why not, O dear Lady Beaming Bright?\"\n\n\"Wait and see, lord,\" she said.\n\nNow about the seventh month she grew very sorrowful, and would go abroad\nno more, but was for long upon the garden gallery of Tak\u00e9 Tori's house.\nThere she sat in the daytime and brooded. There she sat at night and\ngazed upon the moon and the stars. There she was one fine night when the\nmoon was at its full. Her maidens were with her, and Tak\u00e9 Tori and the\ngood wife, and the Mikado, her brave lover.\n\n\"How bright the moon shines!\" said Tak\u00e9 Tori.\n\n\"Truly,\" said the good wife, \"it is like a brass saucepan well scoured.\"\n\n\"See how pale and wan it is,\" said the Mikado; \"it is like a sad\ndespairing lover.\"\n\n\"How long and bright a beam!\" quoth Tak\u00e9 Tori. \"It is like a highway\nfrom the moon reaching to this garden gallery.\"\n\n\"O dear foster-father,\" cried the Lady Beaming Bright. \"You speak truth,\nit is a highway indeed. And along the highway come countless heavenly\nbeings swiftly, swiftly, to bear me home. My father is the King of the\nMoon. I disobeyed his behest. He sent me to earth three years to dwell\nin exile. The three years are past and I go to mine own country. Ah, I\nam sad at parting.\"\n\n\"The mist descends,\" said Tak\u00e9 Tori.\n\n\"Nay,\" said the Mikado, \"it is the cohorts of the King of the Moon.\"\n\nDown they came in their hundreds and their thousands, bearing torches.\nSilently they came, and lighted round about the garden gallery. The\nchief among them brought a heavenly feather robe. Up rose the Lady\nBeaming Bright and put the robe upon her.\n\n\"Farewell, Tak\u00e9 Tori,\" she said, \"farewell, dear foster-mother, I leave\nyou my jewel for a remembrance.... As for you, my lord, I would you\nmight come with me--but there is no feather robe for you. I leave you a\nphial of the pure elixir of life. Drink, my lord, and be even as the\nImmortals.\"\n\nThen she spread her bright wings and the cohorts of Heaven closed about\nher. Together they passed up the highway to the moon, and were no more\nseen.\n\nThe Mikado took the elixir of life in his hand, and he went to the top\nof the highest mountain in that country. And he made a great fire to\nconsume the elixir of life, for he said, \"Of what profit shall it be to\nme to live for ever, being parted from the Lady Beaming Bright?\"\n\nSo the elixir of life was consumed, and its blue vapour floated up to\nHeaven. And the Mikado said, \"Let my message float up with the vapour\nand reach the ears of my Lady Beaming Bright.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXXVII\n\nKARMA\n\n[Illustration: Karma.--_P. 270._]\n\n\nThe young man, Ito Tatewaki, was returning homeward after a journey\nwhich he had taken to the city of Kioto. He made his way alone and on\nfoot, and he went with his eyes bent upon the ground, for cares weighed\nhim down and his mind was full of the business which had taken him to\nKioto. Night found him upon a lonely road leading across a wild moor.\nUpon the moor were rocks and stones, with an abundance of flowers, for\nit was summer time, and here and there grew a dark pine tree, with\ngnarled trunk and crooked boughs.\n\nTatewaki looked up and beheld the figure of a woman before him in the\nway. It was a slender girl dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton.\nLightly she went along the lonely road in the deepening twilight.\n\n\"I should say she was the serving-maid of some gentle lady,\" Tatewaki\nsaid to himself. \"The way is solitary and the time is dreary for such a\nchild as she.\"\n\nSo the young man quickened his pace and came up with the maiden.\n\"Child,\" he said very gently, \"since we tread the same lonely road let\nus be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be\ndark.\"\n\nThe pretty maiden turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips.\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"my mistress will be glad indeed.\"\n\n\"Your mistress?\" said Tatewaki.\n\n\"Why, sir, of a surety she will be glad because you are come.\"\n\n\"Because I am come?\"\n\n\"Indeed, and indeed the time has been long,\" said the serving-maid; \"but\nnow she will think no more of that.\"\n\n\"Will she not?\" said Tatewaki. And on he went by the maiden's side,\nwalking as one in a dream.\n\nPresently the two of them came to a little house, not far from the\nroadside. Before the house was a small fair garden, with a stream\nrunning through it and a stone bridge. About the house and the garden\nthere was a bamboo fence, and in the fence a wicket-gate.\n\n\"Here dwells my mistress,\" said the serving-maid. And they went into the\ngarden through the wicket-gate.\n\nNow Tatewaki came to the threshold of the house. He saw a lady standing\nupon the threshold waiting.\n\nShe said, \"You have come at last, my lord, to give me comfort.\"\n\nAnd he answered, \"I have come.\"\n\nWhen he had said this he knew that he loved the lady, and had loved her\nsince love was.\n\n\"O love, love,\" he murmured, \"time is not for such as we.\"\n\nThen she took him by the hand, and they went into the house together and\ninto a room with white mats and a round latticed window.\n\nBefore the window there stood a lily in a vessel of water.\n\nHere the two held converse together.\n\nAnd after some time there was an old ancient woman that came with _sak\u00e9_\nin a silver flagon; and she brought silver drinking-cups and all things\nneedful. And Tatewaki and the lady drank the \"Three Times Three\"\ntogether. When they had done this the lady said, \"Love, let us go out\ninto the shine of the moon. See, the night is as green as an\nemerald....\"\n\nSo they went and left the house and the small fair garden behind them.\nOr ever they had closed the wicket-gate the house and the garden and the\nwicket-gate itself all faded away, dissolving in a faint mist, and not a\nsign of them was left.\n\n\"Alas! what is this?\" cried Tatewaki.\n\n\"Let be, dear love,\" said the lady, and smiled; \"they pass, for we have\nno more need of them.\"\n\nThen Tatewaki saw that he was alone with the lady upon the wild moor.\nAnd the tall lilies grew about them in a ring. So they stood the\nlive-long night, not touching one another but looking into each other's\neyes most steadfastly. When dawn came, the lady stirred and gave one\ndeep sigh.\n\nTatewaki said, \"Lady, why do you sigh?\"\n\nAnd when he asked her this, she unclasped her girdle, which was\nfashioned after the form of a golden scaled dragon with translucent\neyes. And she took the girdle and wound it nine times about her love's\narm, and she said, \"O love, we part: these are the years until we meet\nagain.\" So she touched the golden circles on his arm.\n\nThen Tatewaki cried aloud, \"O love, who are you? Tell me your name....\"\n\nShe said, \"O love, what have we to do with names, you and I?... I go to\nmy people upon the plains. Do not seek for me there.... Wait for me.\"\n\nAnd when the lady had spoken she faded slowly and grew ethereal, like a\nmist. And Tatewaki cast himself upon the ground and put out his hand to\nhold her sleeve. But he could not stay her. And his hand grew cold and\nhe lay still as one dead, all in the grey dawn.\n\nWhen the sun was up he arose.\n\n\"The plains,\" he said, \"the low plains ... there will I find her.\" So,\nwith the golden token wound about his arm, fleetly he sped down, down to\nthe plains. He came to the broad river, where he saw folk standing on\nthe green banks. And on the river there floated boats of fresh flowers,\nthe red dianthus and the campanula, golden rod and meadow-sweet. And the\npeople upon the river banks called to Tatewaki:\n\n\"Stay with us. Last night was the Night of Souls. They came to earth and\nwandered where they would, the kind wind carried them. To-day they\nreturn to Yomi. They go in their boats of flowers, the river bears them.\nStay with us and bid the departing Souls good speed.\"\n\nAnd Tatewaki cried, \"May the Souls have sweet passage.... I cannot\nstay.\"\n\nSo he came to the plains at last, but did not find his lady. Nothing at\nall did he find, but a wilderness of ancient graves, with nettles\novergrown and the waving green grass.\n\nSo Tatewaki went to his own place, and for nine long years he lived a\nlonely man. The happiness of home and little children he never knew.\n\n\"Ah, love,\" he said, \"not patiently, not patiently, I wait for you....\nLove, delay not your coming.\"\n\nAnd when the nine years were past he was in his garden upon the Night of\nSouls. And looking up he saw a woman that came towards him, threading\nher way through the paths of the garden. Lightly she came; she was a\nslender girl, dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton. Tatewaki stood up\nand spoke:\n\n\"Child,\" he said very gently, \"since we tread the same lonely road let\nus be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be\ndark.\"\n\nThe maid turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips:\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"my mistress will be glad indeed.\"\n\n\"Will she be glad?\" said Tatewaki.\n\n\"The time has been long.\"\n\n\"Long and very weary,\" said Tatewaki.\n\n\"But now you will think no more of that....\"\n\n\"Take me to your mistress,\" said Tatewaki. \"Guide me, for I cannot see\nany more. Hold me, for my limbs fail. Do not leave go my hand, for I am\nafraid. Take me to your mistress,\" said Tatewaki.\n\nIn the morning his servants found him cold and dead, quietly lying in\nthe shade of the garden trees.\n\n\n\n\nXXXVIII\n\nTHE SAD STORY OF THE YAOYA'S DAUGHTER\n\n\nThere was a wandering ballad-singer who came to a great house in Yedo\nwhere they wished to be entertained.\n\n\"Will you have a dance or a song?\" said the ballad-singer; \"or shall I\ntell you a story?\" The people of the house bade him tell a story.\n\n\"Shall it be a tale of love or a tale of war?\" said the ballad-singer.\n\n\"Oh, a tale of love,\" they said.\n\n\"Will you have a sad tale or a merry?\" asked the ballad-singer.\n\nThey were all agreed that they would hear a sad tale.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said the ballad-singer, \"listen, and I will tell you the\nsad story of the Yaoya's daughter.\"\n\nSo he told this tale.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Yaoya was a poor hard-working man, but his daughter was the sweetest\nthing in Yedo. You must know she was one of the five beauties of the\ncity, that grew like five cherry-trees in the time of the spring\nblossoming.\n\nIn autumn the hunters lure the wild deer with the sound of the flute.\nThe deer are deceived, for they believe that they hear the voices of\ntheir mates. So are they trapped and slain. For like calls to like.\nYouth calls to youth, beauty to beauty, love to love. This is law, and\nthis law was the undoing of the Yaoya's daughter.\n\nWhen there was a great fire in Yedo, so great that more than the half of\nthe city was burned, the Yaoya's house was ruined also. And the Yaoya\nand his wife and his daughter had no roof over them, nor anywhere to lay\ntheir heads. So they went to a Buddhist temple for shelter and stayed\nthere many days, till their house should be rebuilt. Ah me, for the\nYaoya's daughter! Every morning at sunrise she bathed in the spring of\nclean water that was near the temple. Her eyes were bright and her\ncheeks ruddy. Then she would put on her blue gown and sit by the\nwater-side to comb her long hair. She was a sweet and slender thing,\nscarce fifteen years old. Her name was O Schichi.\n\n\"Sweep the temple and the temple courts,\" her father bade her. \"'Tis\nwell we should do so much for the good priests who give us shelter.\" So\nO Schichi took the broom and swept. And as she laboured she sang\nmerrily, and the grey precincts of the temple grew bright.\n\nNow there was a young acolyte who served in the holy place. Gentle he\nwas and beautiful. Not a day passed but he heard the singing of O\nSchichi; not a day passed but he set eyes upon her, going her ways, so\nlight and slender, in the ancient courts of the temple.\n\nIt was not long before he loved her. Youth calls to youth, beauty to\nbeauty, love to love. It was not long before she loved him.\n\nSecretly they met together in the temple grove. Hand in hand they went,\nher head against his arm.\n\n\"Ah,\" she cried, \"that such a thing should be! I am happy and unhappy.\nWhy do I love you, my own?\"\n\n\"Because of the power of Karma,\" said the acolyte. \"Nevertheless, we\nsin, O heart's desire, grievously we sin, and I know not what may come\nof it.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" she said, \"will the gods be angry with us, and we so young?\"\n\n\"I cannot tell,\" he said; \"but I am afraid.\"\n\nThen the two of them clung together, trembling and weeping. But they\npledged themselves to each other for the space of many existences.\n\nThe Yaoya had his dwelling in the quarter of the city called Honjo, and\npresently his house was rebuilt which had been destroyed by the fire. He\nand his wife were glad, for they said, \"Now we shall go home.\"\n\nO Schichi hid her face with her sleeve and wept bitter tears.\n\n\"Child, what ails you?\" said her mother.\n\nO Schichi wept. \"Oh! oh! oh!\" she cried, and swayed herself to and fro.\n\n\"Why, maid, what is it?\" said her father.\n\nStill O Schichi wept. \"Oh! oh! oh!\" she cried, and swayed herself to and\nfro.\n\nThat night she went to the grove. There was the acolyte, very pale and\nsorrowful, beneath the trees.\n\n\"They will part us,\" she cried, \"O my dear heart's desire. The dear gods\nare angry with us, and we so young.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"I was afraid.... Farewell, dear maid, O little maid,\nsweet and slender. Remember we are pledged to one another for the space\nof many existences.\"\n\nThen the two of them clung together, trembling and weeping, and they\nbade farewell a thousand times.\n\nThe next day they bore O Schichi home to Honjo. She grew languid and\nlistless. White she grew, white as the buckwheat flower. She drooped and\nshe failed. No longer was she numbered with the five beauties of Yedo,\nnor likened to a cherry-tree in the time of the spring blossoming. All\nthe day long she brooded silently. At night she lay awake in her low\nbed.\n\n\"Oh! oh!\" she moaned, \"the weary, weary night! Shall I never see him?\nMust I die of longing? Oh! oh! the weary, weary night....\"\n\nHer eyes grew large and burning bright.\n\n\"Alas! poor maid,\" said her father.\n\n\"I am afraid ...\" said her mother. \"She will lose her wits.... She does\nnot weep any more.\"\n\nAt last O Schichi arose and took straw and made it into a bundle; and\nshe put charcoal in the bundle and laid it beneath the gallery of her\nfather's house. Then she set fire to the straw and the charcoal, and the\nwhole burnt merrily. Furthermore the wood of her father's house took\nlight and the house was burnt to the ground.\n\n\"I shall see him; I shall see him!\" shrieked O Schichi, and fell in a\nswoon.\n\nHowbeit all the city knew that she had set fire to her father's house.\nSo she was taken before the judge to be tried for her wrong-doing.\n\n\"Child,\" said the judge, \"what made you do this thing?\"\n\n\"I was mad,\" she said, \"I did it for love's sake. I said, 'I will burn\nthe house, we shall have nowhere to lay our heads, then we shall take\nshelter at the temple; I will see my lover.' Lord, I have not seen him\nnor heard of him these many, many moons.\"\n\n\"Who is your lover?\" said the judge.\n\nThen she told him.\n\nNow as for the law of the city, it was hard and could not be altered.\nDeath was the penalty for the crime of the Yaoya's daughter. Only a\nchild might escape.\n\n\"My little maid,\" the judge said, \"are you perhaps twelve years old?\"\n\n\"Nay, lord,\" she answered.\n\n\"Thirteen, then, or fourteen? The gods send you may be fourteen. You are\nlittle and slender.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" she said, \"I am fifteen.\"\n\n\"Alas, my poor maid,\" said the judge, \"you are all too old.\"\n\nSo they made her stand upon the bridge of Nihonbashi. And they told her\nstory aloud; they called it from the house-tops so that all might hear.\nThere she was for all the world to look upon.\n\nEvery day for seven days she stood upon the bridge of Nihonbashi, and\ndrooped in the glare of the sun and of men's glances. Her face was white\nas the flower of the buckwheat. Her eyes were wide and burning bright.\nShe was the most piteous thing under the sky. The tender-hearted wept to\nsee her. They said, \"Is this the Yaoya's daughter that was one of the\nfive beauties of Yedo?\"\n\nAfter the seven days were passed they bound O Schichi to a stake, and\nthey piled faggots of wood about her and set the faggots alight. Soon\nthe thick smoke rose.\n\n\"It was all for love,\" she cried with a loud voice. And when she had\nsaid this, she died.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"The tale is told,\" said the ballad-singer. \"Youth calls to youth,\nbeauty to beauty, love to love. This is law, and this law was the\nundoing of the Yaoya's daughter.\"\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n\nInconsistent hyphenation (e.g. hair-pins vs. hairpins) and variant\nspellings (e.g. fulness vs. fullness) have not been changed.\n\nVerse, and the words \"Fairy Tales\" on the title page, were italicized in\nthe original book. This has not been represented in the plain-text\nversions. Also, macrons have been removed from the word \"Dojoji\" in the\nLatin-1 and ASCII versions.\n\nMissing or misprinted punctuation has been corrected without note.\n\nThe following correction was also made:\n\np. 10: their to there (there lived in Yedo)\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Japanese Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":65217}