CHAPTER XXVII.
OMITI.
Winter had come; days of burning heat had given place to days of frostand ice. The leaden sky seemed to have changed places with the earth,now dazzlingly bright in its white robes of snow.
In the outskirts of Osaka the deserted shore had preserved intact thethick coat of wadding dropped from the clouds. The waves, reflectingthe dull gray heavens, looked like ink. Scattered rocks jutted fromthe ground at intervals; the snow clung to their sharp angles. Gulls,disturbed in their flight by the wind, flapped their wings; they seemeddark and dirty against this whiteness.
The last house of the suburb extended its high garden fence along thebeach; it was covered with snow, and the swinging sign, which hung fromtwo posts flanking the door, was quite illegible. The big lanternsswelling forward at either side of the entrance had been drawn in andfastened by hooks; a small penthouse sheltered them. The triple roof ofthe house seemed thatched with silver.
This was the Day-Break Inn. It was here that Omiti had for many longdays endured the cruel fate imposed upon her. She suffered in silence,with a proud resignation which accepts neither pity nor consolation.She sacrificed herself to save the lord of the kingdom. She yieldedwithout a murmur to the consequences of her sacrifice; but shesometimes thought that it would have been more merciful to kill her.She had no wish to see the King again, although she had not ceased tolove him. Her love was born of a maiden's dream. Before she over sawFide-Yori, that young prince, said to be handsome and amiable, filledher thoughts; and as she embroidered, she mused and wove a web of fancyabout his image. When she discovered the horrid plot which threatenedthe life of him who filled her soul, she felt as if she should die ofterror; but her longing to save him gave her the strength and courageof a hero. In her single interview with the King, in the lemon grove,she saw that her heart had not erred, and that she should never loveany other man. But the idea that he might love her never even occurredto her; her modesty forbade it; and since, sold for the generalpleasure, she had sunk to the lowest grade in the social scale, themere thought of again standing in Fide-Yori's presence made her blushwith shame.
Often rich merchants from the town would bring their wives to thetea-house, to spend a few hours in the company of the gaizha girls, whoinstructed them in the art of acquiring elegant manners, taught themto play the samsin, and to compose verses. Sometimes the fine lady,crouching opposite Omiti, listening, with half-open lips, to the girl'splaintive tones, was surprised to see sudden tears flood the singer'seyes. But she supposed it was a seductive wile; and going home, wouldstrive to weep as she struck the strings of her instrument.
Beneath its snowy mantle, behind its closed windows, and although itappeared quite silent from without, the tea-house was full of peopleand of noise.
For several weeks it had been thronged daily by a crowd of people ofall classes, who seemed to assemble there for some secret purpose. Themaster of the establishment was undoubtedly in league with these men;he always mingled in their conversation,--indeed he often seemed todirect and inflame it. They talked of the affairs of the nation. Thegeneral misery was frightful. This civil war, coming just at the timewhen the fields most needed the master's eye, had injured the harvests;several crops were utterly destroyed by the armies, others were poor;famine threatened all that part of the kingdom which still belongedto Fide-Yori. In the north, on the contrary, everything throve andflourished. While rice was scarce in the neighborhood of Osaka, it wassold at half price in the northern provinces; but Hieyas absolutelyforbade it to be exported to the south, and the Shogun took no painsto have a supply brought from elsewhere. While the people died ofstarvation, the Court displayed an unexampled luxury: every day weregiven receptions, feasts, and banquets. Yodogimi excited the popularwrath; she exhausted the treasury. The taxes were raised, and salarieslowered. The Government had plainly gone mad. The Court danced on theverge of an abyss, dragging their trains of gold and satin after them,to the sound of bewildering music. All were blind; no one thought ofthe possible resumption of the war. Men got drunk, they laughed andsang within the fallen walls of the fortress; they took no steps torestore the army to its former footing, or to increase it if possible.Yoke-Moura had vainly striven to act; money was wanting: the capricesand ruinous extravagance of the Princess Yodogimi absorbed it all. Andthe Shogun, what was he about? Plunged in a mysterious melancholy, hewandered in his gardens solitary and alone, doing nothing, apparentlylaying down the power. It was evident that Hieyas only waited for anopportunity to give the last blow to that crumbling structure. But whyshould he wait? The old man's wisdom was in strange contrast with theyoung man's improvidence and the folly of his Court. Hieyas must besummoned; his accession would save the nation from misery and want. Whyshould they be reduced to the last extremity? An effort must be made tobring about the inevitable issue as soon as might be.
Omiti, with growing fear, daily heard similar discourses. The guestsof the inn changed; the same men did not always return. They wentelsewhere, to stir up rebellion and wrath. It was plain that emissariesfrom Hieyas were mixed with these artisans. The Usurper felt the valueof a movement in his favor at Osaka; he was anxious to provoke it.Moreover the careless indifference of the Court was of wonderful helpto him. Omiti saw all this; she wrung her hands, and wept with despair."Then there is no one who dares to warn him of his danger!" she cried,in her sleepless nights.
One day, as she sat in her room embroidering, she noticed that thepeople talking in the room below had dropped their voices. Usually theycared very little who heard them. Her heart leaped in her bosom.
"I must hear what they say," she murmured.
She ran to the top of the staircase; and holding fast to the railing,glided to the lowest step as lightly as air, and succeeded in catchinga few disjointed sentences.
"Yes, that beach is unfrequented."
"We will enter the inn by the door which opens from the sea."
"And we will leave on the street side in small groups."
"The soldiers must be disguised as mechanics."
"Of course; but they will keep their weapons under their cloaks."
"The city is already greatly agitated; we will proceed to the fortressin a body, and summon the Shogun to abdicate."
"If he refuses, we will enter the palace and take possession of him."
Omiti shivered with horror. "I must get away from here," she muttered;"I must give the alarm."
The conspirators continued: "We must hasten; to-morrow, at nightfall,the soldiers may land."
"Directly after, a cargo of wheat and rice will arrive."
Omiti went back to her room. She had heard enough; her resolve wastaken. A sort of mystical ardor filled her soul. "My mission in thisworld is to save him, to hold him back on the edge of the precipice,"she thought with exaltation. "This is the second time that I havediscovered a guilty secret,--a plot against the man whom I lovedbefore I ever knew him. The will of Heaven is displayed in this. Oncemore I will point out his peril to him; my feeble hand shall stay theexecution of the crime."
She considered the means she might employ to escape from the house.Two other young women shared her chamber at night. She could not trustthem; they did not like her, and were devoted to their master.
Upon the ground-floor all the doors were closed on the inside byheavy bars; besides, the men servants, who had charge of the cellardepartment, slept down stairs. Therefore it was useless to think ofescape in that direction. There remained the window; it was somewhathigh above the ground, but that was not what troubled Omiti. How couldshe open the window without rousing the other women If she succeeded indoing it without a noise, the cold air blowing into the room would wakethem. Omiti thought of the window that opened on the staircase landing.But the one in her room looked upon the street, while the other openedinto the garden; and once in the garden, she still had the fence toclimb.
"No matter," thought Omiti; "I'll get out of the window on the stairs."
But how? She had no ladder at
her disposal. With a rope? Where shouldshe get a rope without arousing suspicion? She decided to manufactureone. Her comrades had gone for a walk, and she had plenty of time.Opening the boxes containing her clothes, she took out various strongsilk dresses and cut them into strips. She then braided these stripstogether, and fastened the strands by hard knots. Then she rolled upthe rope, and hid it under her mattress.
"Now," said she, "I am sure I can save him."
The day seemed long to her; the fever of expectation made her tremblenervously; her teeth chattered at intervals.
The other girls came back, their cheeks rosy with the cold; theywearied Omiti with the recital of all they had seen and done. They hadgone to the banks of the Yedogawa to see if the ice was drifting. Theyfancied they saw a few floating blocks, but perhaps it was only snow;for there was snow everywhere, even on the golden fishes that crownedthe high tower of the fortress, which were turned to silver. The windwas icy; but, to ward off the cold, the men had put on embroideredvelvet ear-caps....
Omiti paid no attention to the interminable chatter of the women. Shewas delighted to see the lanterns lighted. Darkness had come, but thelong evening still lay before her. She could not eat any supper; andfeigned illness, to avoid singing or playing the biva.
She returned to her room, where her companions soon joined her; theirwalk had tired them, and they quickly fell asleep.
The noise, the laughter, and songs of the men who were getting tipsybelow lasted yet a long time. But at last she heard the familiar soundof the bars dropping into their places; every one was gone.
She waited another half-hour, to give the servants time to sleepsoundly; then, without the slightest noise, she rose, took the ropefrom under her mattress, and slid slightly aside the panel openingon the staircase, shutting it when she had passed. She listened, andheard nothing but a few snores, which were very reassuring. She openedthe window; the night air made her shudder. She leaned out, and lookeddown; the white snow afforded a dim light.
"It is high," thought the young girl; "will my rope be long enough?"
She fastened it to the window-frame, and unrolled it. It reached theground, and even trailed a little on the snow.
Omiti wound her gown about her, and knelt on the edge of the window.But as she was about to intrust herself to that frail cord, a sort ofinstinctive fear took possession of her; she hesitated.
"What!" said she, "I tremble for my life when his is in danger!"
She let herself go abruptly, holding to the rope with both hands. Asharp pain almost forced a scream from her; she felt as if her armswould be pulled from their sockets; her hands were torn as she slidrapidly down. But all at once one of the knots in the silk gave wayunder her weight, and the rope broke.
She fell upon the snow, which swallowed her up. But her fall wasdeadened; and she rose to her feet, feeling no pain, but a suddenlassitude. After shaking off the snow, with which she was covered, shecrossed the garden and gained the fence. Luckily the door was onlyfastened by a big round bolt; after several attempts, she succeeded indrawing it back.
She was on the shore, out of that ill-omened house, free at last! Thestrong wind blew sharp from the sea, whose monotonous roar she heard.She began to run, sinking ankle deep in the snow, which rose behind herin clouds of glittering particles.
She was in such haste to be gone from the tavern, that instead of goinground the corner of the house into the street upon which the front dooropened, she followed the garden fence, which soon came to an end, andwas replaced by a wall running round another enclosure.
"I will enter the city by the next lane that opens on the beach,"thought Omiti.
She reached a sort of open square on the sea-shore, bordered on theother side by a semicircle of wretched huts, half hidden in theirmantles of snow. In the middle, a lighted lantern, hanging from a post,made a shimmering, blood-red spot. The light was very dim. The younggirl took a few steps into the square, but suddenly recoiled with acry of horror: she saw an awful face gazing down at her from above thelantern.
At the scream uttered by the young girl, a myriad other shrieks rangout from the bills of countless crows; who, roused abruptly, flew upand circled in the air in aimless fashion. Omiti was soon surroundedby the ill-omened birds. Motionless with fright, she thought herselfthe victim of some hallucination, and rubbed her eyes, trying to takein and understand what she saw. That face still glared at her; she hadsnow in her eyebrows, her hair, her open mouth, and her haggard eyes.At first Omiti thought she saw a man leaning against the post; but onlooking closer, she found that the head, without a body, was suspendedto a nail by the hair, and she recognized that she was in the squarewhere all the public executions took place.
The ground was covered with mounds,--graves hastily dug for thevictims. The body of the last criminal had been left at the foot of thepost; a dog, busily scratching the snowy shroud that veiled the corpse,uttered a long howl, and fled with a bloody fragment in his jaws. Alarge bronze statue of Buddha, seated on a lotos, was visible, spottedwith white flakes.
Omiti conquered her terror and crossed the square, stretching out herarms to drive away the crowd of ravenous crows which flocked about her.They pursued her with their melancholy shrieks, which were mingled withthe roar of the sea.
The young girl went rapidly down a narrow street, illumined by no rayof light. The snow had been trampled, and she walked through icy mud.The darkness was profound; it was not even mitigated by the whitenessof the earth. Omiti kept close to the walls, to feel her way. But thehouses did not follow in regular order; there were vacant spaces; shesometimes lost her guide. Her feet sank in pits of soft snow, whichbegan to melt in places. She fell, then rose again; the edge of herdress was soaked. She felt benumbed with cold.
"Shall I ever reach my journey's end?" she thought.
Another street appeared, crossing the first; a few lights glittereddown its length. Into this Omiti turned.
Without knowing it, the girl was passing through the very worst quarterof the city. Thieves, disreputable women, and vagabonds of every sortcongregate there. There, too, may be found a peculiar class of men,the Ronins. These are young men, sometimes noble, dragged down bydissipation to the lowest stage of ignominy. Driven from their homesor stripped of their office, but preserving the right to wear twoswords, they take refuge among the criminal classes, give themselvesover to all sorts of shameful industries, assassinate at other people'sorders, are the leaders of bands, and exercise great influence overthe villains among whom they live. A few hours earlier it would havebeen impossible for the young girl to enter this region without beingattacked, insulted, or carried by main force into some of the evil densof which it is composed. Fortunately the night was far advanced; thestreets were empty.
But another obstacle awaited Omiti: this quarter of the city is shut inby a gate guarded by a watchman. How could she make him open the doorat this hour? What excuse could she give to the suspicious and probablysurly keeper? Omiti considered this as she walked. She soon saw thewooden gate at the end of a street, lighted by several lanterns; shenoticed the hut, made of planks, for the gatekeeper's shelter.
"I must be bold," she thought; "if I manifest the slightest uneasinesshe will distrust me."
She marched straight up to the door. The man was probably asleep, forthe sound of her footsteps did not bring him out. Omiti measured thegate with her eye. It was impossible to climb over; it was surmountedby barbed iron wires.
The young girl, her heart beating hard, knocked at the hut. The keepercame out with a lantern. He was well wrapped in a wadded robe, and hishead was lost in the folds of a brown woollen scarf; he looked sickly,and besotted with drink.
"What's the matter?" said he, in a hoarse voice, lifting his lantern toa level with Omiti's face.
"Open the door," said the girl.
The fellow burst out laughing.
"Open the door at this time of night?" he cried; "you're crazy." And heturned on his heel.
"Stop!" said she, holding him
fast; "my father is sick, and sent me tofetch the doctor."
"Very well, there are plenty of doctors here. There's one not ten stepsaway; there's another in Grasshopper Street; and still a third at thecorner of Thieves' Lane."
"But my father has no faith in any but his own physician, who lives inanother district."
"Go home and to sleep!" said the man. "That's all a lie; but you can'tfool me. Good night!"
He was about to close the door of his hut.
"Let me pass," cried Omiti, in despair, "and I swear you shall be paidbeyond your utmost hopes."
"You have money, then?" said, the keeper, turning quickly back.
Omiti recollected that she had a few kobangs in her sash, and said,"Yes."
"Why didn't you say so in the beginning?"
He took the monstrous key that hung from his belt and went to the gate.Omiti gave him a kobang. It was a large amount to the ill-paid man, whodrank up his wages as fast as he earned them.
"With such a reason in your hands, there was no need to put your fatherto death!" said he, throwing open the gate.
"Which is the shortest way to reach the banks of the Yedogawa?" sheasked.
"Walk straight ahead. You'll come to another gate; it opens on theshore."
"Thank you!" said she.
And she moved rapidly away. The road was better; the snow had beenshovelled away and piled in heaps.
"How I am safe," thought the happy girl, heedless of the fatigue thatweighed her down.
She gained the second gate. But now she knew what she was to do to haveit opened. The keeper was pacing up and down, stamping his feet, tokeep warm.
"I'll give you a kobang if you'll open the gate," she exclaimed.
The man stretched out his hand and put the key in the lock. Omitipassed through; she was on the bank of the river. She had only to climbup to the castle now. The road was long, but unimpeded. She walkedbravely forward, drawing her gown close about her, to ward off the cold.
The guardians of the night passed on the other shore, striking theirtambourines, to announce the last watch of the night. When the younggirl reached the castle, a wan and pallid light was struggling to breakthrough the clouds. The snow resumed its dazzling bluish whiteness; itseemed to radiate light rather than to absorb it from that gloomy sky,apparently covered with reddish smoke.
The castle reared its imposing mass before the young girl's gaze. Thelofty towers stood out against the heavens, the broad roofs of theprincely pavilions were ranged in order; the cedars along the firstterrace had collected on their evergreen branches heavy lumps of snow,fragments of which fell from time to time and slid from bough to bough.
Omiti felt the tears come into her eyes when she saw the ruined wallsand the filled-up moats. "My poor dear Prince!" she said. "You havegiven yourself up to your enemy; if the war were to begin again, youwould be lost. At least you shall escape once more from the odiousconspiracy contrived against you."
All were asleep in the castle, except the sentinels pacing to and fro;the fallen ramparts were replaced by living walls.
At the moment Omiti touched her goal, she feared she had not thestrength to take the few steps necessary to reach the fortress-gate.Soaked with snow, spent with fatigue and excitement, the cold morningair made her shiver from head to foot. Everything swam before her; herpulses throbbed; there was a singing in her ears. She hurried to thegates; the sentinels crossed their lances, to bar her way.
"No passing here!" they said.
"Yes! I must pass at once,--I must see the King, or you shall beseverely punished!" cried Omiti, in broken accents.
The soldiers shrugged their shoulders. "Stand back, woman; you aredrunk, or mad. Begone!"
"I beseech you, let me in. Call some one; I feel as if I were dying.But first I must speak with the King! I must! You hear? Do not let medie before I have said my say."
Her voice was so sad and so full of entreaty that the men were moved.
"What ails her?" said one. "She is pale as the snow; she might die, asshe says."
"And if she has something to tell!"
"Let us take her to the Prince of Nagato; he can decide whether it'sworth hearing."
"Well, come in!" said one of the soldiers; "we pity you."
Omiti took a few tottering steps; but her strength deserted her. Shehurriedly snatched from her bosom a withered flower and held it to thesoldiers; then, with a stifled cry, she fell backwards.
The embarrassed and uneasy soldiers looked at each other, consultingone another with a glance.
"If she is dead," said one, "we shall be accused of killing her."
"We'd better throw her into the river."
"Yes; but how are we to touch a corpse without making ourselves impure!"
"We will purify ourselves according to prescribed laws; that will bebetter than being sentenced to have our heads cut off."
"That's so; let's be quick. Poor thing! it's a pity," added the fellow,leaning over Omiti. "But then it's her own fault: why did she die likethat?"
Just as they were about to raise her and carry her to the river, aclear young voice was heard singing:--
"Is there aught on earth more precious than saki? If I were not a man, I would fain be a tun!"
The soldiers sprang back. A lad came forward well wrapped in afur-trimmed robe, his head buried in a hood tied under his chin. Heproudly rested his velvet-gloved hand upon the hilts of his two swords.
It was Loo returning from a nocturnal revel alone and on foot, that hemight not be denounced to the Prince of Nagato by his suite; for Loohad a suite of his own, now that he was a Samurai.
"What's going on here? Who is this woman stretched motionless on theground?" he cried, casting a terrible, glance from one soldier to theother.
The soldiers dropped on their knees, exclaiming:
"Your lordship, we are innocent. She wanted to enter the castle, tospeak to the Shogun; touched by her prayers, we were about to let herpass and to conduct her to the illustrious Prince of Nagato, when allat once she fell dead."
Loo bent over the young girl. "Donkeys! Dolts! Drinkers of milk!Trodden-down shoes!" he shouted, in a rage, "don't you see that shestill breathes, that she has only fainted? You leave her there in thesnow instead of going to her aid? To cure you of your stupidity, I'llhave you beaten till you drop dead on the spot."
The soldiers shook in every limb.
"Come," continued Loo, "lift her carefully, and follow me."
The men obeyed. As they entered the gate of the fortress, the youngSamurai knocked at the guard-house close by. "Renew the sentinels!" heshouted; "I need these fellows."
And he went on. The Prince of Nagato was asleep. Loo did not hesitateto rouse him. He knew that the Shogun was trying to find traces of ayoung girl whom he adored. He had followed the King, in his searchthrough the city, with his master. The fainting woman, whom he hadjust found at the castle gate, was very like the portrait sketched byFide-Yori.
"Master," he said to the Prince, who, still but half awake, fixed asurprised and sleepy gaze upon him, "I think I have found the object ofthe Shogun's search."
"Omiti!" exclaimed Nagato; "where did you find her?"
"In the snow! But come quickly. She is cold and motionless; do notleave her to die."
The Prince slipped on a fur-lined garment, and ran to the room whereOmiti lay.
"This may well be the one we have sought," said he, as he saw her; "letsome one call the Shogun. But first send servant-women here, and letthem take off this young girl's wet and muddy clothes. Summon also thepalace doctor."
Omiti was wrapped in the softest furs; the women stirred up thefire burning in a huge bronze bowl. The King came quickly. From thethreshold, through the open panels, he saw the girl in the midst of avast heap of splendid furs and stuffs. He uttered a cry of joy, andrushed towards her.
"Omiti," he cried, "is this a dream? Is it you? After so long aseparation you are restored to me at last!"
At the King's outburst the y
oung girl trembled; she opened her eyes.The doctor arrived, breathless; he knelt beside her, and took her hand.
"It is nothing," said he, after he had felt her pulse carefully; "aslight fainting fit, undoubtedly, brought on by cold and fatigue."
Omiti, with her large eyes full of surprise, shaded by long quiveringlashes, gazed at the people grouped about her. She saw the King ather feet; standing close beside her, the Prince of Nagato, smilingkindly at her; then the grave face of the doctor, made grotesque by anenormous pair of spectacles. She thought she must be the toy of somedream.
"Do you suffer, my sweet love?" said Fide-Yori, clasping Omiti's littlehand in both his own. "What has happened to you? Why are you so pale?"
She looked at the King, and heard his words without comprehending them.Suddenly her memory cleared; she rose abruptly. "I must speak to theShogun!" she cried; "to him alone, and at once."
With a gesture, Fide-Yori dismissed the spectators, but detained thePrince of Nagato. "You can speak before him; he is my dearest friend,"said he. "But calm yourself. Why do you look so frightened?"
Omiti tried to collect her ideas, troubled by fever. "Because," shesaid, "Hieyas, by means of wily emissaries, is inciting the citizens ofOsaka to rebel, and to hate there lawful lord. An insurrection is totake place this very night, and soldiers disguised as mechanics willland upon the shore in the outskirts of the town. They will enter thecity and march upon your dismantled castle, to demand that you shallabdicate your title, or to kill you if you refuse. You do not doubtmy words, I hope? Once already you have had proof, alas! that themisfortunes I predict are real."
"What!" cried Fide-Yori, his eyes filling with tears, "was it to saveme yet again that you came? You are the good genius of my life!"
"Make haste and give your orders; take measures to prevent the crimeswhich are impending," said Omiti; "time presses. It is to be to-night,do you understand? Hieyas' soldiers are to invade your city bytreachery." Fide-Yori turned to the Prince of Nagato. "Iwakura," saidhe, "what do you advise me to do?"
"Let us warn General Yoke-Moura. Let him call his men to arms, andwatch the shore and the city. Is there not some place where the leadersof the conspiracy are to meet!" he added, addressing Omiti.
"There is," said the young girl; "at the Day-break Inn."
"Very good; then we must surround the inn and seize the rebels. Do youdesire, master, that I should see your orders executed!"
"You will make me happy, friend, by doing so."
"I leave you, sire," said Nagato. "Let nothing disturb you, and giveyourself freely up to the joy of reunion with the woman whom you love."
The Prince withdrew.
"What does he mean?" thought the astonished Omiti. "The woman whom youlove: of whom was he talking?"
She was alone with the King, and dared not lift her eyes; her heartthrobbed violently. Fide-Yori, too, was troubled; he did not speak, butgazed at the lovely girl who trembled before him. She, lost in blushes,twisted in her fingers a tiny withered twig.
"What have you in your hand?" gently asked the Shogun; "is it atalisman?"
"Don't you recognize the spray of lemon-blossoms which you gave me whenI saw you?" said she. "Just now, when I fainted, I offered it to thesentinels. I thought that they would take it to you, and that the sightof it would recall me to you. But I find it is still in my hand."
"What! You kept those flowers?"
Omiti raised her clear eyes to the King, revealing her soul in herface; then dropped them quickly. "Because you gave them to me," saidshe.
"You love me, then?" cried Fide-Yori.
"O master!" said the startled girl, "I should never have dared toconfess the weakness of my heart."
"You will not confess your love? Well! I love you with all my soul, andI dare to tell you so."
"You love me?--you, the Shogun?" she exclaimed, with touching amazement.
"Yes, and I have long waited your coming, wicked one. I have soughtyou; I was plunged in despair; you have made me suffer cruelly! Butsince you are here, all is forgotten. Why did you delay so long? Hadyou no thought of me?"
"You were my only thought; it blossomed like a celestial flower in themidst of my sad life; without it I should have died."
"You thought of me, while I groaned at your absence; and you did notcome?"
"I did not know that you had deigned to remember me. Besides, had Iknown it, I should not have come."
"What!" cried the Shogun, "is it thus you love me? Would you refuse tolive with me--to be my wife?"
"Your wife!" murmured Omiti, with a bitter smile.
"Certainly," said Fide-Yori; "why do you look so sad?"
"Because I am not worthy even to be numbered with your servants; andwhen you learn what I have become, you will drive me from you withloathing."
"What do you mean?" cried the Shogun, turning pale.
"Listen," said the girl, in a hollow voice. "Hieyas came to my father'scastle; he found out that I had discovered the frightful plot againstyour life, and had betrayed it; he had me carried away and sold asservant in a tavern of the lowest class. There I have lived as womenlive who are slaves. I never left that inn until last night. Once moreI overheard a conspiracy against you. I escaped from the window bymeans of a rope, which broke. Now you are saved, let me go; it is notfit that you should stay any longer in the company of a woman like me."
"Hush!" cried Fide-Yori; "what you tell me breaks my heart. But do youthink that I could cease to love you? What! It was for my sake you werereduced to servitude; for my sake you have suffered. You have saved mylife twice, and you think I would forsake you I would scorn you? Youare crazy. I love you more than ever. You shall be queen; do you hearme? How many women in your condition have been bought and married bynobles. You are here; you shall not leave me."
"O master!" exclaimed Omiti, "I conjure you, remember your rank; thinkof the duty you owe to yourself; do not yield to a passing desire!"
"Hush, cruel girl!" said the King. "I swear that if you continue todrive me to despair I will slay myself at your feet!"
Fide-Yori put his hand to his sword.
"Oh! no, no!" shrieked the girl, turning ashy pale "I am your slave; dowith me as you will."
"My beloved queen!" cried Fide-Yori, clasping her in his arms, "youare my equal, my companion, and not my slave. It is not merely from aspirit of obedience that you yield, is it?"
"I love you!" whispered Omiti, raising her beautiful eyes, wet withtears, to the King.