For he that taketh a prayer unto himself
Even though his name be not named, if he receive it gladly,
Is the owner of the prayer.
Was not the promise made to the trees of the field,
To the soil of the land? Though the heart that prays marks no name upon the prayer,
Yet shall it be heard.
KUMASAKA.
Then come back to my cottage with me and pass the night there.
PRIEST.
I will come.
(They go into the cottage, which is represented by a wicker framework at the front.)
Listen! I thought you were taking me to where there would be a chapel, so that I could begin my prayers. But here I can see no painted picture nor carven image that I could put up. There is nothing on the wall but a great pike,—no handstaff, but only an iron crowbar; and other weapons of war are nailed up. What is the reason of this?
KUMASAKA.
You must know that when I first took the vows of priesthood I went round from village to village here, to Tarui, Auhaka and Akasaka—there is no end to them, but I know all the roads,—through the tall grass at Aono and the thick woods of Koyasu, night or day, rain or fine. For I was a hill-bandit in those days, a thief of the night, tilting baggage from mules’ backs; even stripping servant-girls of their clothes, as they went from farm to farm, and leaving them sobbing.