See how the branches are heaving.
KUMASAKA.
The moon does not rise till dawn to-night; and even when she rises she will be covered.
Send along the order for an assault!
(Recollecting himself.)
The whole heart divided between bow-hand and rein-hand,—oh the sin of it! For ever seizing another’s treasure! Look, look on my misery, how my heart clings to the World!
PRIEST.
If you are Kumasaka himself, tell me the story of those days.
KUMASAKA.
There was a merchant, a trafficker in gold, called Kichiji of the Third Ward. Each year he brought together a great store, and loading it in bales carried it up-country. And thinking to waylay him I summoned divers trusty men....