[Again bowing.
Is he not strong?
O-Umè. Be silent!
[To herself, troubled.
The lips of the old!
The lips of the old!
Ama. Is he not brave?
O-Umè. I care not.
A samurai is he—
One whose sword is his soul.
Ama. And should his tongue be
Like that of the other,
The priest of the pain-god?
[Immovably.
Is he not kind?
O-Umè. He is kind.
Ama. Kind! as O-Umè is cruel!
O-Umè. No, but as men are,
Wanting women:
Yet not once so was he!
For as children
We caught together
The June-night fire-flies
Out by the shrine of Jiso.
Ama. And then he loved you,
And ever has loved you,
And faithful is he!
O-Umè. Ai, and terrible!...
Ama. Terrible only
Because O-Umè
Turns from her fathers
And from the gods.
She sees their soul-ships
Sail to the sea—
The lights lit for them,
[Motions without.
And yet she offers
No cakes of welcome—
None of farewell!
No prayer to Buddha,
Lotus-loving,
And none to Kwannon
Who is all mercy.
But inward, inward
She turns her eyes
To see this stranger,
Priest of the Christ-god.
Outward, outward,
Ever she gazes
And ever listens,
Ever, for him!...
Oh false, false one!
False to the dead—
False to Sanko!...
O-Umè (more distressedly). The words of the old
Are like the leaves,
[Her voice breaks.
Like Autumn leaves
That ever flutter.
Ama. And those of the young——
O-Umè (becoming distraught). Oh will she hush not!...
Will this servant,
Whom my mother
Dying left me,
Waste my heart so?