Arriving at a gate, the stranger shouted: "Kaimon!" Immediately the gate was unbarred and opened, and the two men passed in. Then came the sound of many hurrying feet, and a rustling noise as of screens being opened. Hōïchi was assisted in mounting a number of steps, and, arriving at the top, he was commanded to leave his sandals. A woman then led him forward by the hand till he found himself in a vast apartment, where he judged that a great company of people were assembled. He heard the subdued murmur of voices and the soft movement of silken garments. When Hōïchi had seated himself on a cushion the woman who had led him bade him recite the story of the great battle of Dan-no-ura.
Hōïchi began to chant to the accompaniment of his biwa. His skill was so great that the strings of his instrument seemed to imitate the sound of oars, the movement of ships, the shouting of men, the noise of surging waves, and the whirring of arrows. A low murmur of applause greeted Hōïchi's wonderful performance. Thus encouraged, he continued to sing and play with even greater skill. When he came to chant of the perishing of the women and children, the plunge of Niidono into the sea with the infant Emperor in her arms, the company began to weep and wail.
When the performance was over the woman who had led Hōïchi told him that her lord was well pleased with his skill, and that he desired him to play before him for the six following nights. "The retainer," added she, "who brought you to-night will visit your temple at the same hour to-morrow. You must keep these visits secret, and may now return to your abode."
Once more the woman led Hōïchi through the apartment, and having reached the steps the same retainer led him back to the verandah at the back of the temple where he lived.
The next night Hōïchi was again led forth to entertain the assembly, and he met with the same success. But this time his absence was detected, and upon his return his fellow priest questioned him in regard to the matter. Hōïchi evaded his friend's question, and told him that he had merely been out to attend some private business.
His questioner was by no means satisfied. He regretted Hōïchi's reticence and feared that there was something wrong, possibly that, the blind priest had been bewitched by evil spirits. He bade the men-servants keep a strict watch upon Hōïchi, and to follow him if he should again leave the temple during the night.
Once more Hōïchi left his abode. The men-servants hastily lit their lanterns and followed him with all speed; but though they walked quickly, looked everywhere, and made numerous inquiries, they failed to discover Hōïchi, or learn anything concerning him. On their return, however, they were alarmed to hear the sound of a biwa in the cemetery of the temple, and on entering this gloomy place they discovered the blind priest. He sat at the tomb of Antoku Tenno, the infant Emperor, where he twanged his biwa loudly, and as loudly chanted the story of the battle of Dan-no-ura. About him on every side mysterious fires glowed, like a great gathering of lighted candles.
"Hōïchi! Hōïchi!" shouted the men. "Stop your playing at once! You are bewitched, Hōïchi!" But the blind priest continued to play and sing, rapt, it seemed, in a strange and awful dream.
The men-servants now resorted to more extreme measures. They shook him, and shouted in his ear: "Hōïchi, come back with us at once!"
The blind priest rebuked them, and said that such an interruption would not be tolerated by the noble assembly about him.