“Alas,” she said, “will the gods be angry with us, and we so young?”
“I cannot tell,” he said; “but I am afraid.”
Then the two of them clung together, trembling and weeping. But they pledged themselves to each other for the space of many existences.
The Yaoya had his dwelling in the quarter of the city called Honjo, and presently his house was rebuilt which had been destroyed by the fire. He and his wife were glad, for they said, “Now we shall go home.”
O Schichi hid her face with her sleeve and wept bitter tears.
“Child, what ails you?” said her mother.
O Schichi wept. “Oh! oh! oh!” she cried, and swayed herself to and fro.
“Why, maid, what is it?” said her father.
Still O Schichi wept. “Oh! oh! oh!” she cried, and swayed herself to and fro.
That night she went to the grove. There was the acolyte, very pale and sorrowful, beneath the trees.