Calm yourself, Yodogima; have no fear of man or devil; Hideyoshi would burn down there before the name or a hair of that childs mother should suffer the discredit of a moments reflection. More I cannot say now: grant me time; it shall not be long; I would go no farther than Azuchi.
Bowing low, the taiko withdrew, and not stopping longer than to call the norimonos (chair men) hurried on, each stride burning deeper into his heart the dread that gripped him more harshly than any death.
What is it that makes you reticent? demanded he, of Oyea, who trembled at his presence. I thought your discretion, if not his tongue, of better promise.
Spare me, oh, spare me, honorable master; it is not I, but the temple that betrayed you.
Ah—and he was there?
No.
Then you have been—
And know the truth, as I do now. Come, demean yourself; I must return; tongues are no doubt already wagging, whereas yours mutely convinces.
The taiko returned thence faster than he had come. A cloud had risen from his mind; there in the presence of the one who had stood at his right through all those tempestuous years the truth had at last dawned: success attended insofar as others profited: thirst might be inherited, but genius transmitted—never.