Honzo. Nay, nay, that is an error. Kono Moronao keeps strict guard. All his sliding-doors are bolted and his shutters hasped end to end so that you cannot wrench them open. If you attempt to break them down with hammers, the noise will put him on his guard. What will you do?
Yuranosuke. Oh, for that I have a good plan. If we are too absorbed, good ideas are apt to escape us; when I was returning from the pleasure-quarters, I suddenly thought of the snow-laden bamboo in my garden and with it the plan for taking out the shutters. I will now show you how I shall do it.
Recitative. In the garden stands a great, stout bamboo bending under the heavy weight of snow. Yuranosuke turns it round and puts the tip under the lintel; it is bent like a bow by the snow.
Yuranosuke. I shall make bows bent like this with strings and put the two ends between the lintel and the sill; and when the strings are cut all at once, the result will be as you will see.
Recitative. He shakes the snow off the branches; and as it falls, the bamboo straightens of itself and raises the lintel. The sliding-doors come off the groove and fall down one after another. In his admiration Honzo forgets his agony.
Honzo. Well done, well done. Ah, with a retainer possessed of such loyalty and military ability, Lord Enya should have been more discreet; and how deplorable was his inconsiderate conduct!
Recitative. As he hears Honzo’s regret, Yuranosuke is reminded of his lord’s hasty act; and when he reflects upon what he might have done if the loyalty he is now showing he could have displayed before his lord on the battle-field, his heart is filled to choking with mortification, and only tears escape him. Rikiya calmly stands up, and going up to his father, bows to him.
Rikiya. Now that, by Master Honzo’s kindness, we are informed of the arrangement of our enemy’s house, I will go down to Amakawaya Gihei’s house at Sakai in the province of Izumi and make arrangements for our equipment.
Yuranosuke. No, no. Everyone knows that I live in Yamashina, and if we muster our confederates here, they will attract attention. When we have arrived at Sakai, we will start thence together. You, with your mother, bride, and Mistress Tonase, will remain behind and put everything in order, so that you may leave nothing to cause regret afterwards. Do you understand? And then come down by the night-boat to-morrow. I will put on the disguise which Master Honzo has happily brought here.
Recitative. He puts on the robe and the wicker-hat. In gratitude to Honzo and to dispel his anxiety in the other world, he allows in his sympathy this one night of love to the bride. As he goes out softly singing, Oishi, prepared as she has been, is plunged in sorrow; and though she only wishes him success in his undertaking, her heart aches with grief as she refrains from saying much that she would fain say at this final parting. The wounded man knows that his last moment has come, and in his dying agony he answers not the cries of his daughter. Now the link between them is snapped, and they are parted for ever in this world. Loud lament the mother and daughter; and they both throw themselves upon the body and pray for his soul’s rest, —oh, the impermanence of love. The out-going feet stop awhile and the prayer to the Amida Buddha is heard in the tunes of the flute.