"Yes, beloved," answered Arisuga. "Where is she? You have slept sweetly."
"Has the clock struck?"
"The clock has struck."
"Then she is dead," whispered Hoshiko. "She was to die first—when the clock struck. And I was sleeping—sweetly, you said. Oh, gods! Go to the moat. I will pray."
At the moat there was nothing but some pebbles dislodged where small feet might have tracked. Some fresh soil was uncovered, where two large stones had been taken. One was gone, the other waited at the edge of the waters. And in this he knew how the manner of their death had been planned. Each was to take a great stone in her small arms and wade into the moat until—At the piteous picture he who had seen death by thousands choked in his throat and followed Isonna into the water.
But it was too late—much too late. And so he left her there, where she had chosen to be, for him and for Hoshiko, quite at rest, with her burden still clasped strongly in her arms, and only a little prayer to Buddha—nembutsu—Isonna!