"Are they the Mongols?" asked certain old men, who had a confused remembrance of ancient wars and foreign invasions.
"No; it is the Regent, who wants to have the Shogun killed."
"How many soldiers landed on the island?" asked Raiden, who had slipped in among the crowd.
"Nobody knows; but there were a great many; the junks were full of them."
"About fifteen hundred men," thought Raiden.
"It's the advance-guard of Hieyas' army," said the Prince of Nagato in a low voice. "If Fide-Yori's troops do not arrive promptly, Osaka is in the utmost danger. Let us put to sea again," he continued; "I have a plan, which, although desperate, may succeed."
Before leaving the village, Nagato ordered Raiden to buy a quantity of carpenter's tools. Then they went back to the shore and re-embarked.
Towards evening the little fleet hove in sight of Soumiossi, and found shelter behind a promontory which completely hid it. The place was most beautiful; enormous trees, whose naked roots clung like the claws of some bird of prey to rocks and earth, overhung the sea; bushes and shrubs swung above them tufts of gorgeous bloom; the waves were strewn with fallen petals, which floated about, collected in small islets or long wreaths. The waves, dashing against sharp rocks, cast up white foam; gulls fluttered about, like the froth of the sea turned into birds. The water was of a uniform tint of satiny blue, shot with silver, and the sky still shimmered in liquid gold, reflected from the setting sun. In the distance lay Dragon-fly Island, green and fresh, with its strange insect-like outlines; the coast of Soumiossi, one ruddy glow, displayed its jagged cliffs; and at the extreme point of the promontory a tiny pagoda reared its peaked roof, tiled with porcelain, all the angles apparently raised by the four chains which bound them to a golden arrow.
The Prince thought of another sunset,—that which he had witnessed from the mountain top near Kioto, with the Queen at his side. He closed his eyes, and saw her before him, so beautiful, so noble in the mute avowal of her grief, her lashes glittering with tears, turning upon him her pure gaze, and commanding him to marry her rival. The least details of her speech, her gesture, the little mirror upon her brow flashing like a star, were graven upon his memory with amazing distinctness.
"That was a sad moment," he thought; "and yet, as I recall it, it seems to have been full of fascination. At least she was there,—I saw her, I heard her; the sound of her voice was like balm, to heal the cruelty of her words. But now, what agony to live! Time seems like a boundless sea, where no rock or mast permits the exhausted bird an instant's rest!"