He was about to extend his comforting hands to Tsuya who was heaving her shoulders with half-stifled sobs, when there came a loud and persistent knocking on the front door. Taken aback by the youngster’s announcement of himself, Shinsuké suddenly sprang to his feet, lantern in hand, a picture of consternation.
“Later, then, I shall be sure to come when Shota has been sent to bed, and we shall talk it over, as you please. If you are of so strong a mind as you say, I will think once again, and—”
It was after some moments of a tender struggle that he could detach himself from Tsuya’s clinging hands. Returning to the front part of the house, again fully composed, he hastened to open the small side-door.
“Oh, I’m frozen!” cried the boy, as he darted in, almost head over heels.
“It’s turned to snow. Shin don,” he reported, brushing off the snow on the broad hat. “It looks sure like going to pile up thick to-night.”
It was about an hour later that the young apprentice, having done justice to his share of the mid-night repast, crawled into bed and fell asleep. The wind seemed to have blown itself out; but the snow was evidently going on, for a dead stillness had settled outside on the streets whence all life had been driven off to slumber. Shinsuké came back with a few lumps of charcoal which he had taken out of the trap in the kitchen floor. When they were fed to the fire in his brazier, he crouched down because he knew no better, a helpless, lone figure in a corner of the shop. Even as he remained at such a pause, his thoughts went out to the back quarters of the house where the young mistress must be awaiting him, with no thought of sleep. With those things racing through his mind, he felt himself besieged by the force of his own fate—a fate that seemed to come on and over him now to determine the course of his life for all time. If only his master would come back soon, this dreadful temptation would of itself pass away; his thoughts would, in some moments, take on such complexion.
There was in back a faint noise of screens being slid, to be followed by what seemed to be a stealthy tread in the verandah hall. Shinsuké suddenly leapt to his feet and stole his way toward the room where he had left her. It was done out of his fear lest the young mistress, petulant as she was, should make a scene that was to be averted at all costs. The two found each other where the hall had a turn.
“Are you all ready, Shin don? I have brought with me enough money to carry us on for some time. I’ll let you take care of this purse and everything.”
Tsuya pulled her hands back into her sleeves, and, bulging out the black satin trimmings across her breast, took out of the depths of her bosom a purse of yellow cloth which was almost thrust into his hands. Its weight could not be of less than ten large gold pieces[3].
“To take not only you away, but even my master’s money;—God’s vengeance would be heavy!” His protest, however, went no farther; for he was easily to succumb to her wishes.