"'Pause, oh Prince, for prince thou surely art,' he gasped. 'But why hast thou done this deed?'
"And the prince, standing over him with the dripping sword, said:
"'I am O'Osu, messenger of the Emperor and avenger of evil.'
"'Then,' said the dying robber, 'thou shalt have a new name. Until this hour my brother and I have been called the bravest men in the West. To thee, august boy, I bequeath the title. Let men call thee the bravest in Yamato.'
"From that day O'Osu was called 'Yamato Take,' and never did he wrong the name."
Mary sighed when Mme. Fontaine had finished the story. She yearned for the gift of language and the power to chain the attention of a circle of people. How had she done it, this mysterious foreigner who could handle the English language even better than English people? Her words were simple and gestures she used almost none. It was her voice, Mary thought. There was an undercurrent of dramatic power in it, like a subterranean river. It could only be guessed at, but it was there, powerful and deep. Even Miss Campbell, unreasonably prejudiced, felt the undercurrent.
"That is a charming story," she observed. "I suppose Japan is filled with many romantic stories of that sort."
"Hundreds of them," answered the widow. "Volumes and volumes could be written about them and still the half not be told."
"And you know many of them, I suppose?" asked Billie.
"Oh, yes. One could not live in Japan without studying her history, so filled with romances and legends of heroic deeds. It is fascinating, I assure you, and furnishes no end of subjects for decorations from a picture on a fan to the masterpiece of a great artist."