"You have ordered my kago. Thank you," she said shortly, "for I want it. Tell the bearers I am ready; and you, priest, proceed before. I go but to the temple, so shall not want the soldiers."
With that she moved with stately step to where, in a stream of light, the kago stood.
The braves were breathless, for they beheld the heiress of proud Nara now, no longer the recluse; and there was an easy air about her of natural command, which they knew how to admire and appreciate. Not one had a word to say against the firmly-expressed resolution of their liege-lady, but stood by sheepishly. O'Tei was the real chatelaine, and, in absence of her lord, supreme mistress of castle and of warriors. The bewitching O'Kikú, as if by magic, shrank down into her natural insignificance. No doubt about it; she was the concubine, low of birth and common of breeding--the crow by the side of the falcon. The geisha tingled with exasperated shame, for her quick instinct could read at a glance the open faces of the braves. Had she toiled and schemed and wormed and manœuvred for this?--to be swept with a hand-wave like a beetle from the path by the rival she had so undervalued! Oh, when my lord returned, an effort must be made to save the situation! Clearing her husky throat, she said sourly,--
"I was about to view the snows by moonlight, but if yours is an urgent errand, I will gladly give up my litter. The weather is clear, but for a few sailing clouds; the moon will serve to-morrow."
Her foot upon the step, the chatelaine turned.
"I take my own, and crave of you no favour," she remarked haughtily. "To the temple, by way of the river bank. I myself will see the snows."
The scene had passed so swiftly that 'twas over as soon as begun. There was naught to tell the tale of the geisha's discomfiture but the shattered saké-cup. Yes, there was the absent kago, the marks of many feet where it had stood; the sheepish faces of the warriors. There was the group, too, of O'Tei's maidens huddled behind, where they chattered in high glee. The ambitious and presumptuous geisha had been put down into her place at last, firmly and quietly by her superior. That was the plain truth which there was no denying. It was written on the visages of the maidens as well as on those of the samurai. Accustomed to reign unchallenged, the blow was hard to bear. Bursting into a torrent of tears, brackish with impotent mortification, O'Kikú sank upon a cushion, and was as racked by sobs as if she had possessed a heart.
CHAPTER XVII.
[UNDER THE MOON.]
The road by way of the stream was a longer one than that by the street, for the river wound with many a turn and twist, as if loth to reach the sea. It was no more than a path, stony in some places and muddy in others--rough throughout; and there were spots where the unwieldy vehicle was in danger of overturning. The Japanese are so innately poetic that even the least educated find pleasure in gazing upon nature in its sweetest moods. On Lake Biwa, not far from Kiŷoto, there is, while I write, a tea-house on a hill, which, at certain seasons, does a thriving trade, because from that particular spot an entrancing view may be obtained of moon and foliage and water. And it is not the cultured class alone that enjoys this refined amusement. The common horny-handed field coolie may be seen smoking his pipe, beaming with satisfaction, upon the mat, surrounded by wife and children, all equally enchanted by the spectacle.