The bewitching O'Kikú when, rosy and wreathed with smiles, she flew from her bower in the most becoming of costumes to embrace her love, was considerably disconcerted by her reception. She had carefully gone over details, and planned within her mind exactly how it was all to be. He would be a little upset, possibly, on his arrival, to hear of the sudden and mysterious end of his icicle. He would pretend concern, and probably show anger, relieved all the while by her flitting. She, O'Kikú, would condole, clasp her husband--all her own now--in white arms, and, breast to breast, divulge the delicious secret. He would be enchanted, of course. She would make herself so agreeable bringing forth the entire armoury of her blandishments for his behoof, that memory of O'Tei would speedily be relegated to the limbo prepared for the ghosts of marplots. This point reached, she would summon all her skill and tact, wheedle and cajole and flatter, so as to achieve the desired prize.
By making herself absolutely necessary to No-Kami, then turning on the tap of tears, the living wife would advance a step, be lifted to the dead one's place. And he should never have cause to regret the signal favour. His interests would then be hers completely. No prospect in the future, then, of being put away,--compelled, like Masago, to assume the crape. She would take her lord in hand,--be a long-headed little counsellor, chide his faults with gentleness, teach him to curb his passions, help him to replace on the neck of struggling Japan the yoke that was ominously-loose. And lo! how quickly did her toy palace tumble! No-Kami looked twenty years older than when he went away. There was a haggard wildness in his face--an expression, as he glanced at the enchantress, curiously akin, if it were possible, to aversion. His hands twitched; foam gathered on his lips. When, cooing, she laid her head upon his bosom, her hair new dressed with fresh camellia oil, he pushed her so rudely from him, that, reeling, with bruised arms, she tottered against the wall.
Could it, oh could it be, that he could have ever loved that woman? Could it be that his fiery nature was consuming, torn by the pincers of remorse? Surely he could feel naught at most for an icicle but a cold regret that would soon pass. Was it possible that in a revulsion of feeling he had actually come to detest the enchanting siren who so easily had won him? Verily it seemed like it. With eyes lowered in antipathy, he seemed to avoid her gaze with loathing. And what was that he muttered as he so roughly threw her off. Was it murderess? And what a look accompanied the word. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and though she ardently wished to repel the accusation, her lips refused their office. Did he really believe her guilty of such a foolish prank, of such a stupid blunder? She had no doubt arranged to oust the rival, to procure her expulsion from the castle; but to shed her blood and create a scandal, that would have been too foolish. Before she had time to recover from shocked surprise, my lord was gone. He gave a few brief husky orders, then groped his way, as if in darkness, to the retired eyrie where had dwelt the vanished chatelaine. Thither she felt that she dared not follow him. With forebodings gathering within her breast, O'Kikú withdrew to her apartments, fearing she knew not what.
There, on the mat, where she had laid it down, was O'Tei's samisen, encrusted with gold and ivory; yonder her broidery-frame, a book of poems open, a hundred pathetic evidences, eloquent of her who was gone. Far removed from the hum of preparation, No-Kami sat, dumbly gazing from the casement across the river towards the sea.
And then, for the first time, there passed across the mental ken of Hojo the phantoms of a gloomy retrospect. He seemed, as they swept by, to hear a forlorn chant, with the saddest of refrains--"Too late!"
He had been given a life full of brilliant opportunities and had cast them all away. His name was a byword in the land. There was not one living thing that loved him, while thousands clamoured for his death. The chill of a desolation, novel and surprising, crept over his heart, as, glancing around the bower, small objects recalled the past. Why had they tied him to O'Tei? With one more congenial the asperities of his character might have softened. O'Tei, the soft and clinging, had never loved him; no--never--not for a single moment. Something whispered now that, had he been more kind, she might have come to like him. Then, as if stung by an adder, he sprang upon his feet, with beads of perspiration on his forehead. Fool! what spell was this?--what disgraceful, infatuated weakness? Had he been more kind! Had she not loved his brother? The poison instilled by the geisha, dormant through the rapid passage of stirring events, throbbed through his veins, and he gasped and grew faint under the pain of it. Both false--his wife and brother. She was dead; no wonder he looked so glum! Perturbed though his own mind was, No-Kami could not but notice the change which had come over the face of Sampei. The sharp iron share of an ineffable sorrow had passed over his features, ploughing deep lines of grief.
On second thoughts, it was well that she was dead. She had sinned, and was justly punished. Thus far was his honour satisfied. The murderess must suffer also. By-and-by, when there should be breathing time. And the paramour as well. With staggering steps the Daimio roamed like a caged animal about the chamber, revolving direful designs. Then suddenly stopping, he laughed aloud and clapped his palms together. By-and-by, in the future! Was there any future except a yawning, bottomless gulf down which he and his were sliding? Honour, forsooth! He and his had as little to do with honour as with a future, or with life.
From far away across the sunlit waters a voice whispered mockingly, "Accursed and doomed! betrayed and friendless! Oh, desolate, solitary soul, the gods have set their brand on thee! In worlds to come an outcast!"
Trembling, the Daimio peered around. Some one had spoken. Who? No one in the corridor without. No one beneath the window. That unearthly jibing merriment! Two bloodshot eyes glaring from the cloudless sky. Cursed and doomed! Predestined to endless travail! Moaning, the Daimio cowered down and rocked himself in terror.
It was soon understood that, my lord being unhinged, and grievously sick in body and mind, Sampei would assume command. So long as the gods willed it, there should be defence, the General had determined, and to that end he moved hither and thither with forced calm, arranging details by the light of a shrewd experience; steady as some strong machine that does its work unconsciously.