“I beg you, oh my father, forgive this mad fellow,” he cried. “I too am in fault, for I persuaded you to give this entertainment in the hope that she would break a plate and then turn to me in her trouble.”
Then O Cho San knelt before him and said, “Honorable Master, since I am the occasion of this great trouble in your household, I beg you to permit me to go away and be not angry with either your son or your servant. Forgive them, and of your graciousness allow me to depart, since my only wish is to work for the welfare of my dear mother.”
Then was the nobleman greatly touched. Mindful of Genzaburo’s long service, he forgave him. He forgave his son, also; for since O Cho San loved him not, he needed no further punishment. Mindful still more of O Cho San’s pleasant services in his household, he said, “We will speak no more of the porcelain plates of my ancestors. O Cho San will not leave me. She shall continue to live in my service and her wages shall be increased.”
Then he gave her a reward, and she lived many years and earned much yen for the welfare of her dear mother.
THE FISHES OF THE BOILING SPRING
Many, many years ago there lived at Atami a holy priest. Of all the poor people of the village, he was the very poorest, for he gave away nearly all that was given to him; and he was often hungry.
Atami was by the sea and the people lived on the sea’s bounty. When the winter swept down from Fuji San, and the storm god roared on the waves and frightened the fish away, then all the people hungered. The fathers and mothers hungered greatly, for they gave nearly all there was to the children, who were not, therefore, so much in want. But the priest hungered most of all; for he was the father of his people, and so gave them of his own share of food. Indeed, he gave them more than this; for, under the camphor tree which grew beside his little temple on the hill, he sat and prayed for his people, and the gods heard his prayers.
One day the fish were gone from the shore and the people were very hungry. The priest of Atami sat and prayed, and lo! the camphor tree opened, and there appeared to him a lovely goddess in a mantle of purple. Her face was fair and kind, but her eyes gleamed with displeasure, and she said, “Sit not here and pray for fish, oh foolish one! Even now the fish are upon your shore; behold them!” Then the tree closed and he saw her no more.
The priest was afraid and hastened to the shore; and there he saw a terrible sight and smelled a terrible smell.
The whole beach was covered with fishes. There were big fishes and little fishes, long fishes and fat fishes, and strange fishes that no one had ever seen before. They would have fed the village for many days, but alas! each fish was scalded as by fire and was crumbling into bits.