“Oh, the war is going right on now. Well, then, he fell on his face; she graciously bent over and lifted up his head, and she spoke in the most wooing of voices:
“‘If you of a truth adore me, are you ready to die for me?’
“He said he wanted to live for her. She shook her head, and said she wanted better proof of his affection than that. He then declared he would do anything she asked.
“She thereupon said: ‘You must be a soldier!’ At this he began to tremble, for he was a great coward at heart. However, she kept him in her house for five days, teaching him the principles of bravery and valor. At the end of that time she had so wrought upon his feelings that she persuaded him to enlist. She went in person to see him march away, which he did quite bravely for him! Her last words were the noble ones Japanese women say to their men at such a time: ‘I give you to Ten-shi-sama. Come not back to me. Glorious may be your end. The blessings of Shahra upon you.’
“He was not a good soldier; he turned out to be a wretched one, indeed, and in a short time was killed. She was free again to marry. Then she chose another man-worm, and again she sacrificed him to her Emperor, with the same result. He was one of those doomed in a transport sunk in Chinese waters. She married again, and her third husband was killed. Her fourth husband was blown to atoms, and her fifth met the fate of the first. Her sixth died scarcely six months later, and her seventh died of melancholia while in Manchuria.
“Now, seven is a lucky number, and she stopped there. She said: ‘If I marry another I will have no more luck. He will live, and I have given seven men already to the Emperor. What woman of Japan has done more? Behold, I am a widow seven times over.’
“That is why she is called ‘The Widow of Sanyo.’”
So the story ended.
“Is she still beautiful?” questioned Plum Blossom, wistfully.
“Very.”