There arose now before her agonized vision the cruel, scornful face of the fearful mother-in-law, and beside it the round, envious, malicious countenance of Ohano. Like a meek, mute fool, she had permitted them to drive her from her rightful—yes, her legal—home, because she had not then known her full power. Now they had stolen from her the one link that bound her inexorably to the beloved dead: for Japanese women believe their soldiers dead until they return. Little they knew of the true character of the Spider! She would show them that even one of the vagabond, despised actor race from which she had come was not to be trodden upon with impunity.
She sprang to her feet, electrified with her new purpose. The geishas scattered, alarmed and frightened, on either side of her.
“Okusama!” She caught at the woman’s wandering attention as the latter raised herself from her prostrate position on the floor.
“My Moonlight?”
“You have jewels—cash, perhaps! Speak!”
The troubled brows of the Okusama drew together, and the vague look of wandering came back to her eyes. Moonlight dropped on her knees opposite the woman, and, placing her hands on her shoulders, forced her to look directly in her face.
“Answer me—speak, Okusama!”
As still the poor creature regarded her vaguely, the geisha whispered with entreating tenderness:
“Tell me—my—mother!”
Over the wild features of the Okusama a gentle, wistful smile crept.