“Omi, if you love me, be patient for yet another day. If to-morrow we do not find the shrine of the honorable nun, then—then—” her voice broke, and she turned her face away. Omi caught at her hand and clung to her joyously.
“Oh, you have promised!” Then, as she saw the distress of her mistress, she cried out remorsefully that she was prepared to follow her wherever she desired to go—yes, even if it should prove to be the highest point of the mountains, said the little maid. After a moment, as the geisha made no response, Omi, already regretting her generous outburst, sighed heavily and declared it was very hard. She sat back on her heels, upon the damp ground, and looked off plaintively toward the city below. How she longed for the bright lights of the geisha-house, the chatter and the movement, the dance and the song, the warm quilt under which was hidden the glowing kotatsu, close to which, Omi knew, the geishas would creep at night for comfort. As she felt the drizzling rain and wind and saw nothing but the dark trees about her, her little head drooped upon her breast, and she began to sob drearily again.
Suddenly the Spider bent above the child and patted her softly upon the head.
“Play a little tune upon your samisen, my Omi, and I will sing to you a little song I myself have composed to the honorable baby-san.”
Instantly Omi’s face cleared. Crouched upon her heels, looking up adoringly at her mistress, she picked upon her instrument, and while the cold rain dripped down upon them the Spider sang:
Neneko, neneko, ya!
Sleep, my little one, sleep,
As the bottomless pit of the ocean,
So is my love so deep!
Neneko, neneko, ya!