“Yet, once again, Toro,” said Mori. “While I aid you with the Lady Hollyhock, I warn you that you will never find your complete happiness in a woman. After the first days you must look to the faithful administration of your province for your chief satisfaction in living.”
“I do not agree with you, your highness,” Toro replied. Then he added, with a cheery laugh:
“But there will be some satisfaction, truly, in administering my province, and mine ancient, rebellious sire.”
Before the officers departed, Toro, as their spokesman, had presented to their old commander two swords, richly wrought, the usual token of the samurai as their parting tribute.
“I do assure you,” Mori had responded, “that in giving me these swords you have not merely given me a reminder, as your spokesman has said, of our services for the New Japan, but you have given me as well the conquest of a newer, higher, more happy universe. As a citizen of a greater universe, I thank you.”
In these words, and in every act of the former Prince that day, the officers, save the delight-blinded Toro, had observed a touch of finality, the savoring grace of a farewell to earthly things, that, samurai as they were, had not failed to move them. Plainly their lord contemplated something that their order called honorable; yet they shuddered at the thought.
Now they were all gone out of Mori’s life, into the new life he and they had created together. The Shining Prince was left alone—alone with two swords that lay upon a low table at his side.
The moment long waited by Mori had come. The Mikado had been restored to his ancient sovereignty; peace was once more upon the land. The great purpose of his efforts was attained; every thread connecting Mori with this new order of things had gone from his opponents—from his life—save two swords alone, which he had said were means for another conquest.
Yet in spite of the atmosphere of finality that he felt pervading his apartments, Mori was not thinking of the termination he had set to his activities. His thoughts carried him beyond the black period he had said should close his sentence. Over into regions of life across finality his imagination strayed. The Lady Wistaria came back to his memory, his mind, his heart—occupied his whole being with the force of the magic spell she had woven about him.
When Jiro had made his plea the day previous Mori had instantly recognized its meaning. It came with no joy to him. His course of thought and heart had been too long bent in one direction for the timid, blind words of a youth to swing it abruptly.