“It is certain that the tojin peoples reverse many of the rightful rules of society and morals. Yet what has been said is of grave interest,” he observed. “Woroto Sama is doubtless aware that in Nippon a teacher is held in high honor as the temporary father of his pupils. The children of the Sei-i-tai Shogun should not remain in ignorance of the tojin world.”
I kowtowed to hide my eager delight, and waited in keen suspense.
“After the American envoy has sailed, your presence will be required. Until then—” He dismissed me with a gesture.
I withdrew to rejoin Gengo, who was waiting at the corner of the kiosk. As we passed the window a face appeared within, and I again met the loving glance of my little Princess.
CHAPTER XXIII—Lessons and Love
My impatience over the delay of the expedition to sail at once may well be imagined.
At last, on the morning of the eighteenth, Yoritomo returned home with the welcome news that the squadron had weighed anchor and put out to sea the previous day. He had much to say of the display on either side when Commodore Perry landed at Gorihama, below Uraga, and delivered over the President’s letter to Toda Idzu-no-kami and Ido Iwami-no-kami. On the following day the black ships had excited much apprehension by sailing up the bay almost to within sight of Yedo.
I listened to the account of my countrymen’s proceedings with an indifference that astonished me. Thanks to my long intimacy with my friend, the few weeks of my stay in his country had sufficed to initiate me into the life and customs of his people. I was fascinated by the samurai spirit. Yet for all that, I might well have been overcome with longing at the news of the departure of the expedition, had it not been for my love for the little Princess. Yoritomo had made me a friend to the Japanese; Azai made me a Japanese.