CHAPTER XXVI—Hovering Hawks
All night I lay tossing in the anguish of my grief, unable to sleep and forget. Morning found me distraught and fast losing my senses in the delirium of fever.
When I reawakened to consciousness I found myself in a large room that opened upon an entrancing view of the yashiki gardens. There had been a heavy rain, and a flood of morning sun rays were streaming through the gray clouds to scintillate among the foliage with iridescent splendors. This, I believe, was what had roused me. I turned my head for a better look, and discovered that I was strangely weak. Then I remembered, and I no longer saw the magic glory of the gem-flashing garden. I groaned and sank back upon my silken quilts.
Gentle fingers stroked my forehead. I opened my eyes and gazed up into the soft eyes of the quaintly beautiful little lady Tokiwa—his mother! How could she endure the sight of him who had held the sword!—Again I groaned and closed my eyes.
A man’s voice murmured a prayer for me to give heed. I looked up and saw a benevolent old man with huge grotesque eyes. He bent forward tremulously, and I perceived that the supposed eyes were Chinese goggles. He kowtowed and, quivering and sweating with fear, offered me a bowl of medicine. I took a sip of the nauseating draught, and thrust the bowl from me in violent loathing. The physician drew back before my angry gesture, gray with fear.
“It is required that the august lord should receive treatment,” he murmured.
“It is my mind, not my body, that is sick,” I rejoined. “Go!”
He crept away in trembling obedience. The Princess Tokiwa bent over me to stroke my forehead with her soothing fingers. I shrank from her touch and threw my arm across my eyes.
“August lady,” I cried, “how can you bear to come near the tojin?—Forgive me!”