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Updated: June 14, 2025
Umè-ko in her room forgot her sewing, and leaned a delicate ear closer to the shoji. Old Mata's wall of reserve went down with a crash. "He believes as you believe!" she cried out shrilly. "All your Shingon chants and invocations and miracles he has faith in. Is that not what you call enlightenment? He and Miss Umè worship together almost daily at the great temple above us on the hill.
But more wonderful than the transformation in him was, in Mata's thought, the complete reversal of her own emotions. Even in the midst of service she stopped to wonder how, so soon, it could be sweet to serve him, to minister thus to the man she had called the evil genius of the house. In some mysterious way it seemed that through him the dead young wife was being served.
It was this disgraceful and unheard-of negligence a matter already of common gossip in the neighborhood that added the last measure of bitterness to old Mata's grief. Was her master demented through sorrow that he so challenged public censure, and was willing to cast dishonor upon the name of his only child?
His nose guided him to the guilty one; a step in the right direction and his long, white fangs had closed on Mata's shoulder and he began dragging her to the doorway. Loud shrieks came from the terrified woman. She clutched wildly at her assailant and at the poles of the hut but her strength was as nothing compared to the power that held her in its grip.
There was no telling when he might return, whether he would ever return. To attempt control of Tatsu was like caging a storm in bamboo bars. Mata's eyes narrowed at this recital. "Yet I fervently thank the gods for him," said the speaker, sharply, in defiance of her look.
The former was almost sure to win. The priest must have thought this, too, for he finished his rice in maddening tranquillity, and then stirred slightly as if to go. Mata's speech flowed forth in a torrent.
In a few minutes, though it seemed ages to us, a whole posse came flying down the hill. The incessant lightning made all things appear as in the glare of day. Mâtâ's curly hair fairly stood on end, and his eyes rolled with ghastly astonishment at the spectacle.
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