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"Wait, you shall see," cried the old man, now laughing aloud, now weeping, like a hysterical girl. "You shall see in a moment! My dead wife takes me by the hand and leads me from you, just a little way, dear Tatsu, just here among the shadows. No longer are the shadows for you, joy is for you. Yes, Uta-ko, I 'm coming. The young love springs like new lilies from the old.
He realized that, perhaps, it would be better for Tatsu if he did not come at all; yet in this one issue the selfishness of love prevailed. Age and despair were to be kept at bay. He had no weapons but the hours of comparative peace he spent at Tatsu's bedside. Full twenty years seemed added to the old man's burden of life.
In Tatsu's strange submission, the artist felt that the new glory of the Kano name was being born. For a long interval the two men sat in silence. Kano leaned forward from time to time, filling the small cup which Tatsu half in revery it seemed had once more drained. The old servant now and again crept in on soundless feet to replace with a freshly heated bottle of sakè the one grown cold.
It was a real relief, a positive relaxation from strain, therefore, when Tatsu threw open the door and unctuously announced Mademoiselle Mariposa. There was the slightest rustle of skirts, the faint waft of an enchanting fragrance, and Ydo came forward.
But against all these petty, personal annoyances Tatsu had the double guard of Kano and old Mata San. The pride of the latter in this "Son of our house" was unbounded. One would have thought that she discovered him, had rescued him from death and that it was now through her sole influence his reputation as an artist grew.
"I am the child of Kano Indara," she said. "He, too, has power of the gods, and I obey him. Oh, sir, believe that you, as I, are subject to his will, for if you set yourself against him " "Kano Indara concerns me not at all," cried Tatsu, half angrily. "It is with you, with you alone, I speak!" Umè poised at the very tip of the hill. "Look, sir, the plum tree," she whispered, pointing.
Mata brought in to them, immediately, hot tea and a small dish of pickled plums. Kano drew a sigh of relief as he saw Tatsu take up a plum, and then accept, from the servant's hands, a cup of steaming tea. These things promised well for future docility. It could not be said that the meal was convivial. Umè-ko had received orders from her father not to appear.
It was the name on the scrap of paper that guided me here." "Is it possible that you do not yet know the meaning of the name of Kano?" asked the artist, incredulously. A thin red tingled to his cheek, the hurt of childish vanity. "There is one of that name in my village," said Tatsu. "He is a scavenger, and often gives me fine large sheets of paper." Old Kano's lip trembled. "I am not of his sort.
"I do not see it for myself," said Tatsu, with a low, triumphant laugh. "I see something different!" Suddenly he reached forward, caught the long ends of her hair and held them out to left and right, the full width of his arms. They stood for a moment in intense silence, gazing each into the face of the other.
Old Kano, in the background, rocked to and fro, and, after a short pause of waiting, clapped his hands for Mata. "Hai-ie-ie-ie-ie!" came the thin voice, long drawn out, from the kitchen. She entered with a tray of steaming food, placing it before Tatsu. A second tray was brought for the master, and a fresh bottle of wine.
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