The Usurper. Gautier Judith

us leave what is past and gone; let us look towards the future. Are you still devoted to me?"

      "Can you doubt it, master? And must I not now struggle to repair the wrong done you by one of my family without my knowledge?"

      "Listen, then. A conspiracy has suddenly wrested the power from my hands. I contrived to escape the death that threatened me, and fled in the direction of my principality of Mikawa. Your domains lie between Osaka and my province. Your fortress overlooks the sea, and can bar the passage of soldiers coming from Osaka; that is why I stopped here, to bid you collect your troops as quickly as possible and put your country in a state of defence. Guard your castle well. I will stay here, where I am safe from sudden attack, while my faithful comrade, Ino-Kamo-No-Kami" (Hieyas pointed to a nobleman in his escort, who bowed low to the Prince of Owari, the latter returning his salute), "proceeds to the castle of Mikawa, fortifies the whole province, and gives the alarm to all the princes my allies."

      "I am your slave, master; dispose of me."

      "Give orders to your soldiers at once."

      The Prince of Owari left the courtyard. Servants ushered their master's guests into cool, airy apartments, and served them with tea, sweetmeats, and a light meal.

      Soon Ino-Kamo-No-Kami took leave of Hieyas, who gave him his final instructions; and taking with him two of the lords who had accompanied them thither, he remounted his horse and left the castle.

      Hieyas then called Faxibo.

      The latter was engaged in devouring a honey-cake, never taking his eyes from Omiti, as she sat in a corner of the room.

      "Can you disguise yourself so that none shall know you?" he asked him.

      "So that you yourself would not know me," said Faxibo.

      "Good! To-morrow morning you will return to Osaka and arrange to learn all that goes on in the palace. Moreover, you will travel with a woman."

      Hieyas leaned towards the ex-groom and whispered in his ear.

      An evil smile hovered upon Faxibo's lips.

      "Good, good!" he said; "to-morrow at dawn I will be ready to start."

      CHAPTER IX.

      THE TEA-HOUSE

      In one of the suburbs of Osaka, not far from the beach whose white sandy slope stretches down to the sea, stood an immense building, whose roofs, of various heights, rose far above the level of the neighboring houses. The front of this edifice opened full upon a busy street, always crowded, and full of noise and confusion.

      The first floor had a series of broad windows, closed by gay-colored blinds, which were often opened wide by a push from one of the inquisitive young women whose peals of laughter rang upon the air.

      At the corners of the various roofs banners floated and large lozenge-shaped lanterns swung; the ground-floor consisted of a wide gallery open to the street and protected from the sun and wind by a light roof. Three big black characters, inscribed on a gilded panel, formed the sign of the establishment, and ran as follows, – "The Day-Break Inn. Tea and Saki."

      Towards noon the balcony was crowded with customers; they sat with crossed legs upon the mat which covered the floor; they drank saki, or hid their faces in the cloud of steam rising from the cup of tea, upon which they blew lustily, to cool it. Women, coquettishly arrayed and carefully painted, moved gracefully about from group to group, carrying the hot drink. In the background you might see smoking stoves and pretty china cups and dishes arranged upon sets of red lacquer shelves.

      Every moment fresh passers-by, cango-bearers, and men carrying burdens would stop, ask for a drink, pay, and hurry off again.

      Sometimes a quarrel would arise in front of the inn and degenerate into a brawl, to the great delight of the patrons.

      For instance, a pedler ran against a dealer in shells and cuttle-fish; his basket of wares was upset, and all the fish fell to the ground and rolled in the dirt.

      High words rained on either side, traffic was hindered, a crowd collected and took sides with one or the other of the contending parties, and soon two hostile armies were ready to try the fate of arms.

      But a shout arose: "The cable! the cable! Don't fight; bring a cable!"

      Some of the spectators hurried off, bustled into one house after another, and at last, finding what they wanted, came running back with a large rope.

      Then the lookers-on took up their stand in front of the houses, leaving a free space for those who were to struggle. The latter seized the rope in both hands, there being fifteen on each side, and began to pull with all their might and main. The rope stretched and shook, then held firm.

      "Courage! Hold tight! Don't let go!" was the cry on every side.

      However, after struggling long against fatigue, one of the parties suddenly let go the rope. The victors fell all together in a heap, with their legs in the air, amidst the shouts and laughter of the mob, who ran to their rescue. They were helped to their feet, and a reconciliation was signed and sealed by copious draughts of saki.

      The inn was thronged, and the maids were beside themselves with such an overflow of custom.

      Just then an old man, leading a girl by the hand, contrived to stop a waitress as she passed, and catch her by the sleeve.

      "I want to speak to the master of this establishment," he said.

      "You choose your time well," said the girl, with a roar of laughter.

      By a sudden movement she freed herself, and was gone before the old man could add another word.

      "I will wait," said he.

      A cask of saki was staved in, and the jolly drinkers talked and laughed noisily.

      But all at once silence fell upon them; the shrill sound of a flute and the music of a stringed instrument were heard. The sounds came from the rooms above.

      "Listen! listen!" was the general cry.

      Some of the passers stopped to hear. The sound of a woman's voice was heard. The words of the song were clearly audible: —

      "When Iza-Na-Gui descended to earth, his companion, Iza-Na-Mi, met him in a garden.

      "'How delightful to meet such a handsome young man!' she exclaimed.

      "But the God, in displeasure, replied: 'It is not fitting for the woman to speak first; meet me again.'

      "They parted, and they met each other once more.

      "'How agreeable to meet such a lovely girl!' said Iza-Na-Gui.

      "Which of the two spoke first?'"

      The voice ceased; the accompaniment went on for a few moments more.