It was now some considerable time since Takara had been spirited by the ronin from Tokyo to Kyoto, where she had gone into seclusion at her mother’s house and so remained. The gaiety at court had little attraction for her, and she undertook to devote herself to a new life which should atone for all past failures. She had had her trial with men, and placing them all in the same category undertook to discard them as so much rubbish.

One day while discussing the matter with Daikomitsu she said to him:

“They are disappointing and, I believe, a burden to the real woman. No, Daikomitsu, you could not have me, were I free and you made of gold. I prefer another kind of happiness.”

“You do not mean what you say, Takara. You are chafing a bit under the weight of your misfortunes. You have my sympathy and my love too, if you will.”

“I have a husband.”

“And of what sort? I vow not of your own choice.”

“A woman has no choice.”

“Nor should she; nor would she, had I the say.”

“Thanks. I understand there are some would-be friends who are interested in all that goes with feudalism except the inheritance. You might have that, were you as clever as they.”

“I belong to the literati.”

“Oh, you do? It is strange; I had heard nothing of that since you were here last. I trust it will not get noised around too much—Ikamon might hear it.”

“Well?”

“He is worth the while.”

“Tetsutaisho’s the better man. I like him.”

“Then he has told you?”

“You seem agitated. I hope you do not count him one of the new school. Though he is close to Ikamon, I will admit.”

“No; I had another thing in mind. Go on with your talk. The mood is a modest one.”

“I’ll trust you, though it were better a man kept his own counsel.”

“Daikomitsu? Ha, ha; how egotistical!”

“And you really love me?”

“No.”

“Then you hate me.”

“No.”

“What chance is there between hate and love?”

“It is there that I would trust a woman.”

Daikomitsu was pleased to have an opportunity to unfold his plans to somebody, and no one seemed to have more patience than Takara. Even her willingness seemed an encouragement to him. It did not count that she used him as a means of escape from others, for he had grown up in the same easy atmosphere and loved her from early boyhood. He always would love her. It mattered not that she had been married to another or that she might marry still others, he should love her just the same. Time might have wrought its changes, but not the even tenor of Daikomitsu’s way.

Portly and of average height, his face smooth-shaved and head somewhat bald, a goodly measure of royal blood coursed in his veins, and he was accounted a prince of high rank. Being a devotee of that classic school which grew up around Nara, and an ardent supporter of letters, he had gained a high standing as a scholar, though his learning was hardly profound nor his manner entirely polished. He had never been accredited with anything like ability or ambition, and therefore was not courted much at home nor taken too seriously elsewhere. However, in this they were all destined to a severe awakening; for until now Daikomitsu had only once been really stirred, and that was by the sudden marriage of Takara. He had kept his counsel well, but from that time forth he had an ambition. Just what it might be he did not himself quite know; still he had determined upon something, and with one so high in the councils of state it required only time and opportunity. The occasion must come, and he was perfectly willing to drift and wait.

Not caring much for the effeminate pastimes of the plethoric supernumeraries at Kyoto, nor being required much at council, he was at liberty to go and come as best pleased him; therefore shortly after Takara’s removal to Tokyo he, too, sought the shogun’s capital. He probably did this as a natural consequence more than as a fixed plan to be near Takara; at all events he did not disturb her, and his visits were always within the bounds of strict decorum. She, on the other hand, had paid but little attention to his coming and going, treating him as she did all others who were friendly at the lord daimyo’s castle.

Later, after going to live at Tetsutaisho’s house, Takara saw but little of Daikomitsu, meeting him only occasionally at Maido’s, where they were both wont to go and visit at odd times. While Daikomitsu knew of Takara’s abandonment of her own home for that of her brother-in-law he did not divine the true extent of her relations, though much of the gossip reaching Kyoto—finally resulting in her strange return—did so through the medium of none other than himself. And when she had gone he too returned, though no one ever accused him of having any direct connection with her removal.

Daikomitsu had through all these years grown to be popular at the capital and considered a good friend at court—even accredited by some as being in sympathy with the shogun’s cause. Especially the opposition to Ikamon courted his favour and even many of the latter’s staunchest supporters admired him. In fact his influence had already come to be felt, and he had not a little to do with prolonging peace and maintaining order between the two rival factions, the north and the south. In consequence he interested himself to know whether the geisha party had been given to cover some breach between Maido and Ikamon, and whether the lord daimyo’s removal to the country had a political meaning deeper than appeared.

Tokyo he did not believe to be the place to gain such information, and hastening back to Kyoto he began making himself a friendly caller at the Kanazawa castle, though he did not associate himself much with the quiet meetings that were beginning to be held there to discuss public affairs. He may have been too sagacious for that, even though thought to be slow and of small consequence.

Nor was he in harmony with the sentiment so rapidly centring around Maido. He had lost none of his sympathies for the mikado, still he did not believe that any improvement could be brought about by the admittance of foreigners into the land; and on that point thoroughly accorded with the mikado himself, as well as with Saigo and Kido and all the leaders of the dominant faction in the south. Realising the dangers of personal alliance, Daikomitsu held himself as much as possible aloof from all doings, and contented himself with investigating the real status of affairs.

His correct understanding of the political situation, while not generally known, had been due in no small measure to his relations with Takara. The return of Shibusawa to Kanazawa had aroused her interest, and stimulated her to take a more active part in the affairs of life. In fact she had even gone so far as to delve into politics, and whatever Takara did she did with an energy. Thus she not only continued her indifferent relations with Daikomitsu, but actually sought to open, upon the same terms, some sort of intercourse with the house of Maido, including her own husband, Shibusawa.

Until now she had taken no particular notice of his return from abroad. She had always held considerable regard for her husband, though in her own heart she felt there never could be anything of family interest between them. It might have been intrigue, but it could not have been love that now prompted her to seek him.

While Daikomitsu did not know so much—Takara had not taken the pains to tell him anything—he was not jealous of Shibusawa. He had never been jealous of anybody, and only dreaded their coming together again as being the possible means of her total loss to him; he planned accordingly.

“I shall be going to Tokyo in a few days, Takara, and I trust upon my return your heart will not have gone in Shibusawa’s direction.”

“Foolish boy! You might sooner expect it yourself. However, I am going to invite them over, and I shall want you to carry the message.”

“And serve you at the door?”

“Oh, no; I shall for that excuse you; it is the daimyos’ call, not the princes’.”

“And when do you expect such a gathering?”

“Not later than Tenno-Sai. It is a good time.”

“I would return even before that, should you wish it.”

“You are always kind, Daikomitsu.”