There followed four days of anxious waiting. Though the Prince went daily to the palace, my presence was not commanded, and in the continued state of public stress and turmoil, it was thought best that Yoritomo and I should keep close within the yashiki. The Mito faction had given wide publication to a garbled account of our trial, which libelled us with the stigma of confessed spies. Had we appeared in the streets of the official quarter before excess of fury had exhausted the rancor and excitement of the samurais, we should have been hacked to pieces by our enemies and their dupes.

Throughout the vast extent of the lower city the panic continued without cessation. Day and night the bay-front populace streamed inland by thousands, bearing upon back and shoulder their household goods, young children, and aged mothers. Skirting along the outer moat of the official quarter, the bulk of the refugees from the southern half of Yedo poured past Owari Yashiki in an endless mob, all alike possessed by the one frantic desire to place themselves beyond reach of the magic tojin cannon.

Yet vast as was the multitude of townsfolk that poured out of Yedo, fully a third were replaced by the hatamotos and samurais that rushed in to the defence of the Shogun’s capitol, while reports were received that the daimios down the bay had assembled ten thousand armor-clad men within the first two days. The clans were responding to the call of the Shogunate by lining up to present a solid front to the barbarians.

Had there been confirmation of the first wild rumor that the black ships numbered sixty and their guns six hundred, or had Commodore Perry attempted a forceful landing, the heat of patriotic loyalty would have fused even the icy venom of the hatred between Owari and Mito. But the Commodore, though firm to arrogance, took utmost care to avoid all acts of violence, and his squadron was not large enough to awe the Mito faction into forgetfulness of their desire to overthrow the Shogunate.

At last, after much debate and intrigue, the Prince and Satsuma, backed by Ii Kamon-no-kami, won a denial of the demand of Keiki and Midzuano for immediate hostilities. The American envoy having resolutely refused to go to Nagasaki and having again threatened to ascend the bay, Iyeyoshi reluctantly appointed two of the lesser daimios as commissioners to receive the letter of the President of the United States.

Together with the news of this victory, the Prince brought from the palace the Shogun’s command for Yoritomo to break the seclusion of his mourning and proceed to Uraga. The duty assigned him was secretly to check the interpreters, and make a full report of all that occurred during the ceremony of receiving the tojin letter. He was forbidden, on pain of death, to enter into any communication with the barbarians.

This was during the afternoon of July the eleventh. Yoritomo and I sat up late that night discussing the situation. He pointed out the extreme precariousness of my standing as a supposed tojin spy in the opinion of all who favored Mito. I replied that with the risk doubled, and only half my present slender chance of winning my little Princess, I should still prefer Yedo to the safety of the warships. He then offered to smuggle a message from me to the Commodore, so that the Shogunate might be warned to protect me from harm. I objected that I did not wish to be delivered over to my countrymen and taken out of Japan; that the discovery of such an attempt to communicate would mean ruin, alike to us and to his plans; and that I was willing to face the risk I had brought upon myself by coming to Japan with him. So it was that my friend set off down the bay the next morning in one of the swift government guard-boats, pledged to silence regarding my presence in Yedo. Had he not given me his word, all the watchfulness of the dozen hatamoto attendants and spies who accompanied him would have failed to prevent his communicating with Commodore Perry.

His departure, I must confess, left me more than lonely. The Prince continued to spend his days at the palace, either opposing Midzuano and Keiki in private audience, or planning with the Household to checkmate the intrigues of the Council and its supporters to bring about an attack on the black ships.

At last, about noon of the fifteenth, Fujimaro, my chamberlain, informed me that I was commanded to appear before the Shogun. An armed escort was provided for me, with Yuki, now my swordbearer, in command, and I was borne to the citadel at a speed that in less strenuous times would have disgraced the House of Owari. Had the identity of the norimon’s occupant been suspected by the war-accoutred samurais who still thronged the streets of the official quarter, I doubt whether we should have reached our destination without a bloody fight.

To avoid such an untimely conflict among the clans, instructions had been given to admit me in my norimon, as on my first visit, through the Heanzo Gate, at the head of Kojimachi Street. My guards, with the exception of Yuki and Fujimaro, were required to wait outside the gate. Within the bastion my bearers halted and set down the norimon. I peered out to ask Yuki the reason for the halt. He had stepped aside, and in his place I saw Gengo bowing and smiling with irreproachable suavity.

“Proceed across the garden,” I commanded.

“Pardon, my lord,” murmured the fellow. “It is required that my lord should descend and come with me unattended.”

“I have been commanded to appear before His Highness,” I said. “How can I trust to the guidance of one who once lost me in a certain other garden?”

He faced me squarely with no other look than contrition in his eyes. “My lord covers me with well-merited shame,” he replied. “Many others than myself were dazed by the great fear that fell upon all Yedo that day; yet my lord does well to reproach me for my stupid blunder.”

“To save you the shame of repeating the error, I will ride through the garden, as on my first visit.”

“The gods forbid!” he exclaimed, dropping on his knees. His voice sank to a faint whisper. “My lord, it is not permissible—my lord must give over his sword and dirk, and come with me unattended.”

I smiled. “The pleasure of waiting at deserted kiosks is not always appreciated.”

“This time there will be no need to wait,” he whispered. “His Highness is in the garden. If my lord doubts, let him demand the escort of the gate captain. But he must leave his norimon, as I have explained.”

I felt the brace of pistol-butts within my bosom. This time I had come fully prepared. “Open,” I called.

Yuki and Fujimaro sprang to assist me from the norimon. I thrust my feet into the clogs held by them, and handed over my sword and dirk to Yuki.

“I am ready,” I said.

The chamberlain started off with a look that told me he was puzzling to surmise whether I was a blind fool or a very brave man. Either I had been too obtuse to suspect his part in the ambush, or else, knowing his treachery, I was, he supposed, following him unarmed into another secluded garden. His open display of perplexity convinced me that he now had no treachery in mind, else he would have kept closer control of his expression.

Without a second backward glance, he led the way at a rapid pace up an avenue of umbrella pines. Somewhat over a quarter of a mile brought us to a narrow path that crossed the avenue at right angles. Gengo turned to the left, up the new way. I felt of my revolvers, and clattered after him. He came to a rockery bordered with dense groves, an ideal place for an ambush. I stopped short. He went on a few steps, and pointed around the far side of a huge rock. I gripped my revolvers and advanced.

Beyond the boulder the rockery opened out around a little artificial cliff, upon the crest of which was perched a small summer-house. Through the latticed end of the building I perceived a figure in black and yellow robes. I waved Gengo to lead on. We skirted around to the right, and came upon half a hundred hatamoto guards in full war-harness. For a moment the sight of their flashing lance blades, horned helmets, and steel mail gave me a lively fright.

I half halted, only to advance again as I saw that they were making way for me, with respectful smiles and bows. Gengo passed on through their midst, and ascended a narrow wooden stairway that led up the rear of the cliff. Following close upon his heels, I swung up after him and around the enclosed end of the building. Through a small window, a yard or so short of the second corner, I caught a glimpse of a lady’s coiffure.

The sight thrilled me with the thought of rapturous possibilities. I hastened around into the low veranda of the kiosk’s front, dropping my clogs at the edge in imitation of Gengo. A few steps more brought us into the presence of the Shogun. His Highness was seated upon a low divan, with Owari dono before him on his left, and Satsuma on his right. As we rose from our salute, Gengo placed a cushion for me beside the Prince, and silently withdrew.

The Shogun favored me with a slight relaxation of his austere frown. “Woroto Sama has displayed commendable diligence in responding to our command,” he said.

“The will of Minamoto Iyeyoshi is the pleasure of those who desire to serve him,” I responded.

Owari and Satsuma exchanged glances approving the politeness of my phrasing. Iyeyoshi nodded, and made a sign to the Prince, who drew forward a small rosewood case richly ornamented with gold. I saw at a glance that the designs were not Japanese—I thrilled at sight of the well-remembered eagles! From the box the Prince handed to me an official document written in English and sealed in gold with the great seal of the United States of America. I raised the document to my forehead and kowtowed.

“The letter of the President!” I murmured.

“Translate,” commanded the Shogun, taking up a paper written in classical Chinese ideographs. The Prince unrolled a similar paper, while Satsuma opened a Dutch writing. I perceived that I had been summoned for the purpose of cross-checking the translations of Yoritomo and the official interpreters. I rose to my knees and began reading the document in my best Japanese:

“‘Millard Fillmore, President of the United States of America, to his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Japan. Great and good friend—’”

Iyeyoshi checked me with a gesture. “A difference! It is here rendered, ‘His Exalted Highness the Tycoon.’ You say, ‘His Highness the Shogun.’”

“The error is mine, Your Highness,” I explained. “The terms may not be translated literally. Their intent is to express supreme rulership.”

“In such case,” said Satsuma, “Mito may be expected to claim that the message is addressed to the Mikado.”

“I regularly received investiture as Shogun from the Mikado,” replied Iyeyoshi, frowning. “The rulership of Nippon is in my hands, according to law and custom. I am not the first Shogun to be addressed as ‘Tycoon’ and ‘O-gimi.’”

“The letter is properly received by Your Highness,” observed the Prince. “The Mikados have chosen to maintain their sacred seclusion for generation after generation. It is for Your Highness to defend the domains of the present descendant of the Sun Goddess and inaugurate a glorious cycle for Dai Nippon by opening the land to enlightenment.”

“The bonds of ancient laws are not to be broken without deliberate consideration,” replied the Shogun, and he signed to me to proceed.

I read on slowly through the letter’s courteous expression of friendship and of desire for commercial intercourse, the arguments regarding the mutual advantages of trade, and the need of protection to the shipwrecked sailors of our whalers and other ships. At almost every line I was questioned and cross-questioned, above all when I came to the suggestion that the laws might be suspended and intercourse tested as an experiment for a limited period. This proposal received the hearty approval of both the Prince and Satsuma, and they urged its acceptance upon the Shogun. He asked me numerous questions about treaties between the Western nations, and then, without replying to his advisers, commanded me to proceed.

As I finished the reading and returned the letter to its case, the Shogun turned upon Satsuma with a deepening of his frown. “You speak as counsellor for the barbarians. You have yet to refute the ten reasons for war set forth in the memorial of Rekko, Prince of Mito.”

The Daimio took a scroll from his sleeve, opened it, and ran a finger down the vertical lines of writing as he spoke his comments: “Your Highness, it is true that in the past the armies of Nippon have been victorious in foreign lands, but the tojins do not come as invaders. It is no disgrace to enter into honorable treaty with peaceful envoys.”

“And, possessed of tojin cannon and ships, Nippon may again win glorious victories in Korea and China,” added the Prince.

“Regarding the second statement,” went on Satsuma, “the tojin letter declares that religion is a matter apart from the policy of the American Government. There is no intent to force the doctrines of the evil sect upon us. As to the question of trading precious goods and metals for those we do not want, the tojin nations buy only what they desire and sell what they please. We can do the same. Mito speaks of the Chinese Opium War. If we accept the offer of friendly intercourse, we can learn the ways of the tojin and acquire skill in their methods of warfare.”

“In one breath Mito says that we are not as brave and strong as our ancestors, and in the next urges us to plunge into war with these friendly envoys,” said Owari. “He defames the brave samurais who have rushed to the defence of our shores, and then asks if it is wise to disappoint their ignorant desire for attack.” “The interests of Dai Nippon are of greater moment than the interests of the clans in control at Nagasaki,” added Satsuma.

“The haughty demeanor of the American admiral proves that the American Government has honored Nippon by sending an envoy of exalted rank,” argued the Prince. “Only the frogs in the well consider the presence of the black ships an insult. It is the Mito faction that seeks to undermine the fear and respect due the Government of Your Highness. Should such disloyalty continue, ‘chance to rouse the case-dulled spirit of our men’ will soon be presented by the need to chastise the defamers of the Shogunate.”

“Enough,” said Iyeyoshi, relaxing his frown. “You have replied to the memorial and in part refuted its statements. Nevertheless, the Daimio of Kaga and many other powerful clan leaders support Mito. The black ships soon sail. They will not return for a long period. We have ample time to deliberate over our answer to the tojin ruler. Letters will be sent to all the daimios and noted officials and counsellors in Dai Nippon, commanding their advice.”

Satsuma bowed, more pleased, I fancied, than the Prince. “The proceeding is without precedent, Your Highness, yet none may doubt that it is the course of wisdom.”

The Shogun touched a small gong. A screen at the inner corner of the veranda slid open, and O Setsu San kowtowed on the sill-beam. The Shogun made a sign. The girl withdrew.

“Your Highness,” murmured the Prince. “Woroto Sama came to Nippon sincerely desirous of rendering a service of friendship and good will. Your Highness condescends to favor him, but Mito seeks his destruction. There is yet time to send him aboard one of the black ships, if Your Highness considers his presence in Yedo unpropitious.”

“Does Woroto wish to join his countrymen?” demanded the Shogun.

“The Land of the Gods is very pleasant to me, Your Highness,” I answered. “I do not wish to go. I desire to remain until death.”

The Shogun gazed at me between doubt and friendliness. “The prayer of Woroto is granted. He may remain in Yedo, at least until the return of the black ships,—provided he is willing to risk the consequences should the counsel of Mito prevail.”

I saw a slender figure bowing forward through the opening in the screens, and a flood of color leaped into my face.

“Your Highness,” I cried, “I will gladly risk all! I thank you for your gracious permission to remain!”

The Shogun stared piercingly into my flushed face; then turned with the Prince and Satsuma to watch Azai, his face, like theirs, grave almost to solemnity. With slow and graceful movements that followed one upon the other with the precision of a formal ritual, my little Princess entered with a brazier upon which the charcoal glowed in a tiny crater of rock crystal. Setting this before us, she returned to fetch, one at a time, tongs, kettle, dipper, tea canister, bowls, and various other tiny utensils.

Throughout the bringing and arranging of this equipment the profound silence was broken only by the occasional murmuring of set phrases. Azai proceeded with utmost grace and delicacy, too intent upon the correct performance of the tea ceremony to venture a glance at me. The tea, crushed into a fine powder, was mixed in a bowl with boiling water and beaten with a bamboo whisk that my darling rolled deftly between her fingers.

The first bowlful of the tea porridge was served to the Shogun upon a tray of unvarnished cypress wood, which was then set aside. But the bowl was rinsed and filled with a second mixture, which was served to the Prince on a gold-lacquered tray. Again the bowl was rinsed and used to serve the soup-like tea to Satsuma on the same tray. Last of all Azai rinsed the bowl and prepared my tea with the same delicate precision and grace.

When she approached to serve me, I looked to see her blush or tremble. I was yet to learn the full measure of a Japanese lady’s self-control. Holding the tray on a level with her adorable little chin, she knelt before me without the slightest trace of a quiver beneath her gracious smile. The exquisitely delicate rose tint of her cheeks neither paled nor deepened. Only once, as I set the emptied bowl back upon the tray, her lowered lashes lifted for an instant, to disclose to me a glimpse of the unfathomable tenderness and love in the depths of her lustrous eyes.

With the same slowness and solemnity she drew back and proceeded to carry out the brazier and service in set order, while her father, the Prince, and the Daimio noted the last stages of the ritual with their formal phrases. I sat in the meek attitude of a neophyte, but I fear I gave little heed to the solemn ritual. All too soon Azai kowtowed and disappeared. The quaint rite was at an end.

That she should have come and gone with only that one glance and never a word for me, went far to lessen the joy of seeing her. My face was grave when the Shogun looked down upon me. He nodded approvingly. “Woroto Sama seems versed in the pleasant mystery of the tea ceremony. It is known in his country?”

“I seek to learn, Your Highness. The ceremony is undeveloped in my country. As yet the drinking of tea is for the most part confined to our women.”

The word set loose upon me a flood of questions with regard to tojin women and marriage. I answered as best I could. As I anticipated, Satsuma and the Prince were no less shocked than the Shogun at the freedom allowed Occidental women. But I perceived that the severity of His Highness’s look softened when I dwelt upon the honor and respect which we accord our wives. I recalled that statement of Kohana San that Minamoto Iyeyoshi regarded his daughter with the fondness due a son.

“It is certain that the tojin peoples reverse many of the rightful rules of society and morals. Yet what has been said is of grave interest,” he observed. “Woroto Sama is doubtless aware that in Nippon a teacher is held in high honor as the temporary father of his pupils. The children of the Sei-i-tai Shogun should not remain in ignorance of the tojin world.”

I kowtowed to hide my eager delight, and waited in keen suspense.

“After the American envoy has sailed, your presence will be required. Until then—” He dismissed me with a gesture.

I withdrew to rejoin Gengo, who was waiting at the corner of the kiosk. As we passed the window a face appeared within, and I again met the loving glance of my little Princess.