My impatience over the delay of the expedition to sail at once may well be imagined.

At last, on the morning of the eighteenth, Yoritomo returned home with the welcome news that the squadron had weighed anchor and put out to sea the previous day. He had much to say of the display on either side when Commodore Perry landed at Gorihama, below Uraga, and delivered over the President’s letter to Toda Idzu-no-kami and Ido Iwami-no-kami. On the following day the black ships had excited much apprehension by sailing up the bay almost to within sight of Yedo.

I listened to the account of my countrymen’s proceedings with an indifference that astonished me. Thanks to my long intimacy with my friend, the few weeks of my stay in his country had sufficed to initiate me into the life and customs of his people. I was fascinated by the samurai spirit. Yet for all that, I might well have been overcome with longing at the news of the departure of the expedition, had it not been for my love for the little Princess. Yoritomo had made me a friend to the Japanese; Azai made me a Japanese.

True to the Shogun’s word, the official report of the sailing of the American squadron brought a prompt command for me to attend upon Iyesada Sama and Azai Sama as instructor in tojin learning. The time appointed was early the following morning.

Half the night was spent listening to the advice of Yoritomo, who feared that I might lose all by betraying my love in the presence of others. In return for my promise to be as discreet as circumstances would permit, he agreed to lay the matter before his father and seek to interest him in my preposterous attempt to win the Princess.

Armed with the Shogun’s order, I set out at dawn, travelling incognito but with the full retinue allowed me by the Prince. On the one side of my norimon walked Fujimaro, and on the other Yuki. The latter, now fully recovered from his wounds and torture, carried himself with the dignified assurance of the finest swordsman in Yedo.

Through my palanquin window I gazed out at the splendid fellow with pride. He was my own personal retainer and not one of the servants of the House of Owari loaned to me for the occasion. Legally he was no more a member of the clan than myself. His family had been enrolled among the Owari retainers, but he himself had expressed a preference to be received into my service. The Prince had readily agreed to this arrangement, though not because of any reluctance to accept among his retainers a ronin who had been expelled from the service of the Shogun.

Yoritomo had said that it was ill-advised for me to take the former hatamoto to the palace. But I felt certain that the Shogun would not consider the act an affront. Should he so regard it, I relied upon the excuse of my tojin ignorance and my need for a personal retainer.

The morning was still fresh when we entered the citadel by the Sakaruda Gate. Having the Shogun’s order for passport, I rode through and did not descend from my norimon until on the point of crossing one of the inner moats into the palace grounds. Here I was met by Gengo the chamberlain, as ever suave to obsequiousness. He did not relish the entry of his former captain into the palace, and suggested that Yuki should remain with the rest of my escort. But with due regard to my dignity as teacher of the Shogun’s children, I insisted upon the attendance of both Yuki and Fujimaro.

My determination won the day. Gengo started off submissively, and led us through the gardens of the O Shiro, to the enclosure of the secondary palace set apart for the use of the Shogun’s heir. The edifice, though small, was exquisitely finished in several woods, inlaid in designs of odd beauty. I would have been quite willing, however, to forego the pleasure of viewing the artistic decorations of the waiting room as well as the enjoyment of the customary refreshment that was served me. Yet one must needs cultivate patience if he would dwell among an Oriental people.

Mid-morning found me still cooling my heels in the waiting room. At last I suppose the Prince’s curiosity overcame his inertia. Gengo reappeared, to conduct me into the presence of the heir apparent. Yuki and Fujimaro followed me to the threshold of the audience chamber, where I signed to Gengo to take my sword and bear it in for me. He demurred, with the statement that to carry the sword of a tojin into the presence of Iyesada Sama was not permissible.

“Very well,” I replied. “Yuki will be my bearer.”

“Impossible. None other than my lord may enter.”

“Then I shall carry it in myself. I am here as the teacher of Iyesada Sama. I demand the deference due a teacher.”

At this he took the sword from me, and knelt to enter the chamber of audience. I walked after him erect. The slowness of our progress up the long apartment gave me ample time to observe the place and its occupants. All one side of the chamber was open upon a fantastic garden of sand and rocks representing a volcanic seashore. Its bare, verdureless stretch contrasted strongly with the richness and ultra-delicacy of the apartment’s decorations.

My attention quickly centred upon the two persons seated before the gorgeous tokonoma. One I recognized as Abe Ise-no-kami, the elder of the two strange daimios at the Shogun’s conference. He sat on the left of a young man whose amiable but weak face answered to Yoritomo’s descriptions of the epileptic heir apparent.

As I stalked up the room behind the creeping chamberlain, the Prince and his companion regarded me with looks of surprise that quickly deepened to resentment. The tojin was presuming to swagger into the presence of the Shogun’s son! But I had planned my course and was sure of my ground. When within a short distance of the angry sitters, I paused and gazed at the Prince in stern reproof.

“Is this the proper manner for a pupil to receive his teacher?” I demanded. “Can it be that Iyesada has been misinformed as to the purpose of my visit?”

The Prince turned to Abe with a look of bewilderment, as if seeking aid and instruction. The Daimio rose and signed him to do the same.

“Woroto Sama is implored to pardon the rudeness,” he said. “Excuse is offered that he was not distinctly announced as a teacher.”

I glanced down at the stooped figure of Gengo.

“The offence is forgotten. Mistakes occur even with the best of intentions. I have come at the command of the Shogun to instruct his son in tojin learning.”

Abe whispered a few words to the Prince, who promptly stepped away from his seat, and waved me to it with a graceful bow.

“My honorable teacher is entreated to repose himself,” he murmured, in a voice so like his sister’s as to startle me.

I contrived to maintain my dignity, and seated myself in the place of honor, with my sword at my right hand. As Gengo withdrew, the Prince seated himself on my left, between me and Abe. After an exchange of bows and formal greetings, I at once entered upon my duties by inquiring the Prince’s knowledge of the outside world. It proved to be scant and vague, yet gave me a basis upon which to build.

As a beginning, I gave a brief explanation of the earth’s relation to the solar system. This, though quickly grasped by Abe, seemed beyond the comprehension of the Prince, who complained that so strange a statement could not be reconciled to the facts that Ama-terasu the Sun Goddess had come down to Dai Nippon, and that Dai Nippon, the centre of the universe, rested upon the back of the great fish.

When I sought to argue the matter, the Prince became excited and insisted upon the truth of his myths with childish petulance. Abe intervened, with tactful diplomacy, and I, perceiving the weakness of the Prince’s mind, waived the dispute, and sought to divert the attention of my pupil with descriptions of tojin costume and architecture.

This proved to be as successful as my first attempt had been unfortunate. Iyesada at once grew tranquil and exhibited the utmost curiosity over the absurdities of the hairy barbarians. I illustrated my descriptions with sketches, which the Prince copied with remarkable facility and precision.

Had I given way to the desire of my pupil, I should have continued with him all day. But I had not come to the palace to waste all my time on this unfortunate epileptic. At the end of two hours I informed him that it was time to close the lesson. When he demurred, with a quick return of petulance, I stated that it was inadvisable to teach him more at this time, since I wished him to reduce to writing all the information he had received. Abe gravely commended my plan of instruction, and the Prince at once deferred to his companion. I withdrew, having taught my pupil a few valuable facts along with a mass of inconsequential chaff, and having learned in turn that he was a capricious weakling, very much under the influence of the quiet Abe Ise-no-kami.

With Gengo again for guide, we left the Prince’s enclosure and crossed over into another walled subdivision of the citadel. Though I did not recognize it as the garden in which I had met the Princess, the failure may have been due to an approach from an opposite direction. Enough for me that I was being conducted to my adorable little darling.

This time there was no delay. Yuki and Fujimaro were left in an anteroom, and I was conducted to the seat of honor in the adjoining reception chamber. The room, which was decorated with elegant simplicity, overlooked a miniature landscape garden of rocks and ferns and dwarfed trees.

Hardly had Gengo withdrawn to the anteroom when a side screen drew aside to admit a dozen or more demure and graceful samurai ladies. They ranged themselves along the side of the room, midway down, and kowtowed to me. As I nodded with the austerity becoming a daimio in the presence of women, O Setsu San entered and knelt. Close after appeared my little Princess, smiling yet demure, composed yet graciously eager to welcome her august teacher.

Softly she glided out past her ladies-in-waiting and sank down before me with her white forehead upon the mat. “Ten thousand felicitous years to my Lord Woroto!” she murmured.

“The good wish of Azai Sama is acknowledged,” I replied. “The august lady is requested to seat herself at the left hand of her teacher.”

“Pardon, my lord, but it is not permissible for a woman to sit in the presence of one so vastly above her.”

“Let two boxes of this height be brought,” I ordered, holding my hand at the height of a chair.

O Setsu San glided out, and returned in a few moments with a pair of lacquered cases about the size of tea chests. I signed her to set them down near the side of the room that faced the garden.

“As teacher of the tojin learning and customs,” I explained, “I will begin by showing the Princess the tojin etiquette practised between a gentleman and a lady. The Princess will be pleased to act as directed.”

I rose and offered her my hand. “May I have the pleasure of assisting you to rise?”

Azai glanced up at me with a startled look. I smiled. “The august lady is to take my hand, and say, ‘You are very kind.’”

“You are very kind, my lord!” she whispered, and half averting her head, she entrusted one of her tiny hands to me.

I drew her up, stepped back, and swept her a bow in Occidental style. “Permit me to conduct you to a seat.”

She looked at me in a puzzled manner, and I explained with utmost gravity: “You will bow—no, not to the floor, only a little more than I. In this fashion—so! that is better. Now place the fingers of one hand upon my arm.”

The tips of her fingers touched the silk sleeve of my proffered arm with the lightness of a perching butterfly. I escorted her to the nearest chest, bowed, and turned back for a cushion. Placing it upon the chest, I took her hand and assisted her to seat herself, facing the garden. But when I drew the other chest nearer and was about to sit, she stopped me with a quick little cry, and fluttered back to fetch me my cushion from before the tokonoma. As she knelt to place it on my chest I looked down at her with well-feigned severity.

“The august lady forgets that she is receiving a lesson.”

“Pardon, my lord! But could I permit my august teacher to seat himself without his cushion?” “The august lady will remember that she is receiving a lesson in tojin etiquette. Among my people the gentleman always attends upon the lady.”

So preposterous a reversal of all the rules of propriety compelled the bevy of ladies across the room from us to murmur in astonishment. But Azai meekly permitted me to assist her again to her seat. Before seating myself I assumed my austere manner and sought to forestall criticism by another explanation: “The august lady is now to converse freely, as to an equal, on music and art and flower arrangements and the amusements permitted young ladies.”

I glanced across at the ladies-in-waiting. Quickly as they lowered their eyes, I caught their stare of mingled curiosity, wonder, and merriment. Only Setsu was regarding me with a frown. She was not pleased with the game I was playing in the face of all present and perhaps of some not present. It is easy to make a peep-hole through a paper screen.

But I had gone too far to withdraw. I seated myself, and, with a wave of my hand towards the garden, murmured ardently: “Azai! we must make gestures and pretend to be talking of flowers and art, but you know what my heart burns to say to you!”

“My lord! Love is surely a gift of the gods! All these days I have been wrapped about as it were in a dream of wonder and delight! How is it possible that so low and mean a creature as I can be loved by my lord?”

“Is an angel a low or mean creature? Little Princess, because you are in the world, the sun is bright, the moon silvery. The stars twinkle with joy when you smile up into the gloomy sky. I have no need to see the cherry blossoms of Nippon—I have seen you! When you speak I fancy the nightingale is singing!”

“My lord,” she whispered, “such praise is as far above my worthlessness as the sun above the abyss. May Kwannon grant me the joy of serving my lord for the space of seven existences!”

“For all time, Azai—we shall be linked together in mutual love and service! We are fated to be united throughout eternity.”

“My lord!” she murmured, and she turned to bend to me, her dark eyes beaming with unutterable love and devotion.

“Look to the front!” I warned her, and again I pointed to the garden as if remarking upon one of the dwarfed trees. She recovered her composure on the instant. Yet I perceived that the situation was more difficult than I had the right to require of her. I turned to the rear and remarked: “Among my people it is customary for ladies to entertain visitors with music.” Azai turned about also, and made a sign to Setsu. The girl went out with a companion and brought in a koto, an instrument resembling a large horizontal harp or zithern. This was an agreeable surprise to me. So far I had heard only the samisens of the geisha, and their notes are particularly discordant to Occidental ears.

Now I was to hear the instrument of the samurai ladies, played by none other than Azai herself. She adjusted the ivory plectrums upon her plump little fingers and, kneeling beside the koto, began to play. Though mostly in the minor key and full of quick transitions that were often discordant to me, her music had many passages of plaintive sweetness. My enjoyment may have been due in part to the personality of the player, for the Occidental ear is not attuned to Oriental music. Yet the koto is certainly far more harmonious than the twanging samisen.

When the Princess finished playing, I called for writing materials, and attempted by means of words and drawings to describe the harpsichord and pianoforte. I used one of the chests as a table for drawing my figures, and it was necessary for Azai to kneel across from me that she might bend near enough to follow the lines I drew to illustrate my explanations. It was natural that our glances should meet. I saw my soul in her sweet eyes. In the midst, one of the wall screens at the foot of the room was flung open, and Gengo the chamberlain entered, insolently erect.

“His Highness the Tycoon commands the presence of the tojin,” he announced.

“Kwannon!” gasped Azai, and she sprang up to interpose her slender figure between me and the chamberlain. “My lord—I fear! Should it mean—the worst—I will rejoin my lord!”

“Not that—not that!” I protested.

“Without my lord I could not live! If my lord goes from this life, I will follow!”

Her eyes glowed up into mine with that light of utter devotion. If I died, she also would die. There was no hope of dissuading her. I bowed in formal leave. She kowtowed with her ladies. I advanced to Gengo and passed out without a backward glance.