ACT V.

The hawk, even when it is on the verge of starvation, does not pick rice-ears contrary to its nature. For many days has Hayano Kanpei dwelt in his temporary home near Yamazaki; and for the fault committed in the flush of youth, he makes his living now by hunting deer and monkeys on these hills. He is caught with his gun in a summer shower, and takes shelter under a pine-tree until it ceases. Yonder comes a traveller with a little lantern stretched out with a bow, which he covers with the skirt of his rain-coat to keep the light burning. He hurries along the dark road in the heavy rain. Kanpei goes up to him.

Kanpei. If you please, will you kindly give me a light?

Recitative. The traveller stops short and stands on the defensive.

Traveller. Humph, I travel alone, fully knowing that this road is unsafe. I see you have a gun and I certainly cannot give you a light. Come another time.

Recitative. He watches him, ready to cut him down if he moves an inch.

Kanpei. Well, I do not wonder at your mistaking me for a robber; but I am a hunter of the neighbourhood. I am in a great trouble as I have got my tinder drenched in the heavy rain. Come, I will hand you my gun and get the light myself.

Recitative. Hearing his straightforward reply, the traveller looks fixedly at his face.

Traveller. Are you not Hayano Kanpei?

Kanpei. And you are Senzaki Yagoro?

Yagoro. I am glad to see you well.

Kanpei. And you, too, are in sound health.

Recitative. It is long since they last met. They cannot forget the fall of their master’s house, and as they think of it with resentment, they both clench their fists. Kanpei bows down his head and remains speechless for a while; and then he speaks out.

Kanpei. I am truly ashamed of myself, and cannot even show my face to an old fellow-retainer like you. Has my samurai’s fortune come to an end? It was my fated ill-luck that when I was in attendance upon my lord, the great calamity should have fallen upon his house. I was not present on the spot at the time, and I could not go back to the mansion; and I thought I could only wait till the fit occasion came to entreat his pardon. But, to my amazement, he was condemned to death. Great Heavens, I cried, this is all Moronao’s doing and I will at least follow my lord to the other world. And I put my hand on my sword; yet, thought I again, what worthy deed have I done that I could appear before my lord and escort him on the lonely road of death? I wore my heart out in pondering over what I should do in atonement. I have secretly heard it rumoured that Master Yuranosuke, his son, and Master Goemon, and others are plotting to avenge our lord’s death. Unhappy as I am, I was not driven out of service; and if I could, by some means, obtain an interview with Master Yuranosuke and be allowed to sign my name in the leaguers’ covenant, it would be an honour to me and my house for ever. Since it is my fortune to meet you, let me avail myself of this rare opportunity and beg you to make me worthy of a samurai. I appeal to our old friendship, to your knightly compassion.

Recitative. He lays both his hands before him on the ground, and filled with remorse for his former ill-deed, he weeps manly tears. Pitiful is his plight. Yagoro, though he thinks his old comrade’s repentance but natural, cannot here recklessly reveal the great plot.

Yagoro. Now, now, Kanpei, in your confession, you mix up with it something about a plot and a covenant. That is nonsense. There has never been such a rumour. I am taking an urgent message from Master Yuranosuke to Master Goemon. We intend to raise a monument in our late lord’s burial-place. But we, being but ronin, are poor, and the monument is a thing which will be pointed out as Lord Enya Hangwan’s to the latest posterity. And so I am going on an errand to collect the money for the purpose and seeking out those who are still grateful for our late lord’s favours. And if you yet feel grateful.........do you understand?

Recitative. To make Oboshi’s plot covertly known while speaking of the monument, it is, indeed, an act of true comradeship.

Kanpei. I thank you, Master Yagoro. Yes, I heard long ago that you were collecting money, it was said, for the monument. I, too, have made every effort to offer some money, and hoped, on the strength of the contribution, to obtain pardon. But Master Yagoro, how ashamed I am! See my present condition; it is a punishment for my disloyalty to my lord, and I have none to turn to for help. But Karu’s father, Yoichibei, is a worthy man. He and his wife lament the unfaithfulness with which we, husband and wife, served Lord Hangwan, and are most anxious that I should find means to become a samurai again. I will seize this occasion to tell them of my meeting you and, after giving an account of our talk, let them know how I may be restored to my former position. Then they will not, I am sure, hesitate to sell for their children’s sake the little land they possess. I beg, when I have brought the money, you will present it to Master Goemon.

Yagoro. Yes, I will now go and tell Master Goemon what you have said to me and through him ask pardon of Master Yuranosuke. I will give you an answer without fail the day after to-morrow. This is the address at which Master Goemon has put up.

Recitative. As he gives him the address, Kanpei receives it with gratitude.

Kanpei. I am thankful for your manifold kindness. I will immediately find the money and wait upon you the day after to-morrow. If you wish to come to my house, you will turn to the left from the ferry at Yamazaki, and you will soon find Yoichibei’s house by inquiring in the neighbourhood. You had better go quickly before the night grows late. The road is still more unsafe further on, and so take great care of yourself.

Yagoro. No fear. Until the monument is raised, not a flea shall bite this body of mine. You, too, keep yourself in good health. I shall look forward to hearing of your contribution. Fare you well.

Recitative. They part, and each hurries on his way. The rain again comes down. Feeble footsteps are heard. Though he has not lost his way in the dark, he is a simple, honest old man who comes hanging on his staff, drawn hither by a blind love of his child. He hears a voice calling to him from behind.

A Voice. Hi, hi, old man. You are a good road-companion.

Recitative. The speaker is Ono Kudayu’s son, Sadakuro, who, having no place to go to, has turned a highwayman and nightly plies his trade on this road. He has a flat sword at his side.

Sadakuro. I have been calling you a long time; could you not hear me? It is bold of you at your age to travel alone on this unsafe road. I will bear you company.

Recitative. As he comes in front of him and looks at him with over-curious eyes, Yoichibei shrinks with fear; but he conceals it with an old man’s tact.

Yoichibei. Now this is a kindness I should not have expected of one so young. Being an old man, I do not care to travel alone; but wherever we go, there is nothing so precious as money. As I could not pay last year’s tax, I went to ask for help to my relations; but not a single cash could I get from them, and as I could not stay long where I could obtain no assistance, I am going home alone, heavy at heart.

Recitative. Before he has done speaking, the other cries out.

Sadakuro. Hold your tongue. I did not come to hear that you have not paid your tax. Look here, old man. Listen carefully to what I am going to say. It is this. I saw long ago that you have in your bosom a purse of striped cloth with forty or fifty ryo in it, if it is gold; and I have followed you. Lend it to me. See, I entreat you with clasped hands. I dare say, you got the money to rescue your child from some foolish trouble. Now that I have set my eyes upon it, why, Illustration: Saduko with umbrella standing over fallen Yoichibei there is no getting away. So make up your mind to it. Please, lend it to me, do.

Recitative. He puts his hand into Yoichibei’s bosom and pulls out a purse of striped cloth.

Yoichibei. Oh, please, sir, that......

Sadakuro. What of that? When you have so much money.........

Recitative. As he snatches it, Yoichibei clings to his hand.

Yoichibei. No, no, sir. I took some small coin out of this pouch, it is true, to buy straw-sandals a while ago; but there is now in it only a few lumps of rice for luncheon and medicines my daughter gave me for bilious attacks. Please, let me go, sir.

Recitative. And he snatches back the pouch and tries to escape; but Sadakuro runs before him and intercepts him.

Sadakuro. What an obstinate fellow, to be sure! I speak you fair, because I do not wish to do anything cruel; and you take advantage of it. Come, fork out the money. If you hesitate, I will kill you at one blow.

Recitative. He draws his sword and raises it for a downward stroke; and before Yoichibei can cry out, he strikes at him as at a dry bamboo-pole. Did the sword deflect or the hands err? He misses his mark, and Yoichibei grasps the naked blade with both his hands.

Yoichibei. Do you, then, really mean to kill me?

Sadakuro. Of course I do. I kill you because I saw your money; and so give up the ghost without more complaint.

Recitative. He points the sword at his breast.

Yoichibei. Please, just wait, sir. There is no help for it. Yes, this is money. But I have an only daughter; and she has a husband who is more dear to her than life itself. That husband is in want of money. He is, for certain reasons, a ronin at present. It was through her, says my daughter, that he became a ronin, and she has asked me and my wife to help him to return to his former samurai’s position. But as we are poor, we could do nothing. At last, after long consultation with my wife, we hit upon a plan; we made our daughter agree to it and have kept it absolutely secret from our son-in-law. And this is the money we got after we three, father, mother, and daughter, had truly wept tears of blood. And if you take it away, what will become of my daughter? See, I clasp my hands to you; please, let me go. You, too, appear to have been a samurai; and the samurai should help each other. Without this money, my daughter and her husband cannot hold up their heads in the world. He is my only daughter’s husband; and you will guess how I pity and love him. Have compassion on me, sir, and let me go. You are still young and I suppose you are childless; but when the time comes and a child is born to you, you will know how natural are the words I have spoken to you. So, please, let me leave this place in safety. Only a ri[1] from here is my home. You may kill me when I have handed the money to my son-in-law. Please, sir, I should like to die after I have seen my daughter’s face light up with joy. Please, please, sir. Oh, help, help!

Recitative. But his cries only resound with piteous echoes in the hills around.

Sadakuro. Oh, that is indeed sad. Cry on. Hear me, old dotard. If I rise in the world with that money of yours, the blessing of this act of charity will raise your son too. For charity never makes an evil return to the donor. Poor fellow!

Recitative. He thrusts his sword; and as Yoichibei writhes with pain, he kicks him round with his foot.

Sadakuro. Oh, how pitiful! Though, no doubt, it hurts you, do not bear me spite for it. I kill you because you have money; for if you had no money, what should I do to you? Your money is your enemy, old man. Oh, save us, Amida Buddha!* Oh, save us, Wondrous Doctrine of the Lotus Sutra![2] Go wherever you please.

Recitative. Without drawing out his sword, he turns it round and round. The grass is dyed crimson with blood; and the old man, in the excess of his pain, breathes his last. Sadakuro, now that he is dead, takes the pouch and in the darkness counts the money in it.

Sadakuro. Ha, fifty ryo. ’Tis long since we last met, gentlemen; and I thank you for your coming.

Recitative. He hangs the pouch around his neck, and pushes and kicks the body into the valley below. The mud on the corpse splashes upon himself; but all unwitting, he stands up, and sees behind him a wounded wild boar rush headlong towards him. In haste he steps aside. The wild boar runs straight on, snorting, kicking roots of trees and corners of rocks, and leaping through mud and shrubbery. And as Sadakuro comes forward and looks after it, a gun-report is heard, and two bullets pierce his spine and

penetrate to his ribs. Without a cry or groan, he falls on his back and dies; It does one’s heart good to see him die. Thinking that he has killed the wild boar, Kanpei comes out with his gun in his hand and gropes here and there for the game. When he touches and raises the body, he finds that it is not the wild boar.

Kanpei. What, this is a man! Great Heavens, I have missed it!

Recitative. As it is pitch-dark, he cannot in his fear ask who his victim is. As he raises him in his arms to see if he still breathes, his hands touch the pouch; and grasping it, he perceives it holds forty or fifty ryo. He raises it again and again to his head to thank Heaven for what, doubtless, is its gift; and then he rushes away as if on wings, even more swiftly than the wild boar.