  LONE in his deserted apartments the Mori sat—prince no longer, for with other nobles and daimios he had resigned his fief into the Mikado’s hands. The officers had long ago departed, to enter upon the new courses the parting benefits of their leader had determined for them. Some were already upon their way to the provinces, the offices of Mori had procured for them, as governors appointed by the Mikado. Toro had gone to Catzu, to govern for the Mikado the territory his father had administered for the Shogun. Father and son had been reunited. The Lady Evening Glory had long been dead, and Catzu was without a mistress. Yet Mori had detailed for Toro what he considered a greater reward. “Toro,” said Mori, “you will deliver this order, signed by me, in person to the Lady Hollyhock, directing her to cease forthwith her mutinous rebellion, and to render herself as a conquered province into thy hands.” “But, your highness,” said Toro, “I do not desire an unwilling bride, who yields herself but to superior command.” Mori’s smile had within it the tinge of a satirical wisdom. “Toro, my comrade and friend,” he said, gravely, “I do assure you that you will not need that order. The heart of the lady is yours. Only her coquetry holds out, and finding in my writ a convenient pretext, she will gladly go the way the heart has long directed.” With exuberant joy Toro had started from the apartment. “Yet, once again, Toro,” said Mori. “While I aid you with the Lady Hollyhock, I warn you that you will never find your complete happiness in a woman. After the first days you must look to the faithful administration of your province for your chief satisfaction in living.” “I do not agree with you, your highness,” Toro replied. Then he added, with a cheery laugh: “But there will be some satisfaction, truly, in administering my province, and mine ancient, rebellious sire.” Before the officers departed, Toro, as their spokesman, had presented to their old commander two swords, richly wrought, the usual token of the samurai as their parting tribute. “I do assure you,” Mori had responded, “that in giving me these swords you have not merely given me a reminder, as your spokesman has said, of our services for the New Japan, but you have given me as well the conquest of a newer, higher, more happy universe. As a citizen of a greater universe, I thank you.” In these words, and in every act of the former Prince that day, the officers, save the delight-blinded Toro, had observed a touch of finality, the savoring grace of a farewell to earthly things, that, samurai as they were, had not failed to move them. Plainly their lord contemplated something that their order called honorable; yet they shuddered at the thought. Now they were all gone out of Mori’s life, into the new life he and they had created together. The Shining Prince was left alone—alone with two swords that lay upon a low table at his side. The moment long waited by Mori had come. The Mikado had been restored to his ancient sovereignty; peace was once more upon the land. The great purpose of his efforts was attained; every thread connecting Mori with this new order of things had gone from his opponents—from his life—save two swords alone, which he had said were means for another conquest. Yet in spite of the atmosphere of finality that he felt pervading his apartments, Mori was not thinking of the termination he had set to his activities. His thoughts carried him beyond the black period he had said should close his sentence. Over into regions of life across finality his imagination strayed. The Lady Wistaria came back to his memory, his mind, his heart—occupied his whole being with the force of the magic spell she had woven about him. When Jiro had made his plea the day previous Mori had instantly recognized its meaning. It came with no joy to him. His course of thought and heart had been too long bent in one direction for the timid, blind words of a youth to swing it abruptly. “It is one more device, perchance, of my enemies,” he had said, dully, in the first bitterness that came when the lad’s words had touched his heart. Now, when all was over, he was again, in spite of his will, weighing the possibilities. Of course there might be truth in what Jiro had said, but it could not be determined save in the eyes of the Lady Wistaria herself, and now the lad Jiro had not come, as he had promised. With a profound sigh, Mori, raising his head, caught sight again of the two swords. Yes, they held their meaning for him. Jiro’s words were not worthy of belief. He stretched out his hands to the swords. “She was false—and Jiro lied!” he muttered. His hand sought and found the hilt of one of the swords and grasped it firmly, stiffened, and fell to his side. Suddenly the face of the Lady Wistaria with its all-pervading purity and truth-compelling quality arose before his vision. As he regarded the unsought vision which had come to his uncontrolled imagination, it dawned upon him with a sudden, great light that he had been wrong—wrong. Back to his consciousness floated that dark night by the side of the stagnant moat, the memory of the tortured white face that shone out from the interlacing boughs of bushes about them, the trembling hands and the little water-soaked feet. Were she utterly false as he had thought, would she have thus come to him to warn him of the danger that encompassed the one she did not know was he himself? A great upheaval arose in Keiki. The rush of emotions ingulfed him. A cry, a groan, escaped him, as, burying his face in his arms, he threw from him the swords. “She was truth itself,” he said. “It is I who have wronged her—I who have been unworthy.” “Too late!” a voice within his world-dulled soul said. He recalled now the intelligence he had heard somewhere many months before. The Princess of Mori had become a priestess of the Temple Zuiganji. “My lord!” The voice behind him, vaguely familiar, passed into that of the boy Jiro. “My lord,” repeated the soft voice, “it is I, Jiro, returned to thee.” Mori answered: “Alas, you come too late, my Jiro. Thou canst tell me nothing now, for I know that she was guiltless. I was at fault. The gods alone can forgive me.” Again he bent over the swords. The figure behind him moved from its position. It stood before the bending Prince now. A white robe reached to the floor, brushing his hand and covering the swords at his feet. Impelled by a force he could not resist, Mori raised his head. Wistaria—Wistaria in her bridal robes, with white flowers in her glorious hair, stood before him. Mori started to his feet. “Jiro—Jiro—” He looked about the room, as though he still thought the boy within the apartment. Was he dreaming, or had he actually heard the voice of the boy Jiro, saying: “It is I, Jiro, returned to thee.” But where was Jiro, and who was this white being who had taken his place? Not the Lady Wistaria, she who had become a priestess because of her wrongs. Then her lips framed themselves in words that reached his consciousness. “If it please thee, my lord, I am Jiro.” “Lady Wistaria!” he gasped. “I am Wistaria,” she said. Slowly, with the movement of one dazed, Mori moved towards her. Her exquisite hands she held out to him. He seized them with his own. For a moment he held them in a close, spasmodic clasp, then suddenly he sank to the floor, burying his face in the folds of her kimono. But the Lady Wistaria was upon her knees beside him, her hands upon his head.
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. 1.F. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact For additional contact information: The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org |
|
