his gayety. "I am
going to die for the emperor the great death! I am going to set my
father free to pursue his way to the heavens or another reincarnation!
Think! The gods will love me for such a holy thing! Why do not you?"

"Oh, yes," whispered the little girl, "the gods will love you. And I.
But who, then, will come with me here? And who will hold my hand?"

"My spirit, I promise you that!"

A little chill crept over the girl.

"Yes," she answered doubtfully, "if I cannot have your body."

Shijiro still laughed.

"After all, a spirit is a safer comrade than a body. The custodians
cannot drive it away from the tombs. And will you wait here for my
spirit, as you do for my body?"

"Yes," she whispered, in her awe, once more.

But he gayly touched her.

"I will come like that--that--that!"

"I would rather have you so," said the little girl, touching him, as
flesh touches flesh, not as spirit touches flesh in the East.

Though she suspected that he was laughing at her, it was in a land where
both the spirits which loved one and hated one were believed to be
always at one's elbow.

Now that it had all been decided--his career fixed, the way made clear,
and he well in it--much of his absorption had passed away, and he was
both gayer and gentler with her. But it was not as before.

"There will be others, with bodies," laughed Shijiro.

The small maiden shook her head.

"No, there will not be others. I know. Oh, how differently you speak to
me now! You are suddenly grown a man with great thoughts. But you still
think of me as a little girl with small thoughts. Well, perhaps I am.
Yet I shall wait for you here. I can do that. The gods may not accept
your sacrifice for a time. They may not accept it at all. And there may
be no war for you to fight and die in. You may have to come back. No one
can know the purposes of the gods. And when you do, I, with my small
body and small thought, will be here only to make you happy."

"And, suppose," laughed Shijiro, treating her indeed as if he were
suddenly become a man and she were still a little girl, "suppose I go
away and forget--that often happens--and never come back?"

And Arisuga laughed again.

"I will wait," said the girl.

"What, after I have forgotten?"

"Do not tell me. Let no one tell me. Let me wait. Then your spirit may
come. It is cruel to wait, always wait. But it is not so cruel as to be
forgotten."

The soldier still laughed.

"The spirit