peak, where the gods would lean to us, and great straining
forests roar out our marriage hymn!"

"There is indeed something about it that appeals to me. It would make
a fine subject for a painting."

"Oh, oh," gasped Tatsu, and clutched at his throat. "When will you
give her to me, Kano Indara? Shall it be to-night?"

"To-night? Are you raving!" cried the astonished Kano. "It would be
at the very least a month."

Tatsu rose and staggered to the veranda. "A month!" he whispered to
the stars. "Shall I live at all? Good-night, old man of clay," he
called suddenly, and with a light step was down upon the garden path.

Kano hurried to him. "Stop, stop, young sir," he called half clicked,
now, with laughter. "Do not go in this rude way. You are my guest.
The women are even now preparing your bed."

"I lie not on beds," jeered Tatsu through the darkness. "Vile things
they are, like the ooze that smears the bottom of a lake. I climb this
hillside for my couch. To-morrow, with the sun, I shall return!"

The voice, trailing away through silence and the night, had a tone of
supernatural sweetness. When it had quite faded Kano stared on, for a
long time, into the fragrant solitude. Stars were out now by
thousands, a gold mosaic set into a high purple dome. Off to the south
a wide blur of artificial light hung above the city, the visible
expression, as it were, of the low, human roar of life, audible even in
this sheltered nook. To the north, almost it seemed within touch of
his hands, the temple cliff rose black, formidable, and impressive, a
gigantic wall of silence. The camphor tree overhead was thrown out
darkly against the stars, like its own shadow. The velvety boom of the
temple bell, striking nine, held in its echoes the color and the
softness of the hour.

Kano, turning at last from the veranda, slowly re-entered the
guest-room, and seated himself upon one of the cushions that had
aroused Tatsu's scorn. A dead cat,--forsooth! Well to old bones a
dead cat might be better than no cushion! Mata had come in very
softly. "I prayed the gods for him," Kano was muttering aloud, "and I
thank them that he is here. To-morrow I shall make offering at the
temple. Yet I have thanks, too, that there is but one of him. Ah,
Mata,--you? My hot bath, is it ready? And, friend Mata, do you recall
a soothing draught you once prepared for me at a time of great mental
strain,--there was, I think, something I