o
readily to the spear. Only the sight of the flames rising amid the
armour betrayed the deceit in the gloom of the loft. Deign to excuse the
negligence this once." A _do[u]shin_, an old and experienced officer,
spoke almost with tears. Aoyama gave a "humph!" Then looking over this
mud stained, blear eyed, bloody nosed, ash dusted band of his
confederates he began to chuckle at the battered and ludicrous
composition. All breathed again. But when he had re-entered his
_yashiki_, and was left to himself, without concubine for service, or
Jinnai for prospective amusement, then indeed he stamped his feet, his
belly greatly risen. Alas! Alas! How could Yokubei Sama find a
substitute for the one; and secure the real presence of the other?

CHAPTER XXII

THE SHRINE OF THE JINNAI-BASHI

It was one of those small Fudo[u] temples, tucked away on a shelf of the
hillside just above the roadway, embowered in trees, with its tiny fall
and rock basin for the enthusiastic sinner bathing in the waters of this
bitterly cold day. The whole construction of shrine, steep stone steps,
and priestly box for residence, so compactly arranged with the
surrounding Nature as to be capable of very decent stowage into a
case--much like those of the dolls of the third or fifth month. The
nearest neighbour was the Shichimen-shi--the seven faced Miya--in this
district so dotted even to day with ecclesiastical remnants, from
Takenotsuka to Hanabatakemura on the north edge of Edo--To[u]kyo[u].
However it was not one of their resident priests who stood at the
_ro[u]ka_ of the incumbent cleric seeking a night's lodging. The kindly
oldish _do[u]mori_ (temple guardian) looked him over. Nearly fifty years
of age, two teeth lacking in the front, his head shaved bald as one of
the stones from the bed of the Tonegawa, a tired hard eye, thin cruel
and compressed lips added nothing to the recommendation of the rosary
(_juzu_) and pilgrim's staff (_shakujo[u]_) grasped in hand; and indeed
the whole air of the man savoured of the weariness of debauch, and of
strife with things of this world rather than of battles against its
temptations. Yet the wayfarer was greeted with kindness, his tale of woe
heard. His own quarters--a flourishing tribute to the mercies of the
eleven-faced Kwannon, with a side glance at Amida--had gone up in smoke
the day before. Naught remained but the store-house, with its treasure
of _sutra_ scrolls and hastily removed _ihai_ of dec