lim, spare man, very refined, with the look of a picture of Buddha by
Botticelli. The face was thin and narrow and keen; bright eyes glanced
at me from under heavy eyebrows; his manner was magnetic; and I felt at
once that he was a great artist. The way his servants saluted him! You
could see that they loved him, and yet by the reverence they showed him
he might have been a cardinal. I was at once offered exquisite
delicacies in little lacquer cups, and we all sat down, on the floor of
course, and Danjuro began to talk. One of the first things he said to
me, through Fukuchi, who spoke English perfectly, was, "I am told that I
have many qualities like your great actor Sir Henry Irving," and even as
he spoke I could trace a distinct facial likeness between the two men.
His voice was rich and powerful and his enunciation deliberate; he used
his hands quietly, and the expression varied very little except when he
was anxious to emphasise, and then the change was extraordinary, while
the expression and poses were so admirable that I could almost
understand what the man was saying.

I instinctively felt that the right thing to do was to first talk of the
kakemono, and Danjuro, seeing my genuine enthusiasm, smiled and said,
without a touch of false modesty, "Yes; it is a great masterpiece!" and
then he began to tell me about this picture, and I felt at once that
this dignified little gentleman was a true artist.

[Illustration: SUMMER AFTERNOON]

From the picture we drifted to the Drama, and Danjuro was very curious
to know something of our work in London, and now and then, as he plied
me with pertinent questions, I thought I detected a glimmer of fun
behind his inscrutable demeanour. At last the questions rained around me
so rapidly, and were so terribly to the point, that I felt thoroughly
ashamed and did not know how to answer him. I knew that he was an
artist, looking at his work from purely the artistic standpoint, and as
an artist I knew that it would be utterly impossible for him to
appreciate our Western methods: so I deftly turned the conversation by
returning the fire of questions. I had seen Danjuro in one or two scenes
in which I was greatly struck with the remarkable changes of his facial
expression. There was one scene in which Danjuro faced the audience, and
in a minute, by the complete alteration of his face, changed himself
into an entirely different man. This feat was really so remarkable
that I was anxious