ated at his
child friend. The business was to be gone through. They were opposite
the cemetery of Sainenji, on its western side. Said Tomobei--"A paling
is loose. There is no need to descend the hill. This is no cheerful spot
at this hour. Deign to sprint it, Osho[u] Sama. In the time one can
count ten the entrance at the rear is reached. Deign a spurt, honoured
priest; deign to sprint." Myo[u]zen felt he was in for everything this
night. With Tomobei he tucked up his robes to his hams, as if entering a
race. Crawling through the bamboo palings into the haunt of the dead, at
it they went--a mad spurt across to Ko[u]ndo's house. Tomobei was the
more active. He turned to watch the priest tripping over hillocks in the
grass, knocking into gravestones hidden by the darkness. So near home,
courage was returning. He burst into laughter at sight of Myo[u]zen
madly hammering a battered old stone lantern of the _yukimido[u]ro_
style. The broad-brimmed hat-like object he belaboured as something
naturally or unnaturally possessed of life, all the while giving
utterance to anything but priestly language. Tomobei ventured back to
his rescue. Myo[u]zen was quite battered and bleeding as the two rushed
into Kondo[u]'s house.

The master was expecting them; but he threw up his hands as they
appeared in the room. "Osho[u] Sama! Tomobei! What are you about! Why
rush into the room, clogs still on the feet? Deign to withdraw. The
_tatami_ are stained and streaked with mud.... Water for the feet of the
Osho[u] Sama! Tomobei, are you mad? Out with you: bring water to clean
up this mess." In confusion the priest withdrew. His apologies were
profuse as he reappeared--"Alas! Terrible the loss, and in such dreadful
manner. Kondo[u] Dono, Okusama, part at least of this grief Myo[u]zen
would take on himself. Great is the sorrow at this end of one just
beginning life." The wife received the condolence of the priest with a
burst of weeping. Then she turned fiercely on the husband--"It is all
the fault of Rokuro[u]bei. He was _nako[u]do_ for O'Iwa San in the
marriage with Iemon. Turning against her, he took O'Hana into the house.
Did she not spend her time in idling, and teaching the child the ways of
her questionable life--'how to please men,' forsooth?... Ah! Tama did
have pretty ways. Though but of seven years, she danced, and sang, and
postured as would a girl double her age. Now thus cruelly she has
perished." Her mind, reverted to the child, ag