ds, weeping bitterly.
In wonder and gratitude the frightened page extended her hands, her face
hidden in the white robes of the Go Tayu.

Kibei trod this lower corridor with sombre tread. He would cut belly at
the garden pond. With some surprise he noted an _amado_ open at the end
of the _ro[u]ka_. Voices were heard. Standing at the opening he saw
lanterns. Some frenzied women had raised a ladder to the garden wall.
They would thus escape, but the knife-like bamboo stakes prevented. Said
a voice outside, and close to him--"The key to the gate: here it is."
The Kashiku at a run passed by him. Kibei gave a shout. The frightened
woman turned, recognized him, then sped on. In a few steps he was on
her. The raised sword descended as she fell on her knees before him, in
attempt to swerve its course. Through wrist and collar-bone, from neck
to navel, the keen blade passed. Kibei threw the weapon aside. He leaned
over her, his dagger drawn. Then he rose, holding by its tresses the
head. For a moment he gazed on it. Slowly he walked to the pond in the
centre of the garden. Carefully he washed the bloody trophy and placed
it on the curbing. Confronting it he made reverential salutation. "Kibei
keeps his promise to the Kashiku. With Tamagiku he treads the gloomy
paths of Shideyama. Honoured lady--a moment and Kibei follows." Seated
before the head reposing on the curb he opened his clothes. Thrusting
the bloody dagger deep into his left side he slowly drew it across the
belly; then made the upward cut. The body fell forward. Kibei indeed had
kept his word.

CHAPTER XXI

MATTERS ECCLESIASTICAL

Inagaki Sho[u]gen received the news at dawn, just as he was leaving the
castle on completion of his night watch. The old knight smiled gravely,
thanked the bearer of the message, and rewarded him with lavish hand.
The _kago_ bearers jolted on. The news had reached the train, and
_chu[u]gen_ and spearman exchanged whispers. On arrival at the Inagaki
_yashiki_ his lordship made no motion to descend. The chamberlain
raising the curtain gave a cry of horror. The old man lay stretched at
the bottom of the little chamber. The dagger and the pool of blood told
the tale. Sho[u]gen had followed the example of his son. He, too, now
trod the paths of Shideyama.

With laggard tottering step Akiyama Cho[u]zaemon entered his house.
Regardless of wife and the cushion she offered, of the hardly repressed
tear in her salutation, he cast himself