"My august lord and husband, it was at the temple of Ishiyama, where
I went with my foster-mother, that I saw you for the first time. And
because of seeing you, the world became changed to me from that hour
and moment. But you do not remember, because our meeting was not in
this, your present life: it was very, very long ago. Since that time
you have passed through many deaths and births, and have had many
comely bodies. But I have remained always that which you see me now:
I could not obtain another body, nor enter into another state of
existence, because of my great wish for you. My dear lord and husband,
I have waited for you through many ages of men."
And the bridegroom felt nowise afraid at hearing these strange words,
but desired nothing more in life, or in all his lives to come, than to
feel her arms about him, and to hear the caress of her voice.
* * * * *
But the pealing of a temple-bell proclaimed the coming of dawn. Birds
began to twitter; a morning breeze set all the trees a-whispering.
Suddenly the old nurse pushed apart the sliding screens of the
bridal-chamber, and exclaimed:--
"My children, it is time to separate! By daylight you must not be
together, even for an instant: that were fatal! You must bid each
other good-by."
Without a word, It[=o] made ready to depart. He vaguely understood
the warning uttered, and resigned himself wholly to destiny. His will
belonged to him no more; he desired only to please his shadowy bride.
She placed in his hands a little _suzuri_, or ink-stone, curiously
carved, and said:--
"My young lord and husband is a scholar; therefore this small gift
will probably not be despised by him. It is of strange fashion because
it is old, having been augustly bestowed upon my father by the favor
of the Emperor Takakura. For that reason only, I thought it to be a
precious thing."
It[=o], in return, besought her to accept for a remembrance the
_k[=o]gai_[75] of his sword, which were decorated with inlaid work of
silver and gold, representing plum-flowers and nightingales.
[Footnote 75: This was the name given to a pair of metal rods attached
to a sword-sheath, and used like chop-sticks. They were sometimes
exquisitely ornamented.]
Then the little _miya-dzukai_ came to guide him through the garden,
and his bride with her foster-mother accompanied him to the threshold.
As he turned at the foot of the steps to make his parting salute, the
old woman said:--
"We shall meet again the next Year of the Boar, at the same hour of
the same day of the same month that you came here. This being the Year
of the Tiger, you will have to wait ten years. But, for reasons which
I must not say, we shall not be able to meet again in this place;
we are going to the neighborhood of Ky[=o]to, where the good Emperor
Takakura and our fathers and many of our people are dwelling. All the
Héïké will be rejoiced by your coming. We shall send a _kago_[76] for
you on the appointed day."
[Footnote 76: A kind of palanquin.]
* * * * *
Above the village the stars were burning as It[=o] passed the gate;
but on reaching the open road he saw the dawn brightening beyond
leagues of silent fields. In his bosom he carried the gift of his
bride. The charm of her voice lingered in his ears,--and nevertheless,
had it not been for the memento which he touched with questioning
fingers, he could have persuaded himself that the memories of the
night were memories of sleep, and that his life still belonged to him.
But the certainty that he had doomed himself evoked no least regret:
he was troubled only by the pain of separation, and the thought of the
seasons that would have to pass before the illusion could be renewed
for him. Ten years!--and every day of those years would seem how long!
The mystery of the delay he could not hope to solve; the secret ways
of the dead are known to the gods alone.
* * * * *
Often and often, in his solitary walks, It[=o] revisited the village
at Kotobikiyama, vaguely hoping to obtain another glimpse of the past.
But never again, by night or by day, was he able to find the rustic
gate in the shadowed lane; never again could he perceive the figure of
the little _miya-dzukai_, walking alone in the sunset-glow.
The village people, whom he questioned carefully, thought him
bewitched. No person of rank, they said, had ever dwelt in the
settlement; and there had never been, in the neighborhood, any such
garden as he described. But there had once been a great Buddhist
temple near the place of which he spoke; and some gravestones of the
temple-cemetery were still to be seen. It[=o] discovered the monuments
in the middle of a dense thicket. They were of an ancient Chinese
form, and were covered with moss and lichens. The characters that had
been cut upon them could no longer be deciphered.
* * * * *
Of his adventure It[=o] spoke to no one. But friends and kindred soon
perceived a great change in his appearance and manner. Day by day he
seemed to become more pale and thin, though physicians declared that
he had no bodily ailment; he looked like a ghost, and moved like
a shadow. Thoughtful and solitary he had always been, but now he
appeared indifferent to everything which had formerly given him
pleasure,--even to those literary studies by means of which he
might have hoped to win distinction. To his mother--who thought that
marriage might quicken his former ambition, and revive his interest in
life--he said that he had made a vow to marry no living woman. And the
months dragged by.
At last came the Year of the Boar, and the season of autumn; but I to
could no longer take the solitary walks that he loved. He could not
even rise from his bed. His life was ebbing, though none could divine
the cause; and he slept so deeply and so long that his sleep was often
mistaken for death.
Out of such a sleep he was startled, one bright evening, by the voice
of a child; and he saw at his bedside the little _miya-dsukai_ who had
guided him, ten years before, to the gate of the vanished garden. She
saluted him, and smiled, and said: "I am bidden to tell you that you
will be received to-night at Öhara, near Ky[=o]to, where the new home
is, and that a _kago_ has been sent for you." Then she disappeared.
It[=o] knew that he was being summoned away from the light of the sun;
but the message so rejoiced him that he found strength to sit up and
call his mother. To her he then for the first time related the story
of his bridal, and he showed her the ink-stone which had been given
him. He asked that it should be placed in his coffin,--and then he
died.
* * * * *
The ink-stone was buried with him. But before the funeral ceremonies
it was examined by experts, who said that it had been made in the
period of _J[=o]-an_(1169 A.D.), and that it bore the seal-mark of an
artist who had lived in the time of the Emperor Takakura.