HIS honorable mother declared that Gonji was afflicted with a malady of
the stomach. She proffered warm drinks and poultices and sought to
induce him to remain in bed. Now that the long and severe years of
discipline had passed and her son was at last at home with her, all of
the natural mother within her, which had been repressed so long, yearned
over her only son. Even her cold and somewhat repelling manner showed a
softening.
Had he not been at this time absorbed in his own dreams, Gonji would
have met half-way the pathetic advances of his mother; but he was
oblivious to the change in her. He insisted politely that his health was
excellent, begged to be excused, and wandered off by himself.
His father, whose mighty business interests were in Tokio, abandoned
them for the time being and remained by his son’s side in Kioto,
following the young man assiduously, seeking vainly to arouse him from
the melancholy lethargy into which he had fallen. Deep in the heart of
the elder Lord Saito was the acute knowledge of what troubled his son,
for afflicted he undoubtedly was, as all the relatives unanimously and
officiously averred. Such a funereal countenance was unbefitting a
bridegroom. One would think the unhappy youth was being driven to his
tomb, rather than to the bridal bed!
The parents and relatives vied with each other in importuning the
unfortunate Gonji, and sought to distract him from what were evidently
his own morbid thoughts. Also they sought to entrap his confidence.
Gonji kept his counsel, and from day to day he grew paler, thinner, more
silent, and sad.
“Call in the services of the mightiest of honorable physicians and
surgeons,” ordered the Lady Saito. “It may be an operation will relieve
our son.”
Her husband, thoughtful, sad, a prey to an uneasy conscience, shook his
head dumbly.
“It is not possible for the honorable knife to efface a cancer of the
heart,” said he, sighing.
“Hasten the nuptials,” suggested the uncle of Ohano. “There is no
medicine which acts with as drastic force as a wife.”
This time the Lord Saito Ichigo was even more emphatic in negativing the
suggestion.
“There is time enough,” he asserted, gruffly. “I will not begrudge my
son at least the short and precious time which should precede the
ceremony. This is his period of diversion. It shall not be cut in half.”
The brusque words of the head of the Saito house aroused the ire of the
nearest relative of the bride. He said complainingly:
“It does not seem as if the honorable bridegroom desires to avail
himself of his prenuptial privileges. He does not seek the usual
diversions of youth at this time. Is it not unnatural to prefer
solitude?”
“It is a matter of choice,” contended the father of Gonji, with curt
pride.
“But if it injure his health, is it not the duty of the relatives to
assist him?”
“The gates of the saito are wide open. My son is not a prisoner. He is
at liberty to go whithersoever he pleases. It is apparent that his
pleasures lie not outside the ancestral home of his fathers.”
“That,” said the uncle of Ohano, suavely, “is because he still stumbles
in the period of adolescence. It is necessary he be instructed.”
The father of Gonji pondered the matter somberly, pulling with thumb and
forefinger at his lower lip. After a moment he said, with sudden
determination:
“You are right, Takedo Isami. Your superior suggestion is gratefully
received. Since my son will not seek the pleasures of youth, let us
bring them to our house. It is necessary immediately to arouse him from
a youthful despair which may tend to injure his health.”
He looked up and met the cunning eye of his prospective kinsman
regarding him with a peculiar expression. Ichigo added, gruffly but
sturdily:
“It would be an excellent programme to secure the services of the
honorable Spider of the House of Slender Pines. I pray you undertake the
matter for me. See Matsuda, the master of the house. Spare no expense in
the matter.”
The expression on Takedo’s face was now enigmatic. He emptied his pipe
slowly and with deliberation, as if in thought. Then solemnly he bobbed
his bald head, as if in assent. The two old men then arose, shaking
their skirts and hissing perfunctorily. Their bows were formal, and the
words of parting the usual friendly and polite ones; but each met the
eye of the other, and both understood; and, strangely, a sense of
antagonism arose between them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------