The Todd household slept until late the morning after the party. Next to
the efficient hirelings,--those ball-bearing sockets of domestic
ease,--the senator himself was first to awake.
He came slowly into the day, as though passing from a fair garden into
one more fair. That sense of some great good, new-garnered, and in the
warm sweet haze of sleep not quite recalled, caressed his smiling lips.
In spite of dalliance, the shining consciousness drew near. His
appointment had been given! Ah, that was the new glory! He was in
effect, at that instant, "Envoy Extraordinary and Minister
Plenipotentiary" to a Wonderland! It was not the honor that thrilled
him, but the opportunity. He would have a niche near the breathing heart
of that strange country. Proving himself worthy, he might go deeper,
drinking at that spiritual fountain of eternal youth.
Lying now on his rich, canopied bed, with all the luxury of modern
Occidental life heaped close, Todd told himself that, because of the
success, he was all the more a soul, an individual, with better things
to seek. He scorned to be a pampered animal, possessed by its
possessions. He envied anew the clean, sweet poverty of the samurai's
code.
He was now at that elevation in life where past events take proper
place, as in a landscape, and vistas begin. Yesterday was his fiftieth
year. By another coincidence--those clashings of star-beams in his
career--his birthday fell on that of the Japanese Emperor.
Looking back now, he could see where streams of tendency, taking rise in
boyhood, had worked steadily, though through seeming deviations, towards
this one great tide of purpose. His lonely interest in rice-culture had
been a hidden spring; his coming to Washington, where Japan's
development was a living topic instead of a solitary reader's dream, a
winding stream of fate. Yuki herself was a deep well of inspiration. Now
at last had come his opportunity to serve, in one life-giving effort,
his own beloved country,--and Japan. The future widened for him into a
deep harbor where great fleets of achievement might find safe anchorage.
Yuki entered for the ten o'clock breakfast in full street costume. At
Mrs. Todd's lifted eyebrows of inquiry, Gwendolen, who was just behind
her friend, explained.
"She has an appointment at eleven with her Hindoo idol. Baron Kanrio
said last night that dad was to go too. Yuki thought she might be
allowed to accompany him, if she were very good."
"Of course!" said the senator, heartily. "Glad to have her. Prince
Hagané gave me the date, eleven, A. M., but he didn't mention Yuki."
"Oh, how could you think it?" drawled saucy Gwendolen. "She's only a
girl. He wouldn't notice a girl."
"It rather looks as if he _had_ noticed her," retorted Mr. Todd. "A
definite appointment! They say his daily average of callers is about two
hundred."
"It is only for my father's sake. He will give me a message," explained
Yuki, hastily. "Gwendolen is right. So great a man do not think much of
girls."
"Humph," said Gwendolen, "that doesn't go! He stared at you as if you
were a candied cherry-petal, and he wanted to swallow you at a gulp.
Pierre Le Beau saw it, too. Heavens, how he scowled! A regular Medusa! I
expect all the chrysanthemums are turned to yellow onyx by his glare."
Yuki gave a start, and then flushed with painful intensity. "Please!
Please!" she was beginning, when Mrs. Todd unconsciously interrupted
with an exclamation of delight.
After her methodical pouring of the coffee, the good lady had plunged
into the morning papers. "Ah, Gwendolen, these notices are
splendid!--better than I could have hoped. Society reporters are usually
so touchy and carping!"
"There was one youthful Mr. Dooley that I made sure of," said Gwendolen,
calmly, as she cracked an egg. "I had the orchestra strike up 'Call me
thine own!' while I took him to a corner and plied him with Louis
Roederer, Carte Blanche!"
Little Yuki and the senator drove off together. Each had things to think
of, though not much to say. The carriage bowled smoothly along asphalt
thoroughfares. At close intervals small parks were passed, some round,
some angular, but all like emeralds in a web of silver-tinted streets.
Now and then the great meerschaum-colored dome of the Capitol came into
sudden view, with its suggestion of purpose and of majesty.
The girl's neat fawn-tinted dress was now supplemented by furs, and a
wide hat of brown velvet, with a silver chain about the crown, and
nodding feathers. Her hair, puffed round her face in recent fashion,
completed the Americanizing of her attire. From the dainty gloves,
thrust deep into her muff, to the soft brown boots, she was modern,
chic, Occidental.
At the Japanese Legation, both Baron Kanrio and the prince's secretary,
Hirai, were awaiting them. The eyes of the latter shone with eagerness
at sight of his young compatriot. Kanrio sent them, chattering already
of Japan, into the drawing-room to await Yuki's summons. With a slight
gesture he beckoned to Todd, and they went together along the hall to
the well-known den.
Hagané sat in it, alone. The disposition of the few stiff chairs bespoke
recent visitors. The library table, covered with green leather, had maps
upon it, letters and papers, besides a Japanese smoking outfit and a
tray with tea and some small cups.
As they entered, the great man slowly rose. He wore again his plain dark
native robes. In the relentless daylight he appeared older, more sallow,
and at the same time more impressive. His hand-grasp for the senator was
cordiality itself. His deep eyes lighted pleasantly, as he said,
"Welcome, your Excellency!"
Todd started, and then flushed like a boy, at the title. Kanrio grinned
with delight.
"Oh--er--beg pardon; but it's the first time. Rather knocked me off my
pins. Thanks, your Highness! I feel it a good omen to have it come from
you."
"Shall we be seated?" asked Hagané.
"Gomen--nasai," (excuse me) murmured Kanrio, with a gesture. He removed
the soiled cups from the table to the top of a low bookcase, then rang
for fresh cups and a new pot of tea. He and Hagané took a few sips,
Japanese fashion; Todd declined.
"I understand, your Excellency, that your appointment as envoy to our
small island has come the very recent time?"
"Only last night, your Highness." Todd's eyes met in unembarrassed
candor those of Hagané. "Of course I've worked for it. My heart was set
on it. The Baron here has been an inspiration!"
"My dear sir, don't trouble to recall my unimportant service,"
deprecated Kanrio.
"I understand," said Hagané, slowly, "that for some time you have
honored our--country--with your studious--interest. If it is not
impertinence, may I venture to inquire what--circumstances,
what--a--unfamiliar categories--first stung your thought to the pursuit
of Far Eastern knowledge?" He spoke very slowly, slurring neither vowel
nor consonant, and choosing, it would seem, from a rich vocabulary.
Nevertheless he pieced the words together with a slight effort.
Todd knitted his brows, not in lack of understanding, but from desire to
answer definitely and concisely the comprehensive question.
Hagané may have mistaken the silence, for he added immediately, "My
English is--stiff,--not well--manoeuvred. My meanings perhaps become
involved. Shall not Baron Kanrio stand as--interpreter--for my heavy
thought?"
"No, no," said Todd, eagerly. "Do not think it, your Highness! I
understand perfectly. Your very misuse of some of our slippery old
timeworn words is illuminating. It was your question that made me pause,
not your way of putting it."
"My dear sir," protested Hagané, "I desire you to feel no obligations to
answer. I intended, perhaps, a thinner meaning than your own mind has
seized. Was it Japanese Art, as with Frenchmen? Statistics, Sociology,
Political Economy?" Todd noted the greater ease with which these
abstract and philosophic terms were employed.
"None of these, your Highness,--and yet all! My study--you will think me
presumptuous, I fear,--might not be called less than--the ultimate
destiny of your race!"
Hagané's smouldering eyes leaped into sudden fire. He looked down
quickly, as if to deny the flame. Todd felt the air stir and tingle with
a new vibration.
"Yes, your Excellency, we are attempting to employ valuable hints from
various representative governments of your enlightened West," said he,
conventionally.
"Hints!" echoed Todd; "that is just the wonder of you! They are hints in
reality, thoughts to be absorbed only just so far as you need them, and
the rest chucked. You don't stick them on like plaster to cover up a
mediæval birthmark. You have quite as much to give as we, and you know
it. Haven't I watched and studied, with Kanrio here to coach? You
Japanese alone can combine the best of the two civilizations. You can
best fuse the experience, character, insight, humanity--of both
long-suffering hemispheres. We Americans are just ourselves; but you are
we, and all the rest of it! That's why your old gods set you on the
fighting line. You are a whole laboratory experiment in sociology, all
to yourselves!"
"I perceive that you have been thinking carefully upon us," said Hagané,
still conventional, contained; but his one upward look, instantly
withdrawn, had the "swish" of a scythe.
"It isn't all admiration, you know!" exclaimed Todd, with an
impulsiveness far more flattering than reserve. "You have made, it seems
to me, some thundering bad mistakes,--like the dropping of Port Arthur
at the first growl of that bear, Russia. But you've got your second wind
all right. You Japanese know, better than any American or Englishman,
that Russian preponderance in China means a walled continent of tyranny,
the gates guarded by Greek fire. If you conquer, your best interests are
at one with the progress of an enlightened twentieth-century world. Now,
your Highness, deny it if you can!" He leaned back, his thin face aglow.
Hagané apparently had difficulty in keeping eyes upon the table.
"You--er--pass through the waving branches," said he, very slowly, "and
cleave to the heart of the tree. So only are the rings of epochs
counted. Do others of your countrymen think thus?"
"Well," said Todd, "to be honest, I judge that most of my countrymen
would prefer sitting on the bough, stealing apples, rather than counting
concentric rings. I guess love of the East must have been born with me."
"Interesting, interesting!" murmured Hagané. "And yet, your Excellency,
though indigenous, something must have fed the growth. Every development
possess, I think, allotted kind of nourishment."
"Oh, events contributed, I presume. Now and then things turned up just
when they were wanted." Todd was surprised at his own ease in the great
man's presence. He drew inspiration, not awe, from the intelligent eyes
and slow, suggestive smile. "Yes, things _came_! I planted your
Forty-Seven Ronin into my biggest field of wheat! And my old mule,
Kuranosuké, did me better work than any span of horses. Then, your
Highness, the baron here--oh, you needn't shake your finger,
Baron!--pointed me to heavenly manna; and the child Yuki, my daughter's
friend, led me into paths that adult eyes could never have seen."
Hagané crushed the red ash of his cigarette, and leaned farther back in
his chair. The expression of his face altered slightly,--softened, one
might say, were it not still so impressive. If waves of strength and
influence had flowed from him before, they ebbed now, leaving
consciousness a little thin and dry. Yet all three men smiled faintly,
as at a pleasant thought.
"Ah, little Onda Yuki-ko, the child of my old kerai."
"It is a term meaning 'feudal retainer,'" put in Kanrio, amiably, to Mr.
Todd.
"Yes," went on Hagané, "I was encouraged last night to see her so strong
to look at, and so--pardon vulgarity, your Excellency,--so inoffensive
to the eye in personal appearance."
Todd flung back his head and laughed outright. "Inoffensive--that's a
good one! Why, your Highness, Yuki is quoted as a beauty here in
Washington. Artists beg to paint her, and swell photographers to pose.
If she intended casting in her lot with us, she could have the pick and
choice of half the young bloods here." He sent a merry glance to Kanrio,
as for corroboration, but was met by a stare so blank, so baffling, that
his smile faded.
The prince was carefully, very carefully, lighting a fresh cigarette.
"Pardonnez moi!" he mumbled, between coaxing, initial puffs. "It is I
who am the stupidity! 'Pick and choice,--young bloods'--I fear I do not
quite--er--apprehend."
"Your Highness," Kanrio broke in, "Mr. Todd speaks in the idiomatic
phrases of society. He desired to transmit the impression that Miss Onda
is thought to be beautiful."
"Ah, is that it? And--young bloods?"
"Young men, I should have said. Pardon my slang. Merely young men, your
Highness," explained Cyrus, feeling suddenly quite ill at ease.
"Ah, yes," muttered Hagané to himself. "I have a recollection. Last
night--" he broke off. His voice was higher and a little careless, as he
asked of Todd, directly, "Is Onda Yuki-ko to sail with your family?"
"Yes. She had not intended returning till next spring. She wanted to
take an extra course in French or something. But she wouldn't stay
behind, now that we are going. She and my daughter are like sisters."
Todd rose, muttering words to the effect that he had trespassed too
long. Hagané rose also. Todd felt resentful, though he could have
assigned no definite cause. "Good-morning, your Highness, or, as Miss
Yuki has taught me to say, 'Sayonara'! I thank you for the honor of this
interview."
The word "Sayonara" brought Hagané sharply to himself. "The thanks
belong not to me, Excellency," he smiled and stretched out a powerful
hand. "Seldom do I so deeply enjoy a conversation with one met for the
first time. I consider that Nippon, and our-Sacred Emperor"--(he paused,
and the two Japanese bowed deeply,) "are to receive the congratulation."
Power and purpose thrilled in his hand-clasp. Todd tingled anew with it.
"What a man! What a bottled genius hauled up from a sea of fate!" he
said to Kanrio, as they descended the stairs.
"Prince Sanétomo is one who does his duty," admitted Kanrio, in an
impassive tone.
Hirai accompanied Yuki to the office door. They went a little slowly,
considering the rank of the summoner, and talked hurriedly in the
hall-ways, each reluctant to release a topic so dear. There had been not
only Japan and childhood to gloat upon, but, already, reference could be
made to a past,--twelve hours old. "Do you remember," and "As you were
saying last evening," are potent introductory clauses. Both young people
had been born in Tokio, and though unnamed to each other before, soon
established unity of class, training, inherited ideals, and childish
experiences. The secretary had often heard of Sir Onda Tetsujo, Yuki's
father, a knight of the old school, famed for his stern rectitude and
his loyalty to a vanished past. With some hesitation Hirai ventured to
suggest that he should consider it a privilege to be allowed to call
upon Sir Tetsujo and his lady, in their Tokio home. Yuki urged this
eagerly. She could send by the younger man messages that seemed too
trivial for transmission through Prince Hagané. "Yes, yes,--please call
upon them--d[=o]-zo! They will receive you so happily. Ah, and to think
that you will see them long, long before I can come! You will reach
Nippon before the maples have quite burned themselves away, or Fuji
lowered upon her opal cone the full white robe of winter. How am I to
endure the waiting? I wish I were to start with the suite of Prince
Hagané to-morrow!"
Hirai's fine face echoed this sentiment vividly, but he refrained from
speech. He was a correct young man, and had no intention of presuming on
the young girl's veneer of Americanism. He left her at the door. It had
to her fancy, now, the feeling of a shrine, a Shinto temple, approached
through paths of childish memories. She lifted one gloved hand to knock,
and her lips twitched at the clamorous instinct to raise both hands, rub
the palms together, and clap thrice as before a deity. She controlled
herself, however, shaking her head a little wistfully, and murmuring as
to a voice, "No, though my soul still is Nipponese, I have become a
Christian. I am half American, too. I must remember." She gave now a
sharp, determined rap.
"O-idé!" boomed a deep voice from within. Yuki's knees melted. Whatever
the rest of her, they were evidently not American. She entered with
downcast eyes.
Hagané did not seem to recognize her. He looked hard, and asked, "Is
this Onda Yuki-ko?"
She lifted the brim of her hat, and let shy eyes rest upon him. "Your
Highness, it is Yuki, a worthless young acquaintance with whom you spoke
last night." She used the Japanese language, with the full complement of
honorifics.
"An odd eventuation," said the other, dryly. "I thought to summon the
child of my old kerai, the maiden of last evening,--and, behold, a
small, pert shade from the Avenue de l'Opéra!"
"It does not augustly displease your Highness?" murmured the girl, not
understanding his full meaning.
"Not at all. It may even prove valuable for Nippon, and Tetsujo could
wish no more. But be seated, child. I have scanty moments to dole you,
and there are messages."
"Lord," murmured Yuki, seating herself on the hard chair indicated, "it
is too much for you to burden your exalted memory for my insignificant
satisfaction."
Hagané ignored the deprecating whisper. Taking a seat deliberately, he
began, "At the Shimbashi station of Yedo, where, since many notable
officers were to accompany me, a great crowd of well-wishers thronged to
say farewell, I soon discerned the dark face and the proud head of your
father, Onda Tetsujo."
He paused, smiling slightly. The girl said nothing, only bent forward a
little, her face full of unconscious excitement.
"Close behind him, gentle, clinging, self-effacing, as a good wife
should always be, I saw--"
Yuki, forgetting her breeding, fairly snatched the words from his mouth.
"My mother,--I know, Lord, it was my dear mother! And the old nurse
Suzumé, was she there?"
"There was, indeed, a female something that incessantly bowed, and drew
breath with a ferocity that drowned the hissing of the engine. Has that
the air of Suzumé?"
"Yes, yes, her very self. Oh, how can I wait to get back home! Ten
weeks, Lord, before I am to start!"
"The words uttered by your parents were these,--I may not recall the
exact terms, but I have their purpose clear. First, Iriya said: 'Tell to
our child that empty hearts and a cheerless home ache through this night
of absence, for her coming.' Her soft eyes touched my heart, though men
call me stern. Ere I could bow assent, your father Tetsujo--ah ha! that
old kerai, the unreconstructed feudal knight!--pushed rudely past, and
cried to me, 'Taint memory with no such puerile demand, my Lord! Say to
the girl that hearts and aches are nothing. As long as I have yen to
forward, let her remain until she is fitted, though a woman, to be of
some slight service to her land. I pray you, Lord, to judge of her.
Should she need to stay full ten years longer, I would not repine. I
have no son. She is the substitute. Empty hearts, aching nights, bah!
Crumbling barley sugar of a weak spirit! Midzu-amé in a human jar! Good
Iriya, my wife, I advise you to cease your prayers before concessive
deities, and learn to worship more sincerely our God of War. He is to be
the flaming incarnation of this epoch!'"
"I can see--I hear them both," said Yuki. "My father is right,--though
the tears that must have stung my mother's eyes do now sting mine. Lord,
shall you think me fit to go to such a father? I have done what the
Americans call--graduate. I have even received prizes for good study."
"Do they offer prizes here for doing duty? An immoral practice,
especially for the young,--instilling envy, cupidity. But it concerns me
not. Your question, Yuki,--are you fitted to return? I cannot give
myself time to be satisfied entirely with the fitness; but, for other
reasons, I am well aware that it is time for you to return. His
Excellency, Mr. Todd, spoke of the first of the New Year. I wish it were
to-morrow."
"Lord," faltered the girl, "are your august utterances heavy with
reproof? Have you charges of misconduct against me?" Her guilty heart
ran, as a thief for a hidden treasure, to the thought of Pierre Le Beau
and the half-troth her weakness had allowed him to secure. The next
words of the great man relieved her strangely.
"Nay, nay, little one, I have heard of no wrong. Look not so fearful;
one would think me Emma-O, the Lord of Hell, in the flesh. My thought
was chiefly that, just now, even your present acquirements might serve
Nippon."
"Ah, it is of war you hint! Here, many believe that it will not come. Is
it to come, Lord?" She had drawn very close. Hagané perceived, as one
looking at a picture, the exquisite balance of features in the pointed
oval face, the pale width of brow under clouds of dusty hair, the
refinement, the trembling sensitiveness of lips and chin. His eyes held
a certain keen, inscrutable intentness of regard. The corners now
wrinkled slightly with a smile.
"A nightingale studies not with a maker of swords," he said slowly. "Yet
may the nightingale's note give warning where the sword could not avail.
What one has not heard, cannot be told. It is a time when the whispering
of leaves is to be shunned, and the fall of the petals counted."
Yuki caught her underlip between her teeth to steady its trembling.
Again she felt reproved, though nothing could be kinder than the great
man's voice.
"Four years," he mused aloud, "four years! Small space of time to us who
are on the heights,--but to the young, still wandering happily on
flowered-covered slopes, it is long, quite long. Ah, little Yuki, it is
but yesterday that you came, as a child, to my Tabata villa. You clung
timidly, at first, to Tetsujo's hand; but the serving-maids soon won you
to the air. After that, at my request, Tetsujo brought you often. You
were a scarlet poppy turned loose in that dim old garden. My eye would
follow you through passages of the good Tetsujo's somewhat prosy
discourse. You used to perch upon the gray rocks of the pond, and fish
for hours, throwing back the small wriggling bits of gold as soon as
caught. Do you remember, Yuki?"
"Yes, Lord, well do I remember," said Yuki, her mouth trembling into
laughter. The self-consciousness faded. He knew that it would be so. It
was for this that he had contrived the long speech of reminiscence.
"Once," she went on shyly, "once, into that pond I fell, screaming with
terror to think that certainly, now, all the goldfish would make haste
to bite their enemy."
"Their best revenge, I take it, was in the cold you caught," laughed the
prince.
"Nay, Highness," said she, gravely, "no cold at all did I acquire. The
maid-servants and thy divine, pitying princess rescued me. They changed
my worthless garments, and urged upon me much hot tea and a small, sweet
powder. Indeed, but for the trouble my clumsiness occasioned, I enjoyed
more the falling into that august pond than the fishing beside it."
Hagané smiled a little abstractedly. He did not laugh again. He turned
to the table and smoothed the corners of a document. "The villa has no
princess now, my child. In my many houses I come and go alone."
Yuki looked upon the floor. "My spirit is poisoned by your sorrow, Lord.
Forgive my great rudeness in mentioning. I did not know."
He drew a short, impatient sigh. "The princess resides again with her
own people in Choshiu. But these matters have interest for none but me.
Hark, is that not the hour of noon now striking? I must dismiss you."
She rose instantly at his words. He followed with more deliberation. She
turned to the door, then wavered back to him, distressed evidently by
thoughts she shrank from voicing.
"Speak, child," he said kindly, "no mad haste is necessary. Say what you
will."
Still she moved soundless lips. In some inexplicable way she had fallen
short. It was not only that she felt she had not reached his highest
expectations, but, more definitely, she had failed to reach her own. Her
acquired Americanism crackled on her, like a useless husk. She thirsted
for new strength. Before her stood one able to give it, yet she could
find no words to ask. "It is ten--weeks before I can start home, Lord,"
she managed at last to articulate. "I am only a girl, but I would die
for Nippon, for my Emperor. What--what--" Again she faltered.
Hagané took a small hand in his own and smiled reassurance. "Only the
very young and inexperienced think it necessary to state willingness to
die for a country. Give me the coming thought."
"In these last weeks what can I do,--what can I suffer,--how shall I
pray,--that I may make myself worthy of return?"
The smile on the overhung dark face saddened into a look far tenderer
than smiling. Yuki felt virtue, like a fluid, rush through her from his
touch. "Keep always to the thought that you are Nipponese,--that you
guard, in yourself, an immortal spirit, powerful for good or ill. Let
not the tendrils of your outreaching soul cling to alien ideals, for, if
so, each in the twining means a wrench and a scar, and the unscarred
soul is sweeter to the gods. Think nothing of the body,--of personal
desires, of personal reward. Say to yourself always, 'It is enough to be
a Nipponese.'"
Yuki was already stilled and comforted. "Lord," she said, lifting brave
eyes, "I think it true that the lowliest among us, through
self-striving, may become a god. My little spark of light has slept
until this moment. I can never again be quite the same girl who came
into this room. I will curve the memory of your words about my spirit,
as one shields his candle from a wind."
"In Nippon I see you next, my Yuki. And now, 'Sayonara,' till that
time."
"Sayonara," whispered Yuki, and hurried out into a new day.