"Do you inquire who I am?" said Kano, scarcely believing his ears.
"It is what I asked."
"I am Kano Indara." The old man folded his arms proudly, waiting for
the effect.
Tatsu moved impatiently upon his velvet cushion. "Of course I knew
that. It was the name on the scrap of paper that guided me here."
"Is it possible that you do not yet know the meaning of the name of
Kano?" asked the artist, incredulously. A thin red tingled to his
cheek,--the hurt of childish vanity.
"There is one of that name in my village," said Tatsu. "He is a
scavenger, and often gives me fine large sheets of paper."
Old Kano's lip trembled. "I am not of his sort. Men call me an
artist."
"Oh, an artist! Does that mean a painter of dragons, like me?"
"Among other things of earth and air I have attempted to paint
dragons," said Kano.
"I paint nothing else," declared Tatsu, and seemed to lose interest in
the conversation.
Kano looked hard into his face. "You say that you paint nothing else?"
he challenged. "Are not these--all of them--your work, the creations
of your fancy?" He reached out for the roll that Uchida had brought.
His hands trembled. In his nervous excitement the papers fell,
scattering broadcast over the floor.
Tatsu's dark face flashed into light. "My pictures! My pictures!" he
cried aloud, like a child. "They always blow off down the mountain!"
Kano picked up a study at random. It was of a mountain tarn lying
quiet in the sun. Trees in a windless silence sprang straight upward
from the brink. Beyond and above these a few tall peaks stood thin and
pale, cutting a sky that was empty of all but light.
"Where is the dragon here?" challenged the old man.
"Asleep under the lake."
"And where here?" he asked quickly, in order to hide his discomfiture.
The second picture was a scene of heavy rain descending upon a village.
"Oh, I perceive for myself," he hurried on before Tatsu could reply.
"The dragon lies full length, half sleeping, on the soaking cloud."
Tatsu's lip curled, but he remained silent.
The old man's hands rattled among the edges of the papers. "Ah, here,
Master Painter, are you overthrown!" he cried triumphantly, lifting the
painting of a tall girl who swayed against a cloudy background. The
lines of the thin gray robe blew lightly to one side. The whole figure
had the poise and lightness of a vision; yet in the face an exquisite
human tenderness smiled out. "Show me a dragon here," repeated Kano.
Tatsu looked troubled and, for the first time, studied intently the
countenance of his host. "Surely, honored sir, if you are a painter,
as you say you are, its meaning must be plain. Look more closely. Do
you not see on what the maiden stands?"
"Of course I see," snapped Kano. "She stands among rocks and weeds,
and looks marvellously like----" He broke off, thinking it better not
to mention his daughter's name. "But I repeat, no dragon-thought is
here."
Tatsu reached out, took the picture, and tore it into shreds. Then he
rose to his feet. "Good-by," he said. "I shall now make a quick
returning. You are of the blind among men. My painting was the Dragon
Maid, standing on the peaks of earth. All my life I have sought her.
The people of my village think me mad because of her. By reason that I
cannot find, I paint. Good-by!"
"Good-by!" echoed the other. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"
The face of a horrible possibility jeered at him. His heart pounded
the lean ribs and stood still. Tatsu was upon his feet. In an instant
more he would be gone forever.
"Tatsu, wait!" almost screamed the old man. "Surely you cannot mean to
return when you have but now arrived! Be seated. I insist! There is
much to talk about."
"I have nothing to talk about. When a thing is to be done, then it is
best to do it quickly. Good-by!" He wheeled toward the deepening
night, the torn and soiled blue robe clinging to him as to the figure
of a primeval god.
"Tatsu! Tatsu!" cried the other in an agony of fear. "Stop! I
command!"
Tatsu turned, scowling. Then he laughed.
"No, no, I did not mean the word 'command.' I entreat you, Tatsu,
because you are young and I am old; because I need you. Dear youth,
you must be hungered and very weary. Remain at least until our meal is
served."
"I desire no food of yours," said Tatsu. "Why did you summon me when
you had nothing to reveal? You are no artist! And I pine, already,
for the mountains!"
"Then, Tatsu, if I am no artist, stay and teach me how to paint. Yes,
yes, you shall honorably teach me. I shall receive reproof thankfully.
I need you, Tatsu. I have no son. Stay and be my son."
The short, scornful laugh came again. "Your son! What could you do
with a son like me? You love to dwell in square cages, and wear smooth
shiny clothes. You eat tasteless foods and sleep like a cocoon that is
rolled. My life is upon the mountains; my food the wild grapes and the
berries that grow upon them. The pheasants and the mountain lions are
my friends. I stifle in these lowlands. I cannot stay. I must
breathe the mountains, and there among the peaks some day--some day--I
shall touch her sleeve, the sleeve of the Dragon Maiden whom I seek.
Let me go, old man! I have no business in this place!"
In extremes of desperation one clutches at the semblance of a straw. A
last, wild hope had flashed to Kano's mind. "Come nearer, Tatsu San,"
he whispered, forcing his face into the distortion of a smile. "Lean
nearer. The real motive of my summons has not been spoken."
Compelled by the strange look and manner of his host, Tatsu retraced a
few steps. The old voice wheedled through the dusk. "In this very
house, under my mortal control, the Dragon Maiden whom you seek is
hidden."
Tatsu staggered back, then threw himself to the floor, searching the
speaker's face for truth. "Could you lie to me of such a thing as
this?" he asked.
"No, Tatsu, by the spirits of my ancestors, I have such a maiden here.
Soon I shall show you. Only you must be patient and very quiet, that
she may manifest herself."
"I shall be quiet, Kano Indara."
Kano, shivering now with excitement and relief, clapped hands loudly
and called on Mata's name. The old dame entered, skirting warily the
vicinity of the "madman."
"Mata, fix your eyes on me only while I am speaking," began her master.
"Say to the Dragon Maid whom we keep in the chamber by the great plum
tree that I, Kano Indara, command her to appear. The costume must be
worn; and let her enter, singing. These are my instructions. Assist
the maiden to obey them. Go!"
His piercing look froze the questions on her tongue. "And Mata," he
called again, stopping her at the threshold, "bring at once some heated
sakè,--the best,--and follow it closely with the evening meal."
"Kashikomarimashita," murmured the servant, dutifully. But within the
safety of her kitchen she exploded into execrations, muttering
prophecies of evil, with lamentations that a Mad Thing from the
mountains had broken into the serenity of their lives.
Tatsu, who had listened eagerly to the commands, now flung back his
head and drew a long breath. "My life being spent among wild
creatures," he murmured as if to himself, "little skill have I in
judging the ways of men. How shall I believe that in this desert of
houses a true Dragon Maiden can be found?" Again he turned flashing
eyes upon his host. "I mistrust you, Kano Indara! Your thin face
peers like a fox from its hole. If you deceive me,--yet must I
remain,--for should she come----"
"You shall soon perceive for yourself, dear Dragon Youth."
Mata entered with hot sakè. "Go! We shall serve ourselves," said
Kano, much to her relief.
"I seldom drink," observed Tatsu, as the old man filled his cup. "Once
it made of me a fool. But I will take a little now, for I am very
weary with the long day."
"Indeed, it must be so; but good wine refreshes the body and the mind
alike," replied the other. It was hard to pour the sakè with such
shaking hands, harder still to keep his eyes from the beautiful sullen
face so near him, and yet he forced the wrinkled eyelids to conceal his
dawning joy. In Tatsu's strange submission, the artist felt that the
new glory of the Kano name was being born.