Part 4 (2/2)

”Have a pipe,” said Kano.

”I want no pipe.”

”At least make yourself at ease upon the cus.h.i.+on while I speak.”

”I am more at ease without it,” said the boy, flinging the velvet square angrily across the room. ”Ugh! It is like sitting on a dead cat. Kindly speak without further care for me. I am at ease!”

Kano glanced at the burning eyes, the quivering face and twitching muscles with a smile. The intensity of ardor touched him. He drew a short sigh, the look of complacency left his for an instant, and he began, deliberately, ”As you may have gathered from my letter, I am without a son.”

Tatsu nodded shortly.

”Worse than this, among all my disciples here in Yeddo there has appeared none worthy to inherit the name and traditions of my race.

Now, dear youth, when I first saw these paintings of yours, the hope stirred in me that you might be that one.”

”Do you mean that I should paint things as paltry as your own?”

”No, not exactly, though even from my poor work you might gain some valuable lessons of technique.”

”I know not that word,” said Tatsu. ”When I must paint, I paint. What has all this to do with the Dragon Maiden?”

”Softly, softly; we are coming to that now,” said Kano. ”If, after trial, I should find you really worthy of adoption, nothing could be more appropriate than for you to become the husband of my daughter.”

Tatsu dug his nails into the matting of the floor.

”Suitable--appropriate--husband!” he groaned aloud. ”Farmyard cackle,--all of it. Oh, to be joined in the manner of such earthlings to a Dragon Maid like this! Old man, cannot even you feel the horror of it? No, your eyes blink like a pig that has eaten. You cannot see.

She should be made mine among storm and wind and mist on some high mountain peak, where the G.o.ds would lean to us, and great straining forests roar out our marriage hymn!”

”There is indeed something about it that appeals to me. It would make a fine subject for a painting.”

”Oh, oh,” gasped Tatsu, and clutched at his throat. ”When will you give her to me, Kano Indara? Shall it be to-night?”

”To-night? Are you raving!” cried the astonished Kano. ”It would be at the very least a month.”

Tatsu rose and staggered to the veranda. ”A month!” he whispered to the stars. ”Shall I live at all? Good-night, old man of clay,” he called suddenly, and with a light step was down upon the garden path.

Kano hurried to him. ”Stop, stop, young sir,” he called half clicked, now, with laughter. ”Do not go in this rude way. You are my guest.

The women are even now preparing your bed.”

”I lie not on beds,” jeered Tatsu through the darkness. ”Vile things they are, like the ooze that smears the bottom of a lake. I climb this hillside for my couch. To-morrow, with the sun, I shall return!”

The voice, trailing away through silence and the night, had a tone of supernatural sweetness. When it had quite faded Kano stared on, for a long time, into the fragrant solitude. Stars were out now by thousands, a gold mosaic set into a high purple dome. Off to the south a wide blur of artificial light hung above the city, the visible expression, as it were, of the low, human roar of life, audible even in this sheltered nook. To the north, almost it seemed within touch of his hands, the temple cliff rose black, formidable, and impressive, a gigantic wall of silence. The camphor tree overhead was thrown out darkly against the stars, like its own shadow. The velvety boom of the temple bell, striking nine, held in its echoes the color and the softness of the hour.

Kano, turning at last from the veranda, slowly re-entered the guest-room, and seated himself upon one of the cus.h.i.+ons that had aroused Tatsu's scorn. A dead cat,--forsooth! Well to old bones a dead cat might be better than no cus.h.i.+on! Mata had come in very softly. ”I prayed the G.o.ds for him,” Kano was muttering aloud, ”and I thank them that he is here. To-morrow I shall make offering at the temple. Yet I have thanks, too, that there is but one of him. Ah, Mata,--you? My hot bath, is it ready? And, friend Mata, do you recall a soothing draught you once prepared for me at a time of great mental strain,--there was, I think, something I wished to do with a picture, and the picture would not allow it. I should like a draught like that to-night.”

”Kas.h.i.+komarimas.h.i.+ta. I recall it,” said old Mata, grimly, ”and I shall make it strong, for you have something worse than pictures to deal with now.”

”Thanks. I was sure you would remember,” smiled the old man, and Mata, disarmed of her cynicism, could say no more.

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