See the legal page for information about republication. The recommended citation for this document can be found below (in the standalone XML version).
Facsimile retrieved from Google Books from original at Harvard University
See Editorial Principles.
Sijia Cheng completed an MA student in English Language and Literatures at the University of British Columbia and was a research assistant for
Sijia Cheng is an MA student in English Language and Literatures at the University of British Columbia and a research assistant for
See the Biographical Timeline for biographical information on Winnifred Eaton.
Joey Takeda is the Technical Director of
Sydney Lines is a Ph.D. candidate in English at the University of British Columbia and Project Manager of
Mary Chapman is the Director of
New York City-based publishing house that was in operation from 1839 to 1990.
It was drowsy in the little mission church, and the gentle mellifluous voice of
the young preacher increased rather than dispelled the sleepy peacefulness. The
church, if such it could be styled, was well filled. The people of Sanyo knew it
for the coolest of retreats. They drifted aimlessly in and out of the church,
making no pretense of either understanding or appreciating the proceedings. It was
a curious congregation, one which, innocently enough, never
On this particular Sunday, however, the
The minister beamed upon them. The boys looked stoically back at him. This day
those in the church forgot to look about
The result of the minister’s effort for a choir was immediate. It broke up the apathy of the congregation.
Groups lingered about the mission house after the service—groups of curious
child-women for the most part. The question discussed from every standpoint was
the seeming elevation of these most unsavory
The mellow tinkling of temple bells disturbed the gossips. It was the hour of
noon, when the gods were good and for a little prayer would give them sweet food
Let us wait a little while
, said a round-
Azalea was departing slowly when recalled by the raised voice of her friend. At a short distance from the other girls she paused and looked back inquiringly.
Wait till they come out
, continued the speaker, Ume-those
beggars, and we will have some fun
.
Oh, good!
agreed Koto, snapping her fan upon her hand; we will find out
what the white beast says to them
.
Perhaps
, suggested Fuji, stretching herself—she was fat and indolent and
the church seat was hard—he pays them
.
Azalea looked interested.
I wish
, said she wistfully, he would pay me something
.
Perhaps he will
, said Fuji, nodding her head slowly; my honorable father
says he is rich—very rich
.
And my honorable father says so, too
, said Ume.
Oh, all foreign devils are
, declared Koto conclusively.
Well, but Matsuda Isami says he is not
, said Azalea. And Matsuda knows
surely
.
Matsuda is jealous
, said Koto. He wants to be always the richest. The
gods despise avarice
.
Azalea was fluttering her fan somewhat nervously. She regarded it thoughtfully, then closed it sharply.
I am avaricious
, she said, with the point of her fan touching her pretty
red underlip.
Her friends laughed at her, and she blushed.
Yes
, she said, I am avaricious. The gods will despise me truly. I adore
money. I would like to have one hundred yen all to myself
.
What would you do with it?
questioned Ume, the oldest of the four.
I would leave my step-mother’s house
, said Azalea simply.
Here they come!
cried Koto. The girls fell into an excited little line by
the church door, one behind the other. Out came the choir—their surplices doffed,
their washed faces wide with smiles and their little eyes shining. Five
Azalea sighed and, sitting on the church steps, looked at the fortunate boys with envious and wistful eyes.
And does not the white beast want females also to sing?
she asked.
Females!
repeated one of the boys. Did the gods ever favor
females?
The foreign devil is not a god
, said Azalea thoughtfully. Who knows,
perhaps he would pay me also to sing with him
.
Time to go home
, said Koto, and she pulled Ume’s sleeve. Are you not
hungry? Come, Azalea!
She won’t give me to eat, my most honorable mother-in-law
, said Azalea.
I need not go there
.
You will soon be a beggar, too, Azalea
, laughed Koto, and the white man
.
Clinging to each other’s hands and almost tripping over each other’s heels, the
three girls fluttered homeward down the hill, leaving Azalea sitting alone,
looking moodily and reflectively at the choir boys, now counting their money. She
knew that they, like her, were orphans. Unlike her, they had not an uncharitable
roof, called by her ungracious step-parent a home for her. Shelter beneath it was
only grudgingly accorded, because Azalea’s step-mother was vain and feared the
criticism of neighbors and the wrath of the gods should she turn Azalea out. As it
was, the young girl was only half fed and her clothes were those
The choir boys had already shuffled a portion of the way down the hill slope, when she sprang to her feet and ran after them.
Gonji!
she called one of them by name. Wait just a moment
.
They stopped and she overtook them. She was breathless when she reached them.
Is it because you are beggars
, she said, that this priest favors
you?
Gonji nodded.
I
, said Azalea, spreading out her little hands, am also a
beggar
.
They laughed at her. Only the homeless were beggars in their eyes. In addition,
members of her sex were received among them only when they had reached the old
witch age. The country knew many old women beggars, who drifted,
How much did the minister give?
she demanded, ignoring their jeers.
Five—ten—maybe one hundred
, glibly lied Gonji.
Her eyes widened and shone.
Oh!
she said.
That’s only for the singing
, said Gonji; if we become convert to his
religion he will pay more
.
He turned to his companions for verifi-
No, no, don’t go! Wait a little while, please!
Well?
What is ‘convert?’
Why
, the Japanese boy of sixteen racked his brain for an explanation of the
word, why, that’s to—ah—that’s just abandoning the gods for a new one
.
Oh!
His sleeve dropped from her grasp and she drew back, her face somewhat
blanched.
Abandon the gods!
she repeated.
But if we do that, then the gods will be angry with us
.
That is true
, nodded Gonji reflectively. It’s bad business
, he
added.
Perhaps
, she essayed almost timidly, that new God is also kind and
good
.
Gonji shook his head skeptically.
The priest at the temple says that he is really an evil spirit
.
The girl shuddered. She turned away from Gonji and he resumed his way down the hill.
Azalea walked listlessly back to the mission house. When she had reached it, she
paused irresolute. A sudden idea had come to her. Why should she not pretend to be
converted? When the barbarian priest had paid her she would go to the shrine of
The young minister closed and locked the door of the church. Turning on the threshold, he paused a moment before descending the little flight of steps, and looked about him at the smiling, sunny landscape.
The bells of the neighboring temple were melodious, and he found himself absently
It was only the length of an iris field from the church, a pleasant saunter. The minister was wont to dream upon these walks—dream of the future harvest which would repay his earnest labors.
He had come quite close to his garden gate before he perceived the little figure waiting there. It was her voice—her odd, breathless voice, which called his attention to her though he heard the one word ‘convert’ spoken in English. The rest of her speech was unintelligible.
She stood in the sunlight, her cheeks vividly red, her eyes wide with excitement and with fright. It was that fearful, piteous something about her whole attitude which from the first reached and appealed instantly to the sympathies of the minister.
You wish to speak to me?
he asked.
Yaes
, she said, nodding her head, and then very swiftly, as though she had
learned the words by rote—I am convert unto you, Excellency
.
Convert!
His eyes kindled and he stared at her without speaking a moment.
Her head drooped, as if from its own small weight.
Yaes
, she said in the lowest, the faintest of voices, I am
convert—Chlistian!
He seized both her hands, and held them warmly in his own.
Come into my house, my child
, he said. Let us talk it over
.
Her hands fluttered in his, then she suddenly withdrew them. They slipped back into her sleeves. She stood uncertainly before him, hesitating to pass through the gate he had opened for her.
Come!
he urged gently.
Even while the minister in the coolness of his study softly and gently questioned
his faltering convert
, a wily and smooth-speaking
Would not the estimable Mr. Okido remove his shoes and eat the noon meal within her humble house?
The estimable Mr. Okido would.
Madame Yamada, who had not engaged the services of Okido, was curious to know the
nature of his mission to her. She disguised her curiosity, however, under the
blandest of manners. With swift acuteness she introduced her daughters into the
room and had them serve the man, throughout the meal glancing under her eyelashes
to watch the effect of her daughters’ sundry charms upon the
Madame Yamada could contain her curiosity no longer. At a sign from her, her
daughters withdrew. Then she addressed the
In what way
, she asked, is the humblest one indebted to the esteemed
Okido for his honorable visit?
Okido put down the pipe on the hibachi and, turning toward Madame Yamada, looked at her keenly.
You have daughters, Madame Yamada
.
Two
, she answered promptly.
Three
, said Okido slowly.
The esteemed one was mistaken. The gods had only blessed her with two.
Nay, the gods had been kinder. Were there not three, including her step-daughter?
Ah, yes
. Madame Yamada smiled coldly.
Let me repeat
, he said slowly. You have daughters
.
Yes;
she allowed the word to escape her lips impatiently. Would the stupid
broker never come to his business?
And I
, said Okido, have a client
.
A red spot appeared in either of Madame Yamada’s cheeks.
she asked, no
longer attempting to conceal her interest.
Okido leaned toward her impressively.
His name is Matsuda Isami
.
Madame Yamada’s hands trembled. She scarcely could control her voice.
What—the——
Yes, the rich Matsuda Isami
.
The woman thrilled with maternal pride. Her bosom heaved. And which of my
, she asked, has pleased the taste of the exalted
Matsuda?
Okido rubbed his hands softly.
That one
, he said, who is augustly named Azalea
.
Madame Yamada started to her feet with a cry. Then recalling herself she sat down
again and for a space of a long moment did not stir. She regarded the
Excellent Okido
, she said, the humble one cannot marry the youngest of
her daughters first. Pray return to the exalted Matsuda and say from me that I
am willing
.
What!
cried the amazed Okido, you refuse?
Who spoke of refusing?
she asked in an agitated voice.
Your answer is a refusal, Madame
.
The woman was silent, her mind busily at work.
Listen, Okido
, she finally said, a promise was made by me to the august
father, now dead, of the girl Azalea. He bade me promise him that Azalea should
be given to no one in marriage save with her own consent. So! I withdraw the
offer of my oldest daughter as bride to Matsuma,
.
Good!
said Okido, arising and shaking the crumbs from his hakama. We
will make direct suit to the maiden
.
Madame Yamada had arisen also. Yes, that is it
, she said, and for that
purpose heed the advice of one experienced in such matters. Let His Excellency
visit much the home of the humblest, and, in person, press the suit
.
Okido regarded her uneasily. My business——
he began.
Oh, excellent Okido
, interrupted the woman, I promise you that you will
earn
.
Okido nodded his head slowly. He was thoughtful as the maid slipped on his
sandals. As he left the house he stopped at the threshold and looked back at
Madame Yamada. Her colorless face was drawn into strange lines. Her long eyes were
half closed. Upon her face there was calculation cold, cruel. She slowly repeated
her words. Again nodding understanding, if not assent, the marriage broker went on
Matsuda Isami.
As Azalea walked homeward from the minister’s house, she could still hear in
dreamy fancy the eloquent tones of his voice. She found that though beyond his
presence she still thrilled at the very memory of his face. He had cast a spell
upon her, she told herself. He was a disciple of the Evil One. She must go to the
temple of Kwannon for help. Possibly the priests there would give her some
talisman which would preserve her from any spell the barbarian might cast upon
her. For though her ruse had failed and her sleeves were empty of yen, yet still
she had promised
Her step-mother met her at the door of the house. Her lips were drawn in a strange fashion apart and her long teeth showed. This was her manner of smiling. It was uglier and more sinister than a frown. Azalea quickened her steps, the color beating up into her face. When she saw that set smile upon Madame Yamada’s face she stopped abruptly before the woman. But her step-mother spoke in the most amiable of tones:
You must be hungry, my daughter, since you have not had your noon meal
.
The girl raised her eyes inquiringly toward the woman. Then she answered simply:
Yes, mother-in-law, I am hungry
.
Come into the kitchen, then, Azalea. The maid has kept your rice warm
.
Azalea was too much accustomed to the vicissitudes of fortune to wonder at the
sudden generosity of the step-mother. She ate the rice and sipped the fragrant tea
with mechanical relish. The meal was unexpected, but non the less palatable to a
hungry young girl. She suspected that her step-mother required something of her,
but her mind, occupied with its late thoughts of the minister, had no room for
speculation
Daughter
, said the woman, would you enjoy a trip to Tokyo?
Azalea looked up quickly; then she answered shortly:
No
.
Madame Yamada’s eyes narrowed. She controlled her feelings, however.
What, Azalea! You do not wish to go to Tokyo, where everything is so gay and
bright and beautiful?
Azalea rested her chin upon her hand and looked out from the kitchen
You are becoming old
, said the step- mother. You will have to earn your
living soon
.
Azalea did not move, but her step- mother knew she was listening to her words.
Here
, she continued, there is no way in which you could earn money, for
you are of
.
Mother-in-law
, said the girl quietly, you would be ashamed before our
neighbors if I were to obtain work here. My august ancestors would feel no
shame
.
What could you do here?
Azalea looked at her small white hands thoughtfully.
I could work in the mills
, she said, and added with a girlish sigh, but
it would maim my hands
.
Yes, and also your back, your knees, and afterwards your spirit. Let the stout
peasant women labor that way, Azalea. Such employment is not for one of gentle
birth. You shall go to Tokyo
.
What shall I do there?
inquired the girl.
You have beauty and youth
, said Madame Yamada slowly.
The girl moved uneasily and then catching sight of the expression upon her
Why do you start so?
she inquired gruffly. Do you suppose I referred to
the
Yes
, said Azalea, white to the lips. Her voice became passionate. I will
not go, then
, she said. You shall not sell me. I am the daughter of a
.
Foolish child! Who spoke of selling you to the
Ah, your eyes spoke, mother-in-law. Besides, what other employment could my
youth and beauty find in Tokyo?
Are there not
Yes, but I have not their accomplishments, and I am too old to learn how to
dance. To be a
, she finished.
Madame Yamada, who sat behind her, looked at her with eyes that held no mercy. In
some manner the girl must be sent away. Matsuda should then be told that she
preferred the life of gayety in Tokyo to marriage with him. After that, Yuri-
Meanwhile Azalea continued to look out dreamily through the opened
There is only one true God. He it
.
Ah, if it were only true, thought Azalea. If this new God would only be kinder than those she had known, then she might even close the eyes of her heart to the words of the priests of Kwannon, and forget they had told her the God of the barbarians was an evil spirit. She would prove Him. If He proved unkind to her she would believe it, but if it were otherwise, why how could the evil one be kind? It was not possible.
Answer when you are spoken to
, broke in her step-mother’s sharp voice.
Azalea started.
I did not hear you speak, honorable step-mother
.
Your ears are accommodatingly dull. You did not care to hear
.
Azalea sighed, then pressed her lips together, as if to prevent the retort that might have escaped them.
Madame Yamada bent toward her.
Do you wish to marry?
Azalea reflected.
No-o
, she said softly, and then, perhaps, yes. It would be a solution of
my troubles, step-mother, would it not?
Would you marry any one who asked. you, then? You appear to lack the common
qualities of maiden modesty
.
I did not say I would marry any one
, said the girl, flushing, but almost
anyone would be kinder than you
.
They were daring words, and she anticipated their effect upon her step-mother, for, after having spoken them she made a frightened motion from the older woman, who had seized her arm and was cruelly pinching it. Tears of pain came into the girl’s eyes, but she made no outcry. Suddenly Madame Yamada flung the girl’s arm from her.
Did my touch hurt, then?
she inquired.
Yes
, said Azalea briefly, her arm still sore, though released.
Yet
, said her step-mother, the pain inflicted by a woman, who is weak,
is nothing to that inflicted by a man. What will you do when your husband beats
you?
I do not know
, said Azalea mechanically, and then added slowly, but I
should not weep, mother-in-law. I would not give him that pleasure. But—
she paused; all husbands do not beat their wives. Perhaps the gods will favor
me with a kind one. I should not marry him otherwise
.
How will you test his kindness?
asked her mother scornfully.
I will know
, she answered. I will see him and love him before I marry
him
.
She arose and fluttered her sleeves back
What!
she cried. You stand shamelessly in the open doorway shaking your
arms in unmaidenly fashion because a man approaches
.
I did not even see him
, said Azalea, shrinking before the anger of her
step-mother’s expression, and, mother-in-law, see for yourself. The man is
Matsuda Isami. Is it likely I would fling my sleeves at him?
At him most of all
, said her step-mother hoarsely. Do not deny it,
shameless girl!
Before Azalea could recover from the surprise occasioned by these words, Madame Yamada, with one black look cast back at her, had left the kitchen, and was hastening to the front part of the house, there to prostrate herself with slavish sweetness and politeness before the exalted Matsuda Isami.
Matsuda Isami was a small, sharp-eyed man of possibly forty. He was rich and
powerful, the landlord of many of the families in Sanyo. The people feared him,
while they respected his employment of hundreds of coolies, and it was said his
parsimony had made him rich and kept the whole community poor. In some way, direct
or indirect, nearly everyone in the community was in his service or debt. He was
the magnate of the town, and accordingly hated, feared, dreaded. He had come on
foot to the humble home of Madame Yamada, he, the taciturn, cold-hearted head
walking in the sun, in a
Wealth and power, after all, were not sufficient to gratify the insatiable greed
of his nature. He was desirous of something more priceless, and for which he would
With impatience he listened to Madame Yamada’s servile words of compliment and welcome. Hardly had he seated himself and with a gesture refused the proffered pipe, when he spoke of the object of his visit.
In accordance with her suggestion conveyed to him through the
The prevaricating words of temporizing that came to Madame Yamada’s lips were not even listened to by him.
Her daughter not at home? Very well,
he arose. Madame Yamada bit her lip until the blood came. Then she clapped her hands and bade the maid who answered tell the eldest daughter of the house to hasten at once to assist the most exalted Matsuda with his clogs. The latter, however, kicked his feet into his own sandals. When the maiden appeared, he went shuffling in them toward the door, returning only a curt nod to her deep and graceful obeisance. Madame Yamada, clasping her hands in despair, followed him to the door.
Would not His Excellency wait a little while?
No, His Excellency would not—that is to
Your daughter, I perceive
, he said, indicating Azalea, has
returned
.
The angry blood buzzed in Madame Yamada’s ears, but she answered calmly enough:
Why, yes, it is true, Excellency
. Then raising her voice, she called to the
girl: Azalea!
Matsuda, returning to the interior of the house, seated himself in the guest room,
lighted his pipe and drew a long whiff.
pensively. His little keen eyes going from her to her step-mother and catching the glance of baffled fury bestowed by Madame Yamada upon her daughter Yuri, he allowed a sound which was oddly like a chuckle to escape him. Then he put the pipe down and again regarded the maiden Azalea. He said:
It is the wish of your step-mother that I address you personally
.
She looked at him with eyes of inquiry.
What had Matsuda Isami to say to her? She did not dream that a man as old as her
father, and one who was so exalted in public opinion, would deign to propose
I wish to marry you
, said Matsuda bluntly.
Her lips parted and her eyes enlarged.
Me?
she said faintly, and repeated the little word. Me?
Yes
, he smiled. Marry you, Azalea
.
The color came in a frightened ebb to her face. She looked at her mother and
sister fearfully. Their faces were absolutely cold and impassive. In a flash she
understood her step-mother’s attitude of a moment since. It was all clearer than
daylight. Azalea arose and bowed extrava-
The humblest one is altogether too insignificant and small to become the wife
of so exalted a personage
.
The words pleased Matsuda. Plainly this girl would make a most excellent and humble wife. He bent graciously and touched her head, patting it. She slipped under his hand to her knees, and then to a sitting position. But her head was still bent far over, and if the suitor could have seen that dimpling face, its expression would have perplexed him.
He seated himself opposite to her.
The marriage
, he said, can be speed-
.
Madame Yamada interposed, desperately:
Time will be needed to make her marriage garments, to call together her august
relatives, for maidenly meditation, and for preparation for the marriage
feast
.
We can dispense with all these things
, said Matsuda suavely.
Too early a marriage would be unseemly
, said Madame Yamada.
Madame Yamada exaggerates public opinion
, was Matsuda’s response.
The woman’s voice was barely controlled in its harshness.
You, Azalea, what have you to say?
I do not wish to marry
, she said, and added as an afterword:
—yet
.
At that moment her step-mother could have embraced her.
Matsuda cleared his throat.
When, then, will it suit you?
he asked respectfully.
The girl’s eyes were still upon her fan, and without raising them she replied with a slight shrug of her small, bewitching shoulders:
I do not know when. Maybe in one
.
Matsuda arose.
For one year
, he said, or for ten years, or as long as your caprice may
make it, I will wait for you
.
Azalea’s fan fluttered closed. She bowed her head upon it.
Excellency is very faithful
.
Once
, said Matsuda, looking at her
with half closed eyes, your august
.
The moment he was gone Azalea turned toward her step-mother, upon whose countenance a look of sweetest benevolence toward her step-daughter was slowly appearing.
Mother-in-law
, said the girl, you need not fear that I will marry him.
No, my father spoke true words. He is a dog. He has only the instincts of a
tradesman, and as such he comes here to buy the daughter of a
.
Your words are wise, Azalea
, said the step-mother, and you win my
maternal affection. Matsuda is not the fit husband for a warrior’s daughter.
Yet, Azalea, bear in mind that Yuri, your sister, had for
.
I will neither help nor hinder
, said Azalea, crossing the room, and looking
through the Mother-in-law, I have no interest in the matter
, she
added.
Madame Yamada was behind her and had touched her arm, the arm she had lately pinched so viciously.
Promise to be steadfast in your refusal of Matsuda. Promise that, Azalea, and
you will find that harshness is an unknown quality in this household
.
Oh, I will promise that, easily
, said Azalea. I will not even look at or
speak to the man. Other things now occupy my insignificant head
.
It was in the springtime, when the little leaves upon the trees were of the most entrancing shade of green and the wild plum and cherry blossoms blew in clouds of pink and white, making an impressionistic picture against the deep blue sky so lovely and entrancing that even such a serious-minded, earnest worker as the Rev. Richard Verley became unconscious of the sermon he had been writing and smiled out at the landscape.
Nature oftentimes, from her very beauty, distracts one from the work of
composition, though one would call her lovingly an
He was not conscious of his dreams. He only knew the world seemed very good and
fair. His pen trailed over the paper for a space, then paused, to continue again. Idly, and unconsciously, he had covered a sheet of foolscap.
The slight noise of the opening of his sliding doors caused him to come to life
with a guilty start. His usually pale face was flooded with color, as for the
first time
A face of prodigious fatness was thrust between the
What is it, Natsu?
asked the minister in Japanese.
The girl Azalea
, she answered. I have told her Your Excellency is most
busy, but she still stays
.
That is right
, he said quietly. I am expecting her
.
The servant pursed her lips and her round cheeks expanded till her little eyes Again,
Excellency?
Yes
, he said, again. What are you waiting for?
She shuffled unwillingly from the room, drawing the doors behind her. Suddenly she opened them again.
Excellency
, she said, she is not truly convert—no! That is a
lie!
He smiled. The maid’s jealousy of all his parishioners gave him amusement. She was envious even of their possible conversion.
That will do, Natsu
, he said. Don’t keep our visitor waiting
.
The woman muttered ill-temperedly as she passed along the hall.
The minister waited in pleasing anticipation. He had not expected her at this
hour. She came usually in the afternoon. He remembered with what fearful shyness
she had first entered his house, and the tremulous, almost breathless, fashion in
which she had replied to his questions. He was of a hopeful, sanguine disposition.
Though he knew that his small congregation consisted of those induced by
Minister, I am convert unto you!
At first her visits had been irregular and spasmodic. She would come as far as the
hill, then turn back. Again, her courage emboldened, she would reach his garden
gate, there to linger but a moment, the antagonistic face of the minister’s
servant
The minister hearing the light glide of her little feet now outside the doors,
hastened to slide back the
She stood upon the threshold, her eyes widened, her cheeks glowing with the
tremulous excitement that always assailed her upon the occasion of these visits.
He held out his large hand in silence, and she, the color fluttering wildly now
over her face, slowly and timidly lifted her little one from the folds of her
sleeve and put it into his.
Azalea!
He spoke her name so softly. Lift your face, my little girl
,
he said. I want to see it, while I tell you something
.
She obeyed him like a child, but the eyes that met his were mutely appealing.
What do you think I am going to say to you to-day?
he asked, smiling a
trifle.
About those honorable commandments?
He shook his head.
No—you already have learned them well, have you not?
Yes. You like hear me say them, mebbe?
Not to-day. I wish to speak to you about another matter
.
She looked at him apprehensively.
Oh
, she said, mebbe your august God tell you I also visit at the temple
that other day?
He looked a trifle startled.
What temple what do you mean?
You God sees all things?
All things
, he said solemnly.
Her eyes expressed momentary fright. She drew her hands forcibly from his and sat backward a little way from him, her head bent.
Then
, she said, you already know about—about my—my lie?
Lie?
He leaned forward in his chair.
Yaes—yaes—your God told you
.
Tell me what you mean
.
The face she raised was pitiful.
Excellency, that was velly wicked lie I tell you wen I say I am convert unto
you
.
He stared at her blankly. She could not bear the expression on his face and pushed herself nearer to him on her knees. Her hands fluttered above and then timidly
touched his.
Excellency, I sawry—sawry—
There was a sob in her voice now, and her eyes
were misty. Pray you be like unto the gods and forgive that lie
.
He stood up mechanically, then sat down again, turning in his seat toward the desk
and resting his clasped hands there. She,
Pray—
she began and broke off, as though she could not finish. He turned
his head and looked at her curiously. Still he did not speak.
Listen
, she continued in her low, almost sighing, voice, which he no longer
wished to hear.
I tell you only one lie—one liddle bit lie. Thas not velly much. Also I beseech
the gods to pardon that lie—and I beseech also your mos’ kind God pardon
me
. She broke off distressfully— Excellency, will you not hear me?
I am listening
, he said heavily.
Your voice so hard
, she said.
His eyes were still stern. He spoke mechanically.
I was going to say something—something personal to you to-day. You have shocked
me. That is all. But I want to hear what you have to say. There may be
extenuating well, tell me how it came about that you pretended
conversion
.
I wanted moaney
, she said.
She saw his hands clinch and shrank before the look upon his face. She shook her head uncertainly.
For money!
he repeated.
Yaes, I needed some velly much. Gonji say you pay big moaney to convert, and so
and so I became convert
.
The minister closed his eyes, then cov-
ered them spasmodically with his hand.
Sitting back in his seat he remained with
his face thus half shielded while she
spoke on.
But
, she said, you din not give me moaney; no, not even one half
. She laughed a little, almost joyously.
Ah, I am so glad you din nod give
, she said. I doan want that moaney.
After that first day my honorable step-mother doan be unkind no more. Also she
give me plenty to eat, an’ new dress, also Matsuda Isami ask me marry wis him
evelly day in those weeks
.
The minister uncovered his eyes and
What do you think now?
she asked.
His voice was husky.
You spoke of marrying some one
.
She shook her head.
No. Some one want marry wiz me. I doan desire. But sinz he want, my honorable
mother-in-law is mos’ kind unto me, and I doan starve no more. Therefore I doan
wan no moaney—be convert now
.
Ah, why do you keep up the pretense, then?
Pretense?
She could not understand
Why do you still pretend to be a Christian? Why do you continue to come here if
it is no longer necessary for you to obtain money?
Because
, said Azalea, smiling up at him, I want do so. Also, I kinnod
stay away. My august feet bringing me back all those times
.
He sighed. Her face with its quickly changing expressions became wistful.
Excellency, I am glad thad honorable God telling you thad about those moaneys.
Perhaps he also tell you that I want be
.
He wavered toward her a moment, and then turned his eyes from her. He had been beguiled too long.
Mebbe your God doan’ desire me?—mebbe
, she said.
He did not answer. To recall him to her she touched his knee. His voice was hoarse.
Salvation is free to all
, he said dully.
She laughed almost joyfully.
I make nudder confession
, she said eagerly. Sometimes I ’fraid of your
God. The priest tell me he is evil spirit and I getting skeered. Well, wen I
come unto your house I know that your God
. She tried to illustrate, but
found him unresponsive, her voice toiled forlornly. I so ’fraid of tha’s
influence of your God. I run so quick from your house I kinnod see, and then I
came to thad temple and prostrate myself before Kwannon and beseech her save me
from all those powers of evil spirit. Then I go home, and I know I jusd silly,
foolish girl. Thad God you tell me ’bout Is not evil spirit. No—no! You say
nod,
.
Happy! Why were you happy?
He could not resist the expression of her eyes and almost unconsciously allowed her hands to slip back into his.
Because you so kind unto me
, she said; you touching my hand this way—so
warm—so nize! Tha’s why I coon nod speag. Tha’s stop my heart
.
I love you!
he said, the words escaping his lips almost without his
volition. I cannot help it. That was what I wanted to say to you
to-day
.
She clung to his hands. Her lips parted. The color was wild in her face.
Oh
, she said, you love me! Tha’s a most beautifulest thought,
Excellency. Mebbe also your God love me—jus’ me—also?
He drew her into his arms and held her there a moment. He forgot everything else as he kissed her willing, questioning face and little hands. Then after an interval:
What does it matter what does anything matter now?
he said. I love you.
I know that you love me. Your eyes do not lie
.
When he released her, her hands fell limply on his knees.
No one
, she said breathlessly, her eyes shining, aever clasping me like
thad
.
He laughed as joyously as she could. With his arm about her, as she knelt before him, he showed her the sheet of paper covered with his writing of her name.
That
, he said, almost boyishly, is how the Rev. Richard Verley wrote his
sermon to-day—‘Azalea, Azalea, Azalea, Azalea—nothing but Azalea.’
Tha’s me! I am Azalea!
she said. Oh, tha’s so nize be your
convert
.
He laughed, then sighed.
You will be that in time, I promise
, he said, and meanwhile, well,
meanwhile, we will be married
.
She looked up at him with frightened eyes.
Married! You also marry me?
she asked.
Why, yes, of course. We will make a little trip to a town where there’s another
minister, or possibly I can have the ceremony here
.
Oh! Pray you doan make other converts. Please doan
.
Why?
Because perhaps you also marry them—yaes?
He laughed again and kissed the tip of her little pointed chin. There was a bewitching dimple in it, and he had always desired to kiss it.
When you are my wife, you will, in
.
You gotter git consent my honorable mother-in-law
, she interrupted.
His face fell.
Also
, she said, I gotter git those marriage garments, and you must buy
me lots presents
.
No, I’ll marry you in the gown you have on
.
This!
She touched it in dismay. Why thad would be disgrace upon
me
.
Very well, you shall be disgraced then. Now come—we’ll go to your step-mother
right away. There’s no time to be lost
.
She hesitated as they reached the door.
Wait
, she said. He paused with the sliding door half open.
You bedder not come also. Let me speag to her alone. Tha’s bedder. If she doan
consent, then I skeer her and say I marry wiz Matsuda. She doan wish that. She
desire him for Yuri
.
Oh, I see
.
(Good-bye!) she said, passing through the opening. He drew her
back.
Is that the way to say ‘good-bye’?
he asked reproachfully.
She was puzzled.
This is the American way
, he said boyishly, and stooping, kissed her.
She ran all the way home. She wanted her stepmother’s consent as quickly as possible, so that she might hasten back to the minister.
Her breathless words astounded Madame Yamada.
That barbarous, beautiful priest wishes to marry me
, she announced in one
breath.
Madame Yamada’s lips fell apart.
What do you mean?
she inquired roughly.
That’s right—right!
cried the girl, Oh, I am the happiest girl in all Japan!
Her step-mother extended a long finger and struck it at the girl’s breast.
What! The foreign devil wants to marry you?
Madame Yamada was excited, agitated, above all delighted. The gods were favoring her. Here was a solution to all their difficulties.
Breathe not a word to anyone of this, my daughter
, she said, but hasten
back with the speed of wings to the house of the barbarian. Bring him here, and
we will go at once to the next town and have a
.
Azalea swung her sleeves coquettishly.
Oh
, she said airily, we will not make Japanese marriage,
step-mother
. She clasped her hands behind her and raised her head with
childish dignity and pride.
I am to be an American lady. Therefore we will marry in American
fashion
.
How is that?
asked Madame Yamada, mystified.
Oh, you don’t understand
, said Azalea pityingly, but I do. He told me
once how they marry. Just pray, bend head like this, and knees like this, hold
hands tight so, mother-in-law; and then the
.
They do not exchange the marriage cup?
questioned her mother, horrified.
No—there are no marriage cups. Also to marry that foreign way, I have got to be
Kirishitan
.
Ah-h! I see. You will turn convert?
I am already. I wish already to be so
, said the girl simply.
An idea flashed swiftly across the mind of Madame Yamada—a brilliant idea.
Good!
she said. It is well for
.
Azalea paled a trifle. She was not ignorant of the effect of such an action. One
who renounces the tablets of his ancestor she knew is in popular opinion forever
lowered. One might attend the church meetings of the Kirishitans, one might even
affiliate with the foreigners; but it is only when one has openly declared oneself
for the new religion and, in defiance of the old, destroyed the sacred symbols,
the ancestral tablets, that one becomes an outcast. Yet it was necessary, surely.
It was not possible without hypocrisy to acknowledge the
Well, what were the tablets to her now?
Her husband’s love, the new God’s strength, would stand between her and shield her from her enemies. Azalea smiled bravely at her step-mother.
Yes
, she said, if my honorable husband requires it, I will throw away
the tablets
.
They were married in the little mission church on the hill. An old and venerable missionary officiated.
The church was quite crowded, for Madame Yamada had spread the news about the
town, in anticipation of its effect upon
When, after it was all over, Azalea’s friends turned their heads from her or
looked askance at her, the girl simply lifted her eyes to her husband. The look of
wistful apprehension that a moment before had clouded them vanished. Her face
became radiant. She clung to his sleeve like a child, proudly, gaily. But when,
after proceeding a few steps in the direction of her new
Azalea looked about her dazedly. Suppose, after all, her friends spoke truly?
Suppose this new God was in reality an evil spirit? Had she not felt its subtle
influence upon her? When in memory could she recall the time that her whole
Her husband stood looking at her tenderly, yearningly. He was thinking of her future, and of the trusting soul that had come to his keeping.
Well, they are all gone now
, he said, and what was that you threw
away?
She shook her head piteously. He waited for her answer, and marvelled that she,
who had gone through the marriage ceremony in such a brave and happy spirit,
I din nod mean to throw it away
, she said brokenly. I coon nod help
me
.
Oh, you are trembling about what you threw away? Well, let me go after it. Such
a little mite of a hand cannot fling very far
.
No, no
, she said, catching at his sleeve, do not touch it. The gods may
punish you also
.
He enclosed her hands in his, and looked at her very seriously.
You must not talk of ‘the gods,’ my
.
Yes, yes
, she said, and now she was almost sobbing; pray you do so,
ple-ase. I am most ignorant girl in all the whole worl’. I like know about
those gods. Pray tell me truth, will you not?
He could not understand the meaning of her beseeching voice. How could he suppose that she still dreaded the thought that he was a priest of a possible evil spirit? She wanted to be reassured. He only saw that she was very white and trembling, now that the ceremony was over, and he dimly realized that in marrying him she had sacrificed much.
When you look and speak like that
, he said, I feel as if I had done some
brutal act. Come, be my happy, joyful sweetheart again. Why, marriage is not a
tragedy; not when there is love. Now, let us look about us just a moment, and
then we will go home—to our own home together. Just see how sunny and beautiful
everything is hare. Was ever a sky more lovely? And the fields! What color can
we call them?
His arm was about her and she had recovered somewhat of her confidence.
It is a purple world
, she said, all purple and green to-day,
Excellency
.
Why, yes, it does seem so
, he said. The skies are more
purple than blue, and their very reflection seems to rest upon the fields
to-day. Just look down there in the valley
.
It is the purple iris and wistaria
, she said. I so love them, Do they
grow like that in America?
No, unfortunately
.
And are not the skies purple there?
she asked.
No-o. That is, not often
.
Oh
, she said, with a sudden, unexpected vehemence, I never want to go to
that America. I love these fields so purple and so green and those skies!
Excellency, you will not take me away, will you?
He was touched to the heart of him.
No, no
, he said. I will not. I will not
.
Azalea had been married during a brief absence of Matsuda Isami in Tokyo. He had gone
there especially at Madame Yamada’s suggestion, to purchase city gifts with which to
help him in his suit. The townspeople had never been on sufficiently familiar terms
with Matsuda to talk with him even upon his return from an absence. Hence he learned
nothing of the marriage until Madame Yamada herself broke the news to him. She
appeared to be suffering from intense mortification and anguish of mind because of
what she termed the unnatural defiance of her step-daughter, who
The woman had not foreseen the real effects of such news upon Matsuda. For a moment
he stood as if turned to stone. Then his long white teeth gleamed out between his
thick, coarse lips like the tusks of a savage animal. In his eyes there was
Most Exalted
, she said, the humble one craves your august pardon and
abjectly beseeches you to perceive her distress. That this wretched girl has
abandoned you for a vile and horrible barbarian is not the fault of the
humblest one, who sought with all her power to bring about her union with
you
.
There was an odd quality in the responding voice of Matsuda.
Who spoke of fault?
said he. Has my mouth uttered blame upon you, Madame
Yamada?
Her courage returned and she arose.
I should have known
, she said, that Your Excellency is too noble to have
blamed the unfortunate. And now that you have deigned to pardon me, will you
not permit my daughters to wait upon you?
The gray face of Matsuda had resumed its impassive expression, but his eyes were almost closed. He refused Madame Yamada’s invitation with a gesture and without words. When she did not attempt to press him, he moved toward the door.
What was the effect of this marriage upon the community?
he asked, turning to
the woman.
They were righteously insulted, and pity me
.
Was there any demonstration when she threw away the tablets?
Yes. Her friends and neighbors turned from her as if she were evil, as she has
truly become
.
She is, then, forsaken?
Punished, Excellency. She believes herself happy at present, but who envies the
lot of an outcast? She is entirely friendless
.
Matsuda’s eyes turned inward, as for a space he meditated.
Not friendless entirely
, he said, finally, tapping his own chest
significantly. She still has Matsuda Isami for friend
.
You!
repeated Madame Yamada faintly.
I
.
But
, she gasped, she has deceived you more than anyone else. Exalted
Matsuda, she has forced you to break the oath you made to possess her. She is
married forever to the foreign devil
.
It is news
, said Matsuda coldly, that the foreign devils marry Japanese
girls forever
. He went a step nearer to the She is not married to him, Madame Yamada. He
will leave her soon—remember my words. After that there is time then for the
fulfilment of my oath
.
Madame Yamada, left alone, grew repulsive in aspect. Her powdered face was white and
long drawn. She had thrust her hands mechanically through her hair and it stood up
from her head in stiff disorder. In the hope of securing Matsuda for her own daughter
she had herself assisted in putting the girl she hated beyond her reach. Now she
realized how utterly vain was this last hope. Her very action but brought upon her
head the implacable enmity of
Meanwhile Matsuda sent the articles he had purchased in Tokyo as marriage gifts to
the most respected and honorable foreigner, Mr. Verley. The latter was actually
pleased and touched. He laughed at Azalea’s first impulse of fear when the
presents had arrived and reminded her that these were the only wedding gifts they
had received. She, after her temporary fear, fell to admiring the beauty of the
gifts. By the time Matsuda came to pay his personal respects to the couple, only
the remotest suspicion of design on his part remained in her mind. No one could
have been more pillar of the church
. First he won the confidence of the minister, and
later made the acquaintance of other and more powerful foreigners in the larger
cities of Japan.
The recall of the missionary came like a shock in the midst of their happiness.
Azalea, by this time, had learned and seemingly understood the religion of her
land of the
barbarians
which constituted the home of her husband. All the joyful
searching with her husband as teacher in the books of his people had failed to
cure her of this innate sense of fear of the foreigner, a fear inculcated since
childhood, when she had listened to the weird and horrible tales of an old
grandfather who had once lived in one of the open ports and
You are going to leave me!
she gasped, her eyes wide with terror.
Leave you!
he repeated. Why, what put such an idea as that into your
head? You are going with me
.
She shook her head.
No, no! I kinnod go
, she said.
Cannot! What a word to use to me. Certainly you will go
.
She caught at his hands and held them spasmodically.
You promise me on that day you marry wiz me that you never goin’ take me away
across those oceans. Yes, you promise
.
But Azalea, I am recalled. I must go. Now, be reasonable. These people who sent
for me are my employers
.
She slipped to the floor and sat with her hands clasped about her huddled knees.
Velly well
, she said after a moment. You go. I will wait here for
you
.
He sat down on the mat beside her and put his arm about her.
No, no, we must go together
.
With her head against his shoulder she cried hysterically.
I do not want to go—no, I do not want!
she kept repeating.
Thinking her eccentric stubbornness due to her condition, he said in the tenderest voice:
I could not leave you alone now. Why, what would a little girl like you do all
alone with a wee baby and no husband to care for both of you
.
She struck her hands passionately together.
Tha’s why!
she said. Jus’ why I doan want go. I am ’fraid for that
liddle bit bebby
.
Argument and persuasion seemed useless at this time, for Azalea could neither
under-
Then it was that Azalea would hysteric-
Verley’s recall was imperative. Yet at times he thought of refusing to return. His many gifts and benevolences among the people had eaten away the last instalment of his small salary. He could not leave his wife supplied with funds sufficient for the entire period of her illness; yet once in America he would be able to send small sums regularly. The society had mentioned something vaguely of a desire to have him lecture in the United States and after that it was intimated that he might be sent to China. In any event he would return for Azalea after the birth of her child.
All these confused thoughts and reasonings played through the mind and conscience of Verley. Yet so finely balanced were the moral and emotional traits of this young man that for a time he could come to no decision. He prayed, and then the precepts of his religion conquered. Since Azalea would not accompany him, he must go alone. Parting was inevitable, but absence was not for long.
Once again he sought Azalea. Failing to move her by the most passionate entreaty, Verley tried to make her see his reasons for his decision, which he now felt more than ever must be final.
Azalea looked up at him with an apathetic, yet tender, expression:
Yaes, yaes
, she said wearily, I understand. I kinnod go. Your God—yaes, my
God also—he calling you—not me. You go! I stay!
Verley now mutely enough accepted the cruelty of circumstances and sought to cheer the drooping spirits of his wife. She at this time was beset by feelings of the most intense depression, induced as much by her frail condition of health as her childish terror of the seas which lay between and separated her husband’s America from her Japan.
During the last weeks of his stay in
But upon the eve of his going fortune quite suddenly reversed its frowning face. His financial worries found an unexpected alleviation. Matsuda Isami, the friend of his church and a professed convert, had come to him and offered a certain sum of money. Of course the American had protested at accepting any money for personal use from the Japanese, but Matsuda in-
sisted that he knew of the minister’s embarrassment, and being himself possessed
of much, wished to share at least a small part
The parting was heart-wrenching. It took place in the little house, for he did not
wish to have her go to the big city to see the actual sailing of the boat, and she
at the last moment had decided against going even to the railroad station of the
When he was gone she closed every
When the fields had turned from purple to gold and yellow, and Summer was hot in
the land, Azalea for the first time in two months crept from her chamber and sat
at the door of the cottage, her baby on her back. She had been very ill and now
she was as thin and fragile as a spirit. Weak as she was Azalea had come to the
door during the absence of Natsu, to watch for the mail carrier. During her long
illness, and almost from the first day, she had been wont to turn her face always
toward the Street
The sun was warm and very good to feel. The baby, in its little bag on her back,
was no heavier a weight than the
With chin resting upon her hands she sat there, absently dreaming. Her position
brought the sleeping baby’s head close against her neck. The warmth of its contact
comforted and thrilled her, just as the touch of the child’s father had done. Ah,
it was true she had waited long for word
Some one spoke her name, and she lifted her head. Before her, in the path, stood the bowing Okido. Mechanically, and without speaking, she returned his salutation. She was too weak and listless to feel interest in his unexpected call upon her, and did not question him.
Madame Azalea was recovered?
She nodded listlessly.
Good!
He shuffled his feet, waiting for an invitation to enter the house. The indifferent silence of the girl was not encouraging, and the Summer sun was very hot and uncomfortable upon his back. However, he was not to be conquered by a woman’s unnatural silence and the heat of the Lord of Day.
I perceive, Madame Azalea
, he continued, that the gods have been good to
you. You have a child
.
She smiled faintly.
Yes
, she said, and for the first time he perceived the faintness and
weariness
You are still ill?
She shook her head.
Quite well
, she said, but when one has lain long upon the honorable
back, then one’s speech sometimes becomes exhausted
.
Ah!
This response, he took it, might be an intimation that she was not strong enough for conversation. On the other hand, it was longer than her previous monosyllabic answers, and therefore more encouraging. Well, he would speak to her of the child. This subject must surely interest her.
Permit me to inquire
, he continued, with bland interest, the sex of your
honorable offspring?
Male
, she answered simply.
Ah! you are indeed fortunate
. He went a step nearer to her, looking
solicitously at the child’s head. The projecting gable above mother and child was
a sufficient shade for the upturned face of the sleeping child; but the mother
must be moved from her apathetic listlessness in some way. So the
Do you not fear the sun upon your child’s young eyes will blind them?
His words had the desired effect. She
You will pardon us, if you please
, she said. We must go into the
interior
.
Okido had hoped to be invited to enter, but her answer did not disconcert him. He went up the little steps, and stretched out his hand as if to assist her. Madame was too weak to walk alone; would she not permit his most respectful assistance? She clung for support to the front of the sliding door.
Yes
, she said, I am still augustly weak. So pray you, good-bye, kind
visitor
.
He bowed deeply to her, and then:
Madame Azalea, permit me first to leave in your house a little gift for your
man child
.
She let him put into her hands a child’s tiny toy.
You are very good
, she said.
It is not I who am so well disposed toward your child
, he said, but one
whose interest in it is such that he would give all his possessions to it if
you would, permit it
.
She raised her face, white and startled in expression now. Her hands crept out from the sleeves.
Ah
, she said, of whom do you speak, good Okido?
He did not answer her query, and her breath came excitedly.
You speak of my husband? You have heard from him?
Not your husband, Madame Azalea
, he said, but one who would become
so
.
She passed her hand bewilderedly over her brow.
I do not understand
, she said.
Her strength had been already too much taxed. She turned from the
Some one sent fresh flowers in the early mornings to the house of Azalea. They
were sweet always with the sparkling dews upon them and they filled -the house
with fragrance. Azalea delighted in them. They were symbolic of the truth that
there was sweetness in life in spite of its melancholy. And so, in those days, she
would sit before the flowers, her little head bent above her sewing, and would
attempt to fashion the
The baby grew in strength and beauty, a solemn-faced, large-eyed morsel of humanity, with skin like a peach bloom in color, soft and fat and delightful to the touch of the caressing mother.
If it had not been for that ceaseless, tireless waiting and watching for the
promised letters from the father of the child, and of his own personal absence
from the house, Azalea might have found complete happiness in her child. But
always by day she sat with her face turned toward the West, and at night she
trimmed and burned the light and set it at the West
Often the man Okido would loiter by her house and stop a moment to chat with her and to praise the child. Sometimes he brought a little gift, and once he inquired very solicitously whether Madame Azalea was in need of money. She had answered with careless pride:
No, I have sufficient until his return
.
But the
Yet
, she said, with trembling lip, it is not all gone. He will come when
but one bit remains
.
She burned more oil that night in the waiting room for him. Through the night the bright red light twinkled against his coming. But he came not.
She was sewing by a half-opened
Azalea, alone in the little cottage, ostracised by her former friends and without the presence of her husband, found a nameless comfort in working upon the garments of her baby. She said:
My baby came in Springtime. If it had been a girl, she should be called
.
As she sat on this day, with her head bent above her sewing, she became conscious
of the fact that some one had entered her garden and was looking in at her. But
when she peered out through her
And your august husband? His health also is good?
My husband—
her voice faltered, but she finished with pride: Yes, his health
is good
.
Ah! Then you have heard from him?
She flushed. Did Matsuda guess the truth, that since the going of her husband,
nearly two months before, no letter from him had reached her hands? She did not
You have a letter from your honorable husband?
She bowed her head without speaking. It was the simplest way of lying. He had
taught her it was an evil thing to prevaricate with the lips.
Matsuda appeared somewhat taken aback.
And when do you expect his return?
She looked away from her interlocutor. Her eyes were wide and wistful.
I look for him to come at any time—any day—any hour
, she said. Always by
day I look to the West for his coming, and all night long I burn the light;
with its
.
You are a most estimable wife
, said Matsuda sneeringly. Yet has it never
occurred to you that your faithfulness is old-fashioned and fit only for a
Japanese woman? You, the wife of a foreigner, should not entertain such
feeling
.
Is not faithfulness esteemed by all nations?
she asked quickly.
No. The Westerners make light of its qualities. Have you not heard how many of
these foreigners who marry in Japan leave their wives never to return?
My husband is different
, she said.
So they all say—while they wait
, said Matsuda.
Half unconsciously her hand went to her heart. She looked as if she were in some sudden pain as she spoke.
You do not understand. He was a priest of the great God. He could not lie. Ah!
he was different from all other men
.
The eyes of a foolish wife are blind
, said Matsuda. What a pity that
yours could not sooner perceive the baseness of the barbarian
.
Baseness
, she repeated. I do not understand
.
You think your husband will return to you?
I am sure of it
.
And against his coming you embroider rich garments for his child
.
The blood rose slowly to her temples. Her fingers twitched and then she closed them tightly.
Yes
, she said; it is true
.
Matsuda laughed harshly.
Yet
, said he, it is not your husband who pays for these garments of your
child
.
She stared at him incredulously.
You are insane to speak so
, she finally said. My husband gave me money
with which to purchase the articles upon which I work
.
He bent his lean, evil face to hers.
That money he accepted from me
, he said.
She shrunk back a step.
From you! I do not believe you
.
He fumbled in the bosom of his gown.
Behold this
, he said, shaking before her eyes a piece of paper. This is
his receipt
.
She pushed the paper from her.
I will not look at it
, she said.
You are afraid
.
No!
She seized the paper and read, her eyes dilating with horror as she did so. It was
a receipt for a loan of 75 yen. Her hand
What! Was the money of this Matsuda paying for the sacred garments of her child! Ah, how terribly blind must have been her husband to accept help from such a source. Her pride scorched her. She suddenly turned and walked swiftly into the house. In a moment, however, she returned, a lacquer box and the tiny garment upon which she had worked in her arms. She set the box at Matsuda’s feet.
There
, she said, is what is left of your evil money. Some of it I have
already spent upon this garment. I would not let it touch my child
. She
tore it
Go now!
She pointed to the gate. You contaminate his august home. I have
always hated you, Matsuda Isami, now more than ever. My father spoke true
words. You are a dog!
Laughing softly, he stooped and lifted the box, then slowly counted its contents.
Seventy-five yen
, he said, was the amount of the loan. There are but
twenty-five here
.
My husband’s letter will come in the next foreign mail
, she replied
proudly. You will wait until then
.
He changed his tone.
Madame Azalea, it is well known that
.
He paused to note the effect of his words. She was staring coldly and stonily before her. Her thoughts were bitter. Matsuda went a step nearer to her.
You do not believe in my pity for you?
he asked.
She raised her head proudly.
I do not need it
, she said.
Hah! Your words are proud. You
.
She turned as if to re-enter the house, but he sprang lithely before her and stood in her path, his hideous face thrust before the range of her vision.
Listen once again. You have come to beggary, Madame Azalea, for in my sleeve
this minute rests the last of your yen. What will you do now?
Yes, Matsuda Isami
, she said, you hold the last of the money, but there
are things I can sell, and the house is yet mine. Let me pass
.
He laughed in her face so that his breath struck her.
Every article within the house belongs to me—me!
he said, touching his
breast with his fingers. She stared at him with horrified eyes. Inside the house
the wail of her baby, awakened from its sleep, floated out to them, and the sound
silenced both for a moment. Then she pushed by him, and still he barred her
passage.
Where would you go?
he taunted. She slipped desperately under his arm and
snapped the
He heard her soothing the child within and the sound of its subdued cries. Finally, comforted, it must have slept, for there was no further sound within.
Matsuda pushed open the
She was standing behind the
Pray you walk in, Matsuda Isami. The
.
An empty house?
he repeated. But I do not propose to empty my house. The
house, too, is mine, since I bought it within the month
.
Ah
, she said, I suspected as much. Very well, take also the house, most
honorable Matsuda Isami. We will leave it at once
.
He followed her down the path for a space. When he seized her sleeve, she shook it from his grasp.
Do not make claim upon us, also, Matsuda Isami
, she scornfully mocked. It is not possible you purchased us, too?
No, but I shall do so, Madame Azalea
.
Oh, no, that is not possible
.
Her proud and stubborn demeanor caused him to change his tone.
Listen
, he said. By the law you are no longer the wife of the barbarian.
He has deserted you and hence you are divorced. Become wife with me. My house
awaits your coming, and I have sworn to possess you
.
I would rather wed with Death
, was her answer.
He turned in savage exasperation and ran toward the house. She, standing still
now, watched him enter. A moment later
A sound escaped her lips. It could not be called a cry. She made a little rush toward the fallen house, then stopped and covered her eyes with her sleeves. She was homeless, without means, and upon her back her warm, sleeping babe hung heavy and helpless.
Dazedly, almost blindly, Azalea made her way down the hill slope, across the
little bridge that spanned the narrow river
Her knock was timid and faint. As though expecting her, Madame Yamada hastened to the door. Azalea spoke in the weariest, the faintest of accents.
Excellent mother-in-law, my house has fallen and I am without money and very
tired. I wish to come into my father’s house a little while
.
Madame Yamada laughed shrilly.
The doors of your father’s house
, she said, are closed to the one who
has dishonored them
.
Azalea stood in silence. Even in her misery, her pride withheld her from pleading. She bowed her head in apathetic politeness.
Say no more, then
, she said. We will go elsewhere
.
That night she slept under the open skies. The shadows of the night were her only
covering, and the soft, mossy grass her mattress. She slept well, as the exhausted
often do, and felt nor knew the discomfort of her unusual bed, for she was close
to the ruin of her home that had been, and near, too, to the little mission house.
Her last thought ere she slept was a vague and almost childish remembrance
The Summer slipped by on sleepy wings. Autumn’s mellow, balmy touch was upon the land. By day all Nature was beautiful, but at night the starry skies were cold and chilling. The earth, too, lost its warmth and shivered as if in anticipation of the coming winter.
On a certain night in the month of October, a woman, with a baby on her back, made
her weary way through the village of Sanyo. One could see even in the dim light
that she was haggard and hollow-eyed. Her small hands, which ever and anon crept
nervously toward the little head
After a night of vain effort to keep the baby warm in her arms in the open country, Azalea turned frantically back toward her native village.
She had a vague notion of going once more to the home of her step-mother, this
time to beg with her head at the august woman’s feet for shelter and charity. When
the latter had turned her from the door, stubborn pride had buoyed the girl up and
given her that almost feverish strength which had sustained her this long. Now
And thus it was, then, half clad and almost starving, that Azalea returned to
Sanyo. It was night and the streets of the town were almost deserted. But the
little houses, like fairy lanterns, glowed in the darkness with light and warmth,
and as she passed along she could hear the babble and soft, happy murmur of the
contented and housed families. Her hunger gripped at her throat, parching it. The
baby was mercifully silent, but its weight
Who would have recognized in this shadow of a woman the exquisitely lovely and
dainty girl who, despite her shabby clothes, had bravely held her head so high in
the town? Would the white priest himself have recognized her? She had ceased to
think of him in these days. She had told herself that he had been but a beautiful
spirit whom the gods had sent to bless her for a little time only. Now he was
gone. Azalea had forgotten the language he had taught her; had forgotten the God
he had told her would comfort. Her own wanderings and the cries of her baby had
occu-
Now before the door of her step-mother’s home she stood once more. Madame Yamada came and looked at her. With her came to the doorstep her two daughters. Azalea bent so low and humbly that with the weight upon her back she nigh fell to the ground. Her voice was almost too faint to hear.
One night of shelter, good, dear, kindest of mothers—and a little food!
Madame Yamada’s voice was as hard as her face.
So you have returned!
she said. You are without shame, it seems. This is
the house of respectable people. The Kirishitan cannot enter
.
Kirishitan—Kirishitan!
Azalea repeated the word vaguely, dazedly. I am
not Kirishitan
, she said. The gods——
Madame Yamada’s shrill laugh interrupted her.
What! And you carry the evil book in the front of your
That!
Azalea dragged the book from her
It has brought me evil. Good step-mother, I have cast it from me. Give me
shelter
, and she stretched her hands out in piteous appeal. But only the
blank wall of
In a frenzy she beat with her thin hands upon the panelling, and her moaning voice reached those within.
Oh, hearts of stone, take then the child within. It is dying! dying!
Her step-mother thrust her fist through
The burst of passion subsided. Azalea’s hands fell to her side; she slowly stiffened and straightened herself. She stood in giddy hesitation a moment, then slowly moved away.
Through half the length of the night she wandered about the hill country and town
of Sanyo. Once she came to some water and its murmuring song evoked a momentary
response in her. She began to laugh in a soft, mad way as she stepped into it; but
the water came only to her ankles and the baby upon her back moved and moaned
head. Words, words—words—spoken in that deep voice she had so loved. To take life
was an evil and unpardonable thing in the sight of the One God! She stepped upon
the bank of the brook in shivering terror. Suddenly she ran from it as though from
a great temptation. She sped on from the dark allurement of the country to where
the light of the city told her of the warmth and happiness of others. Through
street and street she wandered, her feet dragging, her head dropped forward. She
lost her sandals and her feet, in the worn and old linen, bled from the touch of
the pavement. She had now lost all sense of
Azalea stopped before one of them—the largest of all. Her hand rested heavily upon
the bamboo gate; but she did not attempt to push it open. Now she stood still with
a nameless quiet and terror in her heart. Suddenly, as she wavered, the babe upon
her back twisted in its wrappings, and
For nine days she remained in the house of Matsuda Isami. He put her into the
great sleeping chamber above the
When first the serving-woman Natsu-
I have brought food
, she said briefly, and set the tray on the floor by the
famished Azalea. She reached out a trembling hand and cautiously, fearfully
touched and felt of the food. Reassured of what she, touched, her hands seized
upon the contents of the tray. She found the milk, warm and sweet, and in a moment
she had slipped the child out of its bag, laid its limp and listless little body
at her feet and thrust the nipple of the bottle between the tiny, parted lips.
Someone in the night put a slumber robe upon her. Her weakness and exhaustion gave
way. She slept. But in the early morning, turning in her sleep instinctively
It was five days before they put the child back into her arms. At the end of that
period she put her head at the feet of Matsuda Isami, swore by the eight million
gods of heaven that she was his humblest and meekest of slaves, and promised to do
whatsoever he should command if he would but return to her her child. After that
she was like a mechanical puppet. The woman Natsu-master
feared for her reason, and left her for the nonce alone. Thus a respite of a few
days was given her.
Physical strength crept back into her wasted body, bringing health, too, to her
bewildered mind. Memory—burning, in-Have faith always. Be true to me, my love, and to
yourself. I will return
. Yet how had he kept his word to her. There had not
come to her one word or sign since his departure. If he had sent word to her the
great waters that divided them must have swallowed it up. There was nothing left
to her now save the child, and for his sake she would sell herself and become wife
to Matsuda Isami.
Patience is not always an enduring virtue. That of Richard Verley had long since evaporated. Waiting, with a faith excelled only by that of the one in Japan, for word from his wife, his stay in America had become unbearable.
At first he had thought her failure to answer his letters due to mistakes she
might make in addressing him. He recalled how, when teaching her to write his
address, she had continually forgotten to put the name of the city or State. She
was quite sure that everyone in the United States must know him. But as time
So, with his mind sick with gloomy forebodings, his conscience and heart aching,
Richard Verley returned to Japan. He hurried from Tokyo in a fever of impatience
to the little town of Sanyo. The journey was interminable—intolerable! For the
When he touched the town at last, he did not wait a minute, but without noticing the townspeople, who regarded him curiously, he hastened on toward where had stood his home.
The sight that met him when he reached the place staggered him. He looked about
him dazed, as one who sees with unseeing eyes. He could not understand. Something
was wrong with his sight—his head, he told himself. Where once had stood the
little flower-embowered home, there was nothing but a heap of
Snow was falling slowly and turning to water as it fell. The trees were leafless. Where the sunny, flowering bushes had stood about the tiny cottage, there were only the black stalks standing up in barren nakedness. Desolation and tragedy seemed heavy everywhere. He blundered forward a few steps, his hand to his eyes.
A mistake somewhere
, he muttered, I have lost my way. This is not the
place—this is not—and yet!
He uncovered his eyes and again cast them about, slowly. The surroundings were as
familiar to him as the face of a
At the church door he fumbled with key to the lock. It turned easily enough, but
when he pushed the door inward it did not move. Then he discovered the reason. The
door was nailed to. Panic and frenzy swept over him in a flood. He began
frantically pounding upon the door, shaking it by the handle, pushing against it
with his shoulder, beating upon its panelling with his fists, and tearing at the
hinges with his fingers. The blood was in his head. He could neither see nor hear.
Only that sensation of horrible foreboding and cer-
A temple bell began to tinkle, lazily, insistently. Small black birds, cawing as they flew, swept close over his head, hastening toward their night home in the woods. The rain descended heavily, noiselessly. The shadows darkened dully.
What am I doing?
the minister suddenly asked himself, and paused in his
efforts to break the church door. She is not here! My fears are driving me mad.
How do I know that harm has come to her? I must not trust to the phantoms of my
imagination. God is good, good!
He walked out a few paces, thinking
dazedly. Then with a sudden resolution to
He went first of all to her step-mother’s house. Here in the miserable, drizzling rain he stood outside the house, none bidding him enter in response to his knock. Yet all through the house he could hear the sounds of his coming announced.
A woman shrieked his name. Some one called back in a loud whisper which penetrated
through the paper
The Kirishitan!
Then he heard the pattering of hurried
Begone! The curses of
He told himself his ears deceived him. His knowledge of Japanese confused the language surely. He knocked again, and, again, each time louder. Again the voice within:
Who is it knocks?
He spoke distinctly in pure Japanese.
I am Verley-
.
There was silence, and then:
We do not understand your language
.
He repeated his words slowly, patiently, enunciating each Japanese syllable distinctly. But again came the reply:
We do not understand
.
He recognized now the voice. It was that of the step-mother of his wife, Madame Yamada. She had some reason for her lies. He was positive she understood his Japanese.
My words are plain
, he said. I have come to seek my wife
.
She is not here
. The voice was raised angrily now. Seek elsewhere,
foreign devil!
He ignored the insult and persisted doggedly.
Where shall I seek?
Someone laughed jeeringly within, and then the taunting words floated out:
Ask of the gods, priest of the evil one
.
I ask of you
, he said hoarsely. I shall not leave your house till you
reply
.
He heard the sound as of one moving with angry and impetuous haste within, pushing
whatever stood in her path aside. Madame Yamada thrust aside the sliding
Her words were mockingly sarcastic, and she bowed with extravagance.
In what way can the humblest one serve the mightiest?
My wife?
he demanded. Speak, woman, where is she!
She smiled inscrutably, but as he went nearer to her the sneering lines about her face deepened, revealing all her bitter detestation of the Kirishitan.
You will be punished if you have injured her
, he said.
What will the wise and mighty Excellency do?
I will have you arrested. You will be forced to answer
.
So!
She drew in her breath with the hissing
Answer me!
he cried.
It is not I who am the keeper of the outcast. You come to the wrong house,
.
Still he held her, and she could not free herself, though she made effort to do so. Thus held, in angry durance she stood.
You are her mother-in-law. You know where she is. I will not release you till
you speak
.
Go to Okido-
, she said sullenly.
Okido-
He knows!
said she.
He let her arm go and she, free, pushed the
Okido-
he repeated thoughtfully, Okido-
Okido
Verley was shown into the guest cham-
My wife! You know her whereabouts?
Your wife!
stammered the cringing What was her august
name, Excellency?
You know it. Answer at once
.
Excellency is honorably mistaken. I do not know the name of the exalted one’s
wife
.
Verley, with no effort at gentleness, seized him by the shoulder of his robe, and as he spoke shook the trembling wretch threateningly.
You will answer my question. Understand
.
The
He was poor man, very poor, harmless
Quick. I am waiting
.
So many people I know
, whimpered the How I can remember one
woman among them all
.
You do not need to remember. You already know of whom I speak
.
She was a tall woman with thin cheeks, yes?
he inquired with attempted
guile.
The minister answered by tightening his grip upon the man’s collar, and pushing his knuckles hard upon the neck. Okido shrunk fearfully from the large hand of the white man. He felt sure it would hurt hard. After a moment:
She was fat—yes, surely fat!
That will do
.
He slipped down to the minister’s feet and beat his head, seeking to shake off that hand at his neck.
Listen
, said Richard Verley, I will give you five minutes in which to
answer. At the end of that time—
Excellency will not beat a poor man. Ah, surely not!
Excellency will kick the life out of you
.
No, no
. Okido cast a fearful glance at the minister’s boots. I will
speak truth. Surely!
At those words, the minister for a
Richard Verley was alone. He strode from one to the other of the four walls of the
Someone called his name. Excellency! Master sir!
He turned quickly and saw the woman Natsu following him.
Her name burst in a cry from his lips, and he rushed toward her.
Natsu! You! Your mistress—quick, how—where is she?
Her eyes shifted from his face. She covered her own with her sleeve, and thus she stood, the picture of sorrow.
The minister stared at her, horrified. When he spoke his voice was strange.
I understand
, he said. She is—
And so she had died—his little, laughing Azalea, his beautiful child-wife, had
died
Oh, master, master, master!
But the woman’s voice recalled him. He stared at her mechanically. Mechanically he spoke.
I understand
, he said. She is dead
.
Dead!
repeated the woman, and shook her head. No, no, not dead; better
that than what is, O master—sir!
Not dead!
His hands unclinched. His fears had lent phantoms to his
imagination. Alive! Why, then all was well
.
Better death than sin, O master
.
He could have laughed. What! Was this servant of his trying to frighten him with her old jealous tales of the insincerity of his wife’s conversion. The sins of Azalea were microscopic.
Come, Natsu, let us go to her
, he said impatiently. Why do you look at me
in that way? Are you, too, seeking to hide her whereabouts from me?
No, master, but if I take you thither, you will curse me for my evil
offices
.
I don’t understand you, Natsu. You
Oh, master, seek her not!
As he still sought to draw her along with him, she slipped down to his feet and stayed his progress with her head there.
Why do you seek to deceive me, Natsu? What is the matter with you? Why do you
act thus? What has happened, to my wife? Speak!
Still kneeling, with her head at his feet, she answered:
She has become wife to Matsuda Isami, Oh, Highness
.
As he did not speak or seem to comprehend her words, she repeated them. And
Isami is richest man in Sanyo. What is there he cannot buy?
She was seized by the shoulders in a savage grip. Her very teeth smote together with the shock of his grasp.
You lie!
he cried. You lie! Vile thing, you lie, I say!
It was the evening of the return of Richard Verley to Sanyo. Azalea was sitting
passively under the hands of the maid, Natsu, having her shining black hair
brushed and twisted into the elaborate mode approved by Matsuda. Word had come
into the room where thus far she had been kept a prisoner, ordering her to prepare
for the wedding ceremony. Whatever her inward emotions, now as she sat under the
hands of the woman, she showed only a stoical calm. That nameless antagonism which
had always existed between
enemy, and accordingly feared and hated her. Though forced to submit to the
woman’s attendance, yet she would not condescend a word either of entreaty or
command. Matsuda held her destiny in his hand. He could rob her of her child. He
had kept his word and taught her lips to frame themselves to meeker words. But the
woman—Natsu-
Mistress
, she said, the man Okido is waiting below in the guest
room
.
Azalea inclined her head, but made no comment. Okido, like all other people, was of no interest to her. The woman lowered her voice.
I have taken a patch from your floor, mistress. If you will put your head to it
you will hear what he has to say to the master
.
Azalea’s glittering eyes looked at the
The woman’s insidious voice continued carefully:
Mistress, you have heard the ancient saying of the
The girl beneath her hands did not stir, nor did she deign to turn her head to
where the woman pointed. The shorter sword of the
The woman, her task completed, arose and brought a mirror to Azalea, who, still silent, stared fixedly and unseeingly at the reflected face. She started somewhat as the maid’s lips touched her ears, and in the glass she saw the fat red face close to her own.
Mistress, to-day if you listen you will
.
The mirror slipped from Azalea’s hands. She reached them up suddenly and pushed them against the face of the maid. Her nails sank into the puffed fatness of the woman’s cheeks.
Your touch offends me
, she said. Come not so near, low-born one
.
With a cry of rage the woman sprang back, clasping her hands over her hurt cheeks. Then, muttering, she shuffled toward the doors. There she paused vindictively.
You are a peacock now, Madame Azalea, but your feathers will look less
.
Azalea did not move or deign to turn her head, even after the woman had gone and
she could hear her glide along the hall. For a long time she sat in silence. Once
she looked with fearful stealth at the opening in the floor, but she did not look
for long. There was nothing further for her to hear, she told herself. Who knew
already
Okido bowed to the floor before the illustrious Matsuda Isami. Knowing well the nature and temper of his employer, he did not waste much time upon courtesies, but went briefly to the object of his visit.
He has returned
, he said.
What is that you say?
The white beast—
Ah!
Matsuda’s grasp relaxed. He took several strides across the room, then
stopped before an opened
Well, then—what of that?
he asked.
Okido came to his elbow and whispered agitatively:
But she will see him. It cannot be helped
.
Matsuda laughed diabolically.
I have complete command over her eyes, my good Okido. Have you not yet observed
how she is conquered?
Okido shook his head dubiously.
But should Mr. Beast come in person to your house?
We have means of dealing with barbarous dogs
, quoth Matsuda contemptuously,
and the police of this town respect the authority of their masters
.
But the letters, most Exalted? He will make inquiry
.
Pah! What of it?
——so much mail
. Okido moved uneasily. Excellency, I am afraid of the
heavy boot of the barbarian. It was I who kept back for you the letters from
the barbarian to the woman. It is said his government is powerful revengeful.
Let me beseech you to give me a sufficient sum to get swiftly away
.
On the contrary. You must stay here and help me. Besides, you forget the woman
Natsu was the one who held the
.
Yet, good Excellency, I was the carrier, and—
You delivered the letters?
Not to the one to whom they were addressed, but to the servant of the foreign
devil, who, Exalted, declares she gave them to you
.
Matsuda laughed unpleasantly.
Huh! Then it is my sleeves which are weighted!
In the room above the speakers the woman Azalea watched over the open patch in the
floor. Her face beneath the heavy rouge plastered lately upon it by Natsu
Suddenly she found it—the sword! Her small hands gripped its blade and felt its
keenness. Then she hid it in the folds of her
In a flash he understood that somehow
Little dove, you look pale to-day—why——
As the sword flashed upward he dashed to one side and then slipped under its
guard.
Across her fallen body Matsuda Isami and Okido stared at each other. The latter
was shivering as though afflicted with ague. He kept repeating over and over
between his chattering teeth:
Do not speak so loud
, hoarsely commanded the other, or, by all the gods,
I will send you to join her!
The little
Matsuda strode to the dividing doors.
Hear me
, he whispered hoarsely. The woman has fallen in some swoon. We
will tie her devil offspring to her back and carry her up to the place where
she belongs. Give me your aid, good Natsu, and I will marry you
instead
.
Save for the moving of the trees in the early winter air, there was only silence on the hill, where stood the little mission house, but a ghostly moon pushed its rays through the boughs of the trees, glistened on the panes of the church and silvered the interior.
The rows of dark pews shone up stiffly in the moonlit church, and a great white beam glimmered across the pulpit, shaped as a cross.
Azalea crawled on her hands and knees up one of the aisles of the church. She was moaning to herself as she made her painful journey along.
—to touch his God!
she said, for even the evil are forgiven
.
Now she was before the little pulpit, her weak hands upon it. She sighed at its contact, and a feeling of intense calm and rest seemed to flood her being, but she could not support herself against the pulpit structure, even upon her knees, so weak was she and so nauseating the pain in her head. Gradually she sank downward, lower and lower, till her face touched the floor. Then she spread out her arms, and lay very still, face downward.
It was past midnight when Richard Verley came back to the door of the little
mission house. His old-time beggar pro-
His first impulse now was that of the man-brute, the desire to kill with his own
hands the one who had injured him and his so terribly. But a calmer, higher
instinct triumphed—the instinct of the man of strong spirituality to turn to that
One who had never failed him in time of stress. Something seemed to force his
footsteps toward his little house of prayer. So dazed and numb was the condition
of his mind
Richard Verley entered the church alone. The boy was afraid to enter. He did not know what evil spirit might be lurking in the night within the white priest’s temple. He stretched himself out on the doorstep of the church and went to sleep there.
It was very dark within now, for the moon was gone. For a moment the minister
paused irresolute. Then his hand touched the side of a seat. He sat down
mechanically. Suddenly he covered his face with his hands, and tried to pray, but
cross where he had spoken so often. A patch of color caught his eyes and held them. He thought he dreamed and turned his glance away, but, fascinated, his eyes came back to that bit of color there at the foot of the pulpit.
He started up with a loud cry. A moment only, and he was beside her, his trembling hands touching her. Something stirred upon her back and he saw the round head of the baby. Its eyes were wide open now and looking at him with interest. Like most Japanese babies, it was a grave, mute little mite, but its eyes were large and, like his own mother’s, blue in color. He knew it for his own child, though he could not see the face of the mother who lay so very still. Some blessed instinct guided his staggering feet to the door. He aroused the sleeping Gonji, and put into his arms the child. Then he went back into the church.
She had told him in those other days, so many times, that his voice would waken her from the very sleep of death. When her eyes looked up into his face she would not close them though they ached with weariness. She even smiled at his broken repetitions of her name.
I do not know how it is you are here
, he said, but here you are—in my
arms, my wife, and it is enough
.
Her voice was weak, but inexpressibly sweet.
It is enough
, she said.