The Breath of the Gods Part 46

April spread her witchery of green and flowers over a thousand barren hills. Wild azaleas, wigelia, and boke (pyrus j.a.ponica) barred the slopes with pink and crimson radiance. Valleys, so lately brown, spread now a wide bloom of violets, a curdled residue of purple morning mists.

Earth-dwarfs, congeners of Loki, who people the under-world, drove upward from their subterranean caves huge copper spikes of young bamboo--ten inches across, some of it, as it pierced the mould--a marvellous springing column climbing by joints, two feet a day, toward the sun, and casting off brown sheaths, like outgrown jackets. Children roamed the hedges, the rice-field d.y.k.es, and copses (forgotten and unbuilded, sometimes in the very heart of Yedo) for tsukus.h.i.+mbo and the yellow chrysanthemum. All gardens, even those amorphous products of Eurasian uncertainty surrounding the American Legation and Yuki's official home, needed to be fair. Birds came to them, and early b.u.t.terflies. The sun poured down upon them in equal measure his golden cataracts of joy.

Sat.u.r.day of the first week came. Pierre Le Beau had not been mentioned to the Princess Hagane, nor had she found a printed notice of him containing a hint of information. Cleverly insulated wires of venom, it is true, attached to her name and Hagane's. Sometimes Pierre was subtly referred to, but never openly. Next day, thought Yuki, she would go to church. Perhaps something would be said of him by the ladies who always crowded so eagerly about her carriage door. This weekly service, in the Episcopal church at Tsukijii, formed now the closest tie that bound Yuki to her Western memories. It was antic.i.p.ated with eagerness. This link, at least, she told herself should not be snapped. Hagane's consent that she continue openly her Christian devotions had been unqualified.

The mail that Sat.u.r.day morning proved unusually large. An American mail-s.h.i.+p was in. Several letters and papers came from trans-Pacific friends, a great many Tokio social invitations, a few notes relating to Red Cross matters, and one folded pamphlet with a j.a.panese postmark. She knew from its pink wrapping that it was "The Weekly Hawk's Eye." With a slight shudder she put the evil thing aside, with a vague reawakening of the intention to burn it unopened. Slowly she read her letters and invitations. She glanced through the few American papers for any blue markings. All were finished. She leaned to gather them up and have them taken to her private desk upstairs, when the sun, pointing one bright finger through a blind, fell upon the pink wrapper and rested on her name. "Princess Sanetomo Hagane." It looked very cheerful and suggestive. The dull pink of the cheap paper glowed into a rosy hue.

Perhaps it was an omen. Perhaps if she were brave and opened the sheet boldly she would find, instead of the usual malicious innuendoes, the announcement that Pierre was leaving for France. Thinking of Hagane's eyes as they had probed her own she flushed, trembled a little, and murmured aloud, "Oh, if he would only go--if Pierre would only go--how happy--" She broke off. A wave of compunction, pity for Pierre, scorn of her own fickleness, rushed upon her. She took the paper hastily, set her lips for what might be in store, and opened at random.

Her name was plain enough, and Prince Hagane's. This time headlines had been dared. "Prince Hagane soon to leave his young wife. The Nation demands his presence at the centre of martial differences. Hagane loath to leave his young wife. Who knows what may happen? M. Le Beau raving in delirium at the German hospital in Yokohama."

So much she read and paused. Very quietly she folded the paper and slipped it within a gray silk sleeve. She stooped for the crumpled pink wrapping, smoothed it also, and dropped it in her sleeve. Next she gathered into a neat package the mail she had been reading, rang for a maid-servant, and sent the mail up to her boudoir. Her orders were given in the usual low, pleasant voice. In closing, she said, "Should visitors come I am to be found in this room."

Again alone, she walked to a western window and stared out at the great square shadow of the house thrown across the awkward garden. Beyond the straight line of the shadow, paths shone brilliantly in the sun, and flowers danced. Spring had come a little early. Everything that had a blossom to show rushed, it would seem, to the perfumed exhibition.

Yuki s.h.i.+vered slightly. For the first time she knew that her hands were growing cold. She moved slowly toward the fireplace, an ordinary foreign grate with coal fire burning. Nearer the warmth she drew out again the pamphlet, unfolded and deliberately read the article from the first word to the last. Some pa.s.sages she dwelt upon, extracting to its full flavor the bitterness of frustrated hope.

According to the "Hawk's Eye" correspondent, Pierre had caught germs of malignant malaria, perhaps of typhus, while wandering in a state of great mental agony along the moats that border a certain official dwelling. He was now at the crisis of his malady. Two nurses watched him night and day, for his dementia had made of him a cunning schemer, full of sly efforts to escape. When detained he raved fearfully, saying that he had "things to do." "The Hawk's Eye" ingenuously marvelled as to what these "things" could possibly be. As is usual with articles so inspired the suggestions were far more damaging than any actual statement.

She let her hands fall limp. One still clasped the ugly journal. Only a few moments before she had accused herself of heartlessness toward one she had wronged. In her generosity she had almost demanded a deeper suffering, if only it could be directed personally to her offending self, and not include, in its consequences, that great man whose name she now bore. Well, here was her punishment,--a fetid, scalding stream of venom, hurled full and straight at her. Attacks like this were, she knew, less to Hagane than the mud children throw against the base of a lofty statue. His mind moved in a stratum far above such contamination.

The nation spoke direct to him. His ear was for his Emperor, the old G.o.ds of his race. "Yes," thought the young wife, "I wished to suffer for the wrong I have done, but these writhings of a polluted personality can scarcely be dignified by the name of suffering. It is as if one went forth bravely to combat a knight in armor and encountered a filthy swine. One cannot retaliate upon a beast. Nor,"--here, with a nervous transition to energy, she tore out the offending page,--"nor can I, being his wife, attempt punishment for this defilement." The sound of tearing paper soothed her. One by one she s.n.a.t.c.hed the sheets, crumpling them loosely, and threw each in turn upon the coals, where it twisted, opened its angles, caught in a little puff of smoke, and burned quickly.

A sound came to the front door. Some one opened it. She gathered the remaining pages, rolled them hastily into a pithy sphere, and tossed the whole ma.s.s to the grate. A soft explosion of smoke and brightness followed. Red light fawned upward to the slender gray figure and excited face. A door of the drawing-room opened, and the draught pulled out from the grate before her a long, pliant tongue of flame. She felt Hagane catch her backward. "That is a risk, to burn papers in these great, ill-constructed chimneys, my little one," he said. Yuki clung to him, staring up into his face to try to judge whether he had already seen the offensive article. He had an unusual animation. She even fancied that his voice shook; but it was not the excitement of anger or disgust. Some national crisis had come. His next words proved the truth of this supposition. "I wish you not cremated this day of all days," he smiled, trying, as she could see, to speak with some lightness. "I need my wife.

An opportunity for service has come, more important than all that has gone before. Are you ready, my Princess?"

"Lord, I live but to serve you and my land."

"We are in a national crisis, Yuki," said her husband. He began to walk up and down the long room with an abandonment to agitation which she had not seen in him before. "A crisis," he repeated. "I shall not explain the matter of it. You need not have the weight and burden of such knowledge, but you can aid me greatly." He paused now near a window.

Yuki followed. "I await your pleasure, Lord," she said.

He turned to her the deep magnetic gaze she dreaded, yet, strangely enough, longed, at times, to provoke. One ma.s.sive hand leaned on her shoulder. She had no impulse now to shrink from him. She longed to cower against the strong defence of him, to hide in his breast, in his sleeves, as the frightened souls of little dead children hide in the sleeves of Jizo Sama. As though understanding the unspoken longing he drew her very near. His words were still impersonal. "Some terrible, hidden things long suspected have come to light. I do not believe the wrong past mending. The first step in rest.i.tution comes to-day. It is a secret meeting here, in this house,--a small gathering of statesmen, but it may mean to us defeat or victory."

"Yes, Lord, I listen. A meeting at this house."

"It must appear to be a casual a.s.sembling. No servant, not even the good Tora, is to be trusted. When I have given you full instructions I return at once to the palace. Should any unforeseen chance call me back before the hour of one, I charge you speak no words into my ear, nor seek to deflect my thoughts from their ominous course. I bear a heavy burden, Yuki. But the G.o.ds will aid me in my strength."

"I will not honorably accost or fret you, Lord."

"The statesmen,--and here are the written initials of their names,"--he drew a small sc.r.a.p of paper from his sleeve--"these seven statesmen, including Sir Charles Grubb and Mr. Todd, will be ushered as usual into these drawing-rooms. If no other guests be present, say to these men in turn, after the first salutations, these exact words: 'I have received from my lord instructions and the initials of your name.' Can you repeat precisely?"

Yuki did so.

"That is well. Thirteen words, remember. They make to these seven a sort of pa.s.sword. Each, as you speak, is to be conducted to my small office-room to which the wooden doors, and the heavy portieres also, are to be drawn."

"I understand, your Highness. But what am I to do if other visitors come?"

"Ah, little Princess Hagane, it is in such straits that your experience of foreign social hypocrisy must be made to serve you. It is of imperative need that you do not leave this room after the hour of the Rat (1 P. M.). Yet it is also imperative that you receive, equally, all guests. Those unbidden you must get from the house."

"It is a difficult task, Lord, but it may be done."

"That is a brave wife. Remember that not only from the time of the Rat, but this hour, too, this very moment, commences your vigilance.

Tale-bearers and enemies may be lurking near. If human ingenuity can keep a meeting secret this will be kept, but, alas, in a time of great issues the dragon's teeth sow spies instead of men. Do you understand all I have said, my Yuki?"

"I understand, your Highness, and am honored to do your august bidding."

Before leaving her he gazed for another moment steadily into her upraised face. "You are pale to-day as your name, my small snow-wife; yet your eyes move and glitter with a strange unrest."

"I beseech your Highness concern not your weighty thoughts with my unimportant outer appearance."

"I must not do so, indeed," murmured her husband. "My chief thought now must be my Imperial Master. Farewell, little one. I shall arrive at one, if not before."

Yuki followed him to the door for a last wifely obeisance. The carriage had been waiting for some moments. After the loud rattling of wheels came a hollow silence. Yuki stood on the granite doorsteps looking outward with unseeing eyes. The house-shadow shrank closer to the huge cube that cast it. Suns.h.i.+ne, like a golden fluid, brimmed up the azure walls of day. From garden-beds nearby, and from path-borders leading into hazy distance, blossoms beckoned. She saw only an iridescent blur.

The jinchoke (called by foreigners Daphen Odora) rose in waxen ma.s.ses of white or arbutus pink. Azaleas heaped formless hillocks with Tyrian hues, and the long yellow sprays of yama-buki, to which Gwendolen had so often been compared, poised waiting for the breeze, or else tossed in bright indignation at the sudden desertion of a bird. Sweet odors flowed inward, and whispered her to follow. Still half unconsciously she stepped down to the gravelled path and began to walk in the garden.

Sometimes, among the beautiful familiar blooms, an alien flower smiled, a budding rose-tree, or a purple blotch of English violets. The thought of Pierre's danger came now with less of acid pain. Perhaps this illness was to save them both--and Hagane. The long hospital days might bring to the young Frenchman clearer judgment, and perhaps a more forgiving heart. In convalescence, surely, he would wish to return to his own land. At such times the spirit is fain to leave the weak body, and speed on before, to childhood's home. She had reached a cl.u.s.ter of the early iris. These were Pierre's flowers, the lilies of his France. She stroked the silken petals as though they were hands. "Pierre, my poor, poor Pierre," she breathed aloud.

"My Yuki-ko," came as an echo.

Yuki started and looked around in fear. "Little flowers, was it you that spoke my name?"

"Yuki," came the low voice again. "Do you grieve for Pierre? Poor Pierre is dead!" He stepped out from behind a cl.u.s.ter of dark cypress-trees.

Yuki bit her lips to keep from screaming. Was this the ghost of the man she had loved?

"Yuki," said the phantom, with a little chill whine in his voice, "won't you even speak to me?"

"Is it you, Pierre, or is it indeed your newly fled spirit come to reproach me?"

Pierre ran his hands through his short, dry hair, then dropped them, as if the effort had been too great. He took a step forward. "Why, yes, it is Pierre, after all. I thought I was dead, but I am not. Yes, sweetheart, you may come to me. It is your Pierre."

Yuki ran to him and caught one dangling hand. It burned her like hot metal. "You escaped, in spite of your two nurses?" she cried.

Pierre began to whimper. "Yes, yes, Yuki, I got away at last. I had things to do. Don't send me back there, Yuki! My room has bars, like a cage."

"How did you get away?"

"Little j.a.p nurse couldn't resist me. Told me of a back entry. Nice little nurse in white cap. j.a.p--cap; cap--j.a.p. Ha--ha!"

"Come, dear," said Yuki, pulling him gently. "I will not send you back.

You shall go with me to the little Cha no yu rooms at the far end of this garden. There you can lie down until you feel better. Will you follow me quickly and in silence along this little path?" She pointed.

"Indeed I will--no need to ask twice," cried the sick man, and began to giggle like an excited child. "I'd follow you anywhere, Yuki. Are we running away to be married?"

"Hush, Pierre; if you laugh and speak so loud others will hear you and send you back to prison. We must be very, very quiet."

"Very quiet," echoed Pierre, solemnly. "Never do for old prince to hear us, oh, no!" He began to mince along on the tips of his toes, giggling every now and then at the thought of the trick they were playing.

Yuki sped on before him, like a fawn. At the tea-rooms she sprang to the narrow, railless veranda, drawing a single shoji panel carefully to one side. The two small rooms were in order. Sunken into the floor of one was the copper hibachi, two feet square and now filled with cold ashes, an article indispensable to tea-rooms of ceremony. The sun pouring against translucent paper walls flooded the small s.p.a.ce with radiance.

"What dear little rooms!" exclaimed Pierre, as he scrambled in, panting.

"She would call them 'cunning little rooms,' that yellow-haired American girl. What was her name, Yuki? She is not a good friend to poor Pierre; she could not swear it when I asked her. Are these the little rooms where we are to live, Yuki, now that we have run away from the old prince and are married?"

"Yes, dear," said Yuki, soothingly. "Here is where Yuki will care for you until a betterness comes. See, I shall heap for you these nice cus.h.i.+ons. They are your j.a.panese pillows. You must lie on them very still, and keep all these shoji shut close until I can go and get some medicine for you."