The Immortal Lure Part 8

O-UMe'S G.o.dS

TIME: _The Sixteenth Century._

PLACE: _j.a.pan._

SCENE: _A room in the house of O-Ume in a province near the sea.

Its_ shoji, _or sliding paper doors, open in the rear upon a wistaria arbor over-hanging a river, upon which lighted lanterns, sent forth on the night of the Feast of the Dead, are dimly floating; while the moon above gleams upon the pale distant snow-cone of Fujiyama. The room with its deep straw mats and walls delicately portrayed with pine and bamboo has a paper-paned door on the right leading to a garden, and is lighted by_ andon--_one beneath a shrine to Buddha on the left wall, and one to the left centre where O-UMe and AMA are sitting on their heels, constrained, foreboding and verging toward inevitable words._

_Ama_ (_at length_). Down to the sea! the sea!

Oh the dead!

Do they not seem On the night air to hover?

There by the lights Are not their spirits present?

The lights lit for them?

[_O-UMe is silent._

All our ancestors are they!

Fathers and mothers Of many lives back!

They hear us speaking, They hear from the Buddha-shrine There on the wall.

They see us thinking.

[_Meaningly._

They see in our hearts!

_O-Ume_ (_who trembles_). Be silent! silent!

_Ama_ (_bowing but continuing_). They know if we care for them-- Know as the wind That visits all shoji, Know as the night That searches all places.

Alas for the son Who does not honor them!

And for the daughter Who does not cherish them!

They shall----

_O-Ume._ Be silent!

[_A pause._

_Ama._ Alas for the daughter!

_O-Ume_ (_who rises disturbedly_).

The lips of the old Are like leaves dying-- Leaves of Autumn That ever flutter!

[_Walks about._

_Ama._ And a girl's mind Is like the dawn mist-- Knowing not whither To rest or wander-- Until, perchance, It clings to Fuji, To Fuji mountain, Lord of the air!

The mind of a girl ... straying!

And what is O-Ume's?... whose?

_O-Ume._ It is O-Ume's!

_Ama._ Ai!

Not Sanko's!...

But were I she, O-Ume the fair, O-Ume the mist Of happy karmas, Sanko should be My Fuji mountain.

Him would I cling to, Nor would I hunger To stray far from him With a white priest!

To stray far from him To foreign G.o.ds That hang on a cross.

[_Again bowing._

Is he not strong?

_O-Ume._ Be silent!

[_To herself, troubled._

The lips of the old!

The lips of the old!

_Ama._ Is he not brave?

_O-Ume._ I care not.

A samurai is he-- One whose sword is his soul.

_Ama._ And should his tongue be Like that of the other, The priest of the pain-G.o.d?

[_Immovably._

Is he not kind?

_O-Ume._ He is kind.

_Ama._ Kind! as O-Ume is cruel!

_O-Ume._ No, but as men are, Wanting women: Yet not once so was he!

For as children We caught together The June-night fire-flies Out by the shrine of Jiso.

_Ama._ And then he loved you, And ever has loved you, And faithful is he!

_O-Ume._ Ai, and terrible!...

_Ama._ Terrible only Because O-Ume Turns from her fathers And from the G.o.ds.

She sees their soul-s.h.i.+ps Sail to the sea-- The lights lit for them,

[_Motions without._

And yet she offers No cakes of welcome-- None of farewell!

No prayer to Buddha, Lotus-loving, And none to Kwannon Who is all mercy.

But inward, inward She turns her eyes To see this stranger, Priest of the Christ-G.o.d.

Outward, outward, Ever she gazes And ever listens, Ever, for him!...

Oh false, false one!