They laughed together, and Zanzi went out, singing of carnage as if he were beneath the window of his lady, with a samisen.
THE TOMB OF LORD ESAS
XXXI
THE TOMB OF LORD ESAS
It was but two days. Yet in that time Hoshiko hastened to all the dear places where he had gone in the days he had told her of--when he held the hand of Yone instead of hers. It was on the second day, in the evening, at Shiba, that some one spoke his name behind her. The voice was a woman's--that she at once knew. And also at once, in that strange intelligence which we have of the spirit and not of any teaching, she knew that this was Yone--and that she had not forgotten all and married (as they had laughingly fancied), but was still waiting, as she had said. And suddenly for a moment, only a moment, she was no longer Arisuga the color-bearer, but again a woman of those who know the terror and weariness of hopeless waiting--such as only women, and never men, know. And she remembered. It was ten years. Yet this faithful one had waited while she had had her happiness. And what should she do? There was little question of that. Here she was confronted with the evidence of how she had destroyed the gods' balance by taking her overdue of joy, leaving to Yone an overdue of sorrow, and was given the opportunity to restore, in some part, the account. But how? It was quite plain upon the briefest reflection. She must be to her, also, Arisuga. She must touch her as he had done, take her hands as he once did, and then--perhaps--perhaps--Yone would be comforted and she might go.
For that moment she was a woman only--only Hoshiko--and the tears ran down her face. Now she might not turn. What? Tears on the face of a rough soldier!
"Shijiro," Yone was saying to Hoshiko's back, "I have waited--waited all the years. Yet had they been ten times ten they are all blotted out by this moment. Oh, the gods have been true, as they always are! I prayed them, and they let me know that they would bring you to me if I would but wait patiently. Turn and look at me. See whether I am grown too old for you to touch once more. See whether my hands are yet fit for yours.
I have prayed Benten to keep me young and make me beautiful against this moment of your coming. And every day--every day, Ani-San--I have come here, whether it rained or the sun shone--every day--here or at Mukojima--or the other dear places of our youth. And yet my sandals are not worn, my kimono is new--see, because ever I renewed them, remembering that you liked me always so. Will you not look, beloved?
Yone will not trouble you if you do not wish. She will let you go and will wait still."
Hoshiko slowly turned. Yone stepped back from her. So they stood a moment at gaze. Hoshiko saw a creature as small and fragile as she herself had once been, and more beautiful she thought--much more beautiful.
Yone saw a soldier whose face she knew, but whose soul, at first, was strange.
"I am Shijiro Arisuga," said Hoshiko.
"Yes," breathed Yone, "wait. There is something strange. Something I did not expect. Is it the years? Yes. But your voice is more gentle though less gay."
"I can make it harsh," smiled Hoshiko.
"Nay!" cried Yone, still at gaze. "Did you know me? Did you know my voice?"
"Yes," said Hoshiko.
"And you have a scar--you have fought."
"In many battles."
"Yet the gods did not send you the great red death, but sent you to me, as I prayed."
"Yes."
"It is all the gods' will."
Twilight had fallen and Yone came confidently closer.
"Will you walk with me as we used? It is the gods' will!"
"Yes."
"Will you take my hand?"
"Yes."
As Hoshiko felt the small hand curl in hers the tears fell again from her eyes. But they could not be seen now and she let them fall. Nor need she talk and thus betray herself. Yone had lost all fear in the giving of her hand and now chattered on.
"Come--to the tomb of Lord Esas, where we made the seat of a stone and moss. It is there yet. I have kept it as it was. Often I have sat there.
Only once before were we here at night--hiding, as perhaps we shall to-night, when the watchman comes with his lantern and staff. Shall we go to the tomb of Lord Esas, beloved?"
"Yes," said Hoshiko.
"You speak as if you wept--and, when you turned, your face looked as if you had wept. Oh, it looked for a moment like a woman's--and not a soldier's! Soldiers do not weep."
"Soldiers weep. I do."
"Ani-San! For me?"
"For you."
"The waiting?"
"The waiting."
"But, then, weep no more, Ani-San. I am here--at your side. All the waiting is forgot. Blotted out by this one great moment. And perhaps--Here is the seat. Is it not all as it was? Though it is ten years--ten years of weary waiting. Here you sat, always, here I sat. And we are grown too old now to change."
She laughed timorously, and when Hoshiko had seated herself where Arisuga had once sat, she took her place as if there were no years between this and that. Then she went on:--
"--perhaps, to-night, you will be as sweet as you were on that other night--when--Do you remember?"
"I remember," said Hoshiko.
"But we have no samisen. Yet I can sing--if you ask me--"
"Sing."
"--the song of 'The Moon-and-the-Stork,' which we ourselves made--here--where the moon looked down upon us. See, it knows. It knows you are come. There it passes above the great criptomeria now.
And--and--oh, it is an omen of all good! A stork flies over its face. Or it is a branch of the tree? No matter, the omen is the same, Ani-San; all is as it was, is it not?"
"All is as it was, beloved," whispered Hoshiko.
Yone came diffidently closer at the dear word.
"When I sang that night I was in your arms--"
The arms of Hoshiko closed about the girl at her side almost with violence.
"That is it," she cried happily, nesting there. "Yes, that is quite it.