HE 
 
 ATH
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS
 
 THE BREATH OF 
 THE GODS 
 
 BY 
 
 SIDNEY McCALL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TRUTH DEXTER " 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1905
 
 Copyright, 1905, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published May, 1905 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. 3. A.
 
 BECAUSE OF FAITH AND REVERENCE, 
 AND IN SPITE OF ERRORS WHICH I KNOW TO BE 
 
 INEVITABLE, 
 I DARE INSCRIBE THIS BOOK TO 
 
 YAMATO DAMASHII
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 No character in this book, belonging either to public or 
 private life, is taken as a whole or in part from any person. 
 The characters are wholly imaginary, and no incident is 
 based on any real incident known to the writer. Even in 
 the descriptions of official buildings, memory is laxly used. 
 In the genre studies alone is realism attempted. Most, if 
 not all, of the questions, remarks, and speculations put into 
 the mouths of peasants and servants have been overheard 
 by the writer.
 
 THE 
 
 BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 THE stone dwelling of Senator Cyrus C. Todd, usually as 
 indistinguishable from its neighbors as is one piano key from 
 another, presented at nine o'clock on this night of November 
 third, nineteen hundred and three, a claim to individuality in 
 the excess of light pouring from every window, from the per- 
 pendicular wink of every opening door (opened but to close 
 again as quickly) ; oozing, it would seem, from the very pores 
 of the pale faqade, thereby giving to the great flat rectangle 
 of the house a phosphorescent value that set it six feet out 
 into the night. 
 
 The upper windows shone more brilliantly than those below. 
 A roller shade had been carelessly left high. Through the 
 film of chamber curtains heads could be seen passing. Once, 
 there was the outflung gesture of a slim, bare arm. Every- 
 thing bespoke approaching festivity. At this brightest win- 
 dow a silhouette suddenly appeared, sharp, dark, complete. 
 It was that of a Japanese girl with wonderfully looped and 
 curved coiffure, shoulders that sloped tenderly, and a small, 
 straight throat. 
 
 Just at this moment, on the shadowed entrance-steps below, 
 answering silhouettes began noiselessly to climb. These 
 were men with thin black legs, and strange burdens, black 
 like themselves. They showed angles as of gnarled roots ; 
 one, the great curved body of a gigantic spider. The front 
 door, opening instantly to a ring, disclosed them merely as 
 musicians, Signer Marcellini of Milan and his colleagues, 
 bearing basso, cello, and flutes, secure in swart cases. 
 
 l
 
 2 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 The lower rooms of the house were slightly chill. Though 
 flooded with soft light, they were not yet fully illuminated. 
 All doors within stood open. It looked almost as if walls had 
 been taken down, so long and mysterious had grown the vistas. 
 Through all tingled an aromatic smell, something a little alien, 
 like crushed herbs, pungent, and full of vague suggestion. 
 Mrs. Cyrus C. Todd, flowing now down the palm-set stairway 
 in a purple tide of skirts, frothed with dim lace, stopped at a 
 switchboard half concealed in vines, sent forth a gloved, de- 
 termined hand, and in an instant the secret of the odor was 
 revealed. The rooms, to their farthest angles, literally ex- 
 uded chrysanthemums. Senator Todd was said to have ex- 
 pended five thousand dollars for these flowers alone. Perhaps 
 he wished to stamp in gold upon the memory of Washington 
 this coming-out party of his idolized, only child. The conceit 
 was fair enough, for Gwendolen was bright, and blonde, and 
 golden in herself. Statesmen and the wives of statesmen did 
 not fail to observe that chrysanthemums were the insignia of 
 official Japan, and that November third happened, they 
 emphasized "happened," to be the birthday of Japan's be- 
 loved Emperor. These two facts, joined with the third, that 
 Senator Todd even now had aspirations to the Tokio mission, 
 made a trio of keen angles to be used as wedges for further 
 speculation. 
 
 The walls of the lower story had been spread for the occa- 
 sion with yellow satin, upon which alternated delicate upright 
 strokes of silver and of white. Around, under the .ceiling, 
 grew a frieze of living flowers. The great, coarse, woody 
 stems crossed in a lattice-work, with clusters of huge blossoms 
 and green leaves breaking the angles at points of decision 
 possible only to a trained artist, or to a Japanese. The white 
 duck floor-covering spread to a border hand-painted, to match 
 the frieze. Where wall and canvas met, the real flowers again 
 arose, thick parallel stalks of differing heights, upholding 
 a wainscot border of shaggy gold. Mantles were heaped with 
 them. Japanese pots of them in bloom alternated with con- 
 ventional ferns and palms. Each electric bulb jutted from 
 the heart of a living flower. The very air had an amber tone. 
 
 Overhead, invisible footsteps scurried in short flights. They
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 3 
 
 sounded feminine, young, full of excitement. " Heavens ! " 
 Miss Gwendolen de Lancy Todd was crying, " where on earth is 
 my other glove? I am sure I just laid it here ! And my 
 orchids ! Has anybody sat on my orchids ? I think I '11 have 
 to marry the young person who sent them, though I forget 
 now who it was ! " 
 
 " A person of the name Dodge, n'est-ce-pas ? " ventured the 
 little French dressmaker, on her knees beside the fair white 
 vision. Pins, retained at the corners of her mouth, added a 
 crushed softness to the pronunciation. She rhymed it with 
 " targe." 
 
 " Yes, a name like that, I believe," said Gwendolen, indif- 
 ferently, and craned her long neck over. " Mother called him 
 some sort of a snip. Are you certain that my dress hangs 
 right now, Madame ? " 
 
 "Oui, oui. It is perfection," declared Madame, sticking 
 the remaining pins into the black front of her dress. 
 
 "Then at last I am actually ready. I believe there's 
 mother calling now. Where did Yuki go? Oh, I see, over 
 there by the window, as calm and cool as if we were going to 
 church instead of to our first ball ! " 
 
 " Then all my coolness is stopping on my outsides," said the 
 Japanese girl, with a little incipient shrug and giggle, break- 
 ing at once into the merriest of low laughs. She crossed the 
 room swiftly, with an unusual, swaying rhythm of movement. 
 " Ah, Gwendolen, my heart it go like yellow butterflies to be 
 downstairs." 
 
 Gwendolen turned a radiant face to greet her. " Now is n't 
 she a vision ! " cried the girl aloud, in fresh access of admi- 
 ration for her friend. " Madame, what do you think those 
 French painters of yours would say to her Chavannes, De 
 Monvel, Besnard, who owe so much to Yuki's art ? " 
 
 "You omit Monsieur Le Beau, who is a painter," said the 
 little woman, shyly. She was on good terms with the girls, and 
 had made Yuki, as well as Gwendolen, chic gowns with the 
 breath of Paris upon them. "I knew well the family of 
 Monsieur Le Beau in France," she hurried on, seeing the dis- 
 tressed flush in Yuki's face. " Non, non, Mamselles. I am a 
 chattering old f emme. Let me look at you together before you
 
 4 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 descend the stair." She sat back upon her heels to enjoy 
 the picture. 
 
 " Yes," cried Gwendolen, " that 's right. Take us both in." 
 Laughingly she drew Yuki's arm, with its long, trailing sleeve 
 of gray, tightly within her own. They rested together, sway- 
 ing, smiling, Yuki's cheek still warm with the name of 
 Pierre Le Beau, two types as far apart as the two sides of 
 earth which had given them race. 
 
 Gwendolen was fair almost to the extreme of golden blond- 
 ness. Her features were small and perfectly related ; her nose 
 deliciously interrogative at the tip. Her brows and lashes, 
 drawn in a darker hue, gave touches of character and distinc- 
 tion. She was very slender, erect, and was poised as though she 
 grew in the wind. The long tulle draperies shook and stirred 
 as if vitalized by her energy. She was all white and gold. 
 Her heaped-up skeins of hair, amber necklace, gloves, slip- 
 pers, and stockings gleamed with a primrose hue, and the 
 freckles on her orchids (poor flowers, just caught up hastily 
 from an ignominious corner) repeated the yellow note. 
 
 Beside her, Yuki Onda, a few inches lacking in height, im- 
 pressive, nevertheless, and held with a striking yet indefinable 
 difference of line, smiled out like a frail Astarte. Her pallor 
 had an undernote of ivory, where Gwendolen's was of pearl. 
 Her head, with its pointed chin, bore, like a diadem of jet, 
 balanced, like a regal burden, the spread wings of her hair. 
 Beneath a white, low brow her eyes made almost a continuous, 
 gleaming line. The little nose came down, straight and firm, 
 with a single brush stroke. All the humanity, the tenderness, 
 the womanhood of her face lay in the red mouth and the small, 
 round chin. Her smile was startling, even pathetic, in beauty. 
 Gwendolen had once said, "There is sometimes something 
 in Yuki's smile that makes me want to fight God for her." 
 
 Yuki's robe, in deference to hours of pleading from Gwen- 
 dolen and Pierre Le Beau, was Japanese to the least detail. 
 Mrs. Todd had protested in vain for the "civilized" coming- 
 out gown of white. The robe hung about the girl in long, 
 loose folds of crepe, mist-gray, rising in soft transitions from 
 the dark band of the hem to pearl tones at the throat. Under 
 it were garments of heavier silk, dawn-colored, showing
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 5 
 
 like morning through, thin clouds. Into the curdled sub- 
 stance of the crpe, cherry-flowers were dyed, or rather, 
 breathed in, by a smiling, wrinkled brown magician at the rim 
 of Yuzen Creek, pale shapes which glimmered and were 
 gone, rose to the surface and sank again, as though borne in 
 moving water. Besides the black note of her hair there was 
 one strong crash of contrast in the obi, or sash, a broad and 
 dominating zone, black, too, with fire-flies of gold upon it. 
 For hair-ornaments she wore a cluster of small pink flowers 
 that had the look of cherry-blooms, and a great carved ivory 
 pin, pronged like a tuning-fork, an heirloom in her father's 
 family. 
 
 " Gwendo len ! Yu kee f Come down instantly ! " rose the 
 voice of Mrs. Todd. "You should have been down ten 
 minutes ago." 
 
 "Ah, Madame Todd calls," exclaimed the dressmaker, 
 scrambling to her feet. 
 
 " But you are sure you really admire us, Madame ? " chal- 
 lenged Gwendolen, before she would stir. 
 
 " Oui, charmante, charmante, both are perfection apart and 
 a vision of paradise together. But go, young ladies, the good 
 mother calls again." 
 
 The spoiled child stopped for another instant, this time in 
 the doorway. " All right, mother. Coming this instant ! " 
 she hurled downstairs; then to the little Frenchwoman she 
 said, " Do not attempt to sit up, Madame. Yuki is to stay all 
 night, and will help me with the pins. After a glimpse at the 
 reception and some of the goodies below, you must hurry home 
 to your little Jeanne. Take plenty of bonbons with you, and 
 I wish to send that great bunch of daisies, with my love. All 
 children love daisies, n'est-ce-pas ? " 
 
 At last they were off. Madame could hear Mrs. Todd, re- 
 lieved, yet petulant, scolding them the whole descending scale 
 of the stairs. Moving through the perfumed disorder of the 
 room, Madame sought out the daisies, and, with filling eyes, 
 whispered aloud in French, "Now may the good God be kind 
 to that loving heart, and send to it only blessing." 
 
 Stockings, scarfs, fans, underwear, a thousand dainty 
 trifles must be gathered up before the little Frenchwoman
 
 6 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 could give herself consent to go. Madame and Miss Todd had 
 been kind friends to the widowed exile. 
 
 Far over to one side of the room she stumbled upon a dark 
 heap that showed gleams of a cherry-colored lining. It 
 emitted, as if consciously, an aroma, subtle, faint, unforget- 
 able, strange scented echoes of a distant land. It was Yuki's 
 long black " adzunia-coat," worn from the Japanese Legation, 
 where Baroness Kanrio and the maids had assisted her to 
 dress, and which, in this bright room, she had slipped laugh- 
 ingly to the floor and forgotten. Madame held it out for a 
 moment. Then she folded and laid it softly on the foot of 
 the bed. Her expression had changed slightly. As if with 
 relief, she snatched up a dressing-gown of blue flannel, that 
 cried "Gwendolen" from every turquoise fold. 
 
 " Gwendolen, where is your father hiding ? " demanded 
 Mrs. Todd, severely, as the two girls reached the hall. 
 
 " Why, how should I know ? Dad has n't worried my mind. 
 Is n't Yuki simply a dream of spring ? " 
 
 "You forget that I have admired Yuki upstairs," said the 
 harassed matron, and turned her back. " There 's another 
 carriage sounding as if it wanted to stop ! Every wheel goes 
 over my nerve-centre. Cy, Cy rus ! Where is that wretched 
 man? The musicians should be playing now. The guests 
 will pour in any instant. There is a carriage stopping ! It 
 has stopped ! Heavens, I shall go mad ! " 
 
 " Shall Yuki and I run for the drawing-room, mother ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, dear. Eight under that tallest palm. Be sure to 
 stand ahead of Yuki. Cyrus ! Cy rus ! Oh, he is never any- 
 where when I want him." Her wails preceded her down the hall. 
 
 " Are you looking for me, dear ? " asked the senator, inno- 
 cently, strolling out in a leisurely manner from his study, 
 where, against orders, he had been smoking a cigar. 
 
 " Am I ! " panted his wife. " And you 've been smoking ! " 
 But indignation must be swept aside. " The carriages are 
 stopping, man ! Don't you hear them ? I '11 be in bed for a 
 month if I live through this night ! Start up the musicians, 
 and join us immediately in the front drawing-room." 
 
 " Musicians, musicians. ? " murmured Cyrus, looking about, 
 " where are the musicians ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 7 
 
 "Not under the hatrack, nor yet in my china-closet," cried 
 his lady, with angry vehemence. " Over there ! Yes, there 
 where you saw the piano wheeled this afternoon; behind 
 that hedge of chrysanthemums ! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, there in the duck-shooters' lodge. All right, old 
 lady. I '11 start 'em. Don't get excited ! " 
 
 Guests now streamed upstairs toward the dressing-rooms. 
 Signer Marcellini began his most seductive waltz ; and the 
 senator stood beside his heaving spouse just as the first 
 smiling acquaintance crossed the door-sill. 
 
 "Ah, Governor! Ah, my dear Mrs. Jink!" chortled Mrs. 
 Todd. "This is surely a good omen, my daughter's first 
 official congratulations to come from you. Gwendolen, let me 
 present Governor Jink and Mrs. Jink, fresh from our own 
 dear Western state. Miss Yuki Onda of Tokio, Mrs. Jink, 
 Gwendolen's most intimate school-friend, and my Oriental 
 daughter, as I call her. Ah, Sir George ! Punctuality is one 
 of the British virtues. Mrs. Blachouse, my daughter, Miss 
 Todd." 
 
 The reception swung now, full and free, into the sparkling 
 waters of felicity. Laughter, lights, and the rustling of silken 
 skirts on inner mysteries of silk; music held back by the 
 multitudinous small sounds of human intercourse, with now 
 and then a protesting wail from violins and the guttural short 
 snore of a cello ! Laughter, and the clink of glasses on metal 
 trays, the scraping of spoons against porcelain, tinkling of 
 ice in fragile vessels, and incessantly the shuffle of footsteps 
 on soundless, unseen floors ! - Perfumes of dying flowers and 
 foliage, odors of essences, fumes of fresh-cut lemons, and of 
 wine ! 
 
 Outside, at the curbing, a continuous roar and rattling of 
 carriages went on. The covered entrance-way, like an elastic 
 tent drawn out, sheltered a thin moving stream of faces. 
 Behind them the scrape of wheels, stamping of horses, and 
 vociferous bawling of drivers sent a premonitory tingling 
 through the blood. At intervals there came the snort and 
 hiss of that modern Fafnir, the automobile, followed by the 
 nauseating taint of gasoline. 
 
 To Gwendolen and Yuki it seemed as if the line of visitors
 
 8 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 would never end. "Yuki, Yuki," whispered the former, 
 " if they keep popping by like this, each with that wooden 
 grin, I shall certainly go into hysterics! Did you see how 
 nearly I broke down in the face of that last fat lady in tight 
 gray sleeves? She looked like a young rhinoceros in its 
 little sister's skin." 
 
 " I no longer perceive anybody at all," said Yuki, tranquilly. 
 " I only see the small duck called ' oshi-dori ' bobbing down, 
 then up, on the Sumida River." 
 
 " Hush ! " whispered Mrs. Todd, in evident excitement. 
 " Here comes the Russian ambassador with his entire suite. 
 I was wondering whether he would snub us because of the 
 war-talk, and Yuki, and the chrysanthemums, and the 
 Mikado's birthday ! Now, girls, smile your sweetest ! " 
 
 But the good lady was given a surprise. Yuki leaned back 
 to touch her arm. At the look of irritated inquiry the Jap- 
 anese girl said clearly, " You must excuse me from this, dear 
 Mrs. Todd; I cannot shake hands with that person. If I 
 shook, I would be the hypocrite." Without waiting for per- 
 mission or remonstrance, she turned and hurried from the 
 direction in which the Muscovites now approached. Mr. 
 Todd, with hand already extended in welcome, saw nothing 
 of the little by-play. Gwendolen heard, sympathized entirely 
 with Yuki, but wisely held her peace. Mrs. Todd, after a 
 gasp of outraged dignity, recalled herself, perforce, for the 
 new greetings. 
 
 Yuki had slipped from the line quietly enough. She 
 walked away now quite slowly and with apparent calm. 
 Within, she was turmoil and distress. Had she done right ? 
 Had she offended, beyond forgiveness, her kind friends, the 
 Todds ? But, looking from the opposite point, how could she 
 touch, even in social insincerity, the hand of a man whom 
 she felt by instinct to be a subtle enemy of her native land ? 
 This very minister was suspected by many to be one of the 
 strongest who urged the weak Czar into insult and hostility. 
 Would Mrs. Todd reprove her publicly ? Would Baron 
 Kanrio, when he heard, defend the childish impulse ? 
 
 A greater one than Kanrio would soon be here. In the 
 agitation of the moment she had forgotten that tremendous
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 9 
 
 fact. Prince Hagane, her father's feudal lord, or daiinyo, 
 often called the " Living War-God of Japan," was to come, 
 for a few moments, to this reception, and partly because of 
 her. A Japanese, no matter how great, seldom neglects the 
 privileges of humanity. Yuki's parents had written that the 
 Prince was to see her, and deliver news. What would he say 
 now, what would her father say, if told of this rude and 
 un-Japanese yielding to a personal distaste ? " Yet," mut- 
 tered Yuki to herself, through small clenched teeth, " even 
 should Lord Hagane himself command me, I think I would 
 not touch that Russian's hand." 
 
 Moving forward slowly, but always in a straight line, she 
 came full against a small white surface on a level with her 
 face, a thing shield-shaped, and framed in black. It did not 
 move aside for her, as similar white patches, vaguely seen, 
 had done. Brought up suddenly, she realized it to be a shirt- 
 front, and presumably behind the shirt-front there must be a 
 living man. 
 
 " Oh, beg pardon ! " she faltered, shrinking back. " I begs 
 much pardons, sir." 
 
 Two eager hands caught her own. A gay, low voice said, 
 laughing, " I have watched your coming. I willed it. How 
 straight you sped, you beautiful, strange bird ! " 
 
 But Yuki, dazed for the moment, did not answer. She 
 panted slightly, and tried to draw her hands away. 
 
 " I have waited here, by the conservatory door. You must 
 be tired with standing. Come in with me, and rest." 
 
 Still unable to command herself, she let the speaker lead 
 her into the warm shadows. She hoped he had not seen her 
 rudeness to the Russian minister. Mrs. Todd swept round an 
 angry glance just in time to see them disappear. 
 
 Pierre Le Beau found a sheltered seat, and gently, yet in a 
 masterful way, forced her down beside him. 
 
 " Oh, Yuki, but you are beautiful to-night ! Was I not mad 
 enough with love without this new gray snare of mist, these 
 blossoms drifting along an irresistible tide ? It is a lifetime 
 since I have seen you." 
 
 The beating of the girl's heart slowly slackened. "The 
 lifetime of a flower, then," she said, smiling upward. " It was
 
 10 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 but last night, you know, when we all work so hard with the 
 decorators and the chrysanthemums." 
 
 " Last century ! " he laughed. " I really exist only in the 
 moments when I am with you. All else are dungeon hours, 
 locked with your last ' Good-bye.' Do not shrink from me 
 now, darling. Let me hold you iu my arms once this won- 
 derful night." 
 
 "My hair you will disarrange, and others notice," she 
 pleaded, holding him back with one white hand. " And, dear 
 Pierre, you rumples my mind more than my hair. I must be 
 calm to-night, and cheerful with many. I am the debutante." 
 
 "You are hard to win," said Pierre, "but I believe I like 
 it so. Your Japanese etiquette is a thorny hedge. More 
 than once I've torn my soul upon it. Ah, but even that 
 could not keep me quite away. You struggled hard, you 
 elf of pearl and mist, but at last you said you loved me, 
 that you wished to be my wife." 
 
 He brushed away the hand and caught her. She gave a 
 little shuddering movement in his arms. " That was a terri- 
 ble, bold thing for a girl of the samurai class to say. My 
 heart shake a finger at me yet, that I have confessed so im- 
 modest a thought. I should hereafter be very circumspect 
 with you, to pay for that bad thing ! " 
 
 " Circumspect ! " laughed Pierre. " Yes, we shall both be 
 circumspect like this, and this ! " She wrenched herself 
 from his kisses, and stood upright in the narrow path. " No, 
 Pierre; I mean it. Please do not do such things, or my 
 frightened spirit never will return. I must go to Mrs. Todd ; 
 I fear she is angered." 
 
 " Angered, with you ? " asked Pierre, arrested by the 
 sincerity of the girl's protest. Yuki turned her head away. 
 Suddenly he recalled the Russian minister's approach, and 
 connected it with Yuki's flight. He stared at her averted 
 countenance. " Yuki, did you leave your friends, would you 
 offend them, rather than greet the Russian ambassador?" 
 
 "Yes," whispered Yuki, trembling. 
 
 The radiance of Pierre's face went out, his head sank. " So 
 that was the reason. You would not touch a Russian ! As 
 you know, my mother is a Russian."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 11 
 
 " Oh, it is not all Russians ! Do not think that I would 
 wound you. Many are good. Mr. Tolstoi, Mr. Wittee, your 
 honored mother, too, I am sure. They hate, as we, the tyrants 
 that wish to crush the people, and to bring on this cruel, 
 unjust war. I saw the petals of our Emperor's flowers shrivel 
 as he passed them by ! I, too, would have shrivelled, my 
 soul would have turned black, at his breath." 
 
 "No war will come!" cried Pierre, vehemently. "I have 
 told you this before. I know it from the inside. There will 
 be no war. Your country will not face Imperial Russia ! " 
 
 " If those bad ones push us just too far, if they delay 
 replies, and provoke us just a little more, Nippon will fight, 
 and I think that God will let us win!" 
 
 "Your Christian God must side with Russia. He cannot 
 aid a nation that does not believe in him ! " Pierre's eyes 
 held curiosity and a challenge. 
 
 Yuki turned slowly to him, answered the look with sombre 
 brooding, and then stared upward to where close moisture of 
 the high glass dome curved space into a frosted shell. " Per- 
 haps, though," she said, pausing between each word, "the 
 Christian God believe in usf" 
 
 Before his surprise found vent her mood and tone had 
 changed. "But, no, no, Pierre; we talk no more of tragic 
 things this night, not of war, and hate, and destiny. It is our 
 ball, Monsieur Pierre Marie Le Beau, I begs you to remem- 
 ber that. And me and Gwendolen are now in society. I am 
 in society, is it not nice ? Come, let us return to society at 
 once." She caught his arm, laughing, and tried to urge him 
 from the bench. 
 
 " You witch of moods ! " said Pierre. " Are other Japanese 
 girls like you ? When I hold you closest, then do you seem 
 most far away. I seize you in a thousand tantalizing forms, 
 only to fear, each time, that never yet have I seen the real 
 Yuki. Ah ! take me to your land, my love, and make me one 
 with it. What do I care for war, for Russia, even for France, 
 if once I could believe you entirely my own ? You know I 
 am fighting hard to sail with you next spring. The French 
 ambassador here gives me much hope, and in France my 
 relatives are working."
 
 12 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Yes, yes, we shall go together on that great ship," said 
 Yuki, soothingly, "and together we shall seek my dear 
 parents, and ask them for our happiness." 
 
 Pierre's face lighted. "But you will be true to me no 
 matter whether they give consent or not ? " he cried. " Swear 
 it, Yuki." 
 
 " I will be true to you, Pierre," said Yuki. " You wish to 
 hear that many times, do you not ? But I cannot say I will 
 marry you without their consent. But they are kind they 
 must like you, Pierre." She flushed delicately. "We 
 we will make them to say ' yes,' Pierre." 
 
 Still the young man hesitated. " This condition that you 
 hold so stubbornly is our menace," he began. " I don't urge 
 you to marry me at once, without their good wishes, ouly to 
 promise that, after trying in every way to gain them, you will 
 take your life into your own hands and come to me." 
 
 " Why do we fret and worry about such things so far away ? 
 You will take from me all joy of our party. Will you not 
 return to the room with me ? " 
 
 "No," said Pierre, seizing a hand in his, "I shall hold you 
 until this is a bit more clear. No, Yuki " 
 
 " Yuki, Yuki ! " came a cautious voice, an echo, it seemed, 
 to Pierre's last word. "Where are you? Mother has sent 
 me here. Prince Hagane asked for you. She says to coine 
 at once." 
 
 "Let my hand go. I must hurry. It is Prince Hagane," 
 whispered Yuki, and, slipping deftly from Pierre, she hurried to 
 join her friend. He followed quickly, stopped in the doorway, 
 and stood there, scowling. 
 
 The crowd had thinned. He could see the heads and shoul- 
 ders of the two girls moving and whispering together as they 
 sped. Beyond them, surrounded by his suite of glittering 
 officials, Spanish-looking men in broadcloth and gold lace, 
 rose the dark, impressive figure of Prince Hagaue. He was 
 in the dull silken robes of his own land, unornamented but for 
 a single decoration, the highest that a Japanese subject, not 
 a prince of the blood, had ever received. 
 
 Pierre's first thought was an inconsequent one of childish 
 irritation that the man bore no marks of age. On the other
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 13 
 
 hand, no one could have thought him young. The massive 
 features, bronze in tone, and set in a sort of aquiline rigidity, 
 the conscious, kingly poise of head and throat rising from deep 
 brawny shoulders, the stiff black hair, touched evenly through- 
 out with gray, had none of them the color of youth. Yet 
 beside him youth looked tame, and old age withered. This 
 man was on the very summit of life, the central point of 
 storms, rather than their object. His deep-set eyes gazed 
 now far beyond to the future, then back into the past, with 
 equal certainty of vision. 
 
 Such was the great man Hagane "Ko-shaku Hagane," 
 feudal, not imperial, prince ; a title signifying the highest 
 rank attainable by a subject not descended from the gods. 
 Native ballads called him the " Eight Arm and the Left Ear " 
 of the Emperor. Woodcuts of his splendid, ugly head, set by 
 country farmers within household shrines, proclaimed him the 
 Living War-God of Nippon. His victories and innovations at 
 the time of the Chinese struggle had spread his fame through 
 two worlds. 
 
 As Yuki and Gwendolen drew near, Mrs. Todd first per- 
 ceived them. "Here they are. Present me first, Cyrus, 
 then Gwendolen, then Yuki," the matron gave whispered 
 command. Hagane responded to the first two greetings with 
 unsmiling courtesy, offering a perfunctory extension of his 
 thick hand. 
 
 "Now, your Highness," said Todd, his thin, jovial voice 
 carrying easily to where Pierre stood, " here 's somebody that 
 will look more natural. Step up, Yuki-ko. You are n't 
 afraid ! " 
 
 Hagane had already fixed keen eyes upon the girl. His 
 hands fell to his sides. A faint smile, merely a gleam on 
 metal, hurried across his face. Pierre saw his lips move. 
 Yuki went closer, hesitated, gained courage, and looked up 
 into the broad face. Pierre saw Mrs. Todd and Gwendolen 
 exchange smiling glances. Todd threw back his head to 
 laugh. The smile returned to Hagane, unexpected, intensified, 
 brilliant, as if a new day had broken. Pierre winced. He 
 saw Yuki sway again, put forth two" white hands, falter, 
 then sink suddenly prone, her palms outspread, her white
 
 14 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 forehead on the floor, her whole slim, crouching body topped 
 by the great black burden of the sash, instinct with reverence 
 not far from adoration. 
 
 Hagaue lifted her immediately, his smile deepening. Mrs. 
 Todd turned away, embarrassed. The small ripple of excite- 
 ment in the onlookers died ; but Pierre, with angry eyes, 
 sought Yuki, and drew her slightly to one side. 
 
 "When you are my wife there will be no such ridiculous 
 kow-towing," he said. 
 
 "Who is your friend, Yuki?" asked the great man, stepping 
 condescendingly near. 
 
 She performed the introduction well, speaking in English 
 without a tremor of the low voice. 
 
 " Ah," said Hagane, speaking also in English, " I am re- 
 cently from the country of Monsieur, which, I do not mistake 
 in conjecturing, is France ? Perhaps you are a visitor here, 
 like myself." He put out the great hand, and after an imper- 
 ceptible hesitation Pierre thrust his own within it. The grasp 
 turned him pale. 
 
 " Your Highness is correct in both surmises," he answered 
 stiffly ; " I -am of France, and I am a visitor. At an early 
 date I anticipate the pleasure of being in your Highness's 
 country." 
 
 " Indeed ? Pray remind me of this meeting when you ar- 
 rive, Monsieur. Shall you sail soon ? " 
 
 " Not for many months, I fear," said the Frenchman. 
 " But I shall certainly avail myself of your kind suggestion." 
 
 Yuki's eyes were urging him to go. The girl herself 
 could not have told why she felt apprehension in the prox- 
 imity of these two men. Hagane had never been antagon- 
 istic to foreigners, and she knew that, in Japan, she and 
 Pierre could not have another friend so powerful. Yet she 
 was uneasy. 
 
 Pierre, with a last bow, went. The little episode stirred 
 him. The thought rushed through him, too, that here was 
 possibly an invincible friend. He would make the most of it. 
 Even Yuki's abject obeisance, which before had stung him, 
 shone now in the light of desirable dependence on the great 
 man's word. Let him, Pierre, secure his appointment, and,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 15 
 
 with Hagane his friend, the old gods might shake their heads 
 and growl in vain. 
 
 He went into the street. The long rooms had suddenly 
 grown too small for his aspirations. One friendly cigarette 
 was smoked, and then another. Life seemed a jolly thing, 
 that hour, to Pierre.
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 HAGAN!;'S entrance had broken the receiving line. He be- 
 came at once the personage, the dominating influence. Guests 
 moved about now, or gathered into little social groups at will. 
 The long apartment filled evenly, a third to the ceiling, with 
 a shifting surface of triangles which were shoulders, white 
 shoulders, black shoulders, pink shoulders, sometimes a mili- 
 tary pair of gold-lace shoulders, each pair surmounted by a 
 head. The rooms, emptying ever, were ever filling, as in some 
 well-constructed drinking-fountain, the very walls soaked 
 in the hum and timbre of human voices. 
 
 Gwendolen, freed from the thralls of official hostess-ship, 
 gathered to herself young men in passage, as a spray of 
 scented golden-rod gathers bees. She had a smile for all, a 
 witty retort, or an insinuating whisper, followed by a pro- 
 vocative look. Old maids, and mothers with unattractive 
 daughters, were wont to call Gwendolen a heartless coquette. 
 As for the coquetry, it was indefensible ; as to the heart, 
 young men held varying opinions with regard to that coveted 
 article. 
 
 The social atmosphere, charged with evanescent gayety, 
 intoxicated her. She felt like a flower held under the surface 
 of champagne. Through all the glamour spread a tincture of 
 chrysanthemums. Ever after sometimes in lands very far 
 away from Washington the odor of these blossoms had 
 power to bring before her, as in an illuminated vision, the 
 yellow walls, the moving heads, and, clearest of all, the slen- 
 der, mist-gray figure of Yuki Onda; the delicate, happy face 
 under the great loops of blue-black hair 
 
 As Gwendolen talked and strolled, promising a dance to one, 
 refusing it to another, with unreasoning caprice and the man- 
 ner of a young empress, her hazel eyes, under their long lashes, 
 shot more than once an undetected glance to a certain corner 
 where, beside a pedestal of drooping fern, stood a lonely guest.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 17 
 
 This person was young, good to look at in a buoyant, breezy 
 sort of way, and of the sex which (alas, yet beyond contest- 
 ing!) most keenly interested the fair observer. After such 
 glances she usually fell to fondling her sheaf of orchids, and 
 once pressed it up against her face. At this the brown eyes 
 in the corner gleamed, and took on the alertness of a terrier 
 whose master snaps a playful finger. 
 
 Mrs. Todd became solicitous that her guest of honor should 
 be fed, but hesitated to ask him for fear that her "foreign 
 food" might prove unpalatable. This apprehension was 
 finally confided on tiptoe to her lord. " Heavens ! Susan," 
 said the unfeeling mate, with the twinkle which she dreaded, 
 " do you suppose a Japanese commissary department has been 
 trotting beside him through Asia, Europe, Boston, and New 
 York ? Set him before a mess of caviare, lobster a la New- 
 burg, and extra dry, and see what he does to it. Where did 
 Gwendolen go ? " 
 
 " She 's over there by the punch-bowl, I believe," responded 
 Mrs. Todd, in absent-minded fashion. The good lady still 
 hung, ponderously vague, between her husband's opinion of 
 Hagane's gastronomic culture and her own half-solaced fears. 
 
 Todd craned his neck over the crowd. " Oh, there she is, 
 just by the punch-table. The young men are thicker than 
 fleas on a candy kitten. Wonder whether it 's Gwennie or 
 the punch." 
 
 "A little of both, I presume," said Mrs. Todd, austerely. 
 She often found her spouse unsympathetic. 
 
 " I don't blame 'em then, dinged if I do," cried he, with 
 a joyful, premonitory lurch. A firm hand clutched him. 
 
 " I 'm going for the prince now. He is talking to Yuki. 
 Shall I send her away ? She looks as she did on confirmation 
 day, the little idiot. The way these Japanese worship their 
 country and each other is simply ridiculous. What do you 
 think about keeping her with me and the prince, Cy ? " 
 
 Todd glanced at Yuki. His face softened. She had indeed 
 an upraised, glorified look, as if a beatified vision instead of a 
 very solid living man leaned down to her words. 
 
 " Keep her, by all means. She '11 know how to wait on her 
 bronze idol," said he, lightly, and dived into the crowd. 
 
 2
 
 18 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Apart from Yuki, Mrs. Todd found unexpected solution in 
 her task of feeding the lion. His private secretary, Mr. Hirai, 
 was not merely an Oxford graduate, but an accomplished man 
 of the world. He made everything easy. At the hostess's 
 first hint of invitation the Japanese started in a solid body 
 toward the supper-rooms. Several ladies who had met mem- 
 bers of the party in Boston or New York adhered, smiling, 
 to the moving group. Yuki fell back with the secretary, and 
 began chattering to him in Japanese, her dark eyes slowly 
 turning to stars, her pale cheeks kindling into rosy fire. All 
 of the company centred about Hagane, as thoughts centre 
 about a master will. The occasion which Mrs. Todd dreaded 
 proved to her one of the pleasantest incidents of the whole 
 successful affair. Hagane, in his enjoyment of the delicate 
 fare, entirely justified his host's prophecy. The true hostess 
 is never quite so happy as when she sees her guests enjoying 
 the good things which she, through anxious hours, has been 
 solicitous in providing. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Todd had reached his daughter. The young 
 men drew back a little in deference to the age and relationship 
 of the intruder, but did not get beyond range of allurement. 
 
 " It 's come, little girl," he whispered, with eyes as young 
 and bright as hers. " It came by wire just a few minutes ago. 
 It 's here ! " He tapped significantly at the left side of his 
 coat. 
 
 " The appointment ? Oh ! does mother know ? " 
 
 " Not yet," admitted the senator, with the look of an urchin 
 caught stealing jam. " Perhaps we 'd better " 
 
 " You bet we 'd better ! " She threw back her head and 
 laughed the merriest laugh in all the world. Then she ran her 
 sparkling eyes about the circle of withdrawn, boyish faces. 
 " You must excuse me ; dad has a secret, and that means 
 insanity for me if I can't hear it at once. You would n't 
 have me go mad now, would you ? before the first waltz 
 plays ! " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " laughed the chorus. 
 
 "But, Miss Gwendolen," ventured a bold swain, "how 
 about that first waltz ? For whom are you keeping it ? " 
 
 " Well," said the girl, pausing, and letting shy archness
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 19 
 
 possess her downcast lids, " I did not want to tell you, but 
 since you force me to it, I ain keeping the first waltz for 
 mother ! " 
 
 With another laugh, full of bright mockery, she caught her 
 father's arm, and hurried him away. The excitement of the 
 past hour was nothing to what she now felt. Chattering, 
 sparkling, laughing, tossing, gesticulating at times with her 
 sheaf of flowers, she was a slim fountain of youth, with a noon- 
 day sun above it. " You really have the appointment ! " she 
 cried to him, when they were well out of hearing. " I knew you 
 must get it, though the President certainly took his time. 
 And we shall sail next spring with Yuki! What ! we go before 
 next spring ? Oh, how perfectly delicious ! And mother 
 does n't know ? Now, dad, I am surprised at you ! You must 
 be sure to let mother know first, or her feelings will be hurt. 
 Oh, aren't we a pair of rascals, dad? Such nice rascals! I 
 do like ourselves, now don't you, dad ? " 
 
 Pierre Le Beau had, a few moments before, abandoned his 
 lonely sentinelship at the conservatory door ; but, in the cor- 
 ner where the fern stood, the sturdier watcher, brown of face 
 and square of shoulder, held a tenacious post. A deflection of 
 visual lenses (though to outward appearance his eyes seemed 
 clear enough) kept him from beholding more than one person 
 in the crowded rooms. If she had been aware of the silent 
 challenge, her knowledge was cleverly concealed. Yet now, 
 on her father's arm, she drifted steadily, though with seeming 
 unconsciousness, toward that special nook. The watcher put 
 a hand on a Roman chair beside him, suggestively unoccupied. 
 
 Abreast of the little group, the gold chair, great fern, and 
 dim inhabitant Gwendolen stopped. A smile went forth that 
 lit the shadows, as she said quite clearly, " Thank you, I be- 
 lieve I will. I should like to get a bit of a rest before dancing." 
 
 Senator Cyrus C. Todd did not lack intuition. " Ah, there 's 
 Skimmer. Very chap I wanted to see ! " he mumbled to him- 
 self, and hurried off in an opposite direction. 
 
 He of the brown eyes leaned confidently down. " You chose 
 my flowers ! " he vaunted. 
 
 Exultation was not the most desirable note to adopt with 
 Gwendolen. She answered nothing for a moment. She was
 
 20 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 busy adjusting herself to an " unconscious " pose, as perfect as 
 the bold lines of the chair and her own graceful figure could 
 combine to produce. She looked down upon the orchids with 
 a thoughtful, pensive gaze, then slowly upward to the speaker. 
 " Ah, was it then you who sent them ? " 
 
 " Yes ; did n't you know ? Was it too cheeky, having met 
 you but a glorious once ? " 
 
 No reply. Gwendolen lifted the flowers and brushed her 
 soft lips across them. Her companion drew himself erect 
 among the drooping green shadows of the fern, swallowed 
 hard, and asked, in a chastened voice, " Did that bloomin' 
 blot of a florist forget to put my card in, after all I said ? " 
 
 Gwendolen's upraised eyes were now those of a commiser- 
 ating dove. "I'm sorry, but I did not see any card among 
 the flowers." 
 
 The fern had a short ague and stood still. "I'll take a sur- 
 geon along when I go to see that florist." 
 
 " I would n't," said the girl, pityingly. " It was the love- 
 liest sheaf I ever saw. He deserves something better than 
 broken bones for arranging it." 
 
 "Yes, they were jolly. They must have pleased you," said 
 the young man, with a wintry gleam of resignation. "I was 
 bent on finding something that really looked like you. I went 
 all over Washington, New York, and Philadelphia in person. 
 But I was so careful of the card ! I told the foo the man, 
 over and over again, to be sure and enclose it. It was printed 
 out in full, ' T. Caraway Dodge, First Secretary of American 
 Legation, Tokio, Japan.'" 
 
 "You think you have found something that looks just like 
 me ? " asked the girl, slowly, ignoring the latter half of his 
 speech. Her face was full of deprecating interest. She dain- 
 tily drew forth a single strange blossom, and held it, poised 
 for contrast, against the dark leaves of the fern. Thus 
 detached, it bore an unfortunate resemblance to a ghostly 
 spider. 
 
 " Oh, not stuck off on a cork, like that ! " cried the tortured 
 donor. "All in a lump, don't you know, beaten up like 
 the whites of eggs, with gold-dust sprinkled over, and parsley 
 around the edges ! "
 
 21 
 
 " All in a lump beaten up like eggs parsley around the 
 edges," began Gwendolen, gravely, when suddenly she tripped 
 and fell against her own laughter. Her pretty shoulders 
 quaked. She bent far over for control, and tried to hide the 
 treacherous mirth. 
 
 But Dodge had seen enough for him. "By Jiminy! 
 you 've been jollying me all the time ! And I swallowed it 
 like a bloomin' oyster! " He came around to the front, drew 
 up a stool, flung himself upon it, and looked up with grins 
 that bespoke a renewed zest for life. " Now honest, Miss 
 Todd, you owe me something for this. Did n't you know 
 who sent them ? Did n't you really find that card in the 
 box ? " 
 
 " No, I did n't honest but m-mother did ! " confessed 
 Gwendolen, now half-stifled with laughter. 
 
 " And you didn't resent it ? And you thought them pretty 
 from the very first moment ? " cried the youth, on a high note 
 of satisfaction. He reached up now boldly, took the single 
 flower from her hand, pinched off the end of a long fern-leaf 
 to back it, and deliberately arranged himself a button-hole. 
 
 Gwendolen wiped the tears of merriment from her bright 
 eyes. " Pretty ? " she echoed. " It is too tame a word. I 
 thought them a dream, an inspiration, a visual ecstasy ! " 
 
 "Yes, I said they were like you," returned the impudent 
 Dodge, as well as he could for the distorted countenance bent 
 above the process of pinning in his flower. " There," he said, 
 anent this finished operation, "it's in. I think it becomes 
 me. I did n't run my finger to the bone but once. Now tell 
 me what ma,-ma thought of the flowers and the card ? " 
 
 In spite of her usual self-possession, the girl was stricken 
 dumb. To add to her confusion, a deep embarrassing blush 
 rose relentlessly to her throat and face, and would not be 
 banished. 
 
 " You won't repeat it ! " cried the terrible youth. " You 
 don't dare to, but I will. Mama said, lifting her lor- 
 gnettes (here he deliberately mimicked the air of a middle- 
 aged grande dame), ' T. Caraway Dodge ! Who is T. 
 Caraway Dodge ? Oh, I see, a snip of an attache ! ' " 
 
 A look into the stupefied face above him showed that his
 
 22 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 bold guess had been true. Intoxicated by success, he ven- 
 tured another toss. 
 
 "If you say the word, I'll come pretty near repeating your 
 answer." 
 
 Behind the astonishment, then the consternation of the 
 girl's face, a harder something flashed. She was not accus- 
 tomed to have the lead so rudely taken. This young person 
 must be disposed of on the instant. His impudence would 
 have given points to Jonah's gourd. She now rose to her feet, 
 held her chin unnecessarily high, and, with the air of a young 
 Lady Macbeth, drawled out, "I will spare you the trouble, 
 Mr. T. Caraway Dodge. Much as I dislike to be rude, the 
 words I said were these " She paused. Dodge rose too. 
 The brown eyes and the hazel were nearly on a level. He was 
 laughing. " Well ? " he reminded at length. 
 
 His unconsciousness of offence gave the last flare to her 
 indignation. 
 
 " I said to those present, ' The sending of so costly a bou- 
 quet by Mr. Dodge is a little er pushing, and the sender 
 must be told so; but since, by accident, the flowers just 
 happen to suit my gown ' ' 
 
 " Nonsense ! " laughed the rash Dodge, " you never talked 
 that way in your life, unless you deliberately made it up. 
 That 's your stunt now, of course. Any one could see it. 
 What is more likely, you said what I planned for you to 
 say was, ' Oh, here are the flowers I have been waiting for ! 
 I think I '11 have to marry the person who sent me these ! ' 
 There 's the music of the first waltz ! It 's a peach ! Come, 
 you have n't promised it, have you ? Everybody is waiting 
 for the hostess to begin. Let us start the ball rolling!" 
 
 In sheer incapacity to resist, a weakness wrought of a be- 
 numbing conflict of anger, mirth, and amazement, Gwendolen 
 leaned to him, and her debutante ball opened with her, joy- 
 ous, whirling in the arms of Mr. T. Caraway Dodge. 
 
 After this initial favor, he was rigidly, even scornfully, 
 ignored; but little cared Dodge for that. He had had his 
 day. The impetus given could carry him smiling on through 
 hours of cold neglect. He was determined to be the gayest 
 of that circling round of joy, and succeeded. Stout matrons,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 23 
 
 lean old maids, Chinese, Spanish, Russian, Dutch, Peruvian, 
 Pole, just so it wore skirts and could move its feet, all were 
 food for his new mill of ecstasy. 
 
 Gwendolen danced oftenest with Pierre. He was literally 
 a perfect dancer, and to-night he said that the champagne 
 all went to his heels. Yuki, in her decorous Japanese drap- 
 eries, wound about by stiff brocades, did not attempt foreign 
 dancing. 
 
 Hagane and the older members of the suite left early. 
 Hirai, the secretary, remained, evidently charmed by the long 
 eyes of his young countrywoman. During the time she was 
 not talking to him or Pierre, Yuki remained near Mrs. Todd, 
 delighting the soberer friends who came to speak with them 
 by her beauty and intelligence. In the pleasure of seeing this 
 enjoyment of her Oriental protege, Mrs. Todd forgot to scold 
 about the affair of the Kussian minister, and made only 
 one remark about Yuki's undignified and un-American " kow- 
 tow " to the prince. 
 
 "I was just pushed down, Mrs. Todd," protested Yuki, 
 earnestly. " Some hand from my own land pressed me before 
 I knew. So was I taught to greet our feudal daimyo when I 
 was the very little girl; so all in Nippon, of old customs, 
 greet him now. I will try never again to do such a thing in 
 America." 
 
 "Well, well, that's all right!" said the matron, patting 
 her slim shoulder. " You are a good little girl, if you did 
 kow-tow. There 's Gwendolen with Pierre again ! Does n't 
 she look well to-night?" 
 
 " Well ! " echoed Yuki, as her eyes followed the flying 
 shapes. "'Well' is so faint a little word. To me Gwendolen 
 looks beautiful, beautiful like the Sun Goddess in our 
 land. She is like a bush of yama-buki in the wind! I never 
 saw nobody at all so beautiful as our Gwendolen ! " 
 
 " And to think she must give up this brilliant social success, 
 and go to a heathen country for four years ! " mused Mrs. 
 Todd, gloomily. She had, of course, been told the great 
 news. 
 
 If Yuki heard the muttered words, she did not show resent- 
 ment. The smile of intense affection had not left her face as
 
 24 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 she said aloud : " Anywhere that Gwendolen goes, I think she 
 will find happiness. She has in her eyes the light of a happy 
 karma. Evil and sorrow cannot stay with her long." 
 
 "Well, and what of you, my little Japanese daughter?" 
 asked Mrs. Todd, touched by the unselfish words. 
 
 " Oh, me ! " said Yuki, becoming instantly grave. " I do 
 not think about my karma, each person cannot see his own, 
 or know of it ; it clings about him too close. But if 1 should 
 think No, I cannot ! I am afraid! Ah, here comes back 
 the sunshine. It is Gwendolen, fanning ! Ah, so hot a little 
 sunshine is Gwendolen ! Sit here, and let me make the fan 
 go fast for you, Gwendolen, your wrists your throat 
 that will make coolness quicker than just your face ! " 
 
 Both girls laughed now, and talked together; Pierre joined 
 them; Dodge ventured near; the senator came up. It was 
 a sparkling group, with the centre always Gwendolen; yet 
 even to Mrs. Todd's unimaginative eyes, the loneliness of the 
 little gray figure, the strange blue-black hair, and pointed, 
 faintly tinted face, struck a note of mystery, of something 
 very near to sadness.
 
 CHAPTER THEEE 
 
 MR. CYRUS CARTON TODD, born in the farming district of 
 Pennsylvania, of English and Scotch ancestry, had, as a mere 
 boy, gone to seek his fortune in the West. This was not, of 
 course, an original thing to do. Young men and old, families 
 and whole communities were, at this time, streaming, like ban- 
 ners, out toward the alluring, unknown lands. Cyrus chose 
 a broad, lonely stretch of moor in the very heart of a state 
 sparsely settled, but not too far from the fertile Mississippi 
 basin. Agriculture, rather than stock-raising, had from the 
 first been his design. The small, hoarded patrimony went 
 into fences, a horse, a plough, and a great lethargic sack of 
 seed. Quick to recognize the advantages of new methods and 
 new machinery, he became, before the age of thirty, one of the 
 successful "large farmers" of his adopted state. 
 
 He loved, with a passionate, personal love, his broad black 
 fields. He knew, before they ventured one slim, verdant herald 
 to the air, the stirring of immortal essence in his buried grain. 
 He thrilled, sometimes with the stinging of quick tears, when 
 first the green prophecy ran, like an answering cry, from fur- 
 row to swart furrow. He moved, at harvest-time, among the 
 hung, encrusted stalks with the deep joy of a creator who sees 
 his work well done. Every process was vital, the sowing, 
 reaping, storing, and, last of all, the hissing of the great gold 
 torrents as they plunged headlong into caverns of waiting cars. 
 His acreage was wide, but not too wide for his heart. His 
 great working force of men was organized and controlled with 
 the tact and ease of a leader. Mrs. Todd, the daughter of an 
 Illinois farmer, (of late she was successfully forgetting the 
 fact), came into his life when, as a girl of eighteen, she had 
 "visited" a neighbor's home. Todd was then thirty-one. 
 The difference in age seemed great to him, but apparently not 
 to Susan. She arrived in mid-autumn, at the height of a golden
 
 26 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 yield. Cyrus loved the whole world then, and it was not dif- 
 ficult for the rosy girl to secure for herself a special niche. 
 
 They were married in the following spring, when the plant- 
 ing was over, and Cyrus's fields ran with an emerald fire. The 
 farmer turned, perforce, to contemplation of his house. Bare 
 walls and rough pine floors were well enough for him, but 
 better should be found for Susan. She assisted him in select- 
 ing the new furnishings, and then, with the self-possession 
 known only to a woman and a hen, entered upon her kingdom. 
 
 Her presence, for a long while after, affected Todd as some- 
 thing in the nature of a miracle. Women had borne little part 
 in his life. The dainty touches of ornament which his wife's 
 quick fingers gave the little home, the good, unheard-of things 
 she cooked for him, the demonstrative affection she was ever 
 ready to bestow (for indeed she loved him dearly), kept him 
 in a sort of daze of unbelieving bliss. He felt that he and life 
 were even. Now he began to learn what money, hitherto a 
 neglected factor in his success, had the power to grant. 
 
 The plain cottage grew into an attractive, vine-held home. 
 Going to his fields each morning, after a perfect breakfast, 
 he argued aloud to himself, and frequently pinched his own 
 arm to prove the brightness true. Everything prospered. 
 The men liked him, the dogs fawned upon him, the horses 
 whinnied at his voice. And then, just as he told himself 
 he could n't possibly make room for another joy, came 
 Gwendolen. 
 
 Cyrus, when his eyes had cleared of the golden blur, drew 
 a chair to the bed, put his two elbows on the rim, set his face 
 upon his hands, and deliberately made acquaintance with his 
 daughter. The miracle of his wife's love, the immortality of 
 springing seed, the awe left over from his boyish dreams 
 of heaven, all hid themselves in that small, pink frame, and 
 looked out upon him through its feeble gaze. 
 
 He wished to name her "Susan," after his wife, and, as it 
 happened, after his mother also. Mrs. Todd would not con- 
 sider it. She desired her child to have a " pretty " name, 
 something high-sounding, even sentimental, that would look 
 well in a novel. Her thought whirred like a distracted 
 magnet between three euphonious points, " Gwendolen,"
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 27 
 
 "Guinevere," and "Theodora." At Guinevere Cyrus at 
 once took an obstinate stand. It suggested to him guinea- 
 hens. 
 
 Then ' Theodora,' Cy. What is the matter with Theo- 
 dora ' ? " 
 
 " It sounds like the tin tail to a fancy windmill. I can 
 just see it spin!" declared the anxious father. 
 
 " But the sentiment ! It means ' gift of God,' " pleaded 
 Mrs. Todd, in the voice she usually kept for church. 
 
 "Shucks! She don't need a label, 'made in heaven,'" 
 said Cy. " Nobody 'd take her as coming up from the other 
 place. Why, if she dropped there now, she 'd put out flames 
 like a hand extinguisher, the blessed cheraphim ! " 
 
 " Well, 'Gwendolen,' then. Surely you can't find any such 
 ridiculous objections to ' Gwendolen.' " The young wife now 
 was plainly on the verge of tears. 
 
 "It's fancy and high-falutin' for my taste," said honest 
 Cyrus, " but it's not so bad as those others. If you want it, 
 have it ! I can't stand out against you, darling. I can call 
 her * daughter ' when I 'm tired." 
 
 So Gwendolen she was christened, and in time Cyrus be- 
 came not only reconciled, but actually proud of the pretty 
 name, saying that it sounded yellow, like her hair. 
 
 In earlier years of struggle, pleasant stress it had always 
 been Cyrus Todd, in the wide, lonely life of the prairie, had 
 become a reader of books. His pious English mother had not 
 died before transmitting to her boy her veneration for the 
 great souls of the past. Among his very few possessions, 
 brought originally from Pennsylvania, were three books; 
 Shakespeare, the Bible, and, strangely enough, a copy of Marco 
 Polo. During the days of poverty these three formed his 
 sole, incessant reading. Afterward he bought more books, 
 generally bound garbage-heaps of literature, perpetrated in 
 rich boards, and disseminated by strenuous agents who urged 
 to purchase with a glibness unknown to any since Beelzebub. 
 A few good books came to him, generally by a fortuitous mis- 
 chance. Imitating his neighbors, he sent in subscriptions to 
 the "Western Farmer's Evangel" and "The Horn of Plenty." 
 He read everything, bad or good, keeping new words and
 
 28 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 phrases strictly out of his daily vocabulary. His time had 
 not yet come for mental segregation. 
 
 Chiefly because of this modest simplicity of his speech, no 
 one suspected him of the growing passion. Never was a 
 figure less scholarly to view. His keen eyes of bluish green, 
 with their trick of closing slightly from underneath when 
 interested, seemed to look out toward horizons of actual ex- 
 perience, rather than along those shadowy vistas down which 
 the pilgrim band of thinkers moves. His limbs, loosely hung, 
 were made for striding over furrows. His mouth, thin-lipped 
 and straight, sensitive at the corners to any hint of humor or 
 of pathos, showed early lines of shrewdness and self-restraint. 
 Never a great talker, he was, as a listener, an inspiration. 
 His silences in conversation were not of the brooding, intro- 
 spective kind in which one seems to be planning his own 
 next remark, but of deep and intelligent interest in what his 
 companion was saying. He was alert, practical, interested in 
 many things, sympathetic with many views. 
 
 Within the badly printed pages of the " Farmer's Evangel " 
 he found his first clue to the outer world. This was an illus- 
 trated article on rice culture, in Japan. Before he had 
 turned the first column he felt the threads of destiny pull. 
 
 "Them little chaps is all right, I guess," he remarked 
 aloud, at the top of the second column. 
 
 " No red rust on Johnny Jap ! " he murmured admiringly, at 
 the third. 
 
 With the fourth and last strip of reading, mated to a 
 pictured group of Chinese coolies flailing rye, he let the paper 
 fall and his soul go straying. 
 
 The descriptions of Japanese method and result were bald 
 enough and full of error. Beneath them, as through a tangled 
 undergrowth, he saw reality. Joining this new knowledge to 
 remembered tales of Marco Polo, an electric spark flashed out. 
 Old Marco was not a mere romancer, then, fellow of Sinbad 
 and Munchausen, but a speaker of truths ! There existed still, 
 somewhere on earth, those marvellous countries with old, old 
 cultures stored for us with prophecy, and a crowded generation 
 through which must still run the living sap. If one went 
 west, always west, to the edge of a great water, beyond thaV
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 29 
 
 water lie would reach Japan, as once Columbus cut the 
 sands of Hispaniola. At that first moment came into Todd's 
 mind, half dreamily, though not the less imperishable because 
 of shimmering mist, a determination to travel, some day, to that 
 Far East, and see for himself what Marco Polo must have seen. 
 
 Todd, after his marriage, continued to grow rich. The 
 pretty cottage was abandoned for a great house near " town." 
 It had hallways, a porte cochere, and a huge billiard-room 
 which none but the cat ever visited. The town itself, in its 
 spidery focus of busy railways, had not existed when Cyrus 
 first came. He had often strolled, whistling, through future 
 business blocks, and over smoking breweries. 
 
 The Todds "grew up," as they termed it, with the place, 
 Cyrus specially clinging with tenacious loyalty to the state 
 which had made the background of so much happiness. As 
 Gwendolen passed from a golden childhood into a maiden- 
 hood no less bright, Mrs. Todd was heard to murmur reluc- 
 tantly mild objurgations against the " rawness " of the West, 
 its unconventionality, and lack of true culture. 
 
 At fourteen, Gwendolen was not only precocious in school- 
 work and music, but her beauty promised to be of so unusual 
 and unmistakable a type that Mrs. Todd took fond alarm, and 
 declared that the child must go at once to New York, where 
 she could be decently "finished." Gwendolen protested and 
 wept. She had her father's happy heart, and thought that 
 nothing could be quite so near perfection as their life at 
 home. Mrs. Todd, secure in her conviction, proved inexor- 
 able. Cyrus was appealed to, and something in the dejected 
 look of his face gave his wife a thrill of triumph. She soon 
 prevailed, and Todd, in person, prepared to lead his one lamb 
 to the sacrificial altar of '' society." 
 
 He left her on the brown-stone doorstep in New York, his 
 heart far heavier than her own. The gay metropolis had no 
 attractions then. He took the next train home, tasting his 
 first real sorrow since his mother's death. He felt cold and 
 chill at the thought of the big home emptied now of his idol. 
 
 Mrs. Todd met him, not with the expected torrent of tears, 
 but with a face red and twitching in excitement. The leading 
 political party of his state had " split," and he, the farmer,
 
 30 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Cyrus Todd, was to be run for United States senator. This 
 strange news proved indeed an antidote for melancholy. In 
 less than an hour he had been into town, and learned for him- 
 self how the " land lay." Two candidates, well matched, with 
 equal backing, had just been declared by a great uprising of 
 conservative voters utterly unsatisfactory. Todd was asked to 
 be the dark horse. He would have turned from the proposi- 
 tion flattered and abashed, with the one remark that he 
 " was n't the cut of cloth for a politician," but ambition had 
 begun to work like a fever in the veins of Mrs. Todd. 
 
 Already the magnate of her small community, she wished to 
 test her powers in the capital itself. She knew that Gwen- 
 dolen was to be a beauty, and recognized the potency of an 
 attractive debutante, allied to a rich father and an aspiring 
 mama. The longest letter ever penned by her fat hand 
 now sped to Gwendolen. Her arguments were good, though 
 turgidly expressed. Gwendolen took fire. In a tumult of 
 violet-tinted letters, chokingly perfumed, she assured her 
 father that the school in which she now languished was a 
 cheerless jail. She said that the plain fare, particularly the 
 raw beef, choked her, and that the rooms were kept so hot 
 that soon she must go into consumption. Above all, she 
 was dying by inches so far away from her " dear, precious, 
 darling, angelic dad ! " It was this last representation that 
 won. Todd gave in his name, made a few public speeches 
 that surprised him more than his friends by their humor, 
 sparkle, and good sense, and with little further effort received 
 the nomination. 
 
 For more than four years, now, the Todds had lived in 
 Washington. Mrs. Todd ? s initial step had been to buy a good, 
 substantial home in a fashionable neighborhood. She soon 
 realized that she was not to dominate society ; but, after a 
 few months of sulking, she adjusted herself comfortably to the 
 new conditions, and enjoyed her life thoroughly. Gwendolen 
 was put to the best private school in the city. She could be 
 at home now, in the evenings, to play her father " those tinkly, 
 skee-daddly pieces " which he liked. No homely melodies for 
 Senator Todd! His childhood was passed without them, and 
 they bore no tender recollections. Chopin, and an occasional
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 31 
 
 rag-time bit, stirred his veins. Gwendolen's music-master had 
 kept to himself hopes that, in the girl, he might have a bril- 
 liant result ; her parents had neither the knowledge nor 
 the insight to perceive it for themselves. 
 
 Gwendolen was fashioned for brilliant playing. Elemental 
 or sombre music baffled her. She played with laughter, 
 sometimes with fire, by preference in the full light of the 
 sun. Through Tschaikowsky's broken rainbows she passed 
 like a spirit. Beethoven, in his glad moods, seemed a mirror 
 in which she saw herself. Chopin as a sentimentalist she de- 
 spised, even while she thrilled to his unearthly delicacy of 
 phrasing. She grew steadily, yet remained unconscious of the 
 increasing power. She only knew that, in certain moods, 
 it was almost a necessity to play, and that people liked to 
 hear her. 
 
 As time went on, Mr. Todd's political estimate of himself 
 began to be echoed jeeringly by his opponents, and some- 
 times reluctantly by his friends. He had realized early 
 enough that official exigency in Washington was his cross, his 
 penalty, the price he was doomed to pay. The intricacies of 
 method surprised and repelled him ; the insincerity met on all 
 sides he designated despairingly as the " San Jose scale " of 
 humanity. Graft, political jobbery, the oppressions of power, 
 sickened him. " I don't like it, Susan. I was n't made for 
 this sort of a harness," he complained one day to his wife. 
 " A fellow can't walk straight or talk straight in this life ; and 
 some of these old rum-soaked bosses have actually lost the 
 power of saying what they mean. These female lobbyists, 
 too, they make a man ashamed to look a good wife in the 
 face. I wish we could quit. I like politeness and manners, 
 I 've turned off the road for a sick lizard but I '11 be 
 ding-danged if I can grin and scrape in the evening to a 
 man who, in that same morning's newspaper, has called ine 
 a liar and a thief ! " 
 
 Mrs. Todd joined him in a sigh. " I know it 's hard, dear. 
 I realize just what you mean. There is some of it in my own 
 career, though of course I don't expect anybody to think of 
 ine! The airs put on by these mushroom aristocrats who 
 have pulled themselves up by their own boot-straps are
 
 32 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 enough to make one ill. But we must not think of ourselves. 
 It 's Gwennie ! Washington is better for her future prospects 
 than our dear Western home. We must try to endure Wash- 
 ington a little longer for her sake." Mrs. Todd made strong 
 effort to look and feel like an impersonal martyr. She did not 
 succeed very well. Hypocrisy had a tendency to shrivel under 
 the keen eyes that now twinkled appreciatively upon her. 
 
 " Just so," drawled Cyrus. " For daughter's sake only we 
 continue to sip the nauseating draught. I agree, then. I 
 guess our inwards will not be seriously impaired." It was 
 perhaps as near insincerity as Todd ever approached, this 
 clinging, despite better knowledge, to uncultured forms of 
 speech. Even in the senate he showed determination to 
 remain a raw Westerner, rather than identify himself with 
 that sandpapered and lacquered body of gentlemen. 
 
 His compensations for all discomfort were found in huddled, 
 intoxicating rows on the shelves of the new Congressional 
 Library. Here his interest in the Far East, first awakened 
 by the garrulous Venetian, shone back from a thousand re- 
 flecting facets of new truths. He strengthened theory with 
 fact. He knew how many car-loads of Northwestern grain, 
 how many bales of Southern cotton were shipped annually to 
 expanding Asiatic markets from our Pacific ports. He traced 
 the colonial policies of Europe back to the days when adven- 
 turous Spaniards had won the timid Philippines, but, seeking 
 further glory, had knocked in vain at the gates of Japan. 
 China, too, the richest prize in the East, he knew to be stir- 
 ring in her long sleep. He believed that her destiny, central 
 in the future currents of trade, must become the key to the 
 world's development. With keen eyes he watched the joints 
 of the Siberian railway, like a giant centipede, reduplicating, 
 joint by joint, always insidiously, toward the storm centre of 
 the Yellow Sea. 
 
 The old Romans argued the future from the flight of a bird. 
 It happened now to Todd that the love of one schoolgirl 
 for another brought before him a clearer knowledge of baf- 
 fling Eastern questions than had all his years of rapt 
 apprenticeship. 
 
 Miss Onda of Tokio (Onda Yuki-ko, the full name had been
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 33 
 
 registered) arrived, as boarding inmate of the fashionable 
 Washington Academy, only a few weeks after Gwendolen. 
 She was dainty, shrinking, friendless, and pathetically home- 
 sick. Gwendolen became her champion. With a great ruf- 
 fling of wings she kept at bay the impertinent and the curious. 
 Yuki, thankful from the first for the protection, responded 
 more slowly to the love. The Japanese girl was by nature 
 silent, meditative, reserved. Above all she was, to use her 
 schoolmates' expression " different." 
 
 It was fully three months after the initial friendship that 
 the American succeeded in enticing her home. After this, the 
 course of true love ran smooth. Each Friday night not passed 
 with her Japanese friends, the Kanrios, was spent with Gwen- 
 dolen. Yuki learned to giggle, and to have secrets, and dote 
 on fudge like any American schoolgirl. She learned to dress, 
 too, in the American way, and to heap her soft, dry, blue- 
 black hair into a dusky "pompadour." 
 
 From the first she was a delight to Todd. He thought of 
 her as a strange bird of Paradise rather than a dove, sent out 
 from the ark of her country, that floated for him, somewhere, 
 on waters of mystery. He encouraged hesitating confidences 
 regarding her home life. Stoically he kept from laughter 
 when her quaint grammatical errors convulsed Gwendolen 
 and Mrs. Todd. Through Yuki he began to suspect the pas- 
 sionate, vital note of loyalty which is the keynote to Japanese 
 character. 
 
 Memories of her happy childhood seemed never far away. 
 Before the little feet touched earth, while still warm on her 
 nurse's back, she had been taught to drink in visual beauty. 
 Heroism was instilled in her through toys and story-books, 
 and through temple feasts to gods who once were men. Old 
 age was something to be revered, almost envied, white hairs 
 a benediction. The American levity and callousness shown by 
 the young to the old appeared, from the first, in Yuki's mind, 
 and remained ever after, the chief blot upon a country other- 
 wise beloved. Todd saw that the girl in her own land must 
 have moved as though consciously surrounded by spirit. She 
 said to him that, in Nippon, the air was awake and vital; 
 that there, ever went on about men the tangling and un- 
 
 3
 
 34 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tangling of great forces, to which the living are as but 
 shadows on a moving stream. 
 
 Through Yuki, too, he became a friend, even an intimate, 
 of Baron Kanrio, the Japanese minister. To be intimate 
 with any Japanese is a rare privilege, and Todd knew it. 
 Many were the notable evenings spent in Kanrio's small 
 private den, where the two men bent together over records 
 and reports, and over maps whereon they traced with pro- 
 phetic fingers the contour curves of overflowing races. The 
 insight of the other fairly staggered Todd. Slowly the 
 American breathed in, rather than acquired by grosser senses, 
 something of the patient, confident loyalty to ideals, the 
 Japanese strength that comes with absolute spiritual unity, 
 the power of race in the living, and, more potent still, in 
 the dead. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of a bright March day, the fourth and 
 last of Gwendolen's school years in Washington, Mrs. Todd 
 sat alone at a front window of her handsome bedchamber, 
 looking out dreamily into thickening dusk. The day was 
 Friday. Yuki and Gwendolen giggled over a chafing-dish of 
 fudge in a room across the hall. Merry laughter, more often 
 from Gwendolen, rang through the house, trailing pleasant 
 echoes. 
 
 Mrs. Todd seldom sat alone, and seldom indulged in rev- 
 ery. Now, however, she consciously caressed the reflection 
 that, apart from an obstinate increase of flesh, she had not a 
 trouble in the world. She was proud of her husband, proud 
 of her daughter, pleased with herself. Her mind held no re- 
 grets, her closet no skeletons. A familiar step on the side- 
 walk caused her to look down. The senator was returning 
 early from the library. She smiled with wifely comprehen- 
 sion at the pose of the down-bent head, at the hands thrust, 
 Western fashion, to the full depths of new, English trousers. 
 " Cy has something on his mind," she murmured. " He 's 
 coming to hunt me up and get it off." 
 
 She heard him banging one downstairs door after the other, 
 then running, with the lightness of a boy, up the stairway. 
 His tone expressed relief at seeing her dark shadow-bulk 
 against the window-frame. " Susan ! That you ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 35 
 
 " Yes. You are early, dear. Shall I ring for lights ? " 
 
 No no," cried the other hastily. " I 'm a little tired 
 that's all and a little excited. This warm dusk just 
 suits me. It's fine to talk in." 
 
 After saying this, he remained so long wordless that Mrs. 
 Todd's curiosity urged the question. " Was it anything defi- 
 nite that you had to say ? " 
 
 " Definite ! It 's worse than definite. It 's colossal ! " 
 
 " Say it quick, then. I '11 be on pins and needles till you 
 do." 
 
 "Well, to put it briefly our U. S. minister at Tokio, 
 Jo/?-an, Evans, you know, Brunt Evans of Illinois, 
 well, Evans is on the point of resigning because of ill health, 
 and if I want the appointment if I really try, " 
 
 " Yes yes don't stop ! " 
 
 " Mother, I want it ! " cried the man, in a tone she had not 
 heard him use for years. " You know how I 've always felt 
 about that country ! I want the appointment as I have never 
 wanted anything since I got you ! " His thin hands twitched, 
 his eyes pleaded. He might have been a schoolboy begging 
 for the treasure of a gun, a horse, a holiday. 
 
 " To give up Washington, and live in that strange land ! " 
 whispered Mrs. Todd, as though fear touched her. 
 
 " It need n't be but for a matter of four years, mother." 
 
 " Is there not talk of war with Kussia ? " 
 
 " Yes, and that 's my chief reason for wanting to go." 
 
 " Do you realize that Gwendolen, our only child, is to grad- 
 uate this June, and formally come out next season ? " 
 
 " Yes, and that 's my chief reason for wanting to stay." 
 
 Mrs. Todd pressed her lips together. A suspicious gleam 
 came to her pale eyes. " This is the work of Yuki Onda ! 
 You both are infatuated about that girl." 
 
 "My dear Susan, how utterly unjust! Yuki has no more 
 political influence than our cook. She does n't dream of this 
 possibility, she or Gwendolen either. You are the only one 
 besides myself to hear." 
 
 " The girls will be wild when they are told. Gwendolen 
 will be mad to go! Society, flattery, success, a great catch, 
 all I have worked for will be nothing ! " Todd wisely kept
 
 36 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 silence. Mrs. Todd rose unsteadily to her feet. "There is 
 no doubt that you all will be frantic to go all three of you 
 without a thought for me." Seizing each side of the 
 parted curtain, she stood, as at a tent door, staring out into a 
 blackening sky. 
 
 " You '11 be a big gun out there, Mrs. Cyrus Carton Todd," 
 wheedled a low voice. " Bigger, in some ways, than you '11 
 ever get to be over here. Those foreign embassies are bargain- 
 counters of dukes and princes. The American globe-trotters 
 will be so many kneeling pilgrims at your shrine." 
 
 Mrs. Todd stared on. Slowly upon the nigh't, as upon a 
 transparency, luminous letters began to form. " Mrs. Todd, 
 the stately and distinguished consort of Minister Cyrus Carton 
 Todd, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary 
 from the United States to Japan. Miss Gwendolen de Lancy 
 Todd, a famous Washington beauty, now in her first season." 
 Beneath the words appeared, as in a phosphorescent mist, a 
 long, long dining-table, rich with the beauty of lace, cut glass, 
 silver, and flowers ; while ringed about it leaned and laughed 
 her guests, famous men and women of two worlds, members 
 of old nobilities, native princes, and, perhaps, even visitors of 
 blood royal, for who, in these days, would slight an invitation 
 from the representative of earth's greatest republic ? 
 
 Senator Todd pensively regarded the scallops of his wife's 
 uplifted profile. "You'd make a stunning figure in a court 
 dress, mother." 
 
 She wheeled fiercely upon him. " You are sure Gwendolen 
 suspects nothing ? " 
 
 " Sure. And if you take it like this, dear, she need never 
 know that the chance was offered." 
 
 His companion gave a small, irrepressible sob. In an 
 instant the long arms were about her. "Now, Susie, don't 
 you be losing any sleep over this. I won't take a step unless 
 you give the word." 
 
 Dreading his tenderness more than any argument, she pushed 
 him away half laughing, half crying, "No no go on with 
 you ! I won't be honey-fuggled ! I know your ways. It 
 has come upon me rather sudden, and I have n't caught my 
 breath ! But you might as well tell Gwennie and be done
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 37 
 
 with it ! I could n't keep such a secret from her, even if you 
 could. It's too b-big! And she'll be just wy-wy-wild to 
 go ! " The last sentence was a wail. 
 
 "Forget it, mother! Drat the whole thing! Let it van- 
 ish ! " urged Cyrus. 
 
 "No ! " she cried instantly, and shook her head with vehe- 
 mence. " I can't accept the sacrifice." 
 
 " Do you agree, then, for me to to try ? " asked Todd, 
 fighting down a desperate joy. 
 
 "No-o" she hesitated, "not exactly agree, either; only 
 I 'm not willing to take upon myself to stop the whole thing 
 here at the beginning. I'm not the Lord! Maybe this is 
 planned out by higher powers ; and then, besides," she 
 added with a gleam of hope, " maybe you won't get it, after 
 all ! " 
 
 Todd's face bore a curious expression. His under lids 
 closed slightly. " No," he repeated slowly, " maybe I won't 
 get it, after all. But it's only fair to tell you that, if I am 
 turned loose to try, I 'm going to try like hell ! "
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 THE Todd household slept until late the morning after the 
 party. Next to the efficient hirelings, those ball-bearing 
 sockets of domestic ease, the senator himself was first to 
 awake. 
 
 He came slowly into the day, as though passing from a fair 
 garden into one more fair. That sense of some great good, 
 new-garnered, and in the warm sweet haze of sleep not quite 
 recalled, caressed his smiling lips. In spite of dalliance, the 
 shining consciousness drew near. His appointment had been 
 given! Ah, that was the new glory! He was in effect, at 
 that instant, " Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipoten- 
 tiary " to a Wonderland! It was not the honor that thrilled 
 him, but the opportunity. He would have a niche near the 
 breathing heart of that strange country. Proving himself 
 worthy, he might go deeper, drinking at that spiritual fountain 
 of eternal youth. 
 
 Lying now on his rich, canopied bed, with all the luxury of 
 modern Occidental life heaped close, Todd told himself that, 
 because of the success, he was all the more a soul, an indi- 
 vidual, with better things to seek. He scorned to be a pam- 
 pered animal, possessed by its possessions. He envied anew 
 the clean, sweet poverty of the samurai's code. 
 
 He was now at that elevation in life where past events 
 take proper place, as in a landscape, and vistas begin. Yes- 
 terday was his fiftieth year. By another coincidence those 
 clashings of star-beams in his career his birthday fell on 
 that of the Japanese Emperor. 
 
 Looking back now, he could see where streams of tendency, 
 taking rise in boyhood, had worked steadily, though through 
 seeming deviations, towards this one great tide of purpose. 
 His lonely interest in rice-culture had been a, hidden spring ;
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 39 
 
 his coming to Washington, where Japan's development was a 
 living topic instead of a solitary reader's dream, a winding 
 stream of fate. Yuki herself was a deep well of inspiration. 
 Now at last had come his opportunity to serve, in one life- 
 giving effort, his own beloved country, and Japan. The 
 future widened for him into a deep harbor where great fleets 
 of achievement might find safe anchorage. 
 
 Yuki entered for the ten o'clock breakfast in full street 
 costume. At Mrs. Todd's lifted eyebrows of inquiry, Gwen- 
 dolen, who was just behind her friend, explained. 
 
 " She has an appointment at eleven with her Hindoo idol. 
 Baron Kaurio said last night that dad was to go too. Yuki 
 thought she might be allowed to accompany him, if she were 
 very good." 
 
 " Of course ! " said the senator, heartily. " Glad to have 
 her. Prince Hagane gave me the date, eleven, A. M., but he 
 did n't mention Yuki." 
 
 " Oh, how could you think it ? " drawled saucy Gwendolen. 
 " She 's only a girl. He would n't notice a girl." 
 
 " It rather looks as if he had noticed her," retorted Mr. 
 Tocld. "A definite appointment! They say his daily aver- 
 age of callers is about two hundred." 
 
 " It is only for my father's sake. He will give me a mes- 
 sage," explained Yuki, hastily. "Gwendolen is right. So 
 great a man do not think much of girls." 
 
 " Humph," said Gwendolen, " that does n't go ! He stared 
 at you as if you were a candied cherry-petal, and he wanted 
 to swallow you at a gulp. Pierre Le Beau saw it, too. 
 Heavens, how he scowled ! A regular Medusa ! I expect 
 all the chrysanthemums are turned to yellow onyx by his 
 glare." 
 
 Yuki gave a start, and then flushed with painful intensity. 
 " Please ! Please ! " she was beginning, when Mrs. Todd un- 
 consciously interrupted with an exclamation of delight. 
 
 After her methodical pouring of the coffee, the good lady 
 had plunged into the morning papers. "Ah, Gwendolen, 
 these notices are splendid! better than I could have hoped. 
 Society reporters are usually so touchy and carping ! " 
 
 " There was one youthful Mr. Dooley that I made sure of,"
 
 40 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 said Gwendolen, calmly, as she cracked au egg. "I had the 
 orchestra strike up ' Call me thine own ! " while I took him to 
 a corner and plied him with Louis Roederer, Carte Blanche ! " 
 
 Little Yuki and the senator drove off together. Each had 
 things to think of, though not much to say. The carriage 
 bowled smoothly along asphalt thoroughfares. At close in- 
 tervals small parks were passed, some round, some angular, 
 but all like emeralds in a web of silver-tinted streets. Now 
 and then the great meerschaum-colored dome of the Capitol 
 came into sudden view, with its suggestion of purpose and of 
 majesty. 
 
 The girl's neat fawn-tinted dress was now supplemented by 
 furs, and a wide hat of brown velvet, with a silver chain 
 about the crown, and nodding feathers. Her hair, puffed 
 round her face in recent fashion, completed the American- 
 izing of her attire. From the dainty gloves, thrust deep into 
 her muff, to the soft brown boots, she was modern, chic, 
 Occidental. 
 
 At the Japanese Legation, both Baron Kanrio and the 
 prince's secretary, Hirai, were awaiting them. The eyes of 
 the latter shone with eagerness at sight of his young com- 
 patriot. Kanrio sent them, chattering already of Japan, into 
 the drawing-room to await Yuki's summons. With a slight 
 gesture he beckoned to Todd, and they went together along 
 the hall to the well-known den. 
 
 Hagaue sat in it, alone. The disposition of the few stiff 
 chairs bespoke recent visitors. The library table, covered 
 with green leather, had maps upon it, letters and papers, be- 
 sides a Japanese smoking outfit and a tray with tea and some 
 small cups. 
 
 As they entered, the great man slowly rose. He wore again 
 his plain dark native robes. In the relentless daylight he 
 appeared older, more sallow, and at the same time more im- 
 pressive. His hand-grasp for the senator was cordiality it- 
 self. His deep eyes lighted pleasantly, as he said, " Welcome, 
 your Excellency ! " 
 
 Todd started, and then flushed like a boy, at the title. 
 Kanrio grinned with delight. 
 
 " Oh er beg pardon ; but it 's the first time. Rather
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 41 
 
 knocked me off iny pins. Thanks, your Highness ! I feel it 
 a good omen to have it come from you." 
 
 " Shall we be seated ? " asked Hagane. 
 
 "Gomen nasai," (excuse me) murmured Kanrio, with a 
 gesture. He removed the soiled cups from the table to the 
 top of a low bookcase, then rang for fresh cups and a new pot 
 of tea. He and Hagane took a few sips, Japanese fashion; 
 Todd declined. 
 
 " I understand, your Excellency, that your appointment as 
 envoy to our small island has come the very recent time ? " 
 
 "Only last night, your Highness." Todds eyes met in un- 
 embarrassed candor those of Hagane. " Of course I 've worked 
 for it. My heart was set on it. The Baron here has been an 
 inspiration ! " 
 
 " My dear sir, don't trouble to recall my unimportant ser- 
 vice," deprecated Kanrio. 
 
 " I understand," said Hagane, slowly, " that for some time 
 you have honored our country with your studious in- 
 terest. If it is not impertinence, may I venture to inquire 
 what circumstances, what a unfamiliar categories 
 first stung your thought to the pursuit of Far Eastern knowl- 
 edge ? " He spoke very slowly, slurring neither vowel nor 
 consonant, and choosing, it would seem, from a rich vocabu- 
 lary. Nevertheless he pieced the words together with a 
 slight effort. 
 
 Todd knitted his brows, not in lack of understanding, but 
 from desire to answer definitely and concisely the comprehen- 
 sive question. 
 
 Hagane may have mistaken the silence, for he added imme- 
 diately, " My English is stiff, not well manoeuvred. My 
 meanings perhaps become involved. Shall not Baron Kanrio 
 stand as interpreter for my heavy thought ? " 
 
 "No, no," said Todd, eagerly. "Do not think it, your 
 Highness ! I understand perfectly. Your very misuse of 
 some of our slippery old timeworn words is illuminating. 
 It was your question that made me pause, not your way of 
 putting it." 
 
 " My dear sir," protested Hagane, " I desire you to feel no 
 obligations to answer. I intended, perhaps, a thinner mean-
 
 42 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ing than your own mind has seized. Was it Japanese Art, as 
 with Frenchmen ? Statistics, Sociology, Political Economy ? " 
 Todd noted the greater ease with which these abstract and 
 philosophic terms were employed. 
 
 "None of these, your Highness, and yet all ! My study 
 you will think me presumptuous, I fear, might not be 
 called less than the ultimate destiny of your race ! " 
 
 Hagane's smouldering eyes leaped into sudden fire. He 
 looked down quickly, as if to deny the flame. Todd felt the 
 air stir and tingle with a new vibration. 
 
 " Yes, your Excellency, we are attempting to employ valu- 
 able hints from various representative governments of your 
 enlightened West," said he, conventionally. 
 
 "Hints!" echoed Todd; "that is just the wonder of you! 
 They are hints in reality, thoughts to be absorbed only just 
 so far as you need them, and the rest chucked. You don't 
 stick them on like plaster to cover up a mediaeval birthmark. 
 You have quite as much to give as we, and you know it. 
 Have n't I watched and studied, with Kanrio here to coach ? 
 You Japanese alone can combine the best of the two civiliza- 
 tions. You can best fuse the experience, character, insight, 
 humanity of both long-suffering hemispheres. We Amer- 
 icans are just ourselves; but you are we, and all the rest of it ! 
 That 's why your old gods set you on the fighting line. You 
 are a whole laboratory experiment in sociology, all to your- 
 selves ! " 
 
 "I perceive that you have been thinking carefully upon 
 us," said Hagaue, still conventional, contained; but his one 
 upward look, instantly withdrawn, had the "swish" of a 
 scythe. 
 
 " It is n't all admiration, you know ! " exclaimed Todd, with 
 an impulsiveness far more flattering than reserve. " You have 
 made, it seems to me, some thundering bad mistakes, like 
 the dropping of Port Arthur at the first growl of that bear, 
 Russia. But you've got your second wind all right. You 
 Japanese know, better than any American or Englishman, 
 that Russian preponderance in China means a walled con- 
 tinent of tyranny, the gates guarded by Greek fire. If you 
 conquer, your best interests are at one with the progress of au
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 43 
 
 enlightened twentieth-century world. Now, your Highness, 
 deny it if you can!" He leaned back, his thin face aglow. 
 Hagaue apparently had difficulty in keeping eyes upon the 
 table. 
 
 " You er pass through the waving branches," said he, 
 very slowly, "and cleave to the heart of the tree. So only are 
 the rings of epochs counted. Do others of your countrymen 
 think thus ? " 
 
 " Well," said Todd, " to be honest, I judge that most of my 
 countrymen would prefer sitting on the bough, stealing apples, 
 rather than counting concentric rings. I guess love of the 
 East must have been born with me." 
 
 "Interesting, interesting! " murmured Hagane. "And yet, 
 your Excellency, though indigenous, something must have fed 
 the growth. Every development possess, I think, allotted 
 kind of nourishment." 
 
 " Oh, events contributed, I presume. Now and then things 
 turned up just when they were wanted." Todd was surprised 
 at his own ease in the great man's presence. He drew in- 
 spiration, not awe, from the intelligent eyes and slow, sugges- 
 tive smile. " Yes, things came ! I planted your Forty-Seven 
 Ronin into my biggest field of wheat! And my old mule, 
 Kurauosuke", did me better work than any span of horses. 
 Then, your Highness, the baron here oh, you need n't 
 shake your finger, Baron! pointed me to heavenly manna; 
 and the child Yuki, my daughter's friend, led me into paths 
 that adult eyes could never have seen." 
 
 Hagane crushed the red ash of his cigarette, and leaned 
 farther back in his chair. The expression of his face altered 
 slightly, softened, one might say, were it not still so impres- 
 sive. If waves of strength and influence had flowed from 
 him before, they ebbed now, leaving consciousness a little 
 thin and dry. Yet all three men smiled faintly, as at a 
 pleasant thought. 
 
 " Ah, little Onda Yuki-ko, the child of my old kerai." 
 
 "It is a term meaning 'feudal retainer/" put in Kanrio, 
 amiably, to Mr. Todd. 
 
 "Yes," went on Hagan&, "I was encouraged last night to 
 gee her so strong to look at, and so pardon vulgarity,
 
 44 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 your Excellency, so inoffensive to the eye in personal 
 appearance." 
 
 Todd flung back his head and laughed outright. " Inoffen- 
 sive that's a good one! Why, your Highness, Yuki is 
 quoted as a beauty here in Washington. Artists beg to paint 
 her, and swell photographers to pose. If she intended casting 
 in her lot with us, she could have the pick and choice of half 
 the young bloods here." He sent a merry glance to Kanrio, 
 as for corroboration, but was met by a stare so blank, so baf- 
 fling, that his smile faded. 
 
 The prince was carefully, very carefully, lighting a fresh 
 cigarette. " Pardon nez moi !" he mumbled, between coaxing, 
 initial puffs. " It is I who am the stupidity ! ' Pick and 
 choice, young bloods' I fear I do not quite er 
 apprehend." 
 
 "Your Highness," Kanrio broke in, "Mr. Todd speaks in 
 the idiomatic phrases of society. He desired to transmit the 
 impression that Miss Onda is thought to be beautiful." 
 
 " Ah, is that it ? And young bloods ? " 
 
 " Young men, I should have said. Pardon my slang. Merely 
 young men, your Highness," explained Cyrus, feeling sud- 
 denly quite ill at ease. 
 
 "Ah, yes," muttered Hagane to himself. "I have a rec- 
 ollection. Last night " he broke off. His voice was 
 higher and a little careless, as he asked of Todd, directly, 
 " Is Onda Yuki-ko to sail with your family ? " 
 
 "Yes. She had not intended returning till next spring. 
 She wanted to take an extra course in French or something. 
 But she would n't stay behind, now that we are going. She 
 and my daughter are like sisters." Todd rose, muttering words 
 to the effect that he had trespassed too long. Hagan& rose 
 also. Todd felt resentful, though he could have assigned no 
 definite cause. " Good-morning, your Highness, or, as Miss 
 Yuki has taught me to say, ' Sayonara ' ! I thank you for the 
 honor of this interview." 
 
 The word " Sayonara " brought Hagane sharply to himself. 
 "The thanks belong not to me, Excellency," he smiled and 
 stretched out a powerful hand. " Seldom do I so deeply enjoy 
 a conversation with one met for the first time. I consider
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 45 
 
 that Nippon, and our Sacred Emperor " (he paused, and 
 the two Japanese bowed deeply,) "are to receive the con- 
 gratulation." 
 
 Power and purpose thrilled in his hand-clasp. Todd tingled 
 anew with it. " What a man ! What a bottled genius hauled 
 up from a sea of fate ! " he said to Kanrio, as they descended 
 the stairs. 
 
 "Prince Sanetomo is one who does his duty," admitted 
 Kanrio, in an impassive tone. 
 
 Hirai accompanied Yuki to the office door. They went 
 a little slowly, considering the rank of the summoner, and 
 talked hurriedly in the hall-ways, each reluctant to release 
 a topic so dear. There had been not only Japan and childhood 
 to gloat upon, but, already, reference could be made to a past, 
 twelve hours old. " Do you remember," and " As you were 
 saying last evening," are potent introductory clauses. Both 
 young people had been born in Tokio, and though unnamed 
 to each other before, soon established unity of class, training, 
 inherited ideals, and childish experiences. The secretary had 
 often heard of Sir Onda Tetsujo, Yuki's father, a knight of 
 the old school, famed for his stern rectitude and his loyalty 
 to a vanished past. With some hesitation Hirai ventured to 
 suggest that he should consider it a privilege to be allowed to 
 call upon Sir Tetsujo and his lady, in their Tokio home. Yuki 
 urged this eagerly. She could send by the younger man mes- 
 sages that seemed too trivial for transmission through Prince 
 Hagane. " Yes, yes, please call upon them do-zo ! 
 They will receive you so happily. Ah, and to think that you 
 will see them long, long before I can come ! You will reach 
 Nippon before the maples have quite burned themselves 
 away, or Fuji lowered upon her opal cone the full white robe 
 of winter. How am I to endure the waiting ? I wish I were 
 to start with the suite of Prince Hagane to-morrow ! " 
 
 Hirai's fine face echoed this sentiment vividly, but he re- 
 frained from speech. He was a correct young man, and had 
 no intention of presuming on the young girl's veneer of 
 Americanism. He left her at the door. It had to her fancy, 
 now, the feeling of a shrine, a Shinto temple, approached 
 through paths of childish memories. She lifted one gloved
 
 46 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 hand to knock, and her lips twitched at the clamorous instinct 
 to raise both hands, rub the palms together, and clap thrice 
 as before a deity. She controlled herself, however, shaking 
 her head a little wistfully, and murmuring as to a voice, "No, 
 though my soul still is Nipponese, I have become a Christian. 
 I am half American, too. I must remember." She gave now 
 a sharp, determined rap. 
 
 " 0-id6 ! " boomed a deep voice from within. Yuki's knees 
 melted. Whatever the rest of her, they were evidently not 
 American. She entered with downcast eyes. 
 
 Hagane did not seem to recognize her. He looked hard, and 
 asked, " Is this Onda Yuki-ko ? " 
 
 She lifted the brim of her hat, and let shy eyes rest upon 
 him. "Your Highness, it is Yuki, a worthless young ac- 
 quaintance with whom you spoke last night." She used the 
 Japanese language, with the full complement of honorifics. 
 
 "An odd eventuation," said the other, dryly. "I thought 
 to summon the child of my old kerai, the maiden of last even- 
 ing, and, behold, a small, pert shade from the Avenue de 
 1'Opera!" 
 
 "It does not augustly displease your Highness?" mur- 
 mured the girl, not understanding his full meaning. 
 
 "Not at all. It may even prove valuable for Nippon, and 
 Tetsujo could wish no more. But be seated, child. I have 
 scanty moments to dole you, and there are messages." 
 
 "Lord," murmured Yuki, seating herself on the hard chair 
 indicated, "it is too much for you to burden your exalted 
 memory for my insignificant satisfaction." 
 
 Hagane ignored the deprecating whisper. Taking a seat 
 deliberately, he began, "At the Shimbashi station of Yedo, 
 where, since many notable officers were to accompany me, a 
 great crowd of well-wishers thronged to say farewell, I soon 
 discerned the dark face and the proud head of your father, 
 Onda Tetsujo." 
 
 He paused, smiling slightly. The girl said nothing, only 
 bent forward a little, her face full of unconscious excitement. 
 
 " Close behind him, gentle, clinging, self-effacing, as a good 
 wife should always be, I saw " 
 
 Yuki, forgetting her breeding, fairly snatched the words
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 47 
 
 from his mouth. "My mother, I know, Lord, it was my 
 dear mother ! And the old nurse Suzume, was she there ? " 
 
 " There was, indeed, a female something that incessantly 
 bowed, and drew breath with a ferocity that drowned the 
 hissing of the engine. Has that the air of Suzume ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, her very self. Oh, how can I wait to get back 
 home ! Ten weeks, Lord, before I am to start!" 
 
 "The words uttered by your parents were these, I may 
 not recall the exact terms, but I have their purpose clear. 
 First, Iriya said : ' Tell to our child that empty hearts and a 
 cheerless home ache through this night of absence, for her 
 coming.' Her soft eyes touched my heart, though men call 
 me stern. Ere I could bow assent, your father Tetsujo 
 ah ha ! that old kerai, the unreconstructed feudal knight ! 
 pushed rudely past, and cried to me, 'Taint memory with no 
 such puerile demand, my Lord! Say to the girl that hearts 
 and aches are nothing. As long as I have yen to forward, 
 let her remain until she is fitted, though a woman, to be of 
 some slight service to her land. I pray you, Lord, to judge of 
 her. Should she need to stay full ten years longer, I would 
 not repine. I have no son. She is the substitute. Empty 
 hearts, aching nights, bah ! Crumbling barley sugar of a 
 weak spirit ! Midzu-ame in* a human jar ! Good Iriya, my 
 wife, I advise you to cease your prayers before concessive 
 deities, and learn to worship more sincerely our God of War. 
 He is to be the flaming incarnation of this epoch !' ' 
 
 " I can see I hear them both," said Yuki. " My father 
 is right, though the tears that must have stung my mother's 
 eyes do now sting mine. Lord, shall you think me fit to go 
 to such a father ? I have done what the Americans call 
 graduate. I have even received prizes for good study." 
 
 " Do they offer prizes here for doing duty ? An immoral 
 practice, especially for the young, instilling envy, cupidity. 
 But it concerns me not. Your question, Yuki, are you 
 fitted to return? I cannot give myself time to be satisfied 
 entirely with the fitness ; but, for other reasons, I am well 
 aware that it is time for you to return. His Excellency, Mr. 
 Todd, spoke of the first of the New Year. I wish it were 
 to-morrow."
 
 48 
 
 "Lord," faltered the girl, "are your august utterances 
 heavy with reproof ? Have you charges of misconduct 
 against me ? " Her guilty heart ran, as a thief for a hidden 
 treasure, to the thought of Pierre Le Beau and the half-troth 
 her weakness had allowed him to secure. The next words of 
 the great man relieved her strangely. 
 
 "Nay, nay, little one, I have heard of no wrong. Look 
 not so fearful ; one would think me Emma-0, the Lord of 
 Hell, in the flesh. My thought was chiefly that, just now, even 
 your present acquirements might serve Nippon." 
 
 " Ah, it is of war you hint ! Here, many believe that it will 
 not come. Is it to come, Lord ? " She had drawn very close. 
 Hagane perceived, as one looking at a picture, the exquisite 
 balance of features in the pointed oval face, the pale width of 
 brow under clouds of dusty hair, the refinement, the trem- 
 bling sensitiveness of lips and chin. His eyes held a certain 
 keen, inscrutable inteutness of regard. The corners now 
 wrinkled slightly with a smile. 
 
 "A nightingale studies not with a maker of swords," he 
 said slowly. " Yet may the nightingale's note give warning 
 where the sword could not avail. What one has not heard, 
 cannot be told. It is a time when the whispering of leaves is 
 to be shunned, and the fall of the petals counted." 
 
 Yuki caught her underlip between her teeth to steady its 
 trembling. Again she felt reproved, though nothing could be 
 kinder than the great man's voice. 
 
 "Four years," he mused aloud, "four years! Small space 
 of time to us who are on the heights, but to the young, 
 still wandering happily on flowered-covered slopes, it is long, 
 quite long. Ah, little Yuki, it is but yesterday that you came, 
 as a child, to my Tabata villa. You clung timidly, at first, to 
 Tetsujo's hand ; but the serving-maids soon won you to the 
 air. After that, at my request, Tetsujo brought you often. 
 You were a scarlet poppy turned loose in that dim old garden. 
 My eye would follow you through passages of the good 
 Tetsujo's somewhat prosy discourse. You used to perch 
 upon the gray rocks of the pond, and fish for hours, throwing 
 back the small wriggling bits of gold as soon as caught. Do 
 you remember, Yuki ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 49 
 
 "Yes, Lord, well do I remember," said Yuki, her mouth 
 trembling into laughter. The self-consciousness faded. He 
 knew that it would be so. It was for this that he had con- 
 trived the long speech of reminiscence. " Once," she went on 
 shyly, " once, into that pond I fell, screaming with terror to 
 think that certainly, now, all the goldfish would make haste 
 to bite their enemy." 
 
 " Their best revenge, I take it, was in the cold you caught," 
 laughed the prince. 
 
 "Nay, Highness," said she, gravely, "no cold at all did I 
 acquire. The maid-servants and thy divine, pitying princess 
 rescued me. They changed my worthless garments, and urged 
 upon me much hot tea and a small, sweet powder. Indeed, 
 but for the trouble my clumsiness occasioned, I enjoyed more 
 the falling into that august pond than the fishing beside it." 
 
 Hagane smiled a little abstractedly. He did not laugh 
 again. He turned to the table and smoothed the corners of a 
 document. "The villa has no princess now, my child. In 
 my many houses I come and go alone." 
 
 Yuki looked upon the floor. "My spirit is poisoned by 
 your sorrow, Lord. Forgive my great rudeness in men- 
 tioning. I did not know." 
 
 He drew a short, impatient sigh. " The princess resides 
 again with her own people in Choshiu. But these matters 
 have interest for none but me. Hark, is that not the hour 
 of noon now striking? I must dismiss you." She rose in- 
 stantly at his words. He followed with more deliberation. 
 She turned to the door, then wavered back to him, distressed 
 evidently by thoughts she shrank from voicing. 
 
 " Speak, child," he said kindly, " no mad haste is necessary. 
 Say what you will." 
 
 Still she moved soundless lips. In some inexplicable way 
 she had fallen short. It was not only that she felt she had 
 not reached his highest expectations, but, more definitely, she 
 had failed to reach her own. Her acquired Americanism 
 crackled on her, like a useless husk. She thirsted for new 
 strength. Before her stood one able to give it, yet she could 
 find no words to ask. " It is ten weeks before I can start 
 home, Lord," she managed at last to articulate. " I am only 
 
 4
 
 50 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 a girl, but I would die for Nippon, for my Emperor. What 
 what " Again she faltered. 
 
 Hagane took a small hand in his own and smiled reassur- 
 ance. "Only the very young and inexperienced think it 
 necessary to state willingness to die for a country. Give 
 me the coming thought." 
 
 " In these last weeks what can I do, what can I suffer, 
 how shall I pray, that I may make myself worthy of 
 return ? " 
 
 The smile on the overhung dark face saddened into a look 
 far tenderer than smiling. Yuki felt virtue, like a fluid, rush 
 through her from his touch. "Keep always to the thought 
 that you are Nipponese, that you guard, in yourself, an im- 
 mortal spirit, powerful for good or ill. Let not the tendrils 
 of your outreaching soul cling to alien ideals, for, if so, each 
 in the twining means a wrench and a scar, and the unscarred 
 soul is sweeter to the gods. Think nothing of the body, 
 of personal desires, of personal reward. Say to yourself 
 always, ' It is enough to be a Nipponese.' " 
 
 Yuki was already stilled and comforted. " Lord," she said, 
 lifting brave eyes, " I think it true that the lowliest among 
 us, through self-striving, may become a god. My little spark 
 of light has slept until this moment. I can never again be 
 quite the same girl who came into this room. I will curve 
 the memory of your words about my spirit, as one shields his 
 candle from a wind." 
 
 " In Nippon I see you next, my Yuki. And now, ' Sa- 
 yonara,' till that time." 
 
 " Sayonara," whispered Yuki, and hurried out into a new 
 day.
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 PREPARATIONS for an unexpectedly early start kept the Todd 
 family in a condition of strained excitement. When the ten- 
 sion did relax (Mrs. Todd had more than once warned them), 
 they would all probably shoot off into eternity, mere dull bits 
 of leaden weight, as from a boy's rubber sling. Yet in these 
 days the good lady had little time for speculations, whether 
 mournful or the reverse. She, Gwendolen, and Yuki began at 
 once a round of shopping and dressmaking. Officious lady 
 friends who had lived or visited in Japan hastened to tell of 
 certain articles necessary to the civilized female which, abso- 
 lutely, were not to be procured in Japan. At first Mrs. Todd 
 hearkened eagerly, and made lists for future shopping ; but she 
 invariably lost the lists, and, after the first week, began to 
 notice that some particular item declared by one gesticulating 
 visitor to be unpurchasable west of San Francisco, would, by 
 the next, be named as a thing produced in full perfection only 
 by Yokohama cobblers, jewellers, cabinet-makers, tanners, or 
 tailors, as the case might be. 
 
 Much in the same manner, whereas one matron declared the 
 Japanese servant a fiend, laden with an accumulation of do- 
 mestic vices from the days of Pharaoh down, the next would 
 congratulate Mrs. Todd on being about to enter upon an ex- 
 perience rare to this hemisphere, perfect service, intelli- 
 gently and cheerfully given. 
 
 The pleasant home on M street was abandoned, the occu- 
 pants moving to a hotel. This was done that Mrs. Todd 
 might personally supervise the packing and storing of fur- 
 nishings grown dear through pleasant association. More than 
 one stealthy tear plashed on an unresponsive packing-case. 
 
 Gwendolen's brimming joy gave room for but one regret. 
 That lived and died in a single glance, as she saw her grand 
 piano, ignominiously tilted, pathetically legless, carried past
 
 52 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 her through the wide front door, and down to the waiting 
 hearse of a van. 
 
 Mrs. Todd went to bed, during this strenuous period, imme- 
 diately after dinner. She urged her daughter to follow the 
 good example and get " rested " for struggles to come. But 
 " No," said Gwendolen, laughing. " There will be plenty of 
 time to rest when I 'm old. I can't waste life now ! " 
 
 Many of the girl's evening hours were devoted to Mr. Dodge 
 and what he was pleased to term " Lessons in Japanese." 
 When Yuki and Pierre were present, Yuki now resided per- 
 manently at the Japanese Legation, the Oriental listener 
 would often need to bury a crimsoning face in crumpled sleeves 
 to hide her mirth. Mr. Dodge's vocabulary was large, especially 
 in the way of amorous and complimentary phrases, but his 
 syntax and his pronunciation were things new on this planet. 
 Pierre laughed too, with a superiority born of Yuki's private 
 instruction. Gwendolen stoutly defended her professor, say- 
 ing that his way of speaking the language sounded easier and 
 more natural than Yuki's own. 
 
 Mr. Dodge, by one of those fortuitous happenings that lay, 
 for him, like pebbles, in every chosen path, had found that he 
 would be compelled to return to his post of duty by the same 
 steamer on which the Todds were to sail. When he made 
 this bold announcement, accompanied by a triumphant side- 
 glance at Gwendolen, the girl was surprised to feel her heart 
 give a warning throb. Despite her skill in the game and her 
 audacity, she began to realize that in this young person she 
 had probably met her equal. She rallied quickly in the face of 
 danger. Exhilaration took the place of fear. She knew she 
 was in for a good fight, and began at once to employ her other 
 admirers in the way of Indian clubs and dumb-bells. Dodge 
 very properly went home to South Carolina a few weeks 
 before sailing, and did not return to Washington until the 
 time of final departure. 
 
 If Yuki trembled at thought of her long days on an en- 
 chanted voyage, with Pierre for closest comrade, her new 
 strength, born of Hagane, smiled down the apprehension. 
 Not only would she refuse to yield to that beloved one a 
 deeper pledge, but, if possible, she would win back from him
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 53 
 
 tho half-troth already given. She longed to return to her 
 country, to her people, free of obligation. Her reverence 
 demanded it. She should belong only to herself and them. 
 So should she have a clearer road in which to approach the 
 subject of a foreign marriage. Pierre, as yet, refused to see 
 this vital point. He must be made to see. On those long 
 balmy evenings on the ship, with the moon's sweet influence 
 to help her, yes, she could convince him, she would 
 triumph ! 
 
 While Senator Todd made his own few preparations, talked 
 with all manner of congressmen on the ever-present topic of 
 the threatened Far Eastern conflict, or reasoned with brother 
 senators who decried so unconventional a thing as resignation 
 from their august midst, Pierre harassed the French Lega- 
 tion for confirmation of an appointment almost given, yet now, 
 at the last, tantalizingly withheld. After insistent efforts, the 
 best that he could gain was assurance that, in Tokio itself, 
 in the hands of Count Eonsard, the present French minister, 
 he would almost surely find his credentials waiting. Pierre, 
 at his princess-mother's instigation had written personally to 
 this Count Ronsard. "An old, dear friend of ours, mon 
 fils," wrote Madame Olga. "Quite close, I assure you. He 
 will be felicitated to offer what he can." 
 
 Pierre and Yuki in their many talks had come to believe 
 that an assured diplomatic position in Tokio would greatly 
 strengthen their chances for an early marriage. Their young 
 ardors were to blow the drowsy coals of French and Japanese 
 friendship. Their lives must have an influence for good ! 
 At such times the future glowed with a heavenly dawn. Pierre, 
 ever since his arrival in Washington, little less than a year 
 ago, had been a special favorite with Mrs. Todd. In the 
 first place, he was a joy only to look upon, having personal 
 beauty to a degree almost irritating in a man. He possessed, 
 also, that subtler and rarer power called "charm." A great 
 factor in his success was unfailing courtesy toward elderly 
 women. He knew well the might of the chaperon. He cared 
 little for men in any country, and the aggressive American 
 he found peculiarly unattractive. But a woman, no matter 
 what her age, race, or weight, was still a woman. Middle-
 
 54 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 aged sighs fed his vanity equally with the giggling of debu- 
 tantes in their first snare. He was not a Don Juan, far from 
 it, but a pleasure-loving, life-loving boy, who had never 
 been refused a thing he wanted, and never intended to grudge 
 himself a moment's delight that could be honorably enjoyed. 
 His ideas of this honor, it may be well to add, were 
 French. At different stages in his short career, Pierre had 
 been or tried to be, in turn, a hermit, an atheist, a Roman 
 Catholic priest like Francis of Assisi, an actor of old French 
 classics, a poet, and an artist of the Chavannes school. With 
 him one passion burned supreme. One fuse must disappear 
 before a new one could be lighted. He had met Yuki first 
 in the Todd drawing-rooms, on one of those Friday evenings 
 allotted to the schoolgirls for receiving friends. She chanced 
 to be wearing full Japanese attire of a soft, cloudy blue, 
 a sash brocaded in silver ferns, and a cluster of the gold- 
 colored " icho " berries drooping in her blue-black hair. As his 
 eyes fell upon her, Pierre's past visions went to cold ash. All 
 the poetry, the mysticism, the intellectuality, the exaggeration 
 of discarded hopes flared now into a single new white flame 
 of adoration. 
 
 December came. Christmas festivities impinged on the 
 travellers' routine of preparations. Days which, at first, 
 Gwendolen had declared interminable, accelerated strangely 
 in progress, like round stones started down a gradual slope. 
 During that last crowded week, Todd had his final, most impor- 
 tant interview with the President and the Secretary of State. 
 He was urged to impart with absolute freedom his personal 
 opinions of the coming struggle, and its probable outcome for 
 the world. In return he was given full and satisfactory in- 
 structions. He left the executive mansion strengthened in 
 purpose, and clarified in his own beliefs. 
 
 At the station, on the morning of departure, an unexpectedly 
 large crowd gathered to say " Farewell." Prominent were 
 the Kanrios and their diplomatic suite. Gwendolen's youth- 
 ful friends of both sexes advanced like an animated flower- 
 garden, so profuse were the bouquets. The French ambassador 
 also was there. A Russian attache insisted upon kissing 
 Pierre good-bye.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 55 
 
 The two drawing-rooms of the sleeper "Nurino" were so 
 heaped with dulcet offerings that the legitimate occupants 
 hurrying in to the warning cry of " Buo-o-o-ord ! " were 
 forced to seek temporary accommodation in the open car. 
 
 "Why! It's just like setting off for anywhere!" cried 
 Gwendolen, a little blankly, as the train drew out through 
 acrid smoke, and old familiar landmarks began their flight 
 backward, to the city. 
 
 "Who cares about the setting off? It's the roosting on, 
 that counts ! " carolled the optimistic Dodge. 
 
 The train pulled steadily, now, for the South. After much 
 disagreement and discussion, and the bending of yellow, black, 
 and brown heads over countless railroad folders, each with 
 its own route in a pulsing artery of red, they had decided 
 for a southern tour. No one of the party except Dodge, who, 
 if one chose to believe him, held acquaintance with all corners 
 of the globe, had been lower than the Potomac Eiver. Mrs. 
 Todd remembered an aunt, native of New Orleans. The aunt 
 had died long since, but the city remained. They were to 
 have a glimpse of the Gulf Coast, and at least two days in the 
 sleepy, picturesque, yet hugely prosperous Crescent City. 
 
 The month was January, in most places a bad month for 
 weather ; but in this opening of the year 1904 the South was 
 apparently bent upon justifying its conventional adjective of 
 " sunny." The little party left Washington in a scourge of 
 sleet and a pall of gray ; it reached New Orleans to find the 
 whole city, Creole alleys traced three centuries ago and broad 
 avenues of later wealth, alike glorified, " paved with after- 
 noon." Scarcely a gulf breeze stirred. The levees by the 
 muddy river lay like saurians, with turpentine and sugar 
 barrels and bursting cotton bales upon their backs, in lieu of 
 scales. In city gardens, palm-trees stood at " present arms " 
 of glossy rectitude. Pansies, daisies, and other small bed- 
 ding flowers bloomed in the open air. Potted ferns or crotons 
 stood about on broad galleries, or upon the shell- white walks 
 bordering emerald lawns. 
 
 Gwendolen declared it a delusion, a mirage, deliberately 
 planned for their entanglement. Yuki admitted that even 
 Japan could not offer so tropic a feast to the eye in January.
 
 56 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Mrs. Todd found her greatest satisfaction in "doing" the 
 place. Dodge, of course, was cicerone. He led them to the 
 old French market and gave them a strange, steaming elixir, 
 brewed in huge copper vats and misnamed mere "coffee." He 
 knew the small lair called " Beguet's," where alone on earth, 
 he solemnly affirmed, real breakfasts were to be procured. 
 He hired a box at the French Opera for Sunday night. 
 
 " Sunday ! " Mrs. Todd gasped, with upraised hands and eyes. 
 
 " Sunday ! " echoed Yuki, less vociferously, but with a cor- 
 responding air of pained astonishment. 
 
 " Certainement ! " ejaculated Pierre, who was beginning to 
 feel at home. "It is transplanted Paris. Why not Sunday 
 night, better than another ? All persons have been to mass, 
 except our naughty selves. The piety of the others may 
 chance to include us. God is good! Allons ! The opera is 
 Faust, with the full ballet and music. Time means little 
 here ! Vive New Orleans ! " After a laughing glance into 
 Mrs. Todd's still dubious countenance he whispered, insinu- 
 atingly, "It is never to be known in Washington or 
 Tokio dear Madame." 
 
 In the end he carried his point and his party. Never had 
 he been in such spirits. Yuki could scarcely keep her eyes 
 from his radiant face. Mr. Todd declared him a mineral 
 spring that had just blown its way through a boulder. He 
 stopped turbaned mammies or wondering children on the 
 banquets, which in New Orleans means sidewalks, that he 
 might elicit, by his correct Parisian French, answers in the 
 delicious native patois. At each success he hugged himself 
 anew. 
 
 "C'est Qa, mgrne! Mo pas geignin 1'argeut pour butin c,i 
 lala ! " he murmured ecstatically. " Geignin plein ! " Passing 
 the cathedral, Pierre asked of a lounging, large-hipped negress : 
 " Est-ce qu'il y a la messe a la Cathedrale dernain ? " to 
 receive the impudent answer: 
 
 " Sainte Pitie ! Est~9e que vous croire que le va leve apres 
 so' bon diner au poisson pou' vini donner nous autres la sainte 
 messe ? Bon Dieu la Sainte Vierge ! Ha ! Ha ! " 
 
 "Holy Mother! But it is French, en glace, crushed, 
 with the cream swimming and the flavor heightened!"
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 57 
 
 Todd alone stared out across the dim, majestic river 
 through De Soto's eyes. He tried to feel himself the man, to 
 prophesy as that seer had prophesied. The great city and tbe 
 long levees were builded in that vanished mind, before the 
 first adobe brick was moulded, or the first dark cedar hewn. 
 Now in himself, as Todd the new American minister, he felt 
 the country of his dreams creep nearer, lured by the magnet 
 of the Panama Canal. Within his own life, should God be 
 pleased to spare him to a fair old age, new craft would thread 
 the Mississippi delta, small merchantmen at first, and sail- 
 ing vessels, each with the banner of the red sun on its mast. 
 Asiatic labor, silent, skilful, insidious, would contest for pre- 
 eminence with the saturnine Dago, the "cayjin," the Quadroon, 
 and the established African. 
 
 Each moment, westward from the city, held a novelty and a 
 delight. The sugar-fields of Louisiana, stretching for leaden- 
 colored miles, and soon to be pierced by myriad tiny spears 
 of awakening green, appeared to Yuki a giant sort of rice-field 
 from her own land. 
 
 " If it were cut up into many small piece, all of different 
 shape and size, with little crooked baby-levees binding the 
 edges, it would be exacterlee the winter rice-fields of 
 Nippon." 
 
 Sometimes, in an island of higher ground, the white-col- 
 umned house of a sugar-planter gleamed, and near it rose 
 mammoth live oaks, huge tumuli of green, the underbranches 
 swaying with grizzled moss. In the open country, such trees 
 crouched low above stealthy creeks, or blotted widening 
 lagoons. 
 
 While in the city, they had read and heard of recent heavy 
 rains to the West, flooding a wide agricultural district. On 
 the borderland of Texas, they knew they had reached the 
 threatened fields. Cypress, magnolia, sweet gum, and bay 
 trees stood knee deep in a sea of dull chrome, churned from 
 roads of clay. It seemed a lake of yellow onyx. Between 
 the trunks writhed a tropical disorder of vines, palmetto, and 
 undergrowth. In wide, clear spaces, drifting fence rails or 
 half-submerged buildings told of ruin already accomplished. 
 Now the whole unstable sea was covered by a carpet of the;
 
 58 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 floating "water-hyacinth," which, in later months, was to 
 turn the bayous and lagoons into veins of amethyst. It 
 seemed incredible to the little party, staring solemnly from 
 train windows, that they were in temperate America at all. 
 Every floating spar of wood became an alligator's head, every 
 springing tuft of white swamp flower a meditative stork. 
 
 Night fell swiftly upon the watery forest, sucked down into 
 it as to a familiar lair. With the next morning, the world 
 had changed to a dry desert, above which arched an unrelated 
 sky. 
 
 " Can we really be on the same planet ? " asked Gwendolen ; 
 "or in the night, did this little measuring- worm of a train 
 reach up and pull itself to Mars ? " 
 
 Before, behind, everywhere, stretched spaces of exhausted 
 gray sand, rising now and again into nerveless hills. For 
 vegetation were set innumerable rosettes of the spiked yucca, 
 with small heaps of the prickly pear, a cactus bush built up 
 of fleshy bulbs, leaf out of leaf, like inflated green coral. On 
 some of the thorny ridges perched star-like, yellow blooms. 
 On others were stuck thick, purple fingers, known politely by 
 the name of "figs." Dodge remarked sententiously that it 
 was a very interesting plant; though, by raisers of cattle, not 
 considered desirable. " Stock won't eat it a little bit," he 
 explained cherubically. " Get stickers into their noses." 
 
 " Do you call that thing a plant ? " cried Gwendolen, point- 
 ing. " It may grow, but it is no more a plant than a canary 
 is a crab." 
 
 Dodge smiled again, the irritating smile of the well- 
 informed. " Wait till to-morrow in Arizona, if you want to 
 know how it feels to be struck dumb." 
 
 Gwendolen tossed her head. Her tendency during these 
 initial days was to overact indifference. 
 
 "I rather think I shall not undergo the humiliation of 
 incapacity to speak! Life heretofore has brought no crises 
 in which I could not command a fairly adequate linguistic 
 expression of my visual experiences." 
 
 "Whew, how did you remember it all?" said Dodge 
 under his breath. Yuki turned her intense face from the 
 window. At sight of the absorbed, half-dazed expression,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 59 
 
 Gwendolen gave a little laugh, crying, "Here is one already 
 nearing the borders of silence ! That is Yuki's way. When 
 she begins to feel things, she draws back in her shell, and puts 
 sealing-wax on the door. What is it now, Yuki, lack of 
 English, - that keeps you so dumb ? " 
 
 "No, not exacterlee," said Yuki, flushing a little at the 
 turning of all eyes. " I have not good English, of course ; but 
 I could not say to myself all that I see, even in Nipponese. 
 When too many new thing come, it is like fat people trying 
 to squeeze together through a door, all get mashed, and 
 none come through." 
 
 Dodge gazed at the speaker in quizzical admiration. "Miss 
 Onda, I long for a phonograph record. That is a masterly 
 exposition of a profound psychological truth ! " 
 
 Yuki cast a laughing, half-pathetic glance toward Pierre. 
 " Is it very bad names that he is calling me, M. Le Beau ? " 
 
 In spite of Gwendolen's hyperbolic boast, Arizona, next day, 
 came near to fulfilling Dodge's prophecy. The world stretched 
 bigger and broader, as though here, instead of at the Arctic 
 poles, the "flattening-like-an-orange" of our globe took place. 
 The sky, immeasurably remote and tangibly arched, was a thin 
 crystal dome soldered to earth by the lead-line of the horizon. 
 The red sand was hot to look at. The hills, though of vaster 
 proportions, had more of helplessness and degeneracy in their 
 sprawling curves. Yucca grew very closely now, marching up 
 and down the slopes like fierce explosive little soldiers with 
 bayonets too long for them. The objectionable prickly pears 
 vanished. In their places rose a stranger order of being, cacti 
 in tangled bunches, as of green serpents, sometimes with the 
 licking red tongue of a blossom, hunched woolly lambs of 
 growth on high, thin stilts of shaggy black, huge green 
 melons, ribbed, spiked, and lazy, that seemed strangely at ease 
 on their burning couches of sand. Far off, against the rim of 
 nothingness, dry, blue mountain shapes emerged, mere tissue 
 filaments of hue. And now, as part of the unreal perspective, 
 giant cacti rose, at first no more than scratches and cross- 
 marks on a window-pane, but coming steadily close. The first 
 that flashed, tall, stark, and tangible, into the very faces of 
 those who watched, brought small exclamations of wonder and
 
 60 TUP: BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 distaste. It passed instantaneously, fleeing backward into 
 nothingness, a herald to proclaim the coming horde. In a 
 few moments, imagination, the sunshine, and the day became 
 mere mediums for the aggressive race. This scorched eternity 
 was made for them. Isolated and defiant, their laws were to 
 themselves. It seemed a deliberate assumption that they 
 should mock reality, taking on the evil forms of crucifix, gal- 
 lows, skeleton-trees, and mile-posts, where nothing but a fam- 
 ished death was to be pointed. The desert might have been 
 a vast sea-bottom, set with grim coral trees and hardened 
 polyps. 
 
 " They are a race of evil spirits, petrified," whispered Gwen- 
 dolen. " I feel their sinister association with our human life. 
 See what shapes they have chosen ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Yuki in return, 'and caught Gwendolen's hand 
 as if for comfort. "You are right, Gwendolen. I think it is 
 a Buddhist hell of trees." 
 
 " But what could cause this doom to befall an innocent tree, 
 little sister ? " 
 
 " It must be evil karma," said Yuki, with wide yet shrink- 
 ing eyes upon the desert. " Perhaps a tree where a blameless 
 man was hanged, perhaps the tree of a martyr's sacrifice, 
 perhaps even, " here her voice fell to an intense and dra- 
 matic whisper which chilled her listeners while it stirred 
 them, "perhaps that terrible terrible tree whereon our 
 Saviour See see! now, over there there where on 
 top of a hill three great crosses, the middle one so great 
 and black and high, is it not Gethsemane ?" She pointed 
 with a shaking finger, unable to utter more. 
 
 " Come, Yuki, do not look I forbid it ! " cried Pierre, 
 vehemently. In a moment, with a shudder, he added, "Al- 
 brecht Dtirer might have dreamed them in a nightmare, had 
 he killed his own child and slept afterward ! Mother of God ! 
 I shall look no more ! " 
 
 "Nor I either, Pierre," cried Mrs. Todd, in great relief. 
 " You are right to correct Yuki, she does have such morbid 
 fancies. I 've heard her tell stories of ghosts, and incarnations, 
 and those scary things that would make the flesh creep on 
 your bones. Thank heaven, this day is nearly done ! Ugh !
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 61 
 
 See how the lengthening shadows spread them on the sand ! " 
 Deliberately she pulled down the small window-shade, leaned 
 back, and closed her eyes. 
 
 " What 's the matter, dear ? Are you faint ? " asked Mr. 
 Todd, bending over her. 
 
 "No, but I'm thirsty. Eing for some lemonades, Cy. 
 This dust has made my throat as dry as a lime-burner's 
 wig ! " 
 
 Gwendolen rose. "Well, you can have your lemonades, 
 but I am going to watch the desert until night drives down 
 the last black cactus-peg. It's a thing to remember!" 
 
 " Voila ! It 's a thing to forget," challenged Pierre. " Nay, 
 Yuki-ko, you must not follow. Tears are on your cheeks. 
 Stay here, and let us talk of your beautiful land, forgetting 
 the harsh ugliness outside." 
 
 He, too, leaned over, and pulled down a shade. Yuki made 
 a slight motion of protest, then submitted. "Yes, let us talk 
 of the ume-flowers," she whispered. " They are the first." 
 
 Gwendolen had taken a seat to herself at the far end of the 
 open compartment. Here, alone, she watched the red sands 
 smoulder into gray. For a brief half-hour the plant shadows 
 stretched elastically into a network of black. Suddenly they 
 sank, as water, into the sand. The upright stalks themselves 
 began to waver and lose shape. An instant more and they 
 would have vanished like their shadows; but now, in the 
 western sky, just where the heated disc of copper had been 
 lowered, an aftermath of glory mocked the night. The cactus 
 forms, against the gleam, acquired new menace and fresh ex- 
 aggeration. The brightness shut down quickly, like a box- 
 lid, and a universe of stars sprang out. Tangled in their 
 beams, again loomed up the cacti. 
 
 " Fair maid, thy summons to the lemonade ! " said Dodge, 
 close behind her. " By Jove ! I almost committed a rhyme ! 
 Fair maid, lemonade, good combination, think I '11 write 
 it on my cuff." 
 
 At last the girl turned from her desert. 
 
 Next day, to the outspoken satisfaction of Mrs. Todd, arid- 
 ity had begun to retreat before civilization. Even the small 
 spot called Yuraa seemed, with its station garden of green,
 
 62 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 a bit of Paradise. Before reaching it, Dodge had carefully 
 printed a large notice, using the top of one of Gwendolen's 
 florist boxes. This he hung in full view of all, at the end of 
 the car. 
 
 "We approach YUM A. No puns aloud. First offence, one 
 bottle. Second offence, five bottles. Third offence, a whole 
 case. By Order of the General Manager." 
 
 The few other travellers destined for the long California 
 journey were, by this time, all on friendly terms. No one 
 could have resisted the combined gayeties of Gwendolen, 
 Dodge, and Pierre Le Beau. Yuki, thoughtless responsive, 
 was, as usual, an object both of interest and admiration. 
 
 In lower California Mrs. Todd averred that at last she was 
 in America. The trip up the coast, with glimpses of Narra- 
 gansett surf springing up in dazzling whiteness between rows 
 of eucalyptus, pepper, and live-oak trees, or over the roofs of 
 tiled adobe houses, could not turn her from the belief. 
 
 Near San Jose, cottages peered out from arching vines of 
 rose. Gwendolen was distressed and surprised to find that 
 roses, here, did not bloom continuously, and always in abun- 
 dance. " They must show like glaciers, when they do come," 
 she admitted. 
 
 With San Francisco, modern life, society, stress, began 
 anew. Old acquaintances sent in cards. Gwendolen began 
 a whole volume of new admirers, while Yuki, with Pierre as 
 escort, found certain Japanese friends and acquaintances, one 
 the child of an old family servant of her father's house. 
 
 To many thousands of voyagers, San Francisco is but a 
 stopping place, a bird-rest for preening. As a fact it is a city 
 which possesses an unusual share of individuality, of " atmos- 
 phere," in the sense that writers use. No where else are to be 
 seen such gray and wind-swept streets, where houses stand 
 sidewise, as if mounting flights of stairs, the parlor windows 
 of one house looking through the chiinney-pots of its neighbor. 
 Nowhere else are perched palaces like those of San Francisco, 
 or a growth, as huge and strange in its exotic coloring, as 
 Chinatown. The great, round, shimmering bay and Golden 
 Gate are as a loom, and ships of the harbor, shuttles weaving 
 together the nations of East and West.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 63 
 
 On sailing day, new friends and new flowers gave the little 
 party of the Todds " bon voyage." 
 
 "If New Orleans is a transplanted Paris, this is a Tschai- 
 kowsky Symphonic Orientale translated into terms of Ameri- 
 can life," said Pierre. 
 
 Slowly the city turned from a city to a patch of lichen on 
 a rock. Queer little ditches, which they knew for streets, 
 showed lines of perpendicular-crawling beetles, which they 
 recognized to be whizzing electric cars. They watched it all 
 eagerly, leaning far along the stern rail of the ship. 
 
 Then the sea winds caught them, screaming a welcome into 
 shrinking ears. The white, attendant sea-gulls laughed in 
 harsh appreciation of the antics of the wind. The ocean lifted, 
 and strove, and pounded his cosmic greeting ; and, and, 
 well there was a good stewardess on board!
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 THE first days of any voyage are admirable in proportion 
 as little, or nothing, is said of them. In this, as in other 
 phases of human intercourse, delicacy lies in restraint rather 
 than in eloquence. Thus is the bloom of society preserved. 
 
 Mr. Dodge, the self-confident, the experienced, the ubiqui- 
 tous, was first to "show up." The outer reefs of the Cali- 
 fornia coast do not tend toward placidity. Even Dodge did 
 not care to count the hours since he had begun to feel " sleepy " 
 and had sought his cabin. 
 
 Mr. Todd next met the sun. To be more accurate, it was a 
 fog, where only a small bright spot, rubbed as in the centi-e of 
 a tarnished tray, indicated our chief luminary. Todd's cap wag 
 pulled very low, his ulster collar very high. His hands dis- 
 appeared utterly into large pockets. He walked with the 
 jerky directness of a marionette toward the smoking-room. 
 
 On the third day, when the sun actually shone and the pewter 
 sky was undergoing a gradual transformation into blue enamel, 
 Mr. Todd was able to sit on deck, he still remained notice- 
 ably near the smoking-room, and to enjoy unprintable yarns 
 from fellow-smokers. Missionary children began to gambol 
 around the promenade deck, and over the feet of swathed and 
 flaccid mortals, lately exhumed, all with the blinking regard 
 of insects suddenly disclosed beneath a garden stone. Dodge, 
 for a wonder, was not in sight. Mr. Todd had his back toward 
 the main-deck exit from the salon, when one of the group 
 about him thumped a knee, stared up, crying, " By G , look 
 at that ! " and called loudly upon his Maker to witness that 
 the sight was fair. 
 
 Out to the deck had blown a golden apparition, a tall, slim 
 girl with yellow hair crushed under a wide and most unsailor- 
 like hat of yellow sea-poppies. Her skirts and the rest of her 
 were silken browns and yellows. She made straight for the
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 65 
 
 group, rustling like a small eddy in a heap of autumn-leaves. 
 Todd turned a few inches. At the expression on his face a third 
 convive nudged the speaker. "Oh, er beg ten thousand 
 pardons didn't have an idea " mumbled the crimson 
 one. 
 
 " Neither did I," said Todd, enigmatically, as he rose. 
 
 " Oh, dearest of dads," they heard a fresh voice cry. " Now 
 is n't this a world with the top off ? I feel like a bunk cater- 
 pillar turned into a butterfly." 
 
 Pierre followed his three emancipated comrades, immediately 
 after " tiffin," as the midday meal hereafter must be called. 
 He was, as usual, immaculate in attire, but bore an air of 
 citric melancholy. 
 
 Next arose, in all her might, Mrs. Cyrus Carton Todd. In 
 her aggressive costume of starched pique, fortified by gold 
 lorgnettes and an air carefully adapted from certain acknowl- 
 edged " grandes dames " of Washington, she took immediate 
 possession of the Captain, the best deck chair, and the passen- 
 ger list. As wife of a senator and lady of the new American 
 minister to Japan, she was accepted at once, without demur, 
 reigning Empress of the voyage. 
 
 Sportive infants, oblivious of comfortably extended limbs of 
 lesser mortals, skirted those of Mrs. Todd. Silent Chinese 
 "boys," dispensing beef-tea and gruel, swung pigtails aside 
 from her austere garments. 
 
 Of the party Yuki alone now abode in the mysterious seclu- 
 sion of her stateroom. 
 
 Before sunset, on that third afternoon, the sea, to use the 
 Captain's expression, quieted into a " bloomin' mill-pond." 
 White birds fluttered incessantly about the stern of the ship, 
 sometimes sinking to the waves for an unstable rest, or rising 
 to visit, in one great silver swoop, the startled and delighted 
 passenger deck. 
 
 Pierre found a chair beside his chaperon. He moved it a 
 confidential three inches nearer before asking, " Will she not 
 be able to come up sometime before to-morrow? This is 
 perfect." 
 
 " She has commissioned me to say that she will try to make 
 the effort this evening, after our dinner; that is, if " 
 
 5
 
 66 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 here she shook a playful finger " if I will play propriety, and 
 any kindly disposed person could be found to assist her 
 upstairs." 
 
 " Ah ! I '11 go down now, and take seat upon her door- 
 mat," cried Pierre, in his excitement. 
 
 " The Chinese coolie might spill chicken broth upon you." 
 
 The day waned slowly. Passengers were beginning already 
 their postprandial walks. Mrs. Todd nodded patronizingly 
 to one and then to another. 
 
 "Madame," began Pierre, with his caressing look, "you 
 have been almost as a mother a good, indulgent mother to 
 me in that big land of yours. You will continue to be my 
 very good f rieud in Japan, will you not ? " 
 
 " Why, silly boy, of course I will," she cried. "Have not I 
 always been your friend and Yuki's, even to the point of 
 what Cyrus called ' entangling alliances ' ? " 
 
 " It is because of its preciousness that I want to hear you 
 say it, dear Mrs. Todd. After all, I am ignorant of Japan, and 
 of what social phantoms Yuki and I may have to fight. But 
 with your championship, I am strong, invincible ! " He gave 
 her fat hand just the most delicate of pressures. It might 
 have been the touch of a devoted son ; it might, had Mrs. Todd 
 been twenty years younger, have been well, almost anything. 
 His dark, impassioned eyes, the color of new-opened violets, 
 hung on her kindly face. 
 
 If fault could be found with Pierre, it would be in excess of 
 beauty. From the old blood of France he had received re- 
 finement, poise, delicacy, the throbbing of purple veins in 
 temples as satin-smooth as young leaves, and thin nostrils 
 that shivered at every passing gust of emotion. From the 
 more barbaric, vivid Russian mother had come depth of color- 
 ing, the flash of sudden animation, deep blue in the eyes, and 
 gold in the hair. Yet with all its fairness the face was not 
 effeminate. One could think of it, without offence, in the 
 armor of a young crusader, or even behind the mediaeval visor 
 of a robber-baron. There might be a hint of cruelty behind 
 the wet crimson of the perfect mouth. To Yuki that face 
 was the epitome of all earthly beauty. Before it, the artist in 
 her knelt, in adoration.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 67 
 
 Shortly after twilight came the reverberating clamor of 
 the first dinner-gong. Mrs. Todd and her feminine satellites 
 had agreed to "dress." Mrs. Todd had never made acquaint- 
 ance with a decollete gown until her entrance into Washington, 
 not so many years before. Now she was wont to declare 
 loudly that she could not really enjoy her evening meal in 
 covered shoulders, a statement which always brought the 
 twinkles to Todd's eyes. He openly loathed his " tombstone 
 shirt-front; " but Gwendolen, of a later and more favored gen- 
 eration, wore her pretty low-cut frocks as unconsciously as a 
 flower wears its sheath. 
 
 Pierre sat through the interminable courses, scarcely know- 
 ing what he ate or to whom he spoke. His thoughts were all 
 with Yuki. He was to see her again after three endless days ! 
 The little cool, slim palm would lie, perhaps, in his. He 
 would hear her voice, as different from these chattering table 
 women all around him as is the sound of running water to 
 the whirr of machines. The past ten days of journeying 
 though indeed they had not been for a moment entirely alone 
 left a delicious aroma of familiarity, almost of married 
 friendship. What hours the future was to hold for them in 
 Japan, in Europe, in India ! 
 
 Mrs. Todd's half-teasing voice drew him back from the dear 
 reverie. " Come, Mister Le Beau, dinner is over at last. I 
 noticed that you ate nothing. The Captain has been telling 
 us the most delightful jokes. But we must not forget our 
 promise to Miss Onda. Gwendolen, dear, will you go on deck 
 and see that a chair is made ready for the poor child ? " The 
 speaker had been rising ponderously. She turned again to 
 the Captain. " These Japanese are always wretched sailors, 
 I am told." 
 
 "No good, any of them!" corroborated the Captain, with 
 emphasis. "The sight of a floral anchor at a landlubber's 
 funeral is enough to make them ill." 
 
 "I wonder how it will be with their admirals before the 
 Russian navy," mused Todd, with pensive eyes on a blue- 
 gowned Chinese steward. 
 
 "It wouldn't matter either way," sneered the Captain. 
 "No fight is going to come off ! I've known these Yokohama
 
 68 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Japs for seventeen years, Mr. Todd. A bad lot ! They are 
 just trying a game of bluff borrowed from no offence, 
 gentlemen from America." The Captain was a Liverpool 
 Englishman. 
 
 " Just so ! " grinned Dodge, " the kind of bluff that works, 
 recipe handed down by one G. Washington." 
 
 Pierre and Mrs. Todd approached Yuki's cabin. She heard 
 them, and tottered to the entrance of the tiny passage. Her 
 face shone ghastly white above the square black collar of her 
 adzuma-coat. Pierre instantly drew her arm within his own. 
 She clung to him helplessly for an instant, then, with an 
 obvious effort, rallied and stood erect. 
 
 " There, there, now, keep to Pierre's arm," encouraged Mrs. 
 Todd, with the smile of a patron deity. " If you '11 promise to 
 be good, I '11 go ahead and not look around." She preceded 
 them slowly along the passage. Her decollete back loomed, 
 in the dim light, like the half of a large, round cheese. 
 
 Yuki, once safely on deck, tucked lovingly among soft rugs 
 and pillows by Gwendolen, found little indeed to say. Mrs. 
 Todd gave orders, before sweeping off to her game of bridge 
 whist, that Yuki must not be teased into talking, but must lie 
 still, and let the night air and the breeze refresh her. Pierre, 
 of course, remained by her side. He cared little though the 
 whole ship knew that he loved the Japanese girl and longed to 
 make her his wife. Dodge and Gwendolen had affairs of their 
 own to settle, and disappeared around the other side. Grad- 
 ually the deck was deserted by all but Pierre and his com- 
 panion. He secured g, small hand in his own. The girl was 
 too languid, or perhaps too blissful, to demur. 
 
 " Oh, to be seasick is most unpleasantest thing of all ! " she 
 whispered once, with a short but very genuine shudder. " I 
 shall never cross back on this water, never, never 1 The 
 little bed downstairs it seem like a grave, and one wish hard 
 that it was truly a grave." 
 
 After another long silence, broken only by whispered sen- 
 tences from Pierre, she pointed to a constellation. " How nice 
 and kind the stars are to come out here with us, so far from 
 home ! That cluster is exactly the same one I used to watch 
 from my little room at school. When I see it in Japan,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 69 
 
 and count the stars to be sure all have followed, it will be 
 stranger feeling yet." 
 
 "Darling," said Pierre, "sometime we are to carry that 
 little shining group the whole way round the world with us, 
 when you are my wife." 
 
 The great ship rose softly and sank again, as if breathing. 
 The stars stared in, unwinking. Yuki's face was deepening 
 in sweet content. Every shiver of the engine, every angry 
 hurtling of the insulted waters, thrust them consciously nearer 
 to Japan. 
 
 Roughening waves, toward the night of the fourth day, 
 indicated, according to the Captain, approach to the Hawaiian 
 Islands. He added, " If any one is keen enough on it to get 
 up at daybreak, he will see the first outlying peaks." 
 
 Todd, in a passion of romantic interest that was part of the 
 whole marvellous epic, climbed to the deck before dawn. The 
 stars, he fancied, looked coldly upon him, as if they resented 
 his presence at their coming defeat. He leaned far over, 
 watching waves that lapped the sides of the ship in a strange 
 rhythm. Under the brightening day he stared across an ocean 
 apparently as eternal and infinite as space, that stretched, he 
 knew, north and south beyond him, twelve thousand miles 
 of unbroken liquid desert from pole to pole. And yet through 
 the centuries, this perilous waste had been crossed from oasis 
 to island oasis by the frail canoes of men ; dark Polynesian 
 painted savages with marvellous powers of carving and inlay- 
 ing, who had left traces of their coming from New Zealand to 
 Alaska, and through the Philippines to Japan. He pictured 
 the advent of that first dusky Ulysses who, in feathered armor 
 and a Greek helmet carved from a cinnamon-tree, had here, 
 ages before, terminated his thousand-mile wanderings from a 
 forgotten South. All this had now become a new world for 
 Todd's own light-haired Saxon race to fall heir to, stepping- 
 stones in its inevitable stride to the teeming coasts of Asia. 
 
 Yuki, too, in such excitement that she could barely stop to 
 dress, had been staring out of the port-hole of her stateroom 
 since an early hour. If one of the great birds swooping inces- 
 santly along the sides of the ship had paused to look, he 
 would have seen a small face, white as himself, fitted into the
 
 70 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 round brass frame. She was there before dawn had quickened 
 under the sea. The mystery and the first unspeakable shiver 
 of a newly created day had been hers. "'And God moved 
 upon the face of the waters,' " whispered reverent Oriental 
 lips. She saw the first dark triangle of land glide toward 
 her through the thinning darkness, the shimmer of rose 
 and green on half-veiled slopes, the gradual lighting up of 
 tapering peaks, and then, the full orchestration of the 
 risen sun. 
 
 She reached the deck to find not only Mr. Todd, but the 
 greater number of the passengers, assembled to watch the 
 gorgeous spectacle from the entrance of Honolulu Bay. Night 
 had rolled up from the sleepy town, and surged in great sails 
 of pearl-tinted cloud up dark blue-green gullies of the hills. 
 Bed scars of volcanic slopes burned through the morning, 
 whole peaks seemed incandescent, and terraced gardens, cleared 
 from lower mists, stood outlined in reflected orange light. 
 
 A few moments more, and the iridescent pageant vanished. 
 Down on the shore, rude wharves and freight-sheds and cheap, 
 new-painted boat-houses stared out impertinently. Back of 
 the harbor front the little town nestled prettily enough in its 
 setting of tropic greens, and half-way up the volcanic cliffs 
 patches of tilled fields or clumps of forest-trees relieved the 
 sandy wastes. At intervals a tall white house among its palms 
 shone out like a child's block, half imbedded in moss. 
 
 As the ship touched the dock, and the company broke up 
 to watch the native boys diving for coppers, Mrs. Todd 
 gathered her clan together for a holiday on shore. Yuki had 
 decided to wear a white American gown. Gwendolen also 
 was in white, like a great lily. Dodge showed up in spotless 
 duck and a pith helmet ; Pierre wore immaculate flannels ; 
 while Mrs. Todd, in the stiffest of skirts, the thinnest of 
 lawn waists, and a white linen Alpine hat a trifle too small, 
 looked unfortunately like a perfume bottle with a white 
 leather top. 
 
 They walked in radiant single-file down the gangway, the 
 faces of all three women changing to sudden blankness at the 
 appalling rigidity of earth, after recent days on a swaying 
 deck. "I I don't believe I can walk at all, just yet,"
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 71 
 
 said Mrs. Todd, and reached out for her natural protector. 
 In an instant Dodge had whistled up two cabriolets driven by 
 sleepy-eyed Kanakas in California hats. At the market, a 
 low Spanish-looking edifice with no walls, Mrs. Todd insisted 
 upon getting out. Some one on the ship had told her to be 
 sure to see the market ; and this the conscientious traveller 
 intended to do, though the very peaks above them seemed to 
 rock and leap with subconscious friskiness. Here thronged a 
 mingled race, both buyers and sellers, English, Japanese, 
 Chinese, Hawaiians, and Yankees. All the vegetable stands 
 were owned by Chinese, all the fruit by Kanakas. Dodge in- 
 sisted on the fact as eloquent of racial tendencies. In this 
 magic climate the growth of vegetables is accompanied by an 
 even more fervid growth of weeds, and so requires patient 
 vigilance. Fruit, on the other hand, cultivates itself. " All the 
 lordly Hawaiian has to do," said Dodge, " is to stand or sit un- 
 der the tree, and let it fall into his lap." Gwendolen took the 
 value from this last remark by indicating a heap of horny 
 "jackfruit," a thing the shape and size of a watermelon, 
 which grows out of the trunk, apparently, of live oaks, and 
 asking, scornfully, how much Kanaka would be left when 
 one of those had fallen. 
 
 The fish dealers' department gleamed with iridescent color. 
 Shrimps and crabs seemed fashioned in Favrille glass. Lob- 
 sters wore polka-clots of blue. None of these Crustacea had 
 claws, but whether deprived of them by man or nature was 
 never ascertained. 
 
 As they drove up the narrow avenues, the unique mixture of 
 the population became more apparent. Chinese evidently 
 formed the inferior caste of laborer, content with a daily wage. 
 Cleverer Japanese bustled about newly opened shops of foreign 
 wares, or hung out professional signs of doctor, lawyer, or 
 notary public. The Yankee strolled about with a half-disdain- 
 ful glance ; but the lordliest was not so proud as the ragged 
 sons of Kamehameha, who, preempting shady nooks in door- 
 ways, stared disapprovingly on the passer-by. In the grounds 
 of the former "palace," members of a present legislature lolled 
 on the green, and nibbled peanuts. Pert Kanaka girls, in New- 
 York shirt-waists and automobile veils, minced by the side of
 
 72 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 fat mamas in Mother Hubbard gowns, generally of red, with 
 huge ruffles about the yoke. 
 
 " Stop, Cy ! Tell the man to stop. There 's a druggist ! 
 I have several things to get ! " 
 
 "And look! next to it a book-store advertising the latest 
 novels," supplemented Gwendolen. " Does n't that seem a 
 joke ? We must get some. I see souvenirs, and photographs, 
 and" 
 
 " I '11 tell you what we 'd better do. You women-folks get 
 out and shop. Le Beau will stick to Yuki, I guess; while 
 Dodge and I take this carriage around to the post-office, 
 I've heard there was one, and try to find out the latest 
 news about the war," cried Mr. Todd. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour they were back, breathless. " War 's 
 coming, and it 's coming soon ! " panted the senator. 
 
 " Yes, that 's the ticket. Japan has called, and Russia must 
 show her hand or crawfish," supplemented Dodge. . 
 
 "But not really, really yet begun?" whispered Yuki, who 
 had turned very pale. 
 
 " What does the young man mean ? " asked Mrs. Todd, anx- 
 iously, of her spouse. " I can't believe in irresponsible war 
 rumors. I sha'n't believe them. Why, only two days before 
 we left Washington, Prince Breakitoff assured me solemnly 
 that the difficulty would never be allowed to reach the point of 
 war." 
 
 Mr. Todd winked toward his secretary. "Well," he said 
 solemnly, "Prince Breakitoff ought to know more about the 
 facts of the case than a Hawaiian newspaper." 
 
 " He certainly ought to," said Dodge, ambiguously. 
 " War ! Who dares to hint of war ? " cried Pierre. " Look 
 at this sky above us, and that tangle of sun and shower drag- 
 ging rainbow echoes across a peacock-colored bay ! Who 
 could be found to fight on such an earth ? Do you not say so, 
 too, my Yuki ? " 
 
 Yuki started slightly, and hesitated, as if to form her words. 
 Before she could speak, Dodge had interrupted : " As long as 
 we are so close, would you-all mind walking one more block 
 on foot ? The prettiest sight in the town is just to the left of 
 that jutting brick wall down there." He pointed. Mrs. Todd
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 73 
 
 was off. Yuki slipped in close to Gwendolen, and clung to her 
 friend's arm. She did not want to think, just now, of war. 
 Past new American shops they went, ice-cream "parlors," 
 dry-goods displays of underwear, " marked down " sales, of 
 course, and windows of ready-made gowns on insipid waxen 
 dummies. Dodge had taken a few feet in advance. He now 
 turned sharply, facing into a narrow street, one of the old 
 native thoroughfares, bordered by walls of brick and stone 
 where moss spread and dampness oozed. On an absurdly 
 narrow pavement squatted a row of fat and shapeless beings, 
 presumably women, half buried in wreaths and coils of strange 
 flowers. 
 
 " Behold the far-famed lei sellers of Hawaii ! " announced 
 Dodge, with an histrionic gesture. 
 
 " I see no hens," said Mrs. Todd, through raised lorgnettes. 
 
 " These are a different brand of lei," explained Dodge, with- 
 out a smile; "flower-wreaths that are to the hat of the 
 Hawaiian dandy what an orchid or a gardenia is to the button- 
 hole of a Fifth Avenue sport." 
 
 The sellers had sprung instantly into kneeling postures, all 
 as if pulled by a single wire. Brown arms went forth, like 
 those of crabs, flower hung. " Lei, lei, Honolulu lei ! Pret- 
 tie flower ! Prettie ladees ! Dollar Fufty cents ! Here, 
 ladee, prettie lei, twunty-fi' cents ! " 
 
 "Offer a quarter for three, and see them hustle," said 
 Dodge. 
 
 " Oh, what visions of beauty ! " breathed Gwendolen, and 
 flung down silver coin at random. " See, ropes of carnations ! 
 Pink oleanders threaded into regular cables ! And oh, the 
 lovely yellow things, my color, golden acacias, I believe. 
 I shall loop myself like an East Indian idol in these fragrant 
 necklaces. And what are those purple things, and those ? 
 Why, why, I don't know the others at all. I thought I was 
 friends with every flower. They smell like heaven ! " 
 
 "Frangipani, ylang-ylang, stephanotis, plumaria, acacia," 
 rattled Dodge, in the tone and manner of a professional guide. 
 
 " What a delightful courier you would make, Mr. Dodge ! " 
 cried saucy Gwendolen. " I think I '11 bespeak your services, 
 now, for my wedding journey."
 
 74 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " I 'm jolly well apt to be along on that particular trip, you 
 know," retorted the young man, with such cool assurance that 
 all laughed except Mrs. Todd. That good lady had begun 
 to view, with some apprehension, the over-confident tactics 
 of the attache. Gwendolen, after an unsuccessful attempt to 
 stare him "down," bent flushed cheeks and laughing eyes to 
 the flowers. " We must all wear lei, of course," she cried, a 
 trifle unsteadily. " It 's positively the only thing to do on 
 such a day ! Yuki, pink carnations will be ravishing on 
 your little white sailor-hat, and also, by a happy coincidence, 
 on Pierre's new Panama. Dad, you and mother must have 
 this divine stephanotis, mixed with a little smilax, for a green 
 old age. Just think of buying strung stephanotis by the 
 yard ! And, Mr. Dodge, last and not least, Mr. T. Caraway 
 Dodge ! " Mockingly she caught up a string of magenta- 
 colored "bachelor buttons," and would have offered them 
 with a curtsey ; but already Dodge had carefully wound his 
 helmet in coils of acacia flowers until it had become, in shape 
 and size, an old-fashioned beehive made of gold. 
 
 This time she presented her back squarely. The others 
 withheld laughter until they should have read the expression 
 on the chaperon's face. But she, oblivious apparently of this 
 new bit of daring, had lorgnettes at her eyes, and was study- 
 ing carefully a closely written list, a composite of sugges- 
 tions, made up for her by admiring ship friends. "Punch 
 Bowl Crater, The Bishop Museum, Banana Plantations, 
 Waki-ki Beach, note colors on the shoals, House where 
 K. L. Stevenson resided," she was murmuring, as though to 
 fix each in her memory. Suddenly she looked up. " Cyrus, 
 the carriages ! I doubt whether we can get them all in, but 
 I intend to do my best." 
 
 " Mother ! " began Gwendolen, in a note of protest. Yuki 
 was smiling, aud Pierre also. As long as they were together, 
 nothing else mattered. The countenance of Dodge, however, 
 had an acrobatic fall from elation to horrified disappointment. 
 At sight of this, Gwendolen actually glittered mischief. 
 
 "Certainly, mother dear," she hastened to answer. "Let 
 us take everything in, even a little more, if possible. We 
 all need our minds improved, aud some of us our mail-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 75 
 
 ners ! " Dodge, darting a look into her face, found only 
 trustful innocence. The carriages had arrived. With great 
 ostentation he assisted Mrs. Todd into her place. " I think I 
 shall be able to supply one or two interesting spots not down 
 on that list," he suggested, with a tentative look at the 
 empty cushion beside her. " Glaus Spreckels' house, the In- 
 firmary, the Honolulu University with miles of hedges made 
 up of volcanic stone overgrown with night-blooming cereus 
 you mustn't miss that!" Dodge's eyes and his smile 
 were frankness embalmed and irradiated. Mrs. Todd perforce 
 smiled in reply. "Jump in," she said cordially. "You're 
 quite a treasure in travelling, Mr. Dodge." 
 
 Gwendolen meekly took a rear seat by her father. As she 
 pressed lovingly against him, sending upward the tiniest little 
 teased smile of discomfiture, his face broke into merry 
 wrinkles. " I think you 've found your match this time, 
 little girl," he whispered. 
 
 " You just wait," nodded the oracular Gwendolen. 
 
 It is a memorable experience, analogous to nothing else 
 in the world, that landing, for one iridescent day, in the 
 Pacific's mid-ocean, throwing one's fancies and one's heart 
 into strange tropic scenes, and then returning at nightfall, 
 like tired, happy children, to the great old mother-nursery of 
 the ship. 
 
 By the next morning, not even a cloud on that horizon from 
 which we are fleeing betrays the hiding-place of land. At 
 once the island takes proper place as a vision, a mirage of 
 the imagination, where souls of certain privileged beings 
 have met, and are henceforth bound in a unity of mystic com- 
 radeship. After such a day, Pacific passengers turn to one 
 another with kindlier smiles, the whole ship changes into one 
 heaving picnic party, old Time himself joins in the holiday, 
 and personal dislikes, brought on board, are flung to the waves. 
 That most of these animosities, like the Biblical bread, re- 
 turn to the owners after not so many days, need not affect 
 present hilarity. 
 
 As may be supposed, Gwendolen and her closest attendant, 
 Dodge, were small whirling centres in the round of gay diver-
 
 76 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 sions. The conventional deck-games were started, and a ter- 
 minating three days of competitive skill, with prizes bought 
 at Honolulu and marked with the name of the ship and date 
 of voyage, duly announced. Eevelry was to culminate in a 
 grand " fancy dress ball," the night before landing, a prize 
 being given to the costumer who showed most skill in fash- 
 ioning his or her attire from things procurable on board ship, 
 and in carrying out the character assumed. In order to 
 waste no more time upon this function, it may be stated that 
 Mr. T. Caraway Dodge as " Dandy Jim," with painted purple 
 rings on a dress shirt and a " claw-hammer " coat a size too 
 small, ebony countenance, lips like two flaming sausages caught 
 loosely at the ends, and a wig fashioned from the hair of his 
 bunk mattress, sang and cake-walked himself straight to 
 the prize, while defeated contestants rent night with applause 
 and acclamation. 
 
 From the smoking-room an incessant clinking, as of fairy 
 castanets, fretted the ears of feminine curiosity. Mr. Todd 
 explained that it was merely the sound of checkers and chess- 
 men rattling to the shiver of the ship's screw. 
 
 The sun came up each morning, small and round, like a 
 mandarin orange ; expanded himself into a blinding deity ; and 
 at evening went down again, a blood-red orange, into the sea. 
 The days he brought were long and golden, but not long enough 
 for all the practising of bull-board, quoits, shuffle-board, and 
 deck tennis. Each morning, after breakfast, certain acrobatic 
 performances, free of charge, were held. Bag-punching was 
 the children's favorite. One could count on an audience 
 there, of upturned faces, wide-eyed and solemn with admira- 
 tion. Some of the passengers saw fit to attach pedometers, 
 and walk an incredible number of miles each day. 
 
 In the evening, Mrs. Todd and bridge whist reigned su- 
 preme. The Captain proved to be a player ; so, to his present 
 anguish, was Dodge. Gwendolen took an elfish delight in 
 luring this young man to a table, under pretence of desiring to 
 be his partner, and then, at the last moment, slipping in a 
 foreordained substitute; after which she sped off, carolling, 
 to a moonlit deck. Once there, the fuming and impotent 
 Dodge recognized only too clearly what she would do. At
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 77 
 
 least a dozen new acquaintances of the other sex had been 
 made thus far by Gwendolen. It was her wont to dispense 
 Emersonian philosophy and delicately portioned encourage- 
 ment to those who were fortunate enough to secure her com- 
 panionship. There was a young Dutch merchant on his way 
 to coffee plantations in Java, very blond and fierce as to mus- 
 tachios, and mild in the eyes. A Chicago representative, oil 
 his way to sell to Eastern potentates his particular make of 
 automobile, had already needed, to quote Gwendolen's own 
 words, "a slight slackening of speed." 
 
 An English " leftenant " returning to South Africa, carried 
 with him his own marvellous outfit for the making of after- 
 noon tea, backed by a mammoth English plum-cake in a tin 
 box. He was one to be propitiated, especially toward eight 
 bells on an afternoon. 
 
 An Austrian viscount posed as the slayer of jungle beasts. 
 "Beeg gam," he called them. He doted upon seeing this 
 timid and shrinking maid cower beneath the bloody wonder of 
 his yarns. No one before had inspired such thrilling de- 
 nouements as Mees Todd. He recognized her at once for his 
 affinity, and on the night before landing condescended to tell 
 her so. The shock was rude, but he deserved what he got. 
 
 Pierre and Yuki joined in these several amusements and 
 occupations during the morning and afternoon hours, both 
 being much petted and flattered by the ladies of the ship, as 
 beau ideals of young lovers. In the evenings, on the balmy 
 deck, they were left to themselves. Wonderful talks grew 
 between them, whispers, sometimes, that the jealous wind 
 tore from their lips before the last word came. Yuki had not 
 won back the half-troth given, nor, on the other hand, had 
 Pierre gained more. 
 
 Often their talk was of impersonal things. The young man 
 delighted to draw from Yuki quaint phrases of comment, and 
 hints of the Oriental imagery with which her fancy thrilled. 
 She told him the story of the stars, Vega and Aquilla, called in 
 her land the Herd-Boy and the Weaver-Girl ; how, for some 
 fault, committed before this little earth was made, they could 
 cross the milky stream of Heaven, and meet, but one night in 
 a year.
 
 78 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 When he pointed to a flock of flying fish skimming in a blue 
 and silver phantasy above a turquoise floor, she called them 
 the souls of birds that had flown too far from land, and been 
 drowned at sea. 
 
 Within a few days of landing, a certain change, perceptible, 
 it may be, only to the most sensitive, crept into the elements 
 of air and water, and tinged even the up-piling clouds. Yuki 
 stared now, for long moments, in silence, toward that hidden 
 bank of the West. Pierre felt a change in her ; but when he 
 questioned, she laughed a little nervously, and said it was 
 merely the outer edge of Nippon's " aura." Undoubtedly she 
 was restless, a little moody, a trifle excited, and touched, at 
 times, with brooding thoughts. She dreaded the opening with 
 Pierre of topics which, all along, she had tried to avoid. Yet 
 now, so close to home, she must make stronger efforts to 
 free herself. 
 
 One afternoon at sundown, when the great reverberating 
 " dressing gong " had sent most of the ladies below-stairs, 
 Pierre, hurrying up to Yuki, where, for a half-hour past she 
 had sat alone in a far corner of the deck looking outward, 
 leaned and said: 
 
 "This promises to be the most wonderful sunset of all. It 
 may be our last. The Captain has just told me that, with 
 good luck, we sight land to-morrow. Do you dare come out 
 with me to the very prow of the ship ? " 
 
 " Yes, I dares," smiled Yuki, rising instantly. " I have 
 wished often to go to that small, lonely point of ship." As 
 they started, he caught up a discarded wrap. " The wind is 
 fresher there," he said. 
 
 In a few moments she remarked, in a slightly embarrassed 
 tone, "That will be a very good place to say something." 
 
 Pierre made no repty. He also had been thinking of it as 
 an excellent place in which to say something. 
 
 Together, in silence, they made way over the aerial bridge 
 that connects the triangular front deck with the main one ; 
 moving over the heads of steerage passengers, principally 
 Chinese, who squatted in the sunken square to breathe in what 
 they could of the cool, evening breeze. The sun was setting, 
 "a polished copper gong like that ship one which makes
 
 79 
 
 much noise," said Yuki. It sank, clear-cut and very round, 
 just at that point of the horizon where Nippon might be 
 thought to lie. 
 
 Pierre placed the girl in the small angle at the peak. An 
 arm was stretched behind her, and a hand clung to the rail, 
 to protect them both. He leaned forward until his cheek 
 almost pressed against her own. The soft incessant rush of 
 wind blew her heavy hair back from a forehead spiritually 
 pure and white. Her long, delicately modelled nose and 
 small curved chin made a cameo against the blue-gray stone 
 of dusk. Pierre, watching her intently, saw the last red ray 
 of the sun quiver on her lips. The little hands were raised, 
 as if unconsciously, and clapped thrice, very softly. 
 
 " Are you praying to your sun-god, little Christian Yuki ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed," said Yuki, quickly. "It is not prayer as 
 we Christians call praying ; it is only just our Japanese way 
 of thanking Sun San for his great beauty, and the much good 
 he does flowers, and people, and everything. In Japan we 
 often thanks things just for being beautiful." She smiled 
 up confidingly into his face. Her little hands, now lowered, 
 flecked the rail like bits of white foam. 
 
 "Then I should pray to you, my darling, for in all this 
 world never was anything more beautiful." 
 
 She made no effort to answer this, not even by her usual 
 small, deprecating smile and shake of the head. The necessity 
 of what she was to say, blotted from those first moments by 
 visual beauty, now came heavily back to her. She steadied 
 herself, turning slightly to see his face. 
 
 " Pierre, trust me a little more. Give back that promise, 
 the promise you won from my weakness. It holds me from 
 my path like a thorn. Our cause will be better without it." 
 
 Pierre started, and looked at the girl incredulously. " Have 
 you let me lead you here deliberately to ask me such a 
 thing ? " 
 
 "Do not admit anger to your thought, dear Pierre," she 
 pleaded. " I must have said some time. I should have said 
 to you long before this ; but we have been so happy." 
 
 "Yes," said Pierre, doggedly. "We have been happy; 
 and I intend that we shall be happier still. That promise
 
 80 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 is all I have to hold you by. I 'd draw it tighter if I 
 could." 
 
 " You will not understand, you will not try to understand 
 me," said the girl, in a despairing voice. " Such promise given 
 is disrespect to my parents, particularly to my father. If you 
 do not release, I must tell to him, of course. It will be bad 
 for you and me. Can you not trust me ? Oh, Pierre, for 
 love's sake, release ! " 
 
 " Release you ! " he interrupted wildly. " This is my answer. 
 It is for love's sake that I hold you, and will hold." He seized 
 her in his arms, and held her with cruel strength. The night 
 had come in fast. He did not care that the watchman by the 
 tall, straight mast might see them. No one could hear the 
 wind-driven, hurrying words. " This is my answer. I hold 
 thus all you have given, and more. You are sincere, I 
 believe, but mistaken. A weak yielding on my part would 
 make your parents, and perhaps yourself, despise me. I keep 
 what I have, I say, and I demand still more. You must be 
 true to me, no matter what occurs ! " 
 
 "Pierre, Pierre, you trample on your own hope, though you 
 will not see it ! To release me generously is your own best 
 way ! " 
 
 " You are the self-deceived," cried Pierre. " Pledge your- 
 self irrevocably. Then only are we strong." 
 
 In the western sky an orange strip of day remained. A 
 single bird, black against the glow, flew screaming across it, 
 beating curved wings in the wind. " He will not see at all," 
 whispered Yuki, as if to the bird. 
 
 " Oh, dearest, you cannot know in your calm, innocent 
 heart the scourge of a love like mine ! I hunger for you, I 
 thirst! Sobbing, I dream of you, and I wake to new tears 
 that you are still so far away. In pity, in mere mercy to 
 human suffering, say that no other man shall marry you. Say 
 this much at least, that if prejudice and war hold us apart 
 awhile, you will be true to me until we can seek some new 
 road to happiness ! " 
 
 "Do I not know, do I not know ? " she shivered, in answer 
 to the first part of his speech. " Every day my heart is torn 
 to small pieces, all of different size and shape. I do not
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 81 
 
 understand how in sleep they come together once more. You 
 are not lonely in that human suffering." 
 
 " Oh, you love me ! " cried the man. " And on this voyage 
 you love me as you had not done before ! Is it not true ? " 
 
 "It is true," sobbed Yuki. 
 
 " Mine is not love," said Pierre, again holding her fast ; 
 
 "it is hell, a raging hell of ecstasies ! Oh, kiss me, Yuki; 
 
 give me your lips before I die of joy ! Now swear, swear, 
 
 that no word but my own, no circumstance but death, 
 
 can loose you from me ! " 
 
 "You torture like the old monks," she panted. "Oh, do 
 not make me say ! " 
 
 " I command you, Yuki," he persisted, feeling new strength 
 as she faltered. " It is my right. We belong to each other. 
 Promise, promise, promise, nothing but death or my 
 word to loose you ! " He kissed her again and again, like a 
 madman, pressing his lips down upon hers, catching her hands 
 to kiss, devouring her eyes, cheeks, forehead, hair ; while 
 the girl, beaten down by the whirlwind, made no effort to 
 resist. 
 
 Pierre took the long white ivory pin from her hair, and 
 split it, thrusting the smaller portion into his coat, and re- 
 turning that, with the ornament still attached, to her hair. 
 
 " I take this pledge, Yuki," he cried. "You have told me 
 that it binds to the death a Japanese lover. We are bound. 
 I hold you by a tangible bond. The next shall be a small, 
 bright circle on this little hand. Give me the promise, Yuki, 
 no need to struggle now. Give it me ! " 
 
 " Kwannon protect me," gasped the girl ; " I promise ! " 
 
 A sudden vacuum fell. Pierre's breath was hard to re- 
 capture. He thought that Yuki had fainted, for her trembling 
 had stopped. He shook one shoulder and bent down to gaze 
 into her set, white face. Her eyes were wide open, and held 
 two stars. She moved her lips now, and leaned far out- 
 ward, gazing intently, as if watching the flight of an unseen 
 thing. 
 
 " Yuki, Yuki, what is it, what do you see? " he cried, in 
 terror. 
 
 " My soul ! I think a small soul fled ! " All at once she 
 
 6
 
 82 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 collapsed into unconsciousness. As Pierre lifted her, he 
 shook springing tears away, and bit his quivering lips as he 
 muttered, "I feel as if I tortured a child ; but she does 
 not realize our perils. Her fast promise is our only hope. 
 Thank God that I could win it 1" -
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 THE nearness of land as yet invisible gave to the ship next 
 morning that access of animation noted in the approach to 
 Hawaii, and in the day-distant interval from the Golden 
 Gate. 
 
 Most of the passengers, scorning to notice a few rough 
 waves, buzzed or moved in groups about the dock. Games 
 were put away. Marine glasses and kodaks came into vogue. 
 Gwendolen's bright eyes, with a pair equally alert and bright 
 beside them, strained vision for the first land. The increase 
 of motion, however slight, served to excuse Yuki's absence. 
 Two persons only assigned a different reason, her room- 
 mate, Gwendolen, and her fiance, Pierre Le Beau. 
 
 Pierre had not breakfasted in the salon, a fact noted by 
 Gwendolen. He came to the upper deck very late, and lacked 
 his usual eager look. Gwendolen saw him instantly. Mak- 
 ing some excuse to the group about her, she went to him, 
 saying in her direct, disconcerting way, "What have you 
 done to my Yuki-ko ? She did not sleep all night, and I am 
 sure she was crying ! To cry is an unknown thing for 
 Yuki." 
 
 Pierre met her indignation with pathetic sweetness. He 
 smiled. It was difficult to be harsh with Pierre. He looked 
 past her to the shining water. " If Yuki did not speak of her 
 feeling, should I, even though I knew ? " he asked, with the 
 extreme of gentleness. 
 
 Gwendolen flushed under the implied rebuke. Her pur- 
 pose, however, was not turned aside. " Yuki is a person 
 whose confidence or whose love should not be forced. From 
 what I know of you both, I believe you coaxed and per- 
 suaded her, last night, into some new pledge that her own 
 heart shrank from giving. If this is true, allow me to tell 
 you that you have made a fatal error, Pierre Marie Le Beau."
 
 84 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Pierre wheeled to the sea. It was as well that she could 
 not see his face. No longer gentle, it flared into a cruel 
 anger. His sole answer was the slightest, most exasperating 
 of shrugs. 
 
 Gwendolen saw these signs of irritation, and cried to her- 
 self, "Halt." With a laugh that was quite successful for its 
 kind she exclaimed, " Come, Pierre, we must not quarrel just 
 because we both love Yuki. I know I seem rude, but I 
 became Yuki's champion at school, and the habit clings. 
 Forgive me for Yuki's sake." 
 
 He took the slim, outstretched hand and kissed it, but 
 allowed himself no further words. The girl felt baffled and 
 uncomfortable. She recalled a saying of her father's, " Free 
 speech is a luxury possible only to those whose opinions mean 
 nothing." She felt herself herded with that undesirable 
 class. 
 
 " Well, I must get back to them," she cried, nodding in the 
 direction of the group lately deserted. "I promised them 
 I'd come back at once." 
 
 "Is Yuki indisposed this morning ?" asked Pierre. "May 
 I not expect her on deck ? " 
 
 His tone was condescending. Gwendolen writhed under it. 
 " She '11 be up in half an hour, I guess," she gave answer, and 
 hurried away, rubbing the back of her hand against her dress 
 as she went. 
 
 Dodge made room for her at the rail. She wedged herself 
 in place with a sigh of content. " Look hard, now ! " whis- 
 pered her companion. "The others haven't a hint. Yes, 
 right out there in front, hard!" 
 
 Gwendolen stared obediently. Surely there was something 
 strange, prophetic on that far blue rim. "Is it oh, can it 
 be that little roughened thread in the warp and woof of 
 blue is it Japan ? " 
 
 The rumor spun about the ship, was caught up in whis- 
 pers, tangled, tossed on to the next group. "Japan, 
 some one has seen Japan ! " 
 
 Men, with feet very much apart, steadied themselves behind 
 beetle-like marine glasses. " By Jove, there she is ! " The 
 waves outside fawned and bounded in answering excitement.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 85 
 
 Dolphins leaped high in air. A whole fleet of "Portuguese 
 men-o'-war " rose to the surface and scurried on before them 
 as if leading a swifter way. 
 
 "I shall simply pass away with ecstasy! " cried Gwendolen. 
 "Oh, why doesn't Yuki come ? Look, Mr. Dodge; I believe 
 I see sails away off there, between us and the phantom 
 land!" 
 
 " Doubtless a squad of detached fishing-smacks," said Dodge, 
 with that courier-like precision which seemed part of him on 
 land or in sight of land. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh ! " shrieked she, jumping up and down like 
 a child. " We are rushing straight for one. It has a square 
 sail laced across the slits with white shoestrings. Oh, we are 
 going to run it down ! " 
 
 " My dear ! " remonstrated Mrs. Todd at the girl's impetu- 
 ous manner. Her own kindly face beamed. 
 
 "Not on your life," said Dodge the Oracle. "They know 
 how to look out for number one. You just watch 'em." Even 
 as he spoke the small skiff darted impudently into the very 
 shadow of their looming bulk, and sped off again like a 
 swallow. Two impassive brown faces lifted for an instant 
 from the great shining heap of bonito in the bottom of the 
 boat, and were lowered. 
 
 " Not much floral-anchor business about those two, eh, 
 Captain ? " asked Mr. Todd, genially, of that magnate, as he 
 strolled toward them. 
 
 "I admit the coast population to be amphibious," laughed 
 the Captain, " but you can't make admirals out of fishermen. 
 Miss Gwendolen, it will soon be time to look for Few-ji." 
 
 " Oh, oh! " cried Gwendolen again. She was made up, this 
 morning, of wind-tossed golden hair and expletives. " Cer- 
 tainly no one ever saw it, truly, at such a distance! " 
 
 " I have," boasted Dodge. " On a clear day I J ve seen the 
 thing a hundred miles off, when it looked like a little white 
 tee on a blue golf links, don't you know." 
 
 "Golf links!" echoed Gwendolen. "What an unworthy 
 simile ! " 
 
 " Why not links ? first-class thing, a good links ! Don't 
 you play, Miss Todd ? "
 
 86 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " No," answered Gwendolen, truthfully, " I don't play, but 
 I like to pose, the costumes are so utterly fetching; and I 
 dote on standing with my driver behind me, like girls in 
 illustrated picture papers." 
 
 She turned to search the shimmering horizon for the vision 
 it would not yield. "Oh, where is that mountain! I wish 
 Yuki would come. It might appear directly for Yuki-ko." 
 
 "Here is Yuki," said the low, strange voice that could have 
 belonged to no other. 
 
 Gwendolen seized her. " Good-morning, Miss Onda," 
 smiled Dodge. " Now we are all fit. Kindly invoke your 
 enchanted summit to our wondering gaze. I have been told 
 that it was bad luck to land after a long journey without a 
 glimpse of Fuji-san." 
 
 " I think the bad luck for only Nipponese," said Yuki. 
 
 " And the good luck too, I presume, if it turns that way ? 
 How inhospitable ! " 
 
 "Yes, I think so. The good luck and the bad luck," was 
 Yuki's serious reply. 
 
 Pierre, strolling at the rear end of the passenger deck, must 
 have seen Yuki. He made no sign, however, and continued 
 to stroll alone, smoking cigarettes, with a pleasant look or 
 reply for any chance acquaintance, but a mind evidently 
 involved in its own problems. 
 
 Neither of the girls saw him. They leaned together now 
 upon the rail. Gwendolen had an arm about her friend. To- 
 gether they stared out toward the land. Dodge had been 
 called away. Mr. and Mrs. Todd were seated, the former 
 carefully counting out bills for various " tips " soon to be 
 distributed. The schoolmates were practically alone. 
 
 The land showed clearly now its hill and rock formation. 
 Layer after layer, set upright from the sea, vanished into 
 hazy distance. Promontory after promontory tapered down 
 at the far point to a surf-beaten line of rocks. Farther peaks 
 rose in tones of blue, some thin as water, others rich and 
 dark, like great gentians. On the nearer hills, forests and 
 shaven spots of green appeared. The water around them 
 shone and stirred with sails, the square-laced sails of junks. 
 Bronze-colored boatmen, scantily clad, stood on the swaying
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 87 
 
 edge of a boat and shaded their eyes to peer upward at the 
 strange, white-faced <' seiyo-jin." Among the junks, sailless 
 sampan, propelled by one crooked oar, tumbled like queer sea- 
 beetles with a single jointed leg. 
 
 " Gwendolen," said Yuki, in a very low voice, "do you see 
 a long, green patch, like moss, over on that brown slope ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I was thinking it looked like curled parsley." 
 
 " That is really a forest, quite a big little forest,. made 
 of sugi, and camphor, and camellia trees. Listen; I thought 
 then that I heard the deep sound of a bell ! " 
 
 "I hear nothing but water and the wind." 
 
 " It was the temple bell," insisted Yuki. "And now, dear, 
 look more close. Do you not see, right on the edge of 
 beach, a small red something ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; there is a little square of red like the frame- 
 work of a door." 
 
 " It is torii, red torii, or sacred gate ; and beyond that 
 gate are many, many stone steps leading up to the temple. 
 Ah ! such steps as those, so quiet, so deep, so still ! They 
 lead the heart up before ever the clumsy feet have climbed." 
 
 A little steam launch, bearing the flag of the rising sun, 
 came puffing and squealing toward them. The ship's steps 
 were lowered. Grave, correct Japanese officers took pos- 
 session. Their news was astounding. War's breath already 
 heated the land. The Japanese minister at St. Petersburg 
 even then made preparation for instant departure, and his 
 Kussian colleague in Yedo did the same. The severance of 
 diplomatic relations between the countries meant, of course, 
 no less than a declaration of war. 
 
 From the moment of hearing this, neither Mr. Todd nor his 
 secretary had a thought for anything besides, no, not even 
 for pretty Gwendolen, who, for a while, sulked alone, then, 
 seeing it useless, sought consolation in engaging herself to all 
 the unmarried male passengers, one after the other, and most 
 of the ship's officers, irrespective of connubial ties. 
 
 Pierre and Yuki had met, neither looking with entire 
 frankness into the eyes of the other. To Yuki the promise 
 given meant a haircloth shirt beneath her robe of gladness,
 
 88 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 a stone dragging her back from flight. To Pierre it was, 
 in all sincerity, their one substantial pledge of future happi- 
 ness. He was the man. It was for him to judge, not 
 Yuki; and he believed the very reluctance with which she 
 gave the word, a proof of its necessity. It was characteristic 
 of both that no reference was made to the subject most vital 
 in their thoughts. Yuki watched with apparent composure 
 the slow approach to Yokohama Bay, Awa's cone-shaped 
 masses, and the long, green northern coast fading into eastern 
 haze. Fuji had not shone for them, in spite of a cloudless 
 day. " It sometimes went away like that," Yuki had assured 
 the disappointed ones. " Children thought that it went visit- 
 ing to the gardens of the gods." 
 
 The harbor channel was free. The ship went slowly, 
 majestically, like a great deliberate swan, sheer to the stone 
 steps of the wharf. Yuki's reserve faltered. " My people, 
 oh, my dear people ! I think I see their faces in that waiting 
 crowd ! " they heard her whisper. She stretched out her 
 arms. A sob choked in her throat. Four years, four long, 
 long years, and yet how familiar the look of her native land ! 
 The little wind-bent pines along the stone dyke had not 
 changed a leaf. Those long, waiting rows of empty jinrikishas 
 might hold one that had been waiting for her through an 
 hour of shopping in the foreign stores of Yokohama. And, 
 oh, the dear welcoming friends there on the steps ! 
 
 Their party was the first to cross the platform of the 
 lowered flight of stairs. Yuki touched the first stone step, 
 and gazed eagerly above her. Yes, that was her mother, that 
 gentlest, sweetest, most beautiful face among them all ! Be- 
 hind her stood Onda Tetsujo, Yuki's father, with his plain 
 blue robes, and gray, nobly poised head. 
 
 " Mother ! Okkasan, Shibaraku ! " (How long the ab- 
 sence ! ) cried the girl, with a broken note of rapture in her voice. 
 Bounding up the steps, she clasped and was clasped again by 
 the slender gray figure. Tetsujo drew back, a fleeting look 
 of perplexity in his face. He had not recognized Yuki, thus 
 seen, for the first time, in her perfectly adapted foreign gar- 
 ments; but Iriya had known, from the moment her eyes 
 caught the small brown-clad figure at the rail. The mother
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 89 
 
 in her swept away, for the instant, high barriers of Japanese 
 etiquette. She clung to her child, fondling her, pressing trem- 
 bling lips to the soft young cheeks, and murmuring, "My 
 baby, my little one, my treasure, who has come back to 
 me!" 
 
 A moment later they had drawn apart, both with wet eyes 
 and quivering lips, and small, bashful side-looks of love ; for 
 such public demonstration is practically unknown among sam- 
 urai women. Already these two were a little ashamed of it. 
 Tetsujo realized at last that it was his daughter, but, because 
 of her strange conduct, wore still an uncomprehending wrinkle 
 between his heavy brows. 
 
 The Todd party, Pierre and Mr. T. Caraway Dodge included, 
 came hesitatingly near. The Japanese crowd drew back, some 
 in distaste, some in politeness, some because their own friends 
 had arrived, and there was no longer a reason for staying. 
 Yuki, with a hand on Gwendolen's arm, began the introduc- 
 tions. When it came to the two young men, she hesitated 
 slightly. Her father's deep, keen eyes rested on the faces 
 first of one, then of the other. The two names, as she hurried 
 them over, were practically unintelligible. 
 
 Kind-hearted Mrs. Todd, observing Yuki's embarrassment 
 and feeling that she had at least a hint as to its cause, rushed 
 gallantly into the breech. Her efforts centred on shrinking 
 Mrs. Onda. " Are you really Yuki's mother ? " she demanded 
 in a loud, playful voice. " You look to me like her sister. I 
 would n't believe, unless I were told, that you had more than 
 five years between you." 
 
 Yuki threw a glance of gratitude toward the speaker. 
 " Mother, Mrs. Todd says that you appear augustly young to be 
 indeed the daughter of a big girl like me." 
 
 Iriya flushed and bowed, looking more than ever like her 
 daughter. She answered in Japanese, " Please honorably to 
 thank the lady for her compliment, but acquaint her with the 
 fact that I am already lamentably old. On my next birthday 
 I shall be thirty-nine." 
 
 Tetsujo, having accomplished his share of stiff bows, not 
 forgetting an extra one for the new American minister, said 
 to his daughter, " My child, we are indeed happy to welcome
 
 90 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 you. Now thank your good friends in uiy name. Suitable 
 presents shall be sent them. We must depart for Yedo." 
 He moved one finger toward three waiting jinrikisha men 
 near-by, and the vehicles, like magic, stood beside him. 
 
 "Now, already it must be 'Sayonara.' My father desires 
 me to go," said Yuki, and smiled a little tremulously from one 
 foreign face to another. These farewells at the end of a long 
 and pleasant journey are never careless things to say. " Of 
 course I will see all every one very soon! " 
 
 "Yuki! Why, we never thought of this. You mustn't 
 leave us so!" cried Gwendolen, in consternation. 
 
 " No ! " added Pierre, with more vehemence. " It is n't to 
 be thought of. Tell your father that we are counting on you 
 for the day." He stepped close to her. Yuki instinctively 
 shrank. The puzzled look came again to the face of Tetsujo. 
 
 "Be careful, Pierre! Look at his face! You will make a 
 false move at the start," came Gwendolen's whisper. 
 
 " Do you expect me to stand here patiently and see her car- 
 ried away ? Non ! Mon Dieu, it was to have been the con- 
 secrating day of our lives! I do not give it up. I will try 
 speaking myself with her father." 
 
 " Gwendolen is right. Do not speak! " panted Yuki. 
 
 But Pierre was not one to relinquish bliss so easily. No 
 move seemed to him quite as undesirable as the one about to 
 take place. Facing the astonished samurai, he began a series 
 of bows which he fondly conceived to embody the finer points 
 of both French and Japanese etiquette. 
 
 "Monsieur Onda, Onda San," he commenced eagerly, 
 " Miss Yuki must not go. Ikimasen! Stay here with friends, 
 tomodachi. She can go your house afternoon. Please do 
 not take her now." 
 
 Onda looked blankly and in silence upon the antics of the 
 strange creature. Not one gleam of comprehension enlivened 
 his fixed gaze. 
 
 " Here, man, let me get to him," said Dodge, thrusting him- 
 self in front of Pierre. " I '11 translate what you are trying 
 to say, though it is n't a particle of use. Shall I go on ? " 
 
 " Merci." 
 
 Speaking slowly, in fairly good Japanese, Dodge said, " We
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 91 
 
 having hoped to enjoy the company of your daughter on this 
 first day of landing, I aui requested to entreat your august 
 permission to allow her to remain. If you and your wife will 
 join our party also, we shall feel honored by your condescen- 
 sion." " Never told a bigger lie in my life ! " was his mental 
 note after this last remark. 
 
 Tetsujo replied by the courtesy of a stiff bow. With no 
 further glance or word for the speaker, he stepped up into his 
 jinrikisha, and once seated, said to Yuki, "Reply to the 
 speech of the foreigner, my child." 
 
 "I am to go with my parents, of course," said Yuki, nerv- 
 ously. " I wish it. I did not know you were planning so sure 
 for me to remain. I must go now, at once, but will see you as 
 soon as I may, to-morrow, or perhaps this very afternoon." 
 
 Iriya had bowed to the foreigners and entered her jinrikisha 
 immediately after Tetsujo. Yuki now climbed into the re- 
 maining one, neither Dodge nor Pierre retaining enough self- 
 possession to assist her. The three coolies caught up the 
 shafts for starting. 
 
 " Here, stop, stop ! " cried Gwendolen, springing forward. 
 "Yuki, we don't even know your Tokio address!" 
 
 Tetsujo gave a gesture and a "cluck." The coolies sprang 
 into action. 
 
 " Ko-ishikawa, Kobinata, Shi ju " trailed off Yuki's 
 voice into the rattling of the streets. 
 
 " The ogre ! I'll catch the next train for Tokio," cried Pierre. 
 
 " Better stay with us and s.ee about your baggage, Pierre," 
 said Mr. Todd, speaking for the first time. " The girl should 
 go with her people, and you know it." 
 
 "But, poor boy," said Mrs. Todd, soothingly, her hand 
 touching his arm, "I know how he has counted on seeing 
 the sights with Yuki." 
 
 Onda Tetsujo's spoken order had been " stenshun !" (station), 
 for so have the Japanese incorporated our familiar word. A 
 train was just leaving for Yedo. Three second-class tickets 
 were bought, and the kuruma-men overpaid and dismissed. Had 
 they been merely "paid," a later train would have been taken. 
 
 The short encounter on the Yokohama pier evidently re-
 
 92 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 mained in the master's mind as a most disagreeable impression. 
 While in no sense a stupid man, the quality of Onda's intellect 
 was torpid rather than alert. Things came to him slowly, and 
 remained long. 
 
 It happened that their train was a "local," stopping at all 
 the small intermediate stations. Between Yokohama and the 
 next stop, Kanagawa, not a word was spoken. Yuki felt 
 bewildered, dazed, distressed. What had happened ? What 
 was spoiling her home-coming ? The promise was not all, for 
 here were her parents, moody and ill at ease, and they as yet 
 knew nothing of her pledge. Surely the few injudicious 
 words Pierre tried to speak should not have wrought all this. 
 Poor Pierre, with his hurt blue eyes and outstretched hand 
 of longing ! Well, the American girls used to say that true 
 love never did run smooth. Here she gave a sigh so deep that 
 Iriya started. All three gazed heavily from the windows, 
 only half seeing the villages sweep past, and the wide, gleam- 
 ing rice-fields in their winter flood, and the long edge of 
 Yedo Bay set with pines, and flecked with shining sails. 
 The gaudy fluttering of small banners above the tea booths of 
 Kawasaki brought a momentary light of pleasure into the 
 girl's eyes. It died down as quickly. Her father's averted 
 face clouded her sun. Yet unconsciously the charm and the 
 glamour of the country was stealing back. At Omori, perhaps 
 the most beautiful of these suburban villages, their compart- 
 ment, being toward the rear of the train, stopped, it would 
 seem, in the very midst of a grove of " ume " flowers, just 
 coming into bloom. It is an old orchard, knowing many gen- 
 erations of loving care. It is trimmed and tended for beauty 
 alone, the small sour fruit called by foreigners " plums " being 
 uneatable, and no more to the Japanese marketer than are 
 " rose-apples " to us. The trees, set close together so that tips 
 of branches met, were entirely leafless, and frosted over with 
 a delicate lichen growth. On this silver filigree of boughs 
 the blossoms shone, white, crimson, or pink, translucent 
 gems of flowers. The odor, stealing softly to Yuki in little 
 throbs, smote her as with an ecstasy of remembrance. There 
 is no subtler necromancer than perfume. Through it the past 
 may be reconstructed, dead love quiver into life, and sorrow,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 93 
 
 often more precious than joy itself, steal back like a loving 
 ghost. 
 
 Yuki seemed to wake suddenly, as from a troubled sleep. 
 " Why," she cried to herself, " I am at home again ! This 
 is Japan ! " She sat upright now, eager and vivid, looking 
 from one window to another, a new brightness in her face. 
 The locomotive, which had been restlessly inactive for a few 
 moments past, gave a long, shrill whistle, drew itself together, 
 and prepared for another run. Just as the wheels were turn- 
 ing, a broad-faced woman of the peasant class, with a fat baby 
 on her back, a toddler of two years led by one hand, and a pair 
 of squawking geese held in the other, wriggled herself through 
 the turnstile and waved the shrieking fowls, as signal for the 
 train to stop. The gatekeeper, clutching after her, seized a 
 limb of the sleeping infant. Instantly a human scream added 
 to the clamor of the geese. Heads were thrust from car win- 
 dows, the guard, dropping the infant's leg, seized its mother 
 by the sash. He chanced to be a small man, she an unusually 
 large woman. As a consequence she dragged him after her. 
 At this sight a train official, leaning as far outward as he 
 could for laughing, signalled the engineer to " back." The 
 victorious one hurled herself and her living burdens into an 
 already overcrowded third-class car. A place was made for 
 her, not without many exclamations, such as " Domo ! Osoi ! " 
 (It is late.) " Kodomo-san itai ka! " (Is Mr. Baby hurt?) and 
 a few gruff sounds of " lya desu yo ! " (How disagreeable ! ) 
 The locomotive, as if conscious of a good deed, tooted more 
 loudly than before, and made another start. 
 
 Yuki sparkled with delight. " Think of a train official 
 doing that in America!" she laughed aloud. 
 
 Iriya's answering smile was pathetic in its quickness of 
 response. She moved closer, pressing against Yuki's smart, 
 foreign shoulder. The two began to watch, like happy chil- 
 dren, the passing scenes. 
 
 Tetsujo drew forth his pipe and smoked himself into seren- 
 ity. He listened now to what the women said. There were 
 other passengers, of course, but Tetsujo and his companions 
 had preempted a little corner in the rear. Iriya spoke of old 
 Suzume, who was waiting so impatiently at home to see her
 
 94 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 charge, of little Maru San, a distant connection of Suzume, 
 who, since Yuki's departure, had been employed as maid-of- 
 all-work about the house. Messages of welcome from friends 
 and relatives were given. At the last, dropping her voice 
 impressively, Iriya spoke of the coming war. " It is inevit- 
 able," she said. " Prince Hagane informed Tetsujo only this 
 morning. There can be no doubt." 
 
 The old scenes, the old interests, glowed anew in the girl's 
 heart. Really they had never left it, but, like certain writing, 
 illegible except in warmth, the pictures slept until the breath 
 of her own land awaked them. She had a strange sense of 
 being slowly turned back to a child. In an English fairy-book 
 a certain Alice could grow tall or short at will by nibbling 
 at a magic mushroom. There had always been magic mush- 
 rooms in the East, long, long before that book was written, 
 strange mountain growths which are the only food of the ghost 
 deer that attend the genii of the forest. Perhaps the little 
 brown sembei which she had just bought at Omori from an 
 insistent peddler was, in reality, a scrap of an enchanted 
 mushroom. Perhaps she was really turning back into the 
 little Japanese Yuki who had never been to America at all, 
 who had never known a foreign lover, or given a promise 
 which her reason told her to refuse. Her heart stopped beat- 
 ing for an instant. She took a second bite of sembei. Again 
 the trouble faded. Yes, surely, it was a magic mushroom. 
 
 Now merry talk flowed from her smiling lips. Tetsujo 
 moved nearer. She called him " Chichi Sarna," as in baby 
 days, and her mother " Haha San." 
 
 The train made its final stop. A torrent of blue-robed occu- 
 pants poured out from every car. The sound of wooden clogs 
 upon the concrete floor was like innumerable hollow shells 
 scraped, lip down, upon an empty box. Yuki's heart swept 
 in with the throng. She loved the noise, the bare station, the 
 hissing car, the very dust of the travellers' feet. Tetsujo and 
 Iriya exchanged glances behind her back, and smiled. Their 
 eyes said, " This is our dear one, our own ; not an American 
 changeling, but the daughter for whom we have been 
 yearning."
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 FROM the square, gray platform of Shimbashi station, ter- 
 raced by stone steps, hung with tiled eaves, and surrounded 
 by a swarming school of black jinrikishas, each with a chatter- 
 ing, gesticulating, blue-clad human horse before it, one dives 
 at will into the iridescent life of modern Yedo. Regarded 
 as a city, it is little more than a collection of villages care- 
 lessly swept together ; little communities where the same 
 streets catch up altered names ; districts with opposing trades, 
 antagonistic feast-days, and rival deities. 
 
 Tanners preempt an unsavory ward. Shoemakers claim 
 for themselves a network of small streets. The dry-goods 
 merchants command an avenue. Pipe-sellers, wine-mer- 
 chants, tobacconists, book-sellers, marketmen, carpenters, 
 each guild tends to make a centre for itself. Perhaps, as one 
 consequence of this segregation, Tokio becomes the stronghold 
 of street peddlers. It matters little to the housewife that the 
 nearest market is four miles away, when sections of that 
 market, strapped to boyish shoulders, go crying past her gate 
 with the punctuality of planets. Tokio is a place where 
 circulating libraries literally circulate ; where perambulating 
 oil-shops fill lamps on the patron's kitchen step or in the 
 glass frame at his gate, and then stop to light them ; where 
 the tailor finishes a quilt or an overcoat on the bedroom floor, 
 and the hair-dresser needs no local habitation. 
 
 In a great semicircle crowded near the Eed Gate of the 
 Imperial University, live and study and brawl and bluster the 
 students, the future Nogis, Togos, Kurokis, Saigos, Itos, and 
 Oyamas of their race, now no more than restless young 
 spirits in a recognized democracy of their own. Some of them 
 cook their own meals and patch their own faded hakama, 
 a species of heroism to make death on a battlefield grow tame. 
 Others " board " in one of the long, barn-like dormitories, or
 
 96 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 in a convenient cheap lodging-house, often three and four in 
 a room, at the enormous rate of fifty cents a week. Poverty 
 seems to them admirable, nothing whatever to be ashamed of. 
 The Japanese youth of the samurai class is bred to a distaste 
 of bodily luxury. Should one of their number show a leaning 
 toward soft cushions and rich food, the others ridicule him, 
 call him "0 Share Sama," the Tokio equivalent of "Dandy," 
 and say that his soul grows fat. 
 
 Yuki sped through all, breathless with the wonder of home- 
 returning. The three jinrikishas, Tetsujo, of course, in the 
 lead, went one after the other in a straight line, as though on 
 an invisible track. Whether in a lane four feet wide, or in an 
 avenue two hundred, this goose-like manner of procedure never 
 changed. Old familiar street-corners, familiar pines, changed 
 shop fronts, appealed to the girl with a sense of reality. Her 
 eyes filled and her heart beat faster as she caught her first 
 glimpse, after four years, of towering moated walls where 
 crawled the " Dragon Pines " of lyemitsu, and of the high dark 
 roof now sheltering her beloved ruler. 
 
 Beyond the palace and its moats came foreignized Yedo. 
 Sidewalks were here, though pedestrians still preferred the 
 middle of the street, turning aside good-naturedly at the 
 warning " Hek ! hek ! " of approaching vehicles. The streets, 
 conspicuously broad, were paved with concrete or with stone 
 On every side rose buildings just completed, of brick and 
 stone, or great steel frames for other edifices. It might 
 have been Connecticut. The sidewalk trees, set rigidly in 
 hollowed concrete basins, refused to grow in Japanese fashion, 
 and had the poise of elms. Down centres of these streets 
 horse-cars jangled. Work was already started on the super- 
 seding electric line. Yuki observed it all with conscious 
 pride, yet her eyes brightened with new eagerness as another 
 quick turn plunged them once more into the heart of feudal 
 Yedo. 
 
 The streets narrowed now to lanes, bordered on each side 
 with shops, mere open booths, flung wide to the dim rear 
 plaster wall. Shelves holding various wares came down sheer 
 to the matted floor. In the middle of the space generally sat 
 the master, while skirmishing about, sometimes in a gloomy
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 97 
 
 slit of a passage to the rear, sometimes up or down stepladder- 
 like stairs to a crouching upper story, could be seen the small 
 apprentices, or kozo. The life of the Japanese kozo forms a 
 literature to itself ; but this is not the place to begin it. These 
 were the narrow streets Yuki had longed for. Here were the 
 shop signs swinging wonderful tones of blue, dark crimson, 
 and white, here the great gold Chinese ideograph, sprawling 
 across long banners. 
 
 In a sort of pause between districts came a hint of suburbs, 
 and, winding through it, Little Pebble River. A river is 
 never more mysterious than when carrying its deep secrets 
 through a busy town. This one, the Koishikawa, dominated 
 the section through which it passed, giving its own name, and 
 establishing certain small industries of dyeing, grinding, 
 fishing, and boating possible nowhere else in Yedo, until the 
 great central artery of the Sumida is reached. Cherry-trees 
 joined finger-tips above the Koishikawa, real grass crept 
 down its banks to trail finger in the hurrying tide. 
 
 It was all beautiful, all real, all familiar. From afar the 
 clanging of beaten metal smote the ears. Yuki remembered 
 that the main bridge led almost to the great gate of the 
 Arsenal. A moment later it came into view. Tall chimneys 
 pulsed black worlds of smoke, and corrugated roofs scowled 
 above spiked, enclosing walls. At every gate stood a sentry- 
 box and a soldier in blue uniform. 
 
 " A mighty noise, young lady ! " volunteered Yuki's jin- 
 rikisha man, in a hoarse shout. He nodded his head toward 
 the clamor, and then looked backward to bestow on her a con- 
 fidential grin. In the river, just in front of the arsenal, great 
 muddy barges were poled in and beached, with loads of 
 coal and copper, iron and wood. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it is a terrible noise," answered Yuki politely. 
 " They must be very busy behind those walls." She sighed 
 heavily, but her sigh was lost in the roar of flame. The fact 
 that her country was at that very moment on the verge of war 
 with Russia, perhaps with France also, with France, 
 Pierre's country ! was one of those thoughts she was trying 
 to keep away. 
 
 " They work with double force by lamp and by sun," boasted 
 
 7
 
 98 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 the jinrikisha man, when they had passed the most deafening 
 uproar. " Oh, but the Russians think us children to be 
 cheated and lied to ! But we are preparing a lesson for the 
 cowardly bears, we do not fear them ! Look, Jo San ! " 
 He chuckled loudly, and without relaxing his wonderful me- 
 chanical trot or falling an inch behind the pace of the two 
 preceding kuruina, unwrapped from his wrist the inevitable 
 twisted tenugui, or hand towel. Keeping one end under his 
 palm, he let the rest stream backward, like a flag. Instead 
 of the usual bird, flower, or landscape etching in indigo blue, 
 the pattern represented a fleet of Japanese war-ships in full 
 engagement with the Russian navy. Under the water-level 
 great communities of deep-sea fish looked expectantly up- 
 ward, chop-sticks and rice-bowls in their fins. A few Rus- 
 sian sailors, the first of a gorging repast, had commenced 
 to sink downward. The eyes of the fish were admirable in 
 their expression of calm certainty. Thus, before the firing 
 of Togo's first challenge, did the Tokio populace enjoy 
 prophetic visions. 
 
 Beyond the arsenal, and its huddled concourse of working- 
 men's houses waiting just without the walls, the Koishikawa 
 took a more definite turn to the north. The Onda party, fol- 
 lowing it, came soon to a region of green lanes and pleasant 
 gardens. The clamor of metal-workers died away. One knew 
 that birds lived in the groves. Before them the highland of 
 the district loomed in great dark masses, and splendid trees 
 of camphor and of pine soared clear against the blue. At 
 foot of the hill " Kobinata " (Little Sunshine) the three jin- 
 rikishas halted in unison, and the three runners looked with 
 bovine yet inquiring faces, each upon his living burden. 
 The hillside road, now to be taken, rose steep and white be- 
 tween bamboo hedges. Onda motioned his coolie to lower the 
 shafts. " I am a heavy man, and with my own feet will take 
 the slope," he said. 
 
 " No, no, honorable master. Indeed I say no ! " protested 
 the coolie, while making the greatest haste to obey. " It is 
 not fitting that so exalted a person as your divine lordship 
 should walk. Though I break my worthless bones, I will 
 draw you up that precipice!"
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 99 
 
 Onda, smiling slightly, stepped into the road. Iriya would 
 have followed his example, but he motioned, bidding her, and 
 likewise Yuki, to remain seated. He paused to tuck his blue 
 robe a few inches higher, catching the pointed end-fold in his 
 belt. Iriya and her grunting bearer went by him. He re- 
 mained standing, waiting for Yuki. Their eyes met, and both 
 smiled. He put one powerful hand to the back of the girl's 
 vehicle, his face being then about on a level with hers, and, 
 ascending the hill beside her, used his supplementary strength 
 at the very steep or stony place". 
 
 The girl sat very slim and straight, looking eagerly about 
 her. " Father, what is it about this land of ours that makes 
 all things so honorably different, so strangely beautiful ?" 
 
 "My daughter, it is not well to speak boastfully, even of 
 one's land," answered Tetsujo; but his fine, strong face did 
 not bear out the reproof of his words. 
 
 " There will be a gate now, soon to the left, a little gate 
 of straw thatching, tied with loops of black hemp twine! A 
 pine-tree sends one stiff arm across it. On a clear day one 
 sees, in that green frame, the snows of Fuji-san ! Oh, can I 
 bear it, father ? I must speak. My heart aches already with 
 the loveliness. See, even the trees know that they are beauti- 
 ful ; each has a soul ! The trees of America have no souls." 
 
 " No, from what I have heard and seen of the Americans, 
 their trees have only hardwood centres. It is what the 
 Americans would prefer." 
 
 "Not all, not all," protested Yuki. "I have a friend, that 
 blonde girl on the hatoba (wharf), I have other friends who 
 understand us strangely. I think in a previous life they must 
 have been Japanese." 
 
 " Bah ! It is but poor respect you pay our country," 
 answered Tetsujo, half-teasingly. "Ah," he cried, catching 
 her arm, "the little gate, my child, the pine-tree." Yuki's 
 coolie had stopped without bidding. His face, too, wore the 
 smile of one who loves and understands. The little gate rose 
 straight and square in its deep gold color of old straw, the 
 black knots made fantastic decoration along the ridge, the 
 pine-tree stretched an arm of everlasting green, and over 
 the straight line of the leaves, far, far out to the West, hung
 
 100 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 the frail cone of Fuji, like a silver bowl inverted. Yuki did 
 not try to speak. Her father and the coolie feasted also in 
 silence. In a few moments the little procession, still word- 
 less, began again the steep ascent. 
 
 Now Tetsujo's eyes went to the pebbled ground. His next 
 remark seemed at first incongruous. " Did you see the 
 belching of black smoke, my Yuki, and did you hear the 
 clashing of scourged steel?" 
 
 "Yes, father, and the smoke creeps after us like an evil 
 spirit, even to the foot of Little Sunshine Hill." 
 
 " Nippon is soon to enter upon mortal struggle with a great 
 and merciless foe. All arts of war and treachery will be used 
 against us. We may not survive." 
 
 " Father, it must not come, the gods must divert it ! " 
 
 "Every samurai will give his life. Every child and woman 
 of his race will lie, self-slain, in blood, before the yielding. 
 And yet defeat may be decreed. To be blind is to be weak. 
 We must face unflinchingly the ultimate horror." 
 
 " The old gods must protect us !" cried the girl. 
 
 " You are a Christian. The Christian gods will be invoked 
 to aid our enemies." 
 
 " Oh, father, you hurt me ! When I wished to become a 
 Christian, like the other girls, I wrote you many letters, 
 you did not oppose it then." 
 
 " Neither do I oppose it now," said Tetsujo. " In things 
 of religious faith each soul should seek an individual path. 
 Because of your intelligence I allowed you to decide. But in 
 patriotism, in loyalty to your native land, I still have 
 responsibility. Ah, you are my one child, and most dearly 
 beloved ; but if ever I should see in you one taint of selfish 
 swerving, if I should suspect that through the foreign 
 education the sinews of your love were weak " 
 
 Yuki stopped him by a gesture. Her head was proudly 
 lifted. Her eyes gleamed, and her thin nostrils shook, " Such 
 thoughts as these are not to be spoken between a samurai and 
 his child. My very heart is knit of the fibres of that word 
 ' Nippon.' " 
 
 "You are certain, Yuki ? " Tetsujo's question and his eyes 
 dug deep.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 101 
 
 Yuki hesitated less than a fraction of thought. " I am cer- 
 tain," she said. 
 
 A silence rose between them. Yuki's bright joyousness felt 
 a drifting cloud. What did her father mean ? Had Prince 
 Hagane spoken ill of her ? The promise to Pierre gnawed 
 like a hungry worm. She fought anew the phantoms of love 
 and approaching war. The two laden jinrikisha coolies tugged 
 on with ostentatious groans. The hand towels now came into 
 requisition for the mopping of streaming brows. The road 
 began to curve into a level space, from which hedge-bordered 
 lanes radiated. Again Tetsujo spoke. 
 
 " That new American envoy, he with the nose of a sick 
 vulture and the fine yellow eye, is he favorable to us? Is 
 he one that at all understands us ? " 
 
 " Indeed, my father, he is of wonderful understanding. He 
 and Baron Kanrio are as brothers in thought. Did not Prince 
 Hagane speak of him ? " 
 
 Ignoring the question, Tetsujo went on. " The younger of 
 the two women, that straw-colored maiden who seems stand- 
 ing on the edge of a small typhoon, she, I suppose, is the 
 school friend, the Miss Todd, you referred to." 
 
 "Yes," answered Yuki, a little resentfully. "And she is 
 considered beautiful. I think her augustly beautiful, even as 
 Amaterasu, our Sun Goddess." 
 
 "Not ours. It may be that other nations have also sun 
 goddesses," said Tetsujo, significantly. " To me all foreign 
 females are of hideous aspect. They look and strut like fowls. 
 And the two young males, sons of Mr. Todd, I take it, 
 they are as the painted toys sold in temple booths. Yet, if 
 the foreigners have been kind, it is well to express gratitude, 
 and to send gifts as costly as my purse will allow." 
 
 " The Todds are rich, very, very rich, even as our great 
 silk merchants," cried Yuki, in indignation. "They do not 
 want gifts, or expect them. It is not an American custom. 
 Gwendolen, my friend, my sister, wishes only to be with me, 
 freely, as we have been for four years past." 
 
 Tetsujo considered. " I could not refuse you a continuance 
 of friendship, my child, though I confess it will irk me greatly 
 to see those strange creatures on my mats. After the first few
 
 102 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 days of your home-coining, in a week, perhaps, you can 
 speak again of this desire." 
 
 Yuki's heart sank. A week, and she had promised to see 
 them to-morrow, perhaps this afternoon ! She opened her 
 lips to remonstrate, and then thought better of it. If he felt 
 it a concession to admit Gwendolen, daughter of the new 
 American minister, what would he say to Pierre? Deliber- 
 ately she fought down the rising host of apprehensions. 
 " No," she whispered, " I shall not dwell upon it. I must not 
 spoil my home-coming with uncertain fears. I shall try to be 
 untroubled until I can tell my father all." 
 
 Well along the top of the hill, Onda re-entered his 
 kuruma, and with the word " hidari " (left), started the little 
 string of vehicles down a path that ran in wavering lines 
 between hedges of various growths. Many were of dwarf 
 bamboo or sa-sa, other of a higher bamboo, springing from 
 resilient stems twenty feet in air. A few were of the small- 
 leafed dodan, a bush which turns to wet vermilion with the 
 frost. Several were of intertwisted thorn, a cruel and relent- 
 less guardian. One showed a flat green wall like that of 
 a three-story city house jutting upon a pavement; but the 
 masonry was all of growth, rafters of thick stems, and facing 
 of the close-clipped evergreen mochi-tree. The small tiled gate 
 jutting from the centre of the lower edge seemed the entrance 
 of a cave. Doubtless behind this imposing and misleading 
 front nestled an unpretentious cot, a well-sweep, a small 
 vegetable and flower garden, and a handful of old trees. 
 
 Onda's gate, some hundreds of yards further to the north, 
 emerged in wooden simplicity from a sa-sa hedge. Along the 
 street the bamboo only showed. Within it ran a line of well- 
 trained thorn. This fence was characteristic of the race which 
 had planned it ; Onda's father and grandfather, and many gen- 
 erations before, had owned this spot of ground in Yedo. 
 
 Tetsujo, although the first to arrive, remained in his ku- 
 ruma, while Iriya and Yuki made haste to descend. The 
 former went at once to the gate, pulling aside a thin wooden 
 panel. A little gate-bell jangled, and at the musical summons 
 wooden-shod feet were heard, running down the pathway from 
 the house. Old Suzuine, shrivelled, yellow, her black eyes
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 103 
 
 darting excitement everywhere, fell on her knees in the gate- 
 way. She began immediately to mutter a jumble of ceremoni- 
 ous phrases, in the pauses drawing her breath with ferocious 
 energy. Behind her showed a moon-faced maiden, who stared 
 first, as if bewildered, and then suddenly fell to the earth 
 beside Suzume. 
 
 "That is sufficient," said Tetsujo, now descending and 
 pushing between them as he entered the gate. " Here, Suzume, 
 take my purse, and let these good rascals rob us as little as 
 possible. Go within, Maru, and prepare to remove the foreign 
 shoes from the feet of your young mistress." 
 
 Maru, quaking like a jelly, as she always did when addressed 
 directly by the " august master," obeyed instantly, and knelt 
 at the stone house-step to receive the shoes. Suzume unwill- 
 ingly remained at the gate to haggle with the three jinrikisha 
 men. 
 
 When the shoes were reverently drawn off, dusted on Maru's 
 blue striped apron, and set side by side on the stone step, the 
 little handmaid disappeared around the corner of the house. 
 A moment later was heard the scurrying of soft stockinged 
 feet within. 
 
 Yuki stretched a hand toward the closed shoji. 
 
 "No, dear, wait an instant," said Iriya, hurriedly inter- 
 posing. "Let Maru San open the shoji. She has been re- 
 hearsing this for a year." 
 
 Yuki drew back. " I have forgotten so many things," she 
 murmured, flushing. 
 
 " They are not lost ; they will spring quickly in the warm 
 rain of home love," said Tetsujo, behind them. 
 
 The shoji were sliding apart, both at once, with noiseless 
 precision. In the opening Maru's globe-like countenance 
 beamed. Now, for the first time, Iriya performed the equiv- 
 alent of an introduction. " Maru San," she said, in her pleas- 
 ant voice, "this is our o jo san (honorable young lady of the 
 house), Onda Yuki-ko, for whom we have been longing." 
 
 " Hai, o jo san ! Go kigen y 6 ! Irasshai ! " palpitated the 
 little servant, asking her to enter. 
 
 " I have written you often of Maru," Iriya went on, turning 
 to her daughter.
 
 104 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Tetsujo brushed unceremoniously through the group, and 
 strode alone to the big corner guest-room at the rear. 
 
 "She is the orphaned child of Suzume's dead husband's step- 
 son," continued Iriya, placidly. " About two years ago she 
 was left quite destitute, so of course her natural home was 
 here. Maru is a good girl, and of much help to us." 
 
 " Ah, Mistress, Mistress," cried old Suzume, nearly tripping 
 on her clogs to reach them, " you know well that Maru is a 
 very cat in the sun for laziness." The speaker struggled hard 
 to look severe. 
 
 " Hai, hai," said Maru, in deprecating confirmation, and 
 bobbed over to the matting. 
 
 "Why, o jo san, in my opinion Maru is not worth the 
 honorable rice she puts in her gluttonous mouth," said 
 Suzunie, on a high note of satisfaction. " Yet the kind mis- 
 tress here, besides food and occasional outworn garments, 
 allows her sixty sen each month for spending. Ah, Kwannon 
 Sama, of divine compassion, will reward our mistress for her 
 kind heart!" 
 
 Iriya laughed, a merry, low laugh, as young as Yuki's 
 own. 
 
 "I thank you, Suzume; but do you realize that the master 
 sits alone in the zashiki, with no tea, no coal, no " ? 
 
 " Do-mo ! " exclaimed the old woman, and scrambled rapidly 
 to her feet. " But I become more and more the fool with 
 age, as a tree gathers lichen. I will attend." 
 
 " Be at leisure, honorable, ancient relative ; I will fetch the 
 tea," said Maru. 
 
 " No," cried Yuki, suddenly stretching out a hand ; " I want 
 to take it just as I used to as a little girl. I think it will 
 please my father. Let me take it, Suzume San ! " 
 
 Maru paused with round, incredulous eyes. " Ara ! " cried 
 old Suzume, scarcely knowing whether she were the more 
 pleased or astonished. " A fashionable, wonderful young lady, 
 educated in America, with numberless young Japanese noble- 
 men waiting to marry her, and she wishes to bear the tray 
 like a tea-house musume! Ma-a-a ! How strange! Yet it 
 is a good desire. The mistress's face shines with it. It shows 
 your heart has not changed color, o jo san. I will prepare at
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 105 
 
 once. Come, lazy fatling ! " This last remark was of course 
 addressed to Maru. 
 
 In his wide, dim zashiki, or reception-room, analogous to 
 the drawing-room of the West, Tetsujo sat alone. He was 
 glad for a moment of solitude. His mind did not move swiftly 
 on any subject. The bewilderment of his first vision of Yuki, 
 changed from a clinging Japanese child to an alert, self- 
 possessed American, had not altogether passed. Then that 
 bobbing, blue-eyed he-creature on the hatoba, he had given 
 sour food for thought. What language was it that the thing 
 had tried to speak, what wish to utter? Well, at least Yuki 
 was safe now among her home people, away from the influence 
 of all such mountebanks. In a few days she would be wishing 
 to don again her Japanese dress, and then he could begin to 
 believe he had a child. 
 
 The Onda residence faced directly to the north, thus giving 
 the big guest-chamber and the outlying garden a southern expo- 
 sure. Two sides of the room, the south and the west, had 
 removable shoji. The inner walls were partly of plaster, 
 partly of sliding, opaque panels of gold, called fusuma. These 
 were painted in war-like designs by Kano artists. To-day the 
 western shoji were all closed; but the sun, just reaching them, 
 shed a mellow tone of light throughout the room. All south- 
 ern shoji were out, admitting, as it were, the fine old garden as 
 part of the decoration of the room. The day had deepened into 
 one of those quite common to the Tokio winter, where the 
 sunshine battles with a white glamour, scarcely to be called 
 mist, and yet with the softening tone of it. No young spring 
 growth was waking in the garden. All was sombre-green, 
 ochre, or cold gray, pines and evergreen azaleas, heaped 
 rocks, stone lanterns, bridge, and the pear-shaped water of a 
 pond. In line and structure the garden was still a thing of 
 beauty, planned in an artist's mind. It had the look of a 
 stained-glass window done in faded hues, of old tapestry, of 
 wrought metal. At the corner of the guest-room veranda 
 stood a huge old plum-tree just coming into white bloom. 
 
 Smiling Yuki, in tailor-made American gown and black 
 stockings, brought in the tray and knelt before her father. 
 The old warrior flushed with pleasure. " Why, this is 
 better than I could have thought ! "
 
 106 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "I told you I was just your little girl," said Yuki. "And 
 oh, father, I do feel so queerly young and real again ! I see 
 everything around me just as I wish. It is like making things 
 come true in dreams." Tetsujo caught her by a slender 
 shoulder, looking deep, deep into answering eyes. For once, 
 no troubled thoughts rose to blur the vision. Suddenly he 
 smiled. " Then make my dream come true, my Yuki ; remove 
 the shapeless foreign garment." 
 
 Yuki sprang to her feet, laughing with delight. "Yes, 
 yes, that is the next real thing to do, of course. I will borrow 
 a kimono from mother, as my trunks have not arrived. But 
 don't let them-bring in dinner till I get back. I am so hungry 
 for a real dinner ! " 
 
 " The soup shall not even be poured," promised Tetsujo. 
 She gave a little bow like the dart of a humming-bird, and 
 would have sped past him, but he, catching at a fold of her 
 skirt, detained her. She stopped, and seeing the expression 
 of his face, her own sobered. " Welcome, my daughter," 
 said Tetsujo, in a tone that trembled ; " welcome, child of my 
 ancestors, the last of an honorable race ! "
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 NEXT to the zashiki, or guest-room, around by the corner of 
 the big plum-tree on which, now, great snowy pearls of buds 
 opened with every hour, was the master's benkyo-beya, or study, 
 where sets of Chinese and Japanese classics, often running 
 into a hundred volumes, had snug place in fragrant cabinets 
 of unvarnished cypress wood. 
 
 Contiguous to this, along the western side, and bounded 
 ten feet farther by the fusuma of her parents' chamber, Yuki's 
 little sleeping-room was tucked away. The stately garden, 
 curving around by the plum-tree, spread here wider paths and 
 less pretentious hillocks. Just in front of Yuki's shoji and the 
 narrow verapda which ran unchecked along the south and west 
 of the house, two sedate gray stones led into a gravelled space. 
 Here were flower-beds somewhat in foreign fashion, but with- 
 out bordering plants or bricks. Many of the small bushes 
 were resultant from seed-packets mailed by Yuki in Washing- 
 ton. Imported pansies, alyssum, geraniums, marigolds, and 
 ragged-robins grew here in springtime in friendly proximity 
 to indigenous asters, columbine, pinks, and small ground- 
 orchids. These flower spaces were now vacant but for tiny 
 springing communities of chrysanthemum shoots, bare stems 
 of peony with swollen red buds at the tip, and a few indis- 
 pensable small pines. Beyond it all was the tall hedge of sa-sa 
 shutting out the street, and its ugly inner rind of thorn. 
 
 The eastern side of the house contained, so to speak, its ex- 
 ecutive offices, dining-room, servants' quarters, pantry, kitchen, 
 and well-shed. Along this portion (except by the kitchen, 
 which stepped down unaided to a bare earth floor) strips of 
 narrow veranda and convenient stepping-stones led into a 
 vegetable garden, small wood-yard, and strawberry patch. 
 The longest bit of veranda had the dignity of a rail, a
 
 108 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 mere upright strip of board, edged heavily on top with bam- 
 boo, and pierced with openings cut into the shapes of swallows. 
 
 It was here, the morning after Yuki's arrival, that the 
 women of the household were to be found. Suzume chattered 
 incessantly as she washed the breakfast-dishes and passed 
 inward to arrange them on the pantry shelves. Little Maru 
 San, a few feet away, out in the sunshine of the garden, 
 scrubbed at pieces of a ripped-up kimono in a tub that stood 
 high on its own three legs. Afterward she rinsed the bits and 
 spread them smoothly to dry on a board. The tailless white 
 cat, disdainfully satiate after a meal of tea, rice, and fish-bones, 
 curled itself up in a fork of the bare persimmon-tree to sleep. 
 Maru's favorite bantam cock, followed at a respectful distance 
 by two wives and an unidentified black chick, sauntered along 
 the kitchen drain, his yellow eye slanted for a swimming flake 
 of white. The clear, windless air had a smell of new-washed 
 leaves and of foreign violets. Yuki's heart stirred with the 
 deep homeliness of it all. Iriya, noting her expression, 
 asked brightly, "Is my dear one just a little happy to be at 
 home?" 
 
 " No, mother, not a little happy, but very, very happy. It 
 has been a long time." 
 
 Iriya was hanging out a bed-quilt of plaid silk, the squares 
 three feet across and of superb coloring. "Yes," she re- 
 peated, " it has been a long time." 
 
 "Why did you let me go at all? " cried Yuki, passionately. 
 "I was your only one. You must have missed me sorely. 
 Sometimes I feel that I never should have gone." 
 
 "Hush, my jewel." Iriya gave an apprehensive glance 
 toward the other side of the house. " Say not such words 
 where the kind father may hear. He was so proud of you. It 
 was his dearest wish, and Lord Hagane, our daimyo, advised 
 it also. You see, we had no son, and Tetsujo was not willing 
 to give me up that another wife might bring this hope to pass. 
 He has been a good master to me, has Onda Tetsujo." 
 
 A glow of loving pride softened the regret that this thought 
 of the son, that had not been given, always brought to her. 
 
 Suzume looked up from her dish-tub, wrinkling with shrewd 
 smiles. "You have no son but what of it ? Some day you
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 109 
 
 will have a grand son-in-law, a young prince, maybe. Yuki-ko 
 will make a marriage to bring glory to us all." 
 
 Yuki drooped her head. " I don't want to think of marriage 
 yet. I just want to stay here in this precious home and try to 
 win back some of those four long years which I have lost." 
 
 " But you are nineteen, Miss Yuki, nearer twenty, in 
 fact. A terrible age for a young lady of rank to be caught 
 single." 
 
 " I wish it could be as you wish, my Yuki," sighed Iriya. 
 "But, as Suzume says, you are nearing twenty. I pray the 
 gods that my sou-in-law may not be of too exalted station to 
 receive adoption into this family, instead of your being ab- 
 sorbed into his. That would be the greatest joy life holds for 
 me. But, alas ! I am a selfish, talkative old woman to let such 
 thoughts escape. I should wish your marriage to be only that 
 which may possibly serve your country and repay your father 
 for his sacrifices." 
 
 Yuki lifted a small queer look. "In America, where my 
 father sent me, I was taught, in the matter of marriage, to do 
 some of the thinking myself." 
 
 Iriya caught her breath. Suzume stopped washing to 
 stare. Maru, looking up with her round mouth formed for a 
 "Ma-a-a!" jostled the tub in her excitement. It went over 
 with a " swash." The soapy water, with drifting islands of 
 blue cloth, flowed out swiftly, carrying the pompous bantam 
 and his family on the unexpected tide. The cat opened one 
 green eye, then the other. 
 
 " Come, my child," said Iriya, quickly, to Yuki, " condescend 
 to bear me company to the guest-chamber. I have the flowers 
 to arrange. Perhaps, in America, you have learned some new 
 and beautiful composition." 
 
 Yuki's queer look deepened into a naughty little laugh and 
 shrug as she turned to obey. She knew perfectly why her 
 mother wished to get her from the hearing of Suzume and 
 Maru. Tokio is not free from gossip, and, though Suzume 
 was devoted to the family she served, she dearly loved the 
 start, the incredulity, the deepening interest of a listener's 
 face. 
 
 To her mother's last suggestion Yuki replied, " I fear not,
 
 110 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 mother. The only idea of arrangement they have in America 
 is to get many different flowers together, chop them to the 
 same length of stem, and push them down evenly into a shape- 
 less vase with other flowers painted on the sides." 
 
 " Ah," said Iriya, crestfallen and surprised, " we shall not 
 then adopt the foreign arrangement." 
 
 The mother and daughter clasped hands, swinging them as 
 children do, and moved along the narrow veranda. They 
 were now skirting the closed shoji of the dining-room. In 
 turning the corner, the plum-tree came into full sight. A 
 hundred blossoms must have opened since the dawn. Yuki 
 broke from her mother with a cry, ran to the tree, and threw 
 her arms about the great trunk. " Oh, you are the most beau- 
 tiful tree in the whole world ! " she said aloud, and looked with 
 adoration up into its shining branches. 
 
 As Iriya reached her, she lowered her gaze. " Do you re- 
 member, mother, that morning four years ago, when I went 
 away, how I clung to this tree last of all, sobbing from my 
 heart the poem that my father taught me ? 
 
 " Though bereft and poor, 
 
 I in exile wandering 
 Far on mount and moor, 
 Happy plum beside my door, 
 Oh, forget not thou the spring." 
 
 " I remember well," said Iriya, and drew her daughter's 
 outstretched hand to her cheek. 
 
 Something shone suddenly in Yuki's eyes. " And I wept so 
 passionately that father, half in tears himself, came and en- 
 treated me to cease. He said that if I shed more tears upon 
 it, his tree, like that of Michizane, might rise through the air 
 and follow me to exile." 
 
 " Yes," smiled Iriya ; " often have I recalled it in the time 
 of spring, standing under this tree alone." 
 
 " It really did follow me after all, you know," the girl went 
 on shyly. "It came at night, in dreams, when you and father 
 could not miss it. Did it ever fail to return before the 
 dawn ? " 
 
 " No," returned Iriya, with deep gravity. " The dear tree 
 loves us also. Never once did it fail to return."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 111 
 
 Tetsujo strode toward them from his study. "How can one 
 ponder on the classics, with pigeons cooing beneath his very 
 eaves ? " 
 
 Yuki clung to him. "You had the classics for four long 
 years when I was away." 
 
 "So had I water through those four long years, small 
 pigeon, yet while I live must I thirst. The classics feed 
 deep wells of the soul." 
 
 He put a strong, loving hand about her, and drew her near. 
 It sprang into Yuki's mind to speak now of her foreign 
 friends, to ask permission to visit them or, at least, to send 
 them her Tokio address. Pierre's beautiful face and blue 
 eyes reproached her. But this moment was too sweet for 
 jeopardy. She pressed her cheek against the rough blue cot- 
 ton of her father's shoulder. Iriya, stealing nearer, put also 
 a loving arm about the girl. The sunshine made a halo for 
 the three. The plum, loosening its first petals, sent them 
 down in fragrant benediction. 
 
 So her day passed, a wonderful day, steeped in love and 
 childish recollections. At night, the winds being chill, and 
 the fear of robbers inherent in the Japanese mind, all shoji, 
 and after them the wooden storm panels (amado), were tightly 
 drawn. In the ashes of the great brass hibachi balls of char- 
 coal glowed like incandescent apples. A lamp was suspended 
 from the ceiling, swinging but a few feet above their heads. 
 Here the four women of the household grouped themselves. 
 Tetsujo had 'gone out for a call. The pieces of kimono, ripped 
 and washed that morning by Maru San, were now to be re- 
 fashioned. Iriya, Suzuine, and Maru drew forth little sewing- 
 boxes and prepared for work. Yuki, half sitting, half lying 
 on the floor, fondled the tailless cat, and declared boldly that 
 she hated sewing and was not going to begin that part of a 
 Japanese woman's drudgery quite so early. 
 
 " All good wives love sewing, particularly on the master's 
 nightclothes," said Suzume, reprovingly, and peering over the 
 rim of huge horn spectacles toward the culprit. 
 
 " The o jo san will tell us something of foreign habits as 
 we sew," suggested Iriya, the peacemaker. 
 
 " Yes yes I will be what is called over there the
 
 112 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 bureau of information," laughed wilful Yuki. "Any ques- 
 tions from you, Mr. Cat ? " she cried, holding the drowsy 
 animal high above her and smiling into its blinking eyes. 
 " Do American cats like rice ? " " No." " Queer cats, you 
 say, and so they think of you." " Do they wear tails ? " 
 "Yes, long ones." "What do they use them for?" "For 
 getting pinched in doors." "No more questions, Pussy San? 
 Ah, you will never learn. Kuskin says that curiosity forms 
 tendrils of the mind." 
 
 " What I would like to feel sure of, honorable young lady, 
 is this," began Suzume, primly, with a disapproving glance 
 toward the cat. 
 
 "We are ready, Madame Suzume, speak on," said Yuki, 
 cuddling pussy back into her sleeve. 
 
 "Is it really true, as newspapers and pictures say, that 
 women over there, even women of decent character, go to 
 evening entertainments with no clothes above the waist, dance 
 with red-faced men until they are on the verge of apoplexy, 
 and then have to be restored by much fanning and a cold 
 medicine called ' punch ' ? " 
 
 " Not altogether, good nurse," said Yuki, fighting hard to 
 retain a semblance of gravity. " They wear cloth and flowers, 
 feathers and jewelry above the waist, and arrange them 
 with great beauty; but it is true that they dance with men, 
 and that their shoulders and arms are bare." 
 
 "That is a strange custom," mused Suzume. "Even our 
 Sacred Empress condescends to go with bare arms. Why, 
 I wonder, do they wish to expose arms more than legs ? 
 There is more leg, and in a supple young girl it is more 
 shapely." 
 
 " That is too hard a thing for me," laughed Yuki. " Well, 
 Maru, your eyes are big and solemn like the Owl San in our 
 pine. What is your question ? " 
 
 Maru, after much giggling and blushing, confessed to a desire 
 to know, once for all, whether foreigners had toes like real 
 people, or whether, as she had been assured from childhood, 
 they possessed but a single horny hoof, which, from desire to 
 hide the ugliness, they kept in pointed leather cases known 
 as shoes.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 113 
 
 " That is false entirely. I have seen hundreds of barefoot 
 children in America, and they all had ten toes, even as we." 
 
 Maru seemed cast down. " Ma-a-a ! what foolish tales are 
 spread," she murmured. " Doubtless the foreigners have 
 similar strange beliefs of us." 
 
 " It is what the great creatures eat that turns me sick," cried 
 old Suzume, and nearly perforated a finger in her vehemence. 
 " Their soup is like the contents of a slop-bucket, with warm 
 grease swimming on the top. The stuff would choke in a de- 
 cent person's throat. And then the great heaps of animal 
 flesh, and greasy vegetables, and implements like gardener's 
 tools to eat them with ! And then Kwannon preserve us 
 the unspeakable nightmares that come even after the tasting 
 of such food ! " 
 
 " Ara ! " cried the maid, roused to new excitement by this 
 recital of horror, " it is said that America is an honorably 
 highly civilized country, and Nippon merely a divine half- 
 civilized country, but I thank the gods who have given me to 
 live in this half-civilized country." 
 
 At bedtime, Yuki, creeping between soft, fragrant futons, 
 drew a deep sigh of childish content. The andon in the cor- 
 ner, shedding its gentle, paper-screened light, continued the 
 impression of sunshine. The girl smiled to find herself again 
 counting the lapped cedar boards of the ceiling, " Hitotsu 
 f utatsu mitsu yotsu " following them into uncertain 
 dimness at the far end of the chamber. As in childhood she 
 speculated upon the possibilities of that small black knot-hole 
 left vacant in the wood. How much smaller now it was than 
 four years ago ! Still there was a chance, a pygmy probability, 
 that a very small nedzumi might creep through, and, falling to 
 the floor, scamper over mats and bedding, and here came 
 the shudder ! over the very face of a sleeper. She drew the 
 bedclothes up spasmodically, then smiled to think how bright 
 would be the eyes of the little mouse, twinkling in semi-dark- 
 ness. In a moment more, with the smile still on her lips, she 
 was asleep. 
 
 So a second day passed, and a third, hushed, golden days, 
 too precious to be imperilled. With the fourth morning, 
 
 8
 
 114 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Sunday, caine a change. In the night a storm had risen, 
 sweeping down from Kamschatka along the Yezo coast to the 
 wide unsheltered plain of Yedo. Here it wallowed like a 
 great beast in a field, snorting with fury, crushing trees, fences, 
 and houses, and fighting back the black clouds that would 
 have crowded in upon it. 
 
 Through Yuki's troubled sleep came the sounds of vehicles 
 rattling on foreign streets, and the blurred chime of church- 
 bells. Her first conscious thought was, " It is Sunday. 
 Gwendolen and I must be sure to go to service." 
 
 The wooden amado of the house chattered with fright. The 
 wind gave long, derisive howls as it swept under the low- 
 hanging roof, clutched and shook the rafters, and then darted 
 out to the heart of the storm once more. Yuki realized slowly 
 that she was not in America at all, that she was at home, in 
 Tokio. With a slower, heavier recognition came the knowl- 
 edge that her friend Gwendolen was here also, and if she were 
 in Washington could not seem more remote. 
 
 She heard old Suzume and Maru straining to open the 
 amado, then Tetsujo's voice calling loudly from his chamber, 
 " Keep them all shut on the eastern side ! " 
 
 " Oh, my dear plum-tree ! It will be torn like mist," said 
 the girl aloud. She sat upright, patting instinctively the 
 loops of her hair, dressed now in Japanese fashion. The 
 floating wick of her andon fell over the edge of the saucer and 
 went out, leaving the room in grayer darkness. The foreign 
 clock that hung in the kitchen rang out the hour of seven. 
 " What gloom ! The storm must be terrible indeed ! " A 
 moment after the girl said, with a shudder, " This is the day 
 on which I am to speak of my love. I hear his voice calling 
 through the wind. I must wait no longer. Yes, I will speak 
 to-day." 
 
 At breakfast the small family of three was silent and pre- 
 occupied. The one glimpse they had taken of the shivering, 
 naked plum-tree would have sufficiently accounted for the 
 depression. Iriya and Yuki sat a little behind the master, 
 eating from their small rice-bowls, and attending in turn 
 upon his wants. As Suzume crept in to remove the half- 
 emptied dishes, Yuki said to her father, "Father, a little
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 115 
 
 later, when you have smoked and read your paper, may I 
 speak with you?" 
 
 " Why, certainly, my child," said Tetsujo, kindly, looking 
 up from the damp printed sheet he had already unfurled; 
 " though I may have but few thoughts apart from this terrible 
 storm." 
 
 " It is a terrible storm," shuddered Iriya. " A great cam- 
 phor-tree in the Zen Temple garden has fallen. It was a 
 goblin-tree, and the priests fear evil." 
 
 " I spoke not of the storm in the material universe, but of 
 that vast political tempest brewing over us. Our minister 
 leaves St. Petersburg to-morrow. War has practically come." 
 
 No comment was made. The three tacitly avoided, each, 
 the glance of the other. Iriya rose quietly, then Yuki. In 
 the door-frame the girl paused. "I shall return in half an 
 hour, father." 
 
 Tetsujo nodded. " I shall be here." 
 
 In her own room Yuki moved about mechanically, putting 
 into place her few indispensable possessions, a silver brush, 
 comb, and hand-glass, her white prayer-book and neat Bible, a 
 picture of Gwendolen in a burnt-leather frame, and a lacquered 
 box containing a second photograph, not of Gwendolen, and 
 a package of letters, all addressed in the same hand. She 
 fought to keep her imagination from the coming war. Its 
 dark omen only strengthened her determination to have 
 things understood. She prayed for strength and self-control. 
 Punctual to the moment she entered the guest-room, bowing 
 again to her father. He looked up from his brooding revery. 
 Something in the girl's face made him ask, "Ah, have you 
 indeed a matter of importance ? My little Yuki has gone. 
 This is a woman who comes to speak with me." 
 
 " Alas, father. Childhood, like the petals of the plum-tree, 
 vanishes at the breath of storms." 
 
 "What storm can have found you so early, my little one?" 
 
 Yuki drew in a long breath, and steadied herself for a delib- 
 erate reply. In the pause Tetsujo leaned out, and with one 
 motion of his powerful hand flung a panel of the shoji to one 
 side, giving a view of the drenched and storm-tormented 
 garden. On the veranda floor, usually so smooth, beaten
 
 116 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 plum-petals clung like bits of white leather. The drip from the 
 low-tiled roof enclosed them in the bars of a silver cage. 
 
 " This is my distress, father," began Yuki. "I am a Japa- 
 nese girl, with my first loyalty toward you and my native 
 country; yet, in that new land where you sent me, I 
 have come I have grown honorably to feel, almost without 
 warning, the influence of a person." 
 
 Tetsujo looked faintly surprised. " Indeed, I trust so, my 
 child. You would be but a poor, unresponsive creature to 
 have felt no influences. It is from such things that character 
 and knowledge are builded. There were many persons who 
 influenced you, I take it, some for good, perhaps some for 
 evil. To an intelligent mind a warning is valuable. Now, at 
 home, you will have the leisure to sort and adapt such impres- 
 sions, casting away those that are trivial and employing those 
 which may be of service to Japan." 
 
 "It is augustly as you indicate, dear father," returned 
 Yuki, the distress in her dark eyes deepening. " I attempted 
 to observe many things. But the influence I spoke of is not 
 that kind you are thinking. It it is a very special influ- 
 ence. In America they call it love." She bowed her 
 head over slightly. A faint pink tide of embarrassment 
 showed on her forehead and in the small bared triangle of 
 her throat. 
 
 Tetsujo controlled himself well. "You mean love 
 <ai ' - the love of a man and a woman who wish to marry? " 
 
 " In America one thinks very differently of such matters," 
 said Yuki, her eyes still lowered. " Yet I suppose the feeling 
 is honorably the same everywhere. Yes, father, it is of such 
 love that I now must tell you." 
 
 " We have many Japanese terms for Love," mused Tetsujo. 
 " Love of country, of Our Emperor, of parents, of beauty, of 
 virtue, but the term which you now employ should not be 
 spoken by a samurai to a woman not his wife. You pay a 
 high price for Western knowledge, my poor child, if already 
 the dew-breath of modesty has dried from your young life." 
 
 "Father," she pleaded, "I am still a Japanese. I know 
 how it must seem to you. I suffer in the speaking, but still 
 I must speak. I promised. I must speak."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 117 
 
 " You promised ? " echoed Tetsujo, and looked more keenly 
 into her shrinking face. " To whom could you have promised 
 such a thing ? " 
 
 " To him that one I first alluded to." She did not 
 attempt now to meet his eyes, but fingered nervously along 
 the edge of her sleeve. 
 
 " Can it be possible that in that country unmarried youths 
 speak in unmannerly directness to young women of such in- 
 timate affairs ? I had heard a hint of this unbelievable 
 indelicacy, and once your mother, Iriya, hinted that we 
 should warn you. But I scoffed then at the thought of your 
 needing the admonition. Alas ! being a woman, she knew you 
 better than I." 
 
 His head sank forward. Yuki twisted her slim hands into 
 wisps. " In America all speak of these things, father. They 
 think us immodest for other reasons, and foolishly sensitive 
 in this. The schoolgirls talk and the matrons. All 
 theatres treat of it and books are full of it. You sent me 
 no warning I could not know, of myself. Please, honorably, 
 restrain anger against me." 
 
 " I must not be angry," muttered Tetsujo, who now gave 
 every symptom of a rising storm of wrath. " I must be 
 calm. But gods! this is a foul spectre to meet at the very 
 outset ! Am I to understand that this man this person 
 spoke directly to you, and you listened without first re- 
 ceiving permission from your parents ? He could have gone, 
 at least, to my friend, and my country's representative, Baron 
 Kanrio." 
 
 "Father, father," cried the girl, "you are becoming angry. 
 I did not have the time to reflect. In America one does things 
 first and thinks about them afterward. I am not sure that 
 person ever has even met our noble baron." 
 
 If she hoped to palliate by this last disclosure she was 
 quickly undeceived. "The gamester the oaf! Insolent 
 fool ! An impostor unknown even by sight to your natural 
 guardian in a distant land! He must be an alien! No 
 Japanese not even a Yedo scavenger could have been 
 guilty of that misdeed ! " 
 
 " But he spoke quite openly to my best American friends,
 
 118 THE BREATH. OF THE GODS 
 
 the Todds," said Yuki, desperately. Tetsujo's rising excite- 
 ment and anger lapped like flames about this new thought. 
 
 " And that Mr. Todd, now corne to be minister in our 
 very home, did he encourage your filial impiety?" 
 
 " It was not so much Mr. Todd as Madame, his wife, and my 
 schoolmate, Gwendolen," admitted Yuki, with a sinking heart. 
 
 "Ah, I might have known it," said Tetsujo. His relief 
 was evident. "Only women! Mere cackling geese. America 
 echoes to their shrill voices. That is of no consequence." 
 
 " III that country women are of much consequence, and 
 everyone speaks openly of affairs of love and marriage," 
 persisted Yuki, who now clung half hopelessly to this one 
 tangible point. 
 
 " And you yourself ingrate would willingly bestow 
 yourself, without a word from me or your mother, upon a 
 man who is a stranger, and whose conduct, heard from your 
 partial lips, impresses me as characteristic of a fool and an 
 outcast ? " 
 
 His brows were black and twitching. Yuki knew that she 
 must take her stand now or never. " You see only the side 
 of Japanese convention, father. I have given to him a prom- 
 ise. When your consent and that of my mother are gained, I 
 shall be glad to be his wife." 
 
 Tetsujo started convulsively, then controlled himself. The 
 sudden checking in of passion recoiled through the very air. 
 With rigid hands he stuffed and lighted his small pipe. When 
 he spoke his voice sounded flat and hollow, like beaten wood. 
 
 " Such a promise, unratified by me, of course means nothing, 
 unless it be defiance of heaven and of natural decency. 
 It binds no one you least of all. Consider it unsaid." 
 
 Yuki looked directly upon him. Her soft feminine chin 
 grew a little squarer, more like his. " That promise is given, 
 father. Neither you nor I have power to recall it. It has 
 gained a living growth in the soul of a third person." She 
 turned half-closed eyes to the garden. Tetsujo went forward 
 in two small stiff jerks. His eyes fastened on her face, as 
 though he saw it for the first time. Veins swelled in his 
 neck, and the fingers on his small pipe-stem grew slowly flat, 
 like the heads of adders.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 119 
 
 "Is that you speaking, Onda Yuki?" he asked. "The 
 gods grant that I wake from this dream ! But if it be reality, 
 then sorrow is to come. If this man be a foreigner, let him 
 stay in his own land ! You are mine utterly, at my disposal 
 in marriage as in all else. There are ways, in Japan, to curb 
 such mad demons as those that now look at me through your 
 eyes. Go ! leave me. I shall hear no more of this, or else 
 it may be that I shall forget my fatherhood, as you your 
 obligations. Go ! " 
 
 " Father," said Yuki, quietly, " you must hear more of this 
 or drive me from the house. You owe me consideration and 
 justice ; for the ideas that I have, you yourself sent me to 
 America to gain. You even let me be a Christian. With the 
 Christians marriage is a sacred thing " 
 
 " Be still ! " said Tetsujo, in a terrible, low voice. His pipe 
 dropped to the floor. The coal burrowed itself, a charred and 
 smoking ring, into the fragrant matting. The odor was that 
 of field-grass burning. The man rocked himself to and fro 
 for control. His lean, hands plunged deep into his sleeves, 
 and grasped, one each, a jerking arm. He was terrified at his 
 own obsession of fury, and his soul warned him against a 
 yielding to his madness. His greenish twisted lips writhed 
 horribly once or twice before the next words came. One 
 corner of his mouth went far down at the corner. His words 
 hissed from a small distorted aperture near the chin. " You 
 were allowed to turn Christian for the acquiring knowledge of 
 their foolish creed. I believed that the soul of a samurai's 
 daughter, of my daughter, would be untainted by the 
 immoral portions of their doctrine. I see now my credulity ! 
 Gods ! I will consume myself with this heat ! When, you 
 marry wench, which shall be soon, if your Japanese 
 husband approves not of Christianity, you will cease to be 
 Christian ! " 
 
 The two pairs of eyes met, hard, flashing, defiant. Yuki 
 rose to her feet. He sprang after her. His right hand now 
 felt instinctively for the sword-hilts which should have been 
 at his hip. The leering, down-drawn mouth twitched and 
 writhed. 
 
 " Your words do not lash from me my heritage of race ! "
 
 120 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 she cried aloud. " I am still your daughter, a samurai's 
 daughter ! " With a movement like light she stripped back 
 her left sleeve, baring a white, blue-threaded arm. " Because 
 I am a samurai's daughter I refuse a coward's obedience! 
 Hot blood of a samurai stings these veins no less than those 
 bronze arteries you clutch. Show me reason and I will listen. 
 Apart from that I defy you ! I shall be faithful to the man 
 I love even though your legal rights prevent our happiness. 
 Turn me into the street, slay me with your own hand, I 
 shall not be compelled into a marriage of your choosing!" 
 
 Onda clutched his throat. The breath came gurgling like a 
 liquid. For an instant it seemed as if he must hurl himself 
 bodily upon her. Then he stumbled backward against the 
 plaster wall of the room, clawing at its tinted surface. Yuki's 
 eyes never left him. Now he lurched again toward her, then 
 fell back, shaken like a jointed puppet by his own consuming 
 rage. " Gods of my Ancestors ! Demons of the deepest 
 Hell! Go, go! lest indeed I slay you. You fiend you 
 hannia ! From my sight, I say ! I cannot endure " 
 
 He cowered again, striking himself into temporary blind- 
 ness with one powerful fist. 
 
 "I go, father, in obedience, not in fear," said the girl's 
 clear voice. He sprawled forward, and fell, sobbing like an 
 exhausted runner. Yuki covered her face and went.
 
 CHAPTEK TEN 
 
 WITH the Imperial Restoration in Japan an event, in time, 
 just thirty-five years before the date mentioned at the begin- 
 ning of this story many of the nobles of Japan met with 
 ruin. This was especially the case with the "hatamoto," 
 a class directly dependent for revenue and patronage upon the 
 favor of the usurping " Shogun." The real Emperor, then a 
 boy of sixteen, living in seclusion at Kioto, was still nominal 
 ruler and spiritual head of the government, forming a sort of 
 " Holy Roman Empire," translated into terms of Buddhism. 
 When, as a result of revolution and many sharp, fierce battles, 
 this boy was brought in triumph to take his rightful place as 
 temporal ruler also, with a new court in the great capital of 
 Tokio, the Shogun, direct descendant of the mighty lyeyasu, 
 went into dignified retirement. Over-rich monasteries and 
 temples, arrogant after centuries of Tokugawa benefice, were 
 forced to part with broad lands, and even, in certain instances, 
 with personal treasure. The simpler " Shinto " faith, an in- 
 digenous nature-spirit and ancestor-worshipping creed, opposed 
 its principles to gorgeous Buddhist forms. The pure spirit of 
 the younger faith and the profundities of its philosophy did 
 not suffer. The blow was aimed at externals. The child-like 
 Japanese soul to-day kneels with equal sincerity at a wayside 
 Shinto shrine or before the gold-hung altars of Sakyamuni. 
 
 This revolution, then, was threefold and complete. Pol- 
 itics, religion, society, shifted within their national circle and 
 assumed new aspects. The centre of all was the young ruler, 
 Mutsuhito. Now the "kuge," or court nobles of Kioto, who 
 had willingly shared retirement and comparative poverty with 
 this true descendant of the gods, came again into power. But 
 besides these two classes, the hatamoto and other dependent 
 samurai, and the kuge, was still a third, the most important, 
 the daimyo or feudal lords of the empire. Some. among thes^e
 
 122 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 had never yet given satisfactory hostages to the Shoguns, and 
 lived always in a state of insolent pride and suppressed insur- 
 rection. At need of their Emperor, the true mettle of their 
 loyalty rang out. Men, money, lives, property, were poured 
 out like water for this beloved cause. Those who had been 
 haughtiest to the Shoguns bowed now in deepest reverence 
 to the boy Mutsuhito, in whose veins ran the blood of their 
 ancient dynasty. He was to them truly divine ; not in the im- 
 possible, superstitious sense, but as a sort of human channel 
 flowing between the old gods and modern men. Through him 
 were reconstruction and new national glory to be gained. A 
 life laid down in his cause were but newly come alive. 
 
 Prominent among such patriots was the old Daimyo of 
 Konda, father of the present Prince Hagane. His title more 
 literally translated would be that of " Duke," or " Feudal 
 Prince." His lands, lying far to the south, with a rough chan- 
 nel to divide them from the mainland, held almost a separate 
 and independent existence. His chief province, and the one 
 from which he took his title, was Konda. "Hagane" was 
 the family name. At the first hint of national uprising the 
 old daimyo, abandoning his own loved home, came at once to 
 Kioto, and later made the journey with the young Ernperor 
 to Yedo. By right he assumed the place of guardian and ad- 
 viser. The old daimyo was, as it chanced, somewhat learned 
 in foreign matters, and this, in spite of the Shogun's rigid 
 exclusion of all things foreign, of the death-penalty to any 
 Japanese attempting to leave Japan, or, having managed to 
 leave, attempting to return. This was a mighty armor of 
 self-protection to the Tokugawa policy ; but, in common with 
 most armor, it had just one small flaw. In this case the flaw 
 was a tiny island, granted to the Dutch, called " Deshima." 
 Not far from the Konda borders lay this innocent fleck of 
 earth, surrounded by blue native seas, and overgrown, like 
 other islands, with tall feathery bamboo, camellia, and cam- 
 phor trees ; and yet, because of its existence, Hagane gained 
 foreign books, from it he smuggled a Dutch interpreter who 
 could read and write not only his own language, but Japan- 
 ese. Other curious minds drew near this spring of knowledge ; 
 and, partly because of it, long before Perry's expedition to
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 123 
 
 the Far East, the Japanese people had become restless, eager, 
 awake, and in ferment for a national readjustment. 
 
 Hagane's one son, Sanetomo, a few years older than the 
 boy Emperor, and reared as nearly in friendship with him as 
 reverence would allow, was among the first youths of his class 
 to travel in Europe, and to acquire any European language. 
 Upon his father's death, he was asked by the Emperor to 
 take at once the offices and semi-royal prerogatives of the 
 lamented elder statesman. All the daimyos had received 
 national bonds for the alienation of their fiefs ; and thus 
 those who had been most powerful still enjoyed great wealth 
 in their own right. 
 
 With the Emperor once firmly established, etiquette and 
 the restrictions of court-life began to prove irksome to San- 
 etomo. One could have continued to practise fine manners 
 under the Shoguns. Here to-day was something better. A 
 new army was to be formed; after that a new navy. Hagane 
 advised adaptation of tactics from the German military school, 
 its unbending automatonisrn appearing to him a safe restric- 
 tion for enthusiastic beginners. From the first, however, his 
 mind had been fixed upon the administrative methods of that 
 marvellous small heart of an enormous empire, England. Japan 
 should be to the Far East what England had become to the 
 West. What one island had accomplished, that also could 
 another do. 
 
 The Japanese nation as a whole went reeling drunk with 
 over-potations of foreign ideas. For a while it seemed that 
 everything Japanese was to be swept away. The small op- 
 position party, frenzied by the apparition, took hideous re- 
 venge in murder, assassination, and suicide. Hagane's faith 
 did not for a moment waver. After excess comes nausea, 
 reaction. So had his countrymen, in more than one epoch 
 now long past, drunk in the new. In time they would reject 
 the unneedful, and infuse new power in what they had adopted. 
 The thinkers of his empire could afford to wait. 
 
 When the new constitution was promulgated in February, 
 1889, there was rejoicing such as this old earth seldom sees. 
 Hagane was created Minister of War. This position he had 
 continued to hold, with varying intervals. He was now the in-
 
 124 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 cumbent. Much of his time was spent, perforce, in the " for- 
 eign " official residence, well within sight of the Imperial moats. 
 Most of such edifices in Tokio are depressing. This was par- 
 ticularly cheerless. The house of brick, wood, and plaster, 
 chiefly plaster, stood full two stories high, was of ample dimen- 
 sions, and had a huge, square, blue-tiled roof. Though planned 
 and built by the most artistic nation now alive, it had not one 
 line of beauty, nor one successful effort after fine proportion. 
 In these early days it seemed an accepted creed among the 
 Japanese that anything to be truly "foreign" must neces- 
 sarily offend the eye; yet, thought the ingenuous pupils, 
 since ugliness apparently goes in the company of wealth, 
 power, material welfare, and political recognition, why, by 
 all means, let us be uglier than the foreigners themselves ! 
 
 Around the house lay something called a garden, a watery 
 emulsion of American flower beds and a Japanese landscape 
 creation. The effect of the whole place was amorphous, 
 unstable, depressing, with the one redeeming feature of big- 
 ness. 
 
 Onda Tetsujo, speeding toward this haven in his hired 
 jinrikisha, rattled along the uneven stone of the street, and 
 then turned into the one great entrance of the imposing shell. 
 The garden wall had a secret gate or two, but these were gen- 
 erally kept bolted. The storm of the early morning was 
 abating. A drizzling, discouraged rain, with irregular gusts 
 of wind through it, persisted in efforts to exclude all cheer. 
 Onda knocked at one of the rear doors of the Japanese wing, 
 and was but little surprised to hear, from, the man who 
 opened for him, that his Excellency the Prince, having trans- 
 acted all official business for the day, had now retired to his 
 " besso " (villa) on the high land of suburban " Tabata." 
 
 Onda re-entered his vehicle and gave the curt order, 
 " Tabata." In the street he added, " Call an atoshi, and pull 
 up the hood and oil-cloth." An atoshi, or " Mr. After," was 
 summoned, the oil-cloth hood of the jinrikisha drawn far over 
 and held in place by a single black cord knotted to one 
 shaft. A sort of oil-cloth lap-robe, hung up in front and 
 hooked to the inner lining of the hood, afforded complete im- 
 munity from wetting. Within the careful adjustment sat
 
 125 
 
 Tetsujo, blinking and scowling. The day had brought him a 
 new and unwelcomed experience, defiance from a woman. 
 He wondered, as he was dragged along the viscid street, 
 whether, in the happy, vanished feudal days, any warrior of 
 his clan had known a similar indignity. There was on record 
 the case of a wilful bride who, married against her wishes to 
 an Onda chief, had disguised herself in a suit of armor grown 
 too small for him, and sought heroic death in battle. But 
 even this was better than open insult and defiance. Well, 
 Yuki must be watched closely. Her education and beauty 
 were not to be thrown away on a foreigner who, likely as not, 
 would tire of and desert her. She must marry a young Japan- 
 ese already well along on the way to official or military pro- 
 motion. When this Russian war came, Japan would need all 
 her people, men and women. His only child should not be 
 given over to the loose affections of a foreigner. He scowled 
 anew at the thought, and gave so savage a sound that his 
 coolies stopped short in the road to inquire whether the 
 honorable master were in pain. 
 
 " No," growled Tetsujo, in return, " a warrior does not feel 
 pain ; that is for babes and women." 
 
 A few minutes later the redoubled grunts and groans of his 
 bearers evidently sharing shamelessly the weaker preroga- 
 tives of the other sex told Tetsujo that they had begun the 
 ascent of the Tabata slope. At the eastern edge, where the 
 hill goes down like a cliff, and one looking far out over rice- 
 fields sees the Sumida River finding a shining road to Tokio, 
 and the great twin peaks of Tsukuba-yama standing guard 
 over the other half of the world, spread the broad eaves of 
 Prince Hagane's villa. 
 
 Onda gave a sigh of relief as he stepped out under the 
 door-roof. 
 
 " tanomi moshimasu ! " (I make request) he called, rap- 
 ping on the closed shoji panels with his knuckles. 
 
 "Hai!" came almost instantly from within, and a house- 
 maid was on her knees pushing the panels softly aside, a hand 
 on each. 
 
 " The august one is he within ? " asked the visitor. 
 
 " Hai ! Illustrious Sir. Deign to mount the step, and, seat-
 
 12C THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ing yourself on the hard mats, be refreshed by our tasteless 
 tea and worthless cakes, while I hasten to announce your joy- 
 giving appearance." 
 
 Tetsujo dismissed his kuruma men, shook off his shoes, and 
 remained seated on the mats, still with folded arms, still deep 
 in thought. The little maid, returning quickly, murmured 
 that " the noble master would receive his honorable guest at 
 once." 
 
 Prince Hagane sat alone in the great room, immediately 
 surrounded by boxes and trays with tea, writing, and smoking 
 outfits. There was one beautiful hibachi, or firepot, of ham- 
 mered brass. An English book on International Law lay on 
 the floor beside him among newspapers in Japanese, Chinese, 
 English, French, and German. Passages in these papers had 
 been heavily marked by the blue and red pencil still held in 
 the reader's hand. He did not rise or bow as Tetsujo en- 
 tered, merely turning his face "toward the opened fusuma and 
 saying, "Most welcome, good Tetsujo. Enter and forget the 
 storm." 
 
 " I fear I have brought the storm in with me, your High- 
 ness," Tetsujo could not refrain from crying. He fell on his 
 knees just within the door, bowed many times, and drew in 
 his breath loudly. Hagane lifted an unread newspaper and 
 made several markings while Tetsujo continued his genu- 
 flections. Having at last completed a number satisfactory to 
 his sense of propriety, he sat upright. Hagane folded this 
 last paper, and put it into a heap with the others. 
 
 " Draw nearer," he said with a smile. " It is a day for 
 a chat between old friends. No, be not so humble nearer 
 yet I insist. Now that is better and more companionable. 
 Pour yourself some tea." 
 
 "Honors are heaped upon your unworthy servant," rejoined 
 Onda, pouring tea, first for the prince, then for himself. " I 
 have just come from the official residence of your Highness. 
 How cold and un-homelike appear all foreign houses ; while 
 this " he paused to look slowly around " this warms a 
 man's heart to see." 
 
 " Though insignificant, it has a certain restfulness," ad-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 127 
 
 mitted the host. "Lacking a mistress, it cannot seem in 
 reality a home." 
 
 Tetsujo's face clouded. " Speak not to me of mistresses, 
 Lord," he mumbled sourly. 
 
 Hagane gave him a queer glance, but said nothing. He 
 understood well the nature of his own kerai. So angular a 
 thought as now distressed him must soon work its way to the 
 surface of speech. "To-day I am in mind of the Chinese 
 sage who taught us that all women are mere manifestations 
 of demoniac force. They are sent here to tempt us to test 
 to torment. Would that I could reach a heaven of warriors, 
 untainted by their sex ! " 
 
 " Surely, my Tetsujo," interrupted Hagane, gravely, " those 
 of your household bring no torment. I have never known a 
 better wife than Iriya." 
 
 " I complain not of Iriya," said the other, a hint of excite- 
 ment creeping into his voice ; " but, Lord, had you seen that 
 ingrate that I must call my daughter ! Had you seen Yuki an 
 hour since, you would have perceived what the Chinese mean 
 by she-demons." 
 
 "Yuki!" echoed Hagane, this time in genuine surprise. 
 " Is there not some mistake? Yuki is spirited ; but I cannot 
 picture her as a demon!" 
 
 " I will honorably relate the event. My heart, with the 
 memory, seethes and bubbles as a small cauldron." In a voice 
 often shaken from control by passion, with a dark countenance 
 slowly deepening into a bronze red of agitation, Tetsujo im- 
 parted the story of his child's defiance. Not once did Prince 
 Hagane lift his head, not even when Tetsujo, beating the 
 matted floor in his rage, roared out, " Her eyes flashed, my 
 Lord, like those of a dragon-maid in battle ! They scorched 
 me like sparks ! They would not fall though I sent out the 
 whole volume of my will to quench them. It was defiance 
 defiance naked and unashamed ! The very air around 
 me turned to flame. Murder dried my tongue. Had I worn 
 my short swords as of old, " 
 
 Hagane gave an exclamation and looked up. " What then ! 
 Are you yourself a demon, Tetsujo, or a father ? Scorn to 
 you, thus speaking of a maid ! It was your own strong spirit
 
 128 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 darting upon you from her bright eyes. Gods ! the look of 
 her must have been magnificent ! " 
 
 " Magnificent ! Yes, as hell, perhaps, is magnificent ! Think 
 you not, Lord, that she deserves death for such impiety ? " 
 
 "My poor Tetsujo," said Hagane, "I pray you, quaff more 
 tea and be calm. You alone cannot walk backward, when the 
 rest of the nation races to the fore. Yuki's death for such 
 a cause would certainly mean your hanging, and, in my 
 opinion, a fate that you would well deserve. Come now, let 
 us reason like men, not squirm and crackle like live devil-fish 
 thrown upon coals. The point of the matter is, that your 
 daughter wishes to marry one of her choice, and not one of 
 yours. Naturally, you oppose this." 
 
 "Oppose !" echoed Tetsujo, straining in his seat, " I forbid 
 it ! I defy her to attempt it ! Should she persist, she shall 
 have my curse and that of my ancestors ' 
 
 "Nay, nay, my Tetsujo, be calm. Anger is the worst 
 leak in a man's store of self-respect. I cannot talk further 
 until you grow calm." He paused and slowly poured for him- 
 self a cup of tea, as if to give the old warrior time for self- 
 recollection. 
 
 Tetsujo drew a tenugui from his sleeve, mopped his damp 
 brow, pulled his kimono collar into smoother folds, and settled, 
 by degrees, into an appearance of tranquillity. Now and again 
 a small convulsive shudder still passed over him, a movement 
 involuntary and uncontrollable, such as is seen in a runaway 
 horse brought suddenly to a stand. 
 
 " Now let me question," began Hagane's deep tones again. 
 " Answer nothing, my friend, but what I ask. Are you cer- 
 tain that this man, whom our little Yuki thinks she loves, is, 
 indeed, a foreigner ? " 
 
 "I am not honorably certain, your Highness, even of so 
 much. But I think he is a foreigner. No Japanese, not even 
 a street scavenger of Yedo, as I told her " 
 
 Hagane raised a hand for silence. " You should, first of 
 all, have ascertained his race, his name, and his profession. 
 He may be a hired Russian spy for all we know." 
 
 Tetsujo almost bounded from his place. " A Russian spy ! 
 God of Battles, I thought not of that ! "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 129 
 
 "And did you bethink yon to inquire whether the person 
 had already followed her to this country ? " 
 
 Tetsujo's eyes rolled fearfully. He found no ready words. 
 "My Lord my Lord " he gasped. 
 
 " You now perceive, Tetsujo, there are better things for a 
 man to do with his wits than ignite them, and, with the burn- 
 ing bits, play a foolish jugglery. Our first concern is to find 
 out whether or not that man is here." 
 
 Tetsujo bowed over to hide his chagrin. " Your wisdom is 
 that of Do-ku and Benkei Sanaa in one," he murmured. 
 
 Hagane stuffed and lighted a small pipe. " When you met 
 your daughter on the hatoba at Yokohama were there young 
 males of the party ? " 
 
 " Hai, master. I recall now two strange and alert ones who 
 appeared to be young." 
 
 " Was one of a pink color, like buds of a kaido bloom, and 
 eyes a deep-blue color ? " 
 
 " All were red and hideous. The one who tried to speak 
 with me had rice-straw on his head in place of decent hair." 
 
 " Ah," said Hagane, puffing at his pipe. 
 
 "Yes, your Highness, and in our conversation she informed 
 me that the Todds were well aware of her shameful passion, 
 and that the women upheld it." 
 
 Silence fell between the men. Tetsujo bit his finger-nails 
 in his impatience. 
 
 "In three more days," began the other, slowly, "Mr. Todd 
 will be formally presented to his Sacred Majesty ; after that 
 ceremony he will not, I think, permit his women to aid Yuki 
 in a marriage which is against your wishes and mine." 
 
 Onda gave a joyful start. 
 
 "Wait," said Hagane, "there is more to be said; I must 
 take a moment's counsel with myself." At these words he 
 fell into a reverie so profound that his spirit seemed to be 
 absent from his breathing body. 
 
 Tetsujo controlled himself as best he could. The whole 
 affair was galling to his pride. He resented even Hagane's 
 knowing of the indignity; yet he had no recourse but 
 Hagane. The rain-water, trickling with a sound of dull clink- 
 ing coins down the tin corner-spouts, irritated him to madness. 
 
 9
 
 130 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 He hated the little wet sparrows Avho sat up under the eaves 
 and exchanged uncomplimentary remarks about the weather. 
 Hagane's power of concentration was in itself reproof and 
 another source of irritation. The great man came to himself 
 without a start. 
 
 " Listen, Onda Tetsujo, I will offer advice, but it must be 
 taken entire. I will have no variation, mind you, or personal 
 addition." 
 
 "I shall receive it humbly, on my head," grumbled the 
 kerai. 
 
 Hagane controlled a smile. " Upon your return, treat the 
 maiden gently. Defiance is her best armor. We must not be 
 harsh. Win her confidence by renewed kindnesses. If pos- 
 sible, bend your haughty will to the point of expressing regret 
 for this morning's anger." 
 
 " Excuse myself to a woman to my own daughter ! " 
 
 "I shall not insist upon that point. I said only if it were 
 possible. Some things are not possible, even to a Buddha." 
 
 " And this is even such," cried Tetsujo. 
 
 "Let it pass. My purpose may be accomplished without. 
 It is indispensable, however, that you be kind. Give to her, 
 unsolicited, permission to invite the women of the Todd family 
 to your home." 
 
 " This, too, is difficult," muttered Tetsujo ; " but with the 
 aid of Fudo Bosatsu (Bodhisattwa of the Fiery Immovability) 
 I can achieve it." 
 
 "Excellent," said the other; "now for my part. I will, 
 on the day of Mr. Todd's presentation, arrange for a banquet 
 here at Tabata, to which I will invite the family of Mr. 
 Todd and also the two young men whom you saw at Yoko- 
 hama. If Yuki's foreign lover is here at all, he is of that 
 party." 
 
 " I am not worthy of such deep thought and consideration 
 at your hands, Lord," said Tetsujo, gratefully. 
 
 "Be not deceived. It is for Yuki's sake as well. Since 
 her early childhood I have watched with deep interest the 
 growth of her fine intellect and the development of her 
 unusual beauty. Lacking children of my own, I have felt 
 something of a father's affection for her. I too wish to keep
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 131 
 
 her for Japan. I approve not the thought of a foreign 
 marriage." 
 
 Tetsujo lifted his head. " One question more, your High- 
 ness. Is it your belief that Yuki will surely betray herself, if 
 indeed the foreign devil whom she she well , the foreign 
 devil, should arrive ? " 
 
 "I think she cannot utterly deceive us both," said Hagane, 
 diplomatically. 
 
 Still Onda looked doubtful. "Yesterday I should have 
 said the same ; but since this defiance this exhibition of 
 unwomanly strength " 
 
 "My life has been one long school of human character. 
 Yuki will not deceive us both," reiterated the Prince. 
 
 " I am content. I will now remove my worthless body 
 from your sight, having claimed already far too much of your 
 august consideration." Tetsujo bowed and rose. The other 
 rose also, following him half across the room. 
 
 " There is yet one bit of counsel," said he. "For the next 
 three days, until the banquet, Yuki must not leave the house 
 alone. Let her go where she will, Tetsujo, but be you always 
 near. If a foreigner should force entrance, or stop your 
 daughter on the street, allow no private speech between them ; 
 and if he persist, as mad foreigners will, call the nearest 
 guard, and make free use of my name." 
 
 "Your mercy is as wide as Heaven, Lord," murmured the 
 kerai, as he finally took his departure. 
 
 Through the gentle and most willing mediator, Iriya, Tet- 
 sujo transmitted his willingness to receive Yuki's foreign 
 friends. This sudden clemency, riding on the very back of 
 fury, turned to the girl a masked face of new fear. She knew 
 her father incapable of such sudden reversion, or of the sub- 
 tlety implied. A stronger power was behind him. She was 
 to be watched and experimented upon. Yet, in spite of this 
 intuitive belief, she could not put aside the opportunity of 
 seeing her friend, of hearing from her lover. 
 
 A messenger bore her carefully worded note to the Ameri- 
 can Legation. Mrs. Todd and Gwendolen responded almost 
 instantly. The former overwhelmed her with endearments
 
 132 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 and reproaches, an exhibition embarrassing to the girl and 
 terrifying to Iriya. The servants peeped in through chinks 
 in the hall shoji, and at this sight Maru clapped a hand to 
 her mouth to keep from shrieking, and, fleeing to the back- 
 yard, rocked to and fro, sobbing, " The big foreign lady is 
 eating our young mistress ; oh, what terrible creatures are 
 the foreigners ! " 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Todd, happily unconscious of the effect 
 she was producing, continued her volley of ejaculations. 
 "My dearest child! Such relief when your note came. 
 Gwendolen and I were almost distracted, were n't we, Gwen- 
 dolen ? Of course Cyrus called us geese, and said we were 
 making mountains out of mole-hills ; but Cy is always dis- 
 agreeable when we get into a twitter. But I can assure you, 
 my dear, there is one man at least who does not think us 
 silly; he has been worse off than either of us, hasn't he, 
 Gwennie?" 
 
 " Be careful be careful," said Yuki, in a low voice. 
 
 Iriya was in the room, a very figure-head of a hostess with 
 her reserved, timid ways and lack of fluent English. She 
 managed now by gestures, and a very careful use of certain 
 phrases learned by rote from a book of foreign etiquette, to 
 invite her guests to be seated. When this was accomplished, 
 not without many suppressed grunts from the stout lady, 
 Gwendolen managed to get near her friend, and to put out a 
 cool, slim hand, with a pressure of re-assuring love. Yuki 
 clasped the hand quickly, but did not forget another warning 
 look. She leaned next toward the great cluster of hot-house 
 flowers which the American girl wore at her belt, and, under 
 cover of examining them, whispered, " My father is already 
 opposed to me. I do not know what to do. Even writing a 
 letter is impossible. Only tell him to be patient, and have 
 faith." 
 
 "He's beside himself," returned Gwendolen, in the same 
 suppressed voice. " He carries on like a girl at a matinee ; 
 but this word from you will help him. Of course all of us 
 knew that something was going wrong." 
 
 Mrs. Todd, to divert attention from the whisperers, engaged 
 Iriya in vociferous conversation. " Yuki back again ! You
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 133 
 
 very happy? " she asked in a loud voice, as if her hostess 
 were deaf. 
 
 "Yes," rejoined Iriya, timidly, in English, "we are quite 
 hap-pee." 
 
 " Why, she understands beautifully ! " cried Mrs. Todd to 
 the two girls, in triumph, as at a personal achievement. 
 
 " Mother reads English well, and even in talking she under- 
 stands things, when one is thoughtful to speak slowly and 
 emphatic, as you have done, dear Mrs. Todd. But she is bash- 
 ful about the trying," said Yuki. 
 
 " She needn't be, I 'm sure! " cried the matron. " She pro- 
 nounces real well. But it 's a never-ending marvel to me how 
 these people pick it up. Why, there 's hardly a shop in the 
 Ginza where they don't talk it! I'm sure I'll never catch on 
 to your queer language, Yuki-ko, if I live here a hundred 
 years." 
 
 " Come look at my dear plum-tree that I used to talk about 
 in America," said Yuki to Gwendolen, rising as she spoke. 
 Iriya looked up in consternation. Her artless face showed 
 perfectly that she had been forbidden to let Yuki from her 
 sight. Behind a certain closed fusuma panel, the one opening 
 directly into Tetsujo's study, came a very low sound, as if of 
 a stifled cough. Yuki threw a sad little smile back over her 
 shoulder to Iriya. "I am not going from the veranda, 
 mother," she said in English. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " whispered Gwendolen, as they reached 
 the further side of the room, " are you a condemned prisoner 
 already ? " 
 
 "No," said Yuki, "but I am a watched one. -It is too 
 humiliating." 
 
 " Are they afraid Pierre will run away with you? " 
 
 " They know nothing of Pierre, only that I wish to choose 
 for myself the man I am to marry. They do not even cer- 
 tainly know that he is a foreigner. I must keep them from 
 knowing, or they will be more angrier yet." 
 
 " Your father is not exactly a lover of foreigners, is he ? " 
 asked Gwendolen, dryly. 
 
 Yuki gave a sorry little smile. " And a Frenchman, Gwen- 
 dolen, a Frenchman with the Russian mother ! It is going
 
 134 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 to be a long, hard fight, like the coming war itself. But I 
 must be brave. My promise I have given to Pierre." 
 
 "Poor darling," cried Gwendolen, clasping her closer, "I 
 almost wish you had ii't ; but, of course, when one is in love, 
 I have a letter for you here. Shall you dare take it ?" 
 
 Yuki flushed and looked miserable, as she said, " Yes, I shall 
 take it, though I must use the deceit. I will for the first 
 time deceive. When we go back, put it on the floor in your 
 handkerchief, and I will take it up. I feel to be sick at the 
 thought of such treachery to my parents ; but what am I to 
 do?" 
 
 Neither had much thought for the beautiful plum-tree now 
 opening optimistic blooms after the storm of yesterday. As 
 the girls came into the room together, Mrs. Todd said to Yuki, 
 " Your mother tells me that you are all invited to the banquet 
 of Prince Hagane for next Friday." 
 
 "Yes," said Yuki, smiling and seating herself near the 
 speaker, " we have accepted ; but at the last moment mother 
 will find some good excuse for staying away. She always does. 
 Is not that true, Mama San ? " 
 
 The substance of the loving gibe being translated, Iriya 
 blushed and tittered, and put her face to her sleeve, like any 
 schoolgirl. " Naugh-tee Yuki-ko," she managed to say, " make 
 bad talk of Mama San ! " 
 
 At this moment the bell of the entrance gate gave a jangle 
 unusually loud and abrupt. Immediately bare feet of ser- 
 vants were heard scurrying about the floors of the house. 
 Iriya drew her head erect to listen. " It is another honorable 
 visitor," she murmured, and half arose, sinking back, as she 
 remembered her husband's injunction. 
 
 Yuki's heart had begun to beat. There was something most 
 un-Japanese in the harsh, sudden clamor of the tiny bell. 
 Masculine footsteps, unmistakably in foreign shoes, came 
 around by the kitchen side of the house through rows of green 
 " na," and crunched the gravel of the paths. Yuki's face went 
 white. This was a breach of etiquette possible only to a 
 foreigner, and to one newly arrived in Japan. 
 
 As the group of four women gazed outward, not knowing 
 what to expect, Pierre Le Beau's high-bred, sensitive face, a
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 135 
 
 little worn by the suspense of the past three days, came around 
 the corner, and stared at them across the narrow, polished 
 veranda. Yuki and Iriya were alike incapable of speech. 
 A sulphurous, low growl was heard behind the fusuma. 
 
 "Shake off your shoes and join us," caine Mrs. Todd's 
 loud, jovial command. 
 
 " If Miss Onda repeats the invitation," said he, with eyes 
 upon the shrinking girl. 
 
 Iriya bowed without realizing what she did. It was against 
 all decency for women to receive, alone, a male visitor. She 
 longed to call her husband, but did not dare. For once in 
 her courteous, quiet life, Iriya Onda was at a loss what to do. 
 Yuki made up her mind quickly. Though her heart longed, 
 burned to have him near, she knew that he must be sent 
 away. If he came in, Tetsujo would realize instantly who it 
 was, and would transmit the knowledge to his shrewder and 
 more far-sighted monitor. She was helpless, alone, unarmed, 
 but none the less determined to fight the battle of a love to 
 which she had promised fidelity. With effort she raised 
 herself to a stiff, upright posture, and, keeping her voice 
 clear and cold, she said, " Sir, if my honored father were at 
 home he would doubtless entreat you to enter, but in his 
 absence, neither my mother nor myself have authority to 
 take that pleasant duty upon ourselves. If you will pardon 
 my great rudeness, sir, we shall need to be excused from 
 receiving you at all." 
 
 For an instant the young man stared. Slowly his face 
 grew white. He gave one glance of concentrated love, pain, 
 and resentment, and then passed, without a word, along the 
 edge of the veranda, and under the out-leaning plum-tree. 
 Yuki, watching him with a dying heart, felt that never again 
 could she look upon her favorite tree without seeing that 
 fair, bowed head beneath the branches. Mrs. Todd gaped, 
 incredulous, at the girl. Gwendolen alone realized the situa- 
 tion. She sprang to her feet instantly. " Mother ! " she cried, 
 " the young man came for us, of course. We have trespassed 
 too long on Mrs. Onda's hospitality ; now let us join our un- 
 fortunate visitor at the gate and have him ride home with us, 
 I have something of importance to say to him,"
 
 136 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki gave a little sob of gratitude and relief. Mrs. Todd, 
 partly comprehending, heaved upward to her feet. "Yes," 
 she said to Gwendolen, but with a disapproving glance 
 poured, full-measure, upon the Japanese girl, " let us ask him 
 to ride home. The poor fellow looked as if the earth had 
 crumbled under his feet." 
 
 Yuki felt the reproach. She could have laughed aloud at 
 the irony of it. 
 
 Mrs. Todd walked in what she supposed a stately fashion 
 across the room. Her feet pressed into the soft matting as 
 into a stiff dough, leaving behind her a track of shallow 
 indentations. 
 
 At parting Gwendolen whispered in her friend's ear, "I 
 understood. Your father has been watching all along. I 
 will make things clear to the other." 
 
 When the panelled gate was closed once more, and the 
 little bell cold after long reverberation, Yuki felt a great 
 physical shudder. Her nerves demanded of her the respite 
 of tears, but still she held herself in check. The luxury of 
 weeping and the hidden letter alike must wait until a night 
 hour when the rest of the house was asleep. 
 
 She went out into the sunshine of the garden, well within 
 sight of the house. She tried not to think, or to allow fore- 
 bodings. Against the old plum-tree she leaned, catching idly 
 the white drifting petals. Each might have been a separate 
 poem, so freighted is Japanese lore with fancies and exquisite 
 imagery drawn from this favorite flower. The transience 
 of life, its sweetness, fidelity to natural law, wifehood and 
 womanly tenderness, rebirth, immortality, all these thoughts 
 and more came to her softly as the petals came. Through 
 each mood, like the clang and clash of brass through low 
 melody, recurred the vision of Pierre of his yellow hair 
 beneath the old plum-tree. But with the petals fell un- 
 counted moments, heaped less tangibly into hours. So passed 
 the day and succeeding days.
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 THE short interval between the Todds' visit and Prince 
 Hagane's banquet was wrought, within the confines of the 
 Onda home, of small, shifting particles of disquiet, discontent, 
 despondency, a sort of mist that kept the spirit dark and 
 chill. 
 
 Tetsujo found difficulty in meeting his daughter's gaze; 
 though, when her face was averted, he looked long, and 
 moodily enough. He had spoken to her more than once, 
 always in forced, crisp speech, chopping his words into inches 
 and weighing each separate cube. Through this mechanical 
 means he informed her that she was to attend Prince Hagane's 
 banquet without fail, and ride there in a double jinrikisha with 
 him, her father. Iriya and the servants were permitted to 
 resume normal relations with the culprit. Externally things 
 went into their old domestic grooves. 
 
 It came to the girl, not with a shock of surprise, but rather 
 as an insidious growth of conviction, that the decision behind 
 Tetsujo's demeanor was inspired by no less a person than 
 Lord Hagane. At first it seemed incredible that so great a man 
 could concern himself with the affairs of a mere girl. At this 
 very moment he was in the midst of a threatened national 
 crisis. Friendship with her father could scarcely account for 
 all. Hagane must have some personal suspicion of the ex- 
 istence of Pierre, of Pierre's family, and of his attitude toward 
 her. Her mind went back to her meeting with the Prince 
 in Washington. She had been the one to introduce Pierre. 
 Now she tried to recall every look and word of that morning 
 interview, which followed her debutante ball. Again she saw 
 Hagane's stern, scarred face, thrilled to the kindness of his 
 voice as he spoke of her childhood, and pondered anew his 
 meaning in the final admonition to loyalty. Perhaps even
 
 138 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 then he suspected that she and Pierre were more than friends. 
 No, she could not believe it ! Even if he did suspect, it was 
 not certain that he would disapprove. Hagane was known 
 everywhere as a friend to foreigners. He had travelled much, 
 and had seen with his own eyes the splendor and the oppor- 
 tunities of foreign courts. He would know that, as wife of a 
 diplomat, no matter what his country, she could serve her 
 own. 
 
 At any rate she was soon again to meet the ex-daimyo. She 
 was glad at least of this, and until she judged for herself, 
 would not believe absolutely that the great man was against her. 
 The thought of seeing him, of standing near him, gave her a 
 sort of gentle strength and calm, as one feels when standing 
 beside a great tree. If she could only get a warning to her 
 lover, to that less strong but dearly loved Pierre ! Toward 
 him she was beginning to feel, not only a girl's romantic devo- 
 tion, but a mother's protecting tenderness. Here in her own 
 country she longed to have her arms around him, shielding and 
 at the same time preventing him from ignorance and prejudice. 
 At Hagane's villa he was possibly to face an ordeal, unwarned 
 by a hint from her. A little hope crept closer. Pierre was a 
 passionate admirer of all the arts of Japan, Hagane an untiring 
 collector. At the Tabata banquet pictures would sxirely be 
 displayed. It was possible that Pierre's intelligence and 
 appreciation might win him the most powerful of friends. 
 
 Most of the night before the banquet the young girl lay 
 awake. The faint light of the andon flowed across her, melt- 
 ing into soft grayness at the far end of the room. It ruled, as 
 with a heavy pencil, the overlapping boards of the ceiling. 
 She counted them, but to no purpose. Sleep perched higher. 
 
 " A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, one after one ; 
 bees murmuring " she quoted under her breath, and lay 
 still as a fallen rose. Sleep grinned down from the small, 
 high branches of night. She thought of dark running water, 
 of a green curtain stretched across nothingness, of a deep, 
 bottomless pool ; but sleep, the raven, never stirred a feather. 
 
 Beside her bed, on the soft, matted floor, lay a white prayer- 
 book, a tiny vase containing a few sprays of ume (plum-flower), 
 and a chatelaine watch set with pearls. The watch had been
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 139 
 
 a graduation present from Gwendolen. From time to time 
 Yuki lifted the animated toy, turned its face toward the andon, 
 and held it to her ear, only to fall back with a smothered sigh. 
 
 " Will the blessed daylight never come ? " thought Yuki for 
 the hundredth time. Just as she had relinquished all hope of 
 it, slumber darted down, but in its harsh beak was a dream. 
 
 She wandered, silent, on a great black moor. Near her 
 feet, as she moved, a dull light flickered, turning all the 
 dry grass red, and making, as it were, a muffled pathway for 
 her guidance. She was searching, searching, searching, for 
 what, for whom, she could not recall. Her memory was dark- 
 ened like the moor, and its dull flashes showed alike only 
 empty space. Suddenly, far off to the right, a steadier beacon 
 sprang. Stars seemed to be climbing up by a stair as yet in- 
 visible. The moor quivered into an even glow, a mist rising 
 as from a sea of blood. Not fifty paces from her eyes stood 
 Pierre. He smiled, and stretched out his arms to her. The 
 red glare whitened as it fell on him. Then she knew for what 
 she had been searching. She would have fled to him, but found 
 she could not move at all. 
 
 Out of the Eastern light now came armed men, lances, fal- 
 chions, spears, all glittering in the unreal glow. She knew it 
 for a daimyo's procession. It came forward swiftly to the gap 
 which held her wide from Pierre. Decked horses, bullock-carts 
 with huge black-lacquered wheels, and countless warriors, some 
 mounted, some on foot, must pass her. There was movement 
 of tramping ; the horses reared and struck heavily on the earth, 
 yet no sound came. Staring at that point from which the 
 long procession rose, she saw it still curving up from an illim- 
 itable horizon, first points of spears and banners ; then 
 heads; then men, horses, chariots, an endless chain. She 
 crouched nearer to the ghosts within her reach, hoping to rec- 
 ognize a friendly face, or at least a kind one, whom she could 
 importune to let her through the line. She peered under hoods 
 and helmets and into the bamboo-blinds of bullock-carts, then 
 fell to earth with a scream, for the faces were not human ; 
 each was an ape that grinned at her. In Japan no dream is 
 more prophetic of evil than a dream of apes. 
 
 At the agonized cry Suzume ran from her room at the far
 
 140 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 side of the house. From the adjoining room came Iriya. 
 Fusuma were flung wide. 
 
 "Forgive forgive my rudeness in honorably disturbing 
 you at this hour," gasped the girl. "It was a dream, so ter- 
 rible a dream ! " 
 
 " Oh, tell it to the nanten-bush, Miss Yuki. There is one 
 beside your doorstone ! " screamed little Maru as she came. 
 
 "Too late !" muttered Suzunie. "Already she has broken 
 silence." 
 
 " She shivers with fear, poor jewel," said Iriya, chafing the 
 icy hands. " Suzume, if a coal of fire can be found, brew hot 
 tea for her. That will be best." 
 
 " A coal always sleeps in my ashes," boasted the nurse. "I 
 shall at once prepare the drink." 
 
 " Mother, you must not remain awake with me at such an 
 hour," chattered the girl. 
 
 "Dawn is very near, my child. I hear, yes, listen, I 
 hear the first sparrow." 
 
 "Little friendly sparrow, how I thank you!" cried Yuki, 
 aloud ; then throwing herself into her mother's arms, she 
 began to sob. 
 
 That afternoon, when Yuki stepped into the big double 
 kuruma where Tetsujo was already seated, she had never, in 
 spite of sleeplessness and bad dreams, looked more beautiful. 
 Iriya, as her daughter had predicted, found on this last day 
 many excellent reasons for staying at home. 
 
 The robing of Yuki had occupied several hours. First, 
 the thick black hair must be done in the latest fashion. 
 Happily this, ever changing, was for the moment in a style 
 peculiarly becoming to her. A great wing stood out at each 
 side, concealing all but the lower tips of the ears. A third 
 division, puffed high above the forehead, completed a shining 
 framework to the pale, spiritual face. Among the coils at 
 the back, a strip of dull pink silk was interwoven, a flesh- 
 colored centre to a great orchid of jet. She wore a single 
 hairpin, a filigree toy of gold and tinsel representing fireflies 
 in a tiny cage. Her gray kimono of thin silk showed the 
 pink undergarment. The delicate hue appeared in puffed and
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 141 
 
 wadded edges also at throat, wrists, and around the hem. 
 Cherry-flowers were dyed at intervals into the substance of 
 the gray. The obi, that crowning glory of a Japanese woman's 
 dress, was of blue gray satin, with embroidered fireflies of 
 gold. 
 
 Even surly Tetsujo smiled as this fair vision stood upon 
 the doorstone. Little Maru set the high lacquered clogs 
 with pink velvet thongs in readiness. Iriya held out the 
 long black adzuma-coat, while old Suzume shook odors of 
 incense and sandalwood from the crepe folds of the head- 
 kerchief called " dzukin." 
 
 " Sayonara danna san ! (master ! ) Sayonara o jo san ! " called 
 the three women on their knees in the doorway. 
 
 " Sayonara, arigato gozaimasu!" (I thank you ! ) cried Yuki 
 in return, waving a slender hand from the side of the jinrikisha. 
 Tetsujo seemed not to hear. 
 
 The unusual proximity brought to the girl, and, as she 
 justly surmised, to Tetsujo also, an unwholesome embarrass- 
 ment. Each met the difficulty in a characteristic way, Yuki 
 by throwing her full interest into flashing street scenes about 
 her; Tetsujo by a morose withdrawal into his feudal shell. 
 Twice Yuki spoke concerning some sight that gave her 
 pleasure. Her father's discouraging reply, in both cases, was 
 a grunt. On the slope of Tabata he got out, shook himself 
 like a great dog, and sent Yuki on in the jinrikisha until 
 level land was reached. The girl thought sadly of another 
 hill-ascent, so short a time before ; of Tetsujo's kind, loving 
 face as he mounted the slope of Kobinata, his hand on the 
 arm of her little vehicle, his eyes free to her own. Now she 
 was being carried by this same father before a judge, before 
 a man who could help to rule his empire, and yet who, if her 
 fears proved stable, now stooped to coerce a wilful girl. 
 
 The entrance gate and court o'f the Tabata villa had taken 
 on, strangely, the look of its master. The gate was of 
 unpolished cedar, studded with brass nails half a foot across, 
 and barred with hinges that might have swung a hill. The 
 massive panels now stood hospitably ajar. Above them, 
 leaned a single pine, red-stemmed and tall, of the indigenous 
 Japanese variety. It, too, resembled Hagane. The house
 
 142 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 beyond was but little larger or more pretentious than that of 
 Onda the kerai ; but the variety of woods used in finishing 
 bespoke both taste and great wealth. The roof, with its dark- 
 blue scalloped tiling was edged at the rim with flattened discs 
 of baked clay, and in the centre of each, in rough intaglio, 
 curved the crest of the Hagane clan. 
 
 Sombre shoji opened, before the visitors had time to dis- 
 mount. Just within, a superb suitate, or single screen of 
 gold, painted in snow-laden bamboo trees, shut out interior 
 vistas. Yuki was conducted to a woman's apartment, where 
 she could remove her wraps and examine her shining blue- 
 black coiffure for a misplaced hair. Tetsujo strode to the 
 guest-room. At sight of Prince Hagane seated, still alone, 
 he gave a great sigh of relief. Hagane turned with a smile, 
 "You love not our foreign friends, good Tetsujo." 
 
 "I love them as our cat loves pickled plums, my liege." 
 
 Hagane laughed indulgently. " At least you can distinguish 
 the men from the women, be sure to give me the signal 
 should one of the young males prove to be he who was with 
 Yuki on the hatoba, and who so rudely forced an entrance to 
 your premises." 
 
 " I shall not forget," said Tetsujo. 
 
 The wide room was' unchanged but for an unusually elabo- 
 rate flower-composition in the tokonoma (recess). A most 
 valuable set of pictures, three in number, and all mounted 
 alike on priceless brocade, filled the soft, gray tinted space 
 beyond the flowers. 
 
 Yuki entered alone. Neither of the men had heard her soft 
 stockinged step, nor her gentle pushing aside of a golden 
 fusuma. 
 
 " Go kigen (august health), your Highness," she murmured, 
 sinking where she stood and touching her forehead to the floor. 
 
 "Ah, it is Yuki-ko. Come nearer, child," said the host, 
 kindly. As she moved toward him, his eyes rested with frank 
 delight on the vision of her beauty. " You are now truly a 
 maiden of Japan. That last image of you in Washington, if I 
 remember rightly, was of a small brown wren of Paris." 
 
 "So at the time you observed, Augustness, and my spirit 
 thereat was poisoned by deep shame."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 143 
 
 "A thing so easily rectified can scarcely be a cause of 
 shame," smiled Hagane. " You are now as truly Japanese 
 as even your jealous father could desire. Will you kindly 
 clap and serve us tea, small pigeon ? " 
 
 Yuki obeyed instantly and in silence. She was glad to 
 have some occupation for her hands, glad that her eyes had 
 good excuse for drooping. In Prince Hagane's presence the 
 old magnetism, the old troubled sense of his power, again 
 possessed her. Compared with him, nothing else seemed 
 real. He established new values for the spirit. One in the 
 room with him needed no vision to certify his actual place. 
 He dominated and charged the air around him. She felt his 
 eyes as they rested on her slim white hands ; she knew when 
 that gaze was turned away. 
 
 Hagane, indeed, looked long at the girl. At times he ap- 
 peared to study her with a gentle, speculative gravity. Of 
 her beauty there had never been a doubt, and to-day she 
 looked her best. Hagane's experience of women had been 
 wide. Now he was saying to himself that this was the fairest 
 maiden of the whole world. Her beauty filled the room like 
 perfume. An old Chinese poet in singing of her would have 
 called her " a flake of white jade held against a star." In the 
 statesman's mind fragments of poetry flitted, similes of moon- 
 light, of white blossoms newly opened in the dew, of hillside 
 grasses in the wind, of a young spring willow with a nightin- 
 gale in the branches. Poetry is as natural to all classes of 
 Japanese as profanity to the average sailor. Hagane gained 
 new delight in imagery. Should a foreigner be allowed to 
 bear away the sweetness of this flower? No; Tetsujo was 
 justified in his indignation. No foreigner should have her. 
 She must marry some young nobleman of her own land ; some 
 honorable and brilliant youth with a future, and at least a hint 
 of personal beauty to match her own. Hagane's mind ran 
 rapidly through a list of eligible men. Objections rose at 
 every point. One was of poor health, another lived a life of 
 open immorality, a third possessed a mother of uncertain 
 temper ; Yuki-ko must not have her young life crushed by the 
 tyranny of a shrewish mother-in-law. She should by right be 
 married to a statesman, and be mistress at once of an official
 
 144 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 home. In this way would her beauty and foreign education be 
 brought into immediate service. If he himself were a young 
 man, what rapture to have that living thing, made up of dew 
 and morning, entirely one's own ! Hagane drew a single sharp 
 breath and was calm. 
 
 On the gravelled walk of the entrance court came the sound 
 of a carriage. 
 
 "His Excellency Mister Todd-u, Madame Todd-u, Mees 
 Todd-u, Mister Douje, and Mister Le Beau," announced a 
 servant in what he thought English. 
 
 Hagane went forward to meet them. " Welcome to my 
 cottage. Are we all known, one to the other ? " 
 
 "Yes, your Highness," answered Mr. Todd, "unless Mr. 
 Le Beau here is the exception.'' 
 
 "Mister Le Beau," repeated Hagane, very distinctly. "I 
 remember with much clearness the meeting with Mister Le 
 Beau. In your admirable dwelling in the capital city of 
 Washington that meeting took place. Yuki Miss Onda 
 performed the introduction ceremony. I remember well." 
 
 "And I, your Highness," instantly answered Pierre, with a 
 succession of the sprightly bows that had so incensed old Onda. 
 " It is to be supposed that I should bear in memory so great 
 an event ; but I could not have dared to hope for so great a 
 condescension from you." 
 
 Hagane replied by a smile and a nod. The latter might 
 have served equally for the kerai who, well within the shadow 
 of Mrs. Todd, made vehement signs of corroboration to his 
 daimyo. 
 
 The host then asked of the party, " Shall I not order for 
 you foreign chairs ? We keep them in the storehouse for 
 such occasions." 
 
 "Thank you kindly, Prince," answered Mrs. Todd for all; 
 " we '11 take the floor. In Rome we do as the Romans do." 
 With a lunge the good lady disposed herself in the centre of 
 the apartment, sitting, as it were, at her own feet. The others 
 placed themselves near her, making roughly the outline of a 
 horseshoe, Dodge being at one end, with Yuki beside him, and 
 Prince Hagane at the other. 
 
 Gwendolen had with difficulty kept Pierre away from Yuki.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 145 
 
 " Remember," she had warned, " this may be a sort of Sher- 
 lock Holmes affair for making you two betray yourselves and 
 each other. You can't be too careful. Old Hagane is a vibrat- 
 ing lodestone of uncanny intuition, and Onda a parental ava- 
 lanche just ready to slide! " 
 
 In the effort to keep his hungry eyes from Yuki, Pierre 
 began to explore the room. His attention was first caught by 
 the arrangement of dwarf pine branches and brown cones, in 
 combination with straggling sprays of a yellow orchid. Then 
 he saw the three paintings beyond. " Saint Raphael ! what 
 are those ? " he murmured under his breath, and made as if to 
 rise from the floor. All turned to him ; he sought only the 
 eyes of his host. " Your Highness," he pleaded, his face 
 vital with intelligence, " if not unpardonably rude, may I rise 
 and examine more closely those marvellous paintings ? " 
 
 Hagane reflected a hint of his brightness. "With greatest 
 pleasure. They are, of course, hung to be seen. I am honored 
 that they attract your notice." 
 
 Pierre rushed to the tokonoma, taking instinctively the 
 attitudes of a self-forgetting connoisseur. 
 
 " Say, I can't stay out of this !" cried the minister, and crooked 
 his long legs into the angles of a katydid in his efforts to rise. 
 Following the two others, he reached the tokonoma, planting 
 himself, feet wide apart, exactly in front. 
 
 Such pictures, painted in sets of three and mounted in 
 single, flexible panels of rich brocade, were designed for hang- 
 ing in the broad tokonoma of noblemen's houses, or in the 
 living-rooms of priests. This set was in monochrome, on 
 paper which had been stained by time to the color of old 
 ivory. The central painting represented a famous Chinese 
 poet sitting in meditation upon a misty mountain-ledge. The 
 lateral ones were landscapes, one of winter snow, the other, 
 summer fulness. Each illustrated a well-known verse of the 
 poet. 
 
 "So this is Japanese art, the real thing, is it ? " asked 
 Mr. Todd of Pierre. " You must excuse me, Prince," he went 
 on to his host, " Pierre is always reading and talking about 
 the beaiity of it, but I '11 be gosh I '11 be shot, I mean, 
 if I can tell what it is about. Over in my own country, now, 
 
 10
 
 146 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 I can distinguish a tree from a vase of Johnny- jump-ups, and 
 a farmyard from a nood female ; but with these pictures, 
 somehow, the harder I look the more I seem to be standing on 
 my head." 
 
 " Cy, I am ashamed of you ! I love Japanese art, your 
 Highness, and so does my daughter !." expostulated Mrs. Todd, 
 from the floor. " It is so nice, and thin, and cool. I always 
 recommend Japanese pictures to my friends for their summer 
 cottages, and I am hanging our Legation with them now. 
 Dear Mrs. Y., of Washington, you know the name, of course, 
 has the most gorgeous screen of gold-leaf, painted in wild- 
 flowers. When she has a big reception she always puts it 
 upside down behind her sofa, because it has more flowers at 
 the bottom than at the top, and nobody ever notices the 
 difference." 
 
 The young Frenchman's cheek flushed. He leaned more 
 closely to the paintings, partly to hide his expression. Gwen- 
 dolen exchanged horrified glances with Dodge, then the sense 
 of fun in both triumphed. Pierre spoke next in low tones, so 
 that none but Hagane could hear him. " I am only a begin- 
 ner, a student. There has been little published in foreign 
 languages about your wonderful art, and European collections 
 are rare. Am I wrong in thinking these to be something 
 unusual ? The lines of the three flow together like music, 
 yet each is a separate composition. We have nothing like it ! " 
 
 " They are masterpieces by Kano Motonobu," said Hagane. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " breathed Pierre, and seemed as if he would 
 devour with new scrutiny the marvellous visions. 
 
 The host's eyes remained fastened upon his enthusiastic 
 guest. He watched every flicker of intelligence, of changing 
 expression. Suddenly the young man turned, met the look, 
 and smiled. It was like sunlight on a meadow when Pierre 
 smiled. "Your Highness," he murmured, "a touch of art 
 should make the whole world kin ! Is it not so ? Teach me 
 something more of this new mystery of beauty, be my 
 friend!" 
 
 Hagane lowered his lids quickly, but in the downward sweep 
 he caught a glimpse of Yuki's eager, upturned face. She had 
 forgotten herself and her immediate companions. Her spirit
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 147 
 
 had crept over to the strangely mated two who stood before 
 the pictures. 
 
 " Monsieur honors me by offering such a privilege," said 
 Hagane, in an expressionless tone. He bowed slightly. Pierre 
 drew back, feeling unaccountably rebuffed. Why had the 
 great man said " Monsieur " ? Before that, the plain term 
 " Mister " had been employed. Vanity, never very far from 
 the citadel of Pierre's being, posited an explanation. "He 
 calls you by the French title," said Vanity, "because he 
 realizes that no Occidental of another country than France 
 could show such appreciation." Pierre recalled the awful re- 
 marks of Todd, the deeper idiocy of his complacent lady. 
 "Yes, that is it," said Pierre to Vanity. 
 
 Hagane had now re-seated himself. He was a few yards 
 directly across from Dodge and Yuki. He studied furtively 
 the countenance of Dodge. With this regard he was quickly 
 satisfied. The American's clear brown eyes were as free from 
 guile as those of a setter pup. He turned again to Pierre, who 
 had now thrown himself, in a graceful attitude of lounging, 
 beside fair Gwendolen. Gwendolen deflected the glance from 
 her companion. Her merry hazel eyes dwelt with bright 
 friendliness and an utter absence of awe upon the titled host. 
 For the first time Hagane noticed her, looked directly at her, 
 perceived in her something a little more than blown golden 
 hair and girlish audacity. Something in her gaze gave him 
 an impression of pliant boughs, elastic yet imperishable. This 
 trained commander seldom failed to recognize the intangible, 
 unmistakable flash of the thing we call, for a better name, 
 character. Something in answer to it, a salute of his own 
 brave spirit, rose to the deep eyes. A little thrill passed over 
 Gwendolen. " Gracious ! " she thought to herself. " That 's 
 no mere war-engine, that's a man, and a great one!" To 
 cover her vague embarrassment she leaned to him, letting 
 coquetry blot the real from her face, and pleaded, " Show us 
 some more pictures, please, your Highness. I hear that you 
 have storehouses crammed with them. Even I, in spite of what 
 mother says, appreciate those in the tokonoma. Please ! " 
 
 Hagane bowed unsmiling. The mere dainty allurements of 
 a pretty girl seemed to him almost an affront, as if his old
 
 148 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 nurse should give him a kite to fly, or a top to spin. He fell 
 into thought. After a moment's somewhat uncomfortable 
 silence he said slowly, " There is one painting I should like 
 to show this honorable group of friends ; but first its strange 
 history must be told, and I fear that I have not the fluent 
 English." 
 
 "Oh, we simply must have the story! Your English is all 
 right, Prince ; I '11 declare it is. Please tell us," cried Gwen- 
 dolen the irrepressible, and she moved a few inches closer. 
 
 "Yes, your Highness, your English is wonderful. You 
 don't make half the grammatical mistakes that I do now ! " 
 supplemented Mrs. Todd. 
 
 Hagane drew a slow glance around the semicircle, plunged 
 his hands within his silken sleeves, and began to speak. His 
 voice was very deep, and in some consonant sounds, of a slight 
 harshness. The vowels were full, rich, and resonant. His 
 speech held at command a certain strange, almost benumbing 
 magnetism, a compelling response, such as one experiences in 
 the after-vibrations of a great bell. 
 
 " Oh, I feel in my bones that it is going to be a ghost story, 
 a real one," whispered Gwendolen, with a shiver of excitement. 
 
 Hagane did not notice the remark. Todd and Mr. Dodge 
 sent her, in unison, a bright glance of appreciation. 
 
 " The painting for which I now attempt the speaking," said 
 Hagane, "made, for centuries, the chief altarpiece of a cer- 
 tain old temple in Yamato. It was a very old temple, yes, 
 among the very first built in Nippon for Buddhist worship. 
 One night, when the black sky was rent with storm, and light- 
 ning hurled out many terrible spears, one flash found that 
 temple, burning it swiftly to a square of low red ashes. Every- 
 thing burned ; gold and brass and iron melted like wax all 
 but the picture ; and three days after they found it still on 
 red coals, glowing more fierce and red than they. Nothing 
 was harmed in it except the brocaded edge, and that was soon 
 replaced. This is the picture you shall see." 
 
 " Oh ! " breathed Gwendolen. 
 
 " Afterward it was conveyed to a famous temple of Kioto ; 
 but the head priest, the Ajari, being of timid thought, re- 
 fused to shelter it. By his order it was carried in secrecy to
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 149 
 
 a much smaller temple, very distant, in the province of Konda, 
 where is my father's home of birth." 
 
 He paused. The listeners all shifted position a little, all 
 but Yuki, who sat upright and motionless, her soul living in 
 her long dark eyes. 
 
 "Even in so small a temple its power began to attract many 
 worshippers and wonder-seekers. The fame of it grew like 
 the grasses of summer. At the time of our Restoration, the 
 beginning of that cycle of our time called 'Mei-ji,' its destruc- 
 tion was officially decreed. It was designated ' the object of 
 slavish superstition.' My father was requested, with his own 
 hands, to annihilate it." 
 
 "Ah," muttered Pierre, with feeling. "But, thank the 
 good God, it wasn't destroyed, since you are soon to show 
 it!" 
 
 One of Mrs. Todd's thick feet had gone to sleep. She 
 stretched it out under her skirt with great caution. 
 
 Hagane looked up into Pierre's bright eyes. " As you 
 observe, Monsieur, it was not annihilated. My father made 
 request of Government that it be sold privately to him, 
 and in return he gave pledge that it never again be used 
 publicly as the altarpiece. Thus it came into my posses- 
 sion." 
 
 There had been something suggestive, almost sinister, in 
 his use of the word " publicly." His glance had just brushed 
 Yuki's face. Gwendolen's hands turned cold. " But what 
 power needed to be suppressed what harm could a picture 
 do ? " cried the blonde girl, eagerly. 
 
 Before attempting an answer, Hagane clapped for a servant, 
 and, with a few low words, sent him off for the picture. He 
 turned, looking first at Gwendolen, then at Yuki. "It is a 
 painting of the Red God, Aizen Bosatsu. It was prayed to, 
 and sacrificed to by men and women who loved. Generally 
 they were persons who wished to become the man and wife 
 against the wishes of parents and guardians ; less often, of some 
 guilty one already married, and wishing an impure love. Its 
 strange power is this, that one consumed with passion, mak- 
 ing offerings, passing long nights in prayer, and crying forth 
 incessantly desperate invocation, may see the red flesh and
 
 150 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 crimson lotos petals fall away like shrivelled bark, revealing 
 the white and shining face of Kwannon the Merciful. This is 
 the reward of those who pray for the strength to be loyal, 
 who wish, in their deeper essence, the ultimate Good. But the 
 painting has another and more awful power " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Lord," whispered Yuki, speaking now for the 
 first time. 
 
 " Should the mad soul clamor on for earthly desire, ignor- 
 ing what is high, then will the Red God burn, burn, burn, 
 even as the heated heart of evil passion burns ; and the 
 power of that suppliant to do evil will be strengthened. 
 Circumstances may be compelled, and the wish, however 
 harmful, be attained. With each new triumph of a soul, the 
 merit of the picture deepens ; with each malefic use, the evil 
 grows more strong." 
 
 " What, Lord, would be the penalty what to a wicked 
 soul would be the price ? " asked Yuki's bloodless lips. 
 
 "Your early training was Buddhistic, child," answered 
 Hagane, in the gentlest of voices. " You know the doctrine 
 of rebirth ! Instinct tells you the price already." 
 
 Tetsujo had withdrawn his eyes from their fierce contem- 
 plation of his daughter, as if the sight continually fed his 
 anger. He rocked now, with downcast eyes and folded 
 arms, on his cushion, ignoring everything but his own black 
 thoughts. 
 
 Gwendolen tried in vain to catch Yuki's eye. She saw that 
 already Yuki was betraying what Hagane and old Onda 
 wished to know. The moment was fatal and memorable. 
 
 The servant now returned, bearing a long box of dull red 
 lacquer. Yuki shivered so that all saw her. 
 
 "Examine the quaint carvings of devils, Monsieur," said 
 Hagane to Pierre, with light affability. As Pierre leaned to 
 take the box, Yuki gave an imperceptible start forward, caught 
 her breath, and then resumed self-control. 
 
 " Gems, all of them ! " cried Pierre, in impersonal delight. 
 "They are unbelievable in cleverness. Each seems an evil 
 passion caught in fleeting human form." 
 
 "Monsieur is intuitive. They are hungry spirits of the 
 Gaki underworld, creatures of ever aching, ever unsatisfied
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 151 
 
 desires. The Hindoo scriptures call them * preta.' Perhaps 
 you Christians have not such uncomfortable passions, ne ? " 
 
 Gwendolen had another shock to receive. In this new 
 light, flashed past before one realized its presence, Hagane 
 showed to her the eyes of a demon, a creature of power and of 
 passion. She recoiled from him as from the supernatural. 
 The new discomfort was vented on the box. " Let us have 
 the picture, Prince, or I '11 go wild. Please, somebody sit on 
 that box, the squirming devils give me a waking nightmare. 
 Why did anybody want to carve such things ? " 
 
 Hagane smiled a very quiet smile, just on the borderland 
 between his demon and his statesman's self. Yuki, too, 
 watched him, with an intensity of which she was not aware. 
 Slowly he lifted the lid of the box, and took out a long 
 cylindrical roll wrapped in some faded stuff that exhaled 
 a strange, stifling perfume, as of old shrines. Then he rose, 
 with his usual dignified, deliberate motions. The servant, 
 who had been waiting, hande"d him a small wand tipped 
 with a claw of ivory, such as is used everywhere in Japan 
 for hanging kakemono. Passing the cord over a brass stud 
 on the wall, he leaned over and downward, unrolling the 
 painting by slow inches. 
 
 At first nothing appeared but a groundwork of dark silk, 
 a surface crackled and blackened as by heat and time. A 
 pointed, thin flame first arose, then a fiery crown of filigree 
 work that hid suggestions of strange animal forms, then a 
 staring countenance of an archaic, Hindoo type, provocative, 
 menacing, appalling ! Shoulders rose, swathed thick iu 
 springing flame ; a body hung with jewels of red gold ; arms 
 bended at the elbow, crossed legs just visible through drapery, 
 and lastly the incandescent throne of a vermilion lotos. The 
 thing glowed wet and fresh, like new-spilled blood. Before its 
 artistic wonder was the wonder of vitality, for the image 
 lived, not in a world of heavy human flesh, nor yet in 
 realms ethereal, but in some raging holocaust where the two 
 worlds chafe and meet. One flaming hand grasped a bunch 
 of golden arrows ; from the other depended coils of gold and 
 orange rope. Each petal of the lotos throne stood sharp and 
 clear in an outline of hot gold, and the long, parallel veinings
 
 152 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 were of copper. In a room suddenly darkened it should 
 spring out in illumination of its own. A scorching breath 
 blew from it. The leer on the god's face deepened. 
 
 "Ugh!" shuddered Mrs. Todd. She tried to check the 
 exclamation, and apparently none but Dodge, who sat beside 
 her, heard the cry. 
 
 " Be careful," whispered Dodge. " He does not tell you 
 half. Men have fought and died for that painting. It is 
 one of the famous things of Japan, and almost impossible 
 to see. He surely has a reason in this display." 
 
 Yuki and Gwendolen were equally still and voiceless. 
 
 " Mother of God ! " Pierre ejaculated, ignoring ceremony, 
 and running to the place where the painting, now in full 
 length, hung. " What a masterpiece ! What torment of 
 genius ! There is passion in the very curves of the petals, 
 how they answer the lines of drapery, even the lines of his 
 ugly face ! The flaming halo, repeats it like a fugue. Mon 
 Dieu! One scarcely can endure such supreme beauty." His 
 voice broke. He turned away. Hagane watched him curi- 
 ously. " Your Highness," said he, after a very brief interval, 
 and now with frank, tear-bright eyes on the prince, " I know 
 not the morality of it, but I, for one, would not be willing 
 to pray in such fashion that this superb and glorious monster 
 should fade to a silly white. Rather would I add fury to him, 
 and evil, if that would keep his flame inspired ! " 
 
 Abruptly Hagane turned his face to Yuki. For some 
 moments past he had ignored her. She had no time to strug- 
 gle for self-control. Her thought lay beached on the ashen 
 face. The two eyes met. In an instant, as if weary, Hagane 
 turned away, and, crossing the room, seated himself near Onda. 
 
 " Shall we proceed to serve the food, your Highness ? " 
 asked another servant, on his knees, in the doorway. 
 
 " Yes, at once. First roll the picture up, and remove it to 
 the kura." 
 
 The banquet was in pure Japanese fashion. The enter- 
 tainment began with the usual foolish mistakes on the part of 
 the foreigners. Yuki was last of all to drift back into the 
 world of the commonplace ; Pierre, of the party, being in high- 
 est spirits. Everything delighted him, the food, the trays,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 153 
 
 the little " ne-san " hired for the occasion to pour sake, the 
 sake itself; the sake bottles, all ! Kecklessly now, he forced 
 a position beside Yuki, taking her unresponsiveness as part 
 of the decorum expected of a young girl in Japan. Hagane 
 showed him special favor, plying him with wine, and exchang- 
 ing numberless tiny cups, each one a step, for Pierre, into 
 further indiscretion. Yuki felt hope slowly die within her. 
 She saw beyond doubt that Hagane was against Pierre and 
 with her father. She knew that she had been chief factor in 
 the betrayal of their love. For a moment she hated, she even 
 despised a little, the man she had been taught to look on as 
 a god. 
 
 Never had a sweeter sound come to her ears than Mrs. 
 Todd's loud command, " Well, Cy, if we are to go at all, we 
 had better start. This sake is beginning to do queer things 
 to my legs ! " 
 
 At the farewell ceremonies on the doorstep, Hagane man- 
 aged to whisper to his kerai, " Watch her closely. Let her 
 not leave your sight until you have heard again from me. 
 There is instant danger ! "
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 PROSPER RONSARD, the French minister to Tokio, had 
 formed very early in life the ambition to be a Far Eastern 
 diplomat. His way to the goal was made in regular steps of 
 enjoyment. First there had been Morocco, scarcely more to 
 him now than a far-off memory of yellow sands and white 
 cubes of houses, both emphasized, at effective intervals, by 
 theatrical groups of palms. Then came Cairo, gay, entranc- 
 ing Cairo ! His life there held experiences that old age 
 might lick its chops over. Leaving all else aside, the one 
 flame-tree near his hotel window in Cairo would have burned 
 that memory deep. Then there were French Siam, Tonquin, 
 Nagasaki, and, at last, Tokio. 
 
 The hot blood of the East flowed now, as native, in Ron- 
 sard's veins ; but the keen, calculating, questioning judgment 
 of the European statesman kept cool tenure of bis brain. In 
 Tokio he found all past Eastern trickery to be useless chaff. 
 Here were no inferior Orientals to browbeat, threaten, or cajole. 
 From Tonquin to Nagasaki he had crossed more than the 
 Yellow Sea ; he had sailed over three submerged centuries 
 and landed on a green cliff. Here, in Japan, were men with 
 reasons as clear as his own, and methods that often proved 
 themselves more effective. In the mission to Tokio he soon 
 realized that his full ambition had been won. Every faculty, 
 trained through long apprenticeship, was here needed ; and 
 it was part of his intelligence that at times he realized them 
 all as insufficient. That span of "Mysterious Asia" stretched 
 between Algiers and Tonquin, brilliant and pleasurable in- 
 deed, was, from the diplomatic standpoint, a mere dank sub- 
 way coming up at the central station, Tokio. 
 
 The fascinations of the East, potent as they were, could not 
 quite wean the Parisian from love of his native home. Visits
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 155 
 
 to France were made with strict regularity. It was his wont 
 to declare, and with much show of verity, that the perpetual 
 resident of Paris could never know its real charm. To live 
 there always, paying bills, meeting disappointments, enduring 
 illnesses with the inartistic accompaniments of medicine boxes 
 and physicians, was like having an inexhaustible supply of 
 one's favorite vintage kept in a water-cooler on the back gal- 
 lery. Ronsard had the true sensualist's gift of extracting 
 flavors. 
 
 On these home visits he was eagerly sought after by his 
 friends and club fellows, and by the more intelligent among 
 fashionable women. In this latter category shone pre-eminent 
 the widowed Princess Olga Le Beau. Rumor often had it 
 that his next return to the East would be brightened by the 
 wedded companionship of this lady, but each time Rumor hid 
 her face. 
 
 The princess had married while yet a schoolgirl. Pierre, 
 her only child, was born within the year of the marriage. 
 Before the boy was ten, his father, Gaston Le Beau, died by 
 accident. Slander called it suicide, and hinted that the prin- 
 cess was the cause. Nothing, however, could have been more 
 decorous or more becoming than the mourning of the princess. 
 As slowly she came back to the world of fashion, Pierre was 
 sent away to England to be educated. A growing stripling 
 of a boy is a fatal gauge to his mother's waning youth. He 
 was seldom pressed to come home during the holidays, Prin- 
 cess Olga preferring to visit him in England (a country which 
 she loathed), or sometimes to take small tours with him 
 through infrequented parts of Europe. 
 
 After his very creditable career at an English university, 
 she urged him tenderly further to improve his mind by 
 travel, and hinted that she would prefer a diplomatic career 
 for him. As she spoke, she was thinking of Ronsard, but 
 doubtless had her reasons for not mentioning him. It was 
 not until the young man's year of residence in America, and 
 his own choice of Tokio as a place at which to open his diplo- 
 matic primer, that the power of this intimate family friend 
 had been invoked. As we have seen, Princess Olga gave the 
 name, by letter, to her son. Pierre wrote promptly, but the
 
 156 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 hastened departure of the Todds, and his determination to 
 sail with them and Yuki, would have given him no time to 
 receive a long and thoughtful answer, even had such been 
 written. 
 
 Count Ronsard's motto, more or less rigidly adhered to in 
 dealings with his own sex, was " never to write a letter or to 
 destroy one." Knowing that the young man was soon to ap- 
 pear, he calmly waited the event. In official life the French 
 minister was, of course, designated by the simple republican 
 title of " Monsieur." With his friends, the old aristocratic 
 "Count" was permitted and enjoyed. To have slipped Pierre 
 into a second, third, or fourth secretaryship would have been a 
 simple matter. Count Ronsard, however, wisely determined 
 to judge the character of the applicant before admitting him 
 into the bachelor comradeship of the Legation. This square 
 white residence, set in the midst of a fine, walled, daimyo gar- 
 den left over from feudal days, had never, during the count's 
 long term of service, known feminine sway. High orgies, 
 balls, and state dinners were held there in plenty, but the 
 only women who appeared at them were invited guests or 
 hired geisha. The master of the house carried his bachelor 
 fancy so far that he insisted upon a similar uudetached state 
 being preserved by his subordinates. 
 
 Count Ronsard was a dilettante in music and art, and a pro- 
 fessional lover of beauty, especially in the form presented by 
 his friend and countryman, Bouguereau. His favorite writer 
 was Daudet ; his favorite luxury, eating. Withal, he was a 
 trained statesman and a subtle diplomat. 
 
 Pierre, upon his arrival in Tokio, had been urged to make 
 the Legation his temporary home. His first question was, 
 of course, for the appointment. Count Ronsard gave evasive 
 reply. As this continued to be the case, Pierre felt, in de- 
 cency, that he must cease to press the matter. As days 
 passed, and the count, so indulgent, fatherly, and candid in 
 other things, continued to avoid the discussion of Pierre's 
 hopes, the young man could not fail to draw the conclusion 
 that the elder had his personal reasons for not wishing to 
 come to a decision. Pierre did not greatly care. The anxiety 
 about Yuki kept his thoughts busy. More than once he had
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 157 
 
 been on the point of confiding in Count Ronsard and of ask- 
 ing advice, but each time something prevented. Mrs. Todd, 
 in this stress, was his unfailing sympathizer. Gwendolen was 
 kind, but he knew well that there was now, and always had 
 been, a certain reserve in her approbation of his love-affair. 
 The laxity of hours at the French Legation, and the absence 
 of all restrictions, suited well the boy's present restless 
 temper. 
 
 The morning after Prince Hagane's banquet he woke to a 
 feeling of heaviness and depression that sake could not alto- 
 gether account for. Small bits of recollection began to sting 
 him like brier-points left under the skin. He saw now, iu 
 Yuki's white face, a protest which, twelve hours before, he 
 had wilfully ignored. Gwendolen's eyes flashed again indig- 
 nant warning. The extreme attentiveness of the host, a 
 lurid after-image of the pictured god, the innumerable small 
 cups that, at the time, had seemed innocuous, came over him in 
 humiliating memories. " Gwendolen was right. It was all a 
 test, and I, as usual, played the impulsive fool !" thought he, 
 bitterly. 
 
 On reaching the breakfast-room he was pleasantly surprised 
 to find his host still at table. A heap of letters, opened and 
 unopened, showed the cause of delay. Several with foreign 
 postmarks were at Pierre's plate. As the young man entered, 
 Ronsard touched an electric button, giving four short, peculiar 
 rings. A few seconds later a servant appeared with a tray of 
 steaming coffee and food. 
 
 " What news from war-centres, your Excellency ? " was 
 Pierre's perfunctory question. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, war is surely coming ! We are upon the very 
 verge, though our friends the Russians pretend not to be- 
 lieve. Kurino is to abandon St. Petersburg. I still have a 
 gleam of hope that the Japanese will have common intelli- 
 gence, and withdraw." 
 
 "If Kurino leaves, then the Russian minister here must 
 withdraw. I was told yesterday that he too made prepara- 
 tions." 
 
 "Each move may be a feint. Diplomacy is largely made 
 up of feints." Here he gave a fleshy shrug. " But, my young
 
 158 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 friend, our speculations will not change events. As tjie Japan- 
 ese say, ' Shi-ka-ta ga nai,' which, being interpreted, means, 
 * Way out, there is none.' Tell me of yourself. You are paie. 
 Do the joys of Tokio prove too arduous ? " 
 
 The speaker, lolling back in his leathern chair, lighted 
 another cigarette, his eighth since breakfast, and turned an 
 inquiring leer upon his companion. Pierre was staring into 
 the smoky coal fire. He had scarcely heard Ronsard's last 
 words. Yet all at once he felt that here was an opportunity 
 to ask the advice he had been craving. 
 
 " Last night I was at a Japanese banquet, an affair splendid, 
 but small, given to the family of the newly presented Amer- 
 ican minister, Mr. Todd, by Prince Hagane," he began. 
 
 Ronsard showed unmistakable interest. " Ah, the prince ! 
 The old toad who sits at the heart of empire in Japan. And 
 at his private villa ! You are fortunate, Monsieur." 
 
 Pierre nodded. 
 
 "And you said a family affair. I hear there is a Miss 
 Todd. Am I to understand that you and the charming 
 Mademoiselle " 
 
 Pierre gave a gesture. " No," he said, " not she, though 
 the charm is unquestioned. Mr. Dodge and I were included 
 because of being ship-comrades with the Todd party. There 
 were also present Miss Onda and her father. Miss Onda was 
 on the ship with us. She was educated in Washington. I 
 knew her there." 
 
 " Ah," murmured the other, more thoughtfully. " Rumors 
 of Miss Onda's great beauty are already abroad. They will 
 contemplate an official marriage for her with some fortunate 
 heathen, honored in his own land. Cela ! " 
 
 "She will marry no Japanese," said Pierre, quickly. He 
 felt Ronsard's upward look, but did not meet it. His heart 
 moved a little faster. This was his first bold step upon a 
 bridge too narrow for turning. 
 
 " Ah," murmured Ronsard again. 
 
 "Yes," repeated Pierre, "she will marry no Japanese. I 
 I am in a position to know." 
 
 " She is already betrothed, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 159 
 
 " And not to a Japanese ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " To an American, I presume. You say she has been edu- 
 cated in that country. Educated! And in America! The 
 thought is droll." 
 
 " Not to an American either, your Excellency. To one of 
 your own race, to a Frenchman." 
 
 "Ah," said Ronsard. It was wonderful what expression 
 he could cram into that small, elastic sound. Evidently the 
 intonation on this occasion was far from pleasing to the 
 listener. Pierre's blue eyes flashed and darkened. Fixing 
 them for the first time steadily on his companion he said, 
 " She is betrothed, your Excellency, to me. Do I receive your 
 felicitations ? " 
 
 His look was a challenge. Konsard passed a fat hand over 
 his mouth before asking, " With her family's consent ? " 
 
 " Not yet. Our betrothal was in Washington, shortly before 
 sailing, and entered into with the full knowledge and consent 
 of her intimate friends, the Todds. As to the Japanese 
 father's consent, we had planned and hoped to gain it imme- 
 diately upon reaching Japan." 
 
 Ronsard's thin eyebrows arched to the very roots of his 
 thin, gray hair. " You have arrived, two weeks, is it not ? 
 You have not gained ? " 
 
 " Things went wrong with me from the instant of landing," 
 said Pierre, dejectedly. "I offended in some unknown way 
 that grim image she calls her parent. I do not know yet in 
 what I did wrong ; but he keeps us apart, and prevents her 
 even from writing an explanation. The Todds have seen her 
 but once, and learned only the bald fact of her father's oppo- 
 sition. At the banquet last night we both seemed under 
 espionage, subjects for dissection, in fact. I am bewildered 
 with the misery of it, your Excellency, for I love the girl. 
 My one hope is that I have her promise, and on her loyalty 
 alone I must now rely." 
 
 Count Ronsard drew a long, long whiff from his cigarette, 
 and then ostentatiously nipped the ash in air. It dissolved 
 before reaching the floor, a vague little puff of gray nothing- 
 ness. " That is what the Japanese think of such a promise !
 
 160 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 The true Jehovah in Japan is the composite will of the family. 
 Is it not partly so in France, Monsieur ? If you really desired 
 marriage with this bit of ivory, and pardon ine so harsh 
 a yoke seems utterly unnecessary, you should have persuaded 
 your inamorata to become a Christian, and, while still in 
 America, have consummated a Christian marriage. Even a 
 Japanese, in these enlightened days, would not dare to attack- 
 such a bond." 
 
 " She is a Christian already," said Pierre. " And for an 
 American marriage I pleaded with a scourged soul. Even 
 Madame Todd advised it ; but Yuki-ko would not listen. She 
 must wait, she said, for her family's consent." 
 
 "Very proper of Mademoiselle," said Ronsard, gravely. As 
 Pierre made no immediate reply, the count went on with his 
 theme, " The Japanese family, my son, is like a large web, or 
 a small solar system. In the midst, as a central sun, or 
 reptile, squats the father. Behind him is the mystery and 
 power of his father, living or dead, and his father's father, 
 back to the visionary era of Jimmu Tenno. All about him, as 
 planets, or flies, are dotted the children, the wife, grand- 
 parents, uncles, aunts, cousins to the tenth branch, the family 
 servants and their connections, the family cat, the family 
 dog, the family ghost, the priests, soothsayers, physicians, 
 Mou Dieu, down to the very crickets who chirp beneath the 
 family doorstone. In a question of marriage, all these must 
 be consulted. The bride is no more than a gnat caught 
 somewhere in the web, or a very small satellite belonging to 
 a distant world." 
 
 " It is of interest, your Excellency," protested Pierre ; " but 
 I have no mind to give it. Consider my plight. I am young, 
 madly in love, and touched with despair. I turn to you as a 
 father." 
 
 " A father ? " echoed the count, with a small gleam of amuse- 
 ment in his eyes, " Mother of God ! It is a name to conjure 
 with. What will you ? " 
 
 " You have lived here long ; you know the country well. 
 Aid me to win the only woman I can ever love." 
 
 "In lawful marriage? Shall I assist you to inclose your- 
 self in that barbed-wire fence of love ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 161 
 
 "There can be no other thought for^Miss Ouda and me," 
 said Pierre, stiffly. 
 
 Count Ronsard shrugged. "You are quixotic. I was so at 
 your age. Such sentiments are, I assure you, wasted in this 
 place. The Japanese themselves prefer the laxer course. 
 They very properly execrate these mixed marriages, espe- 
 cially legal mixed marriages." 
 
 The man's voice was so soft, so kindly, so self-controlled, 
 that Pierre, in a sort of wonder, turned again to study his 
 face. The minister met his look with the friendliest of smiles 
 and a little nod. Then, as if to give the student of physiog- 
 nomy every chance, he modestly lowered his eyes. 
 
 It was a face that must have been old even in childhood, 
 old, and shrewd, and self-indulgent. The unhealthy fat, which 
 gave his body an unstable rotundity, showed here chiefly in 
 the cheeks, sagging them down into loosely filled bags, and. 
 drawing long wrinkles in the pull. The forehead, very narrow 
 toward the top, with hair growing downward in a deep point, 
 was as gray as the scant, bristling hair. The whole face, 
 indeed, was gray ; its hueless monotony given emphasis by the 
 single note of the underlip which protruded, moist, velvety, 
 and round, like a scarlet fungus from the bark of a rotting 
 tree. 
 
 " To be candid, my boy," murmured the minister, still with 
 eyelids drooped, "your penchant for Miss Onda was already 
 known to me. A ship is a huge floating laboratory of social 
 gossip. Touch land, voila, and the germs fly. My attache', 
 Monsieur Mouquin, chanced to witness your meeting with 
 Papa Onda. He saw your rejection, and the manner in which 
 your betrothed was heartlessly abducted. We that is, 
 Mouquin and myself have even ventured to speculate upon 
 possibilities, diplomatic possibilities in the interest of France, 
 that may be lying dormant in your continued er friend- 
 ship with the charming Miss Onda. At the axis of each new 
 twig of history, Monsieur, sits the love of a woman." 
 
 "I I trust that I do not clearly understand your Excel- 
 lency," said Pierre, fighting down, as he spoke, a whole swarm 
 of unsavory intuitions. 
 
 The count gave a small, resigned sigh, turned slightly in his 
 
 11
 
 162 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 chair, and tapped with one white hand his heap of opened 
 letters. " Several of these documents suggest the appointment 
 of a certain young Monsieur Le Beau to office in the French 
 Legation at Tokio. The old Due de St. Cyr is writer of 
 one." 
 
 " Monsieur le Due is my great-uncle, and ray friend," said 
 Pierre. 
 
 "You will realize that it becomes my duty to acquaint 
 myself with the calibre of such an applicant, of a youth so 
 highly recommended, and especially at a time when rela- 
 tions between our country and Japan are slightly er 
 neuralgic." 
 
 " I have no previous record in civil service, but I believe I 
 could do something for France." 
 
 " Ah, that is just the point ! " said the count, with more 
 eagerness than he had yet showed. " To serve France, that 
 is our whole concern. You have had no training, it is true ; 
 yet you have already a weapon that old and tried diplo- 
 mats might weep for. I refer, as you conjecture, to your 
 friendship with Mademoiselle Onda, daughter of Tetsujo Onda, 
 and ward, in a sense, of his Highness Prince Hagane." 
 
 Pierre, in a flash, was upon his feet. Cigarette ashes 
 tumbled from the folds of his waistcoat. He hurled a newly 
 lighted tube into the fire. "You, sir," he began, with evident 
 effort to control his voice, "you, sir, are experienced, and I 
 am ignorant; you are calm and I am impetuous, perhaps 
 I should hsten courteously to what you wish to say ; but I 
 believe it impossible for me to do so. I love this girl as a 
 man loves the woman whom he desires to make his honored 
 wife. In England, where I went to school, I learned ideas, 
 stricter perhaps than Parisian conceptions, of the sacredness 
 and the responsibility of marriage. This girl is a thing of 
 snow. No tie could be too strong, no sacrament too safe, for 
 pledging my fidelity. You see, I could not listen." 
 
 The count, as the young man was speaking, gazed steadily 
 into the fire. His face remained as expressionless as a leaf. 
 Pierre, striding here and there in his agitation, came back at 
 length to the mantel, and stood still. The count spoke 
 slowly.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 163 
 
 " It is far better for France arid for you that I speak my 
 mind fully; yet, because you are ignorant and impetuous, you 
 cannot, as you say, listen in decent reserve. It is ever so 
 with youth." 
 
 The deep sadness of the elder man swept aside Pierre's 
 rising indignation. He looked very old now, huddled in the 
 great chair, his hands spread, palm outward, to the blaze. 
 
 Pierre threw himself on an ottoman near. "Pardon my 
 boorishness. I will listen, Monsieur, though your words be 
 fangs. You are my mother's valued friend, and for that alone 
 I should owe you reverence. Speak what you will." 
 
 At the re-mention of the word " mother," the same curious 
 look flickered in Ronsard's eyes. He drew a sigh, gathered 
 himself into a more upright posture, and asked of Pierre, in 
 judicial tones, " Let me inquire, Monsieur, whether you and 
 Mademoiselle Onda, or your friends the Todds, have thought 
 out any logical conclusion, should the family of Onda determine 
 that you are to be definitely repulsed ? " 
 
 Pierre dropped his head to his hands. "ISTo, we can think 
 of nothing, except elopement, and that, now, is impossible." 
 
 " Have you thought for her of a possible forced marriage? " 
 
 "To a Japanese? Yes, my God, when have I not thought 
 it! No, Monsieur, I do not think it I will not; she 
 would accept death sooner than break her troth to me. I have 
 her word, her broken hairpin " 
 
 "A menacing implement " interpolated Ronsard. 
 
 " Can you think it possible, your Excellency?" 
 
 " What, the forced marriage ? " Rousard broke off, looked 
 at Pierre, and then, as if in compassion, removed his gaze. 
 
 "Make it not unendurable," muttered Pierre, through 
 whitening lips. 
 
 " I make nothing," said Ronsard. " You have begun the 
 train of disaster; I can but trace the map of possible retreat. 
 Yes, I believe truly that the next move in her family will be 
 to marry her off to some eligible suitor, an old man, prob- 
 ably, one strong enough to keep you and the girl in check. 
 Some worn-out voluptuary, or a War-God in Pig Iron, like old 
 Hagane himself." 
 
 Pierre raised bloodshot eyes. His mouth writhed and
 
 164 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 opened, but no words came. The old diplomat's voice had 
 been like cut velvet, woven on wires of steel. 
 
 " You you do not spare ' Pierre managed to 
 gasp at length. 
 
 Ronsard wore, if anything, a look of satisfaction. He now 
 lifted a jewelled hand to press and pinch and fondle the moist, 
 warm cushion of the protruding Jip. His eyes, from under 
 their drooping lids, darted sharp fusilades of meaning upon 
 his shrinking companion. The very sting restored Pierre. 
 " Yes," resumed the other, as if Pierre had spoken, " in such 
 manages de convenance personal affection is left aside. Yet 
 how deplorable how impossible that a Botticelli in ivory 
 and pearl should never know the joys of ardent love ! Oppor- 
 tunities always arise. And then, as wife of a Japanese official, 
 Mademoiselle Onda might prove invaluable to France 
 invaluable ! " 
 
 Pierre rose this time slowly. Both delicate hands gripped 
 the rim of the table hard. For a moment he shut his eyes 
 that the vision of the sneering, sensual face might not tempt 
 the blow his young arm tingled to inflict. " It is enough," he 
 said, " I was wrong in thinking that I could listen. If your 
 Excellency will now be so good as to excuse me 
 
 Ronsard gave a gesture of good fellowship. He smiled 
 cunningly to himself as Pierre vanished from the room. Self- 
 congratulations fawned upon him. His aim had been true. 
 The poisoned arrow was in place, and though Pierre might 
 snap, or draw it forth, the wound would fester. 
 
 Among his morning letters one had been carefully concealed. 
 It was of the latest tint and shape of fashion. It smelled of 
 Paris and intrigue. The last words were these, "Say nothing 
 to my headstrong boy of this letter, but, for my sake, keep 
 him from serious entanglement. I object not, you will un- 
 derstand, to passing follies; but let not the handcuffs of a 
 Japanese marriage click. Mon Dieu, think of grandchildren ! 
 Yours, for the old time's sake, Olga Le Beau." The count read 
 it through once more, rubbed it thoughtfully against his red 
 lip, and finally, with a sentimental sigh, placed it on the coals. 
 
 Dropping his head forward, he began to dream. At first it 
 was of Paris, only Paris, with its gay streets, beautiful women,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 165 
 
 its theatres and supper-rooms. What waste of years to have 
 lived so long away ! Yet in the East had been compensa- 
 tions. Diplomacy, as he conceived it, was the highest form 
 of gambling; life itself, a spinning roulette table. Diplomacy 
 was the only profession for one with romance, poetry, passion 
 in his veins, and brains in his skull. Pierre, Olga Breken- 
 dorff's child, was fitted for the career, if, at the outset, he did 
 not manacle his own hands. He must not marry, least of all 
 marry a Japanese girl of high connections. Let the girl love 
 him, and be given to another. Visions of purloined state 
 papers, of secrets won in the marriage chamber only to be 
 given France next morning, of Japanese chagrin at the 
 mysterious betrayal of plans, caressed him with leprous 
 fingers. Ah, to be young once more and beautiful, like Pierre ! 
 How like his eyes were to the Eussian mother! No wonder 
 the Japanese girl loved him ! 
 
 A sharp knock roused him. 
 
 "Entrez! Oide!" 
 
 Mouquin rushed in as if pursued, leaving the door open. 
 Within a few feet of Ronsard he stood still, shivering in an 
 ague of excitement. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? Speak, man. You chatter and grimace 
 like an ape." 
 
 Mouquin waved a small square of paper printed in Japanese. 
 " An extra ! War ! They say Togo has fired ! " 
 
 Rousard leaned forward and snatched the^.paper. He read 
 Japanese well. 
 
 "War! Togo fired this morning! Three Russian boats 
 already sunk ! Mother of God ! " 
 
 The telephone began a frantic ringing. Mouquin went to 
 it sidewise. "Your Excellency, the Russian minister." 
 
 " Hold the wire." Ronsard got to his feet. Mouquin still 
 chattered. His words came now in a torrent. He was 
 drunk with the bigness of the hour. "Fired, your Excellency ! 
 Japan the pygmy, with no further provocation, has dared 
 fire upon Imperial Russia ! " 
 
 Ronsard eyed the speaker with a sort of scorn. "True, 
 Monsieur, and, as I understand, Japan the pygmy has begun 
 already to sink Imperial Russia."
 
 166 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Mouquin stared for a moment at the speaker, seeking a clue 
 to the unexpected words. Perhaps he saw for himself a 
 chance at singularity. He bowed over, gave a low laugh, and 
 backing toward the door cried out, " And has begun to sink 
 Imperial Russia! Banzai Nippon ! " He went out quickly. 
 
 Ronsard stood quiet by the telephone. It hissed and bub- 
 bled like an impaled crab. He lifted the receiver slowly, his 
 eyes still on the door. " I know it now," he murmured, " I 
 have long suspected it. Somewhere in this desert of gray 
 huts Mouquin has a Japanese wife. It was her lips that 
 uttered through him that ' Banzai Nippon.' And so I think 
 it would soon be with the impressionable Pierre. Hello ! 
 Oui, it is Ronsard."
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 INTO the wide, white streets of modem Yedo, Pierre 
 stumbled alone. There had been no definite thought in his 
 hurried flight, only a craving to flee from the polluting face 
 and soft, compelling voice of his compatriot. How was it 
 possible for a man with the intelligence of Ronsard to harbor 
 such ideas of Japanese character ? Yuki's very presence 
 breathed purity ; yet that old man had said had dared to 
 hint Pierre broke away from the recollection, hid his 
 eyes, and groaned. As a consequence he was nearly hurled to 
 earth by a passing kuruma-man, whose warning cry of " Hek ! 
 Hek ! " had been ignored. 
 
 Pierre recovered himself with difficulty. The occupant of 
 the vehicle, a stout burgher of the middle class with sulphur- 
 colored socks and a gaudy watch-chain, essayed some laughing 
 excuse ; but the wiry human steed, deliberately putting his 
 shafts to the ground, squared himself before the offending 
 " Seiyo-jin " to deliver a volley of heterogeneous oaths, selected 
 at random from the stores of other nations. Pierre, unmoved 
 by these comic insults, apologized to the burgher in three 
 languages, and hurried on. 
 
 Now for the first time he noticed that flags were being hung 
 at every door. Flags fluttered from the backs of jinrikishas 
 and were stuck on top of pull-cart loads. Past him hurried 
 newsboys with printed hand-bills held eagerly upward. Small 
 bells jangled at their hips. 
 
 "Nan desu ka?" (What is it?) he asked politely of a 
 passer-by. 
 
 "Ikusa," was the brief response, accompanied, as Pierre 
 could not help seeing, by a disdainful, yet triumphant scowl. 
 " Ikusa " was a word not included in the Frenchman's short 
 vocabulary.
 
 168 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Four University students, with the exaggeratedly short 
 skirts, and the brawny, bare legs of the Satsuma faction, came 
 lurching toward him. All grinned at sight of the alien, and 
 shouted with one voice, "Banzai Nippon!" 
 
 Pierre understood this phrase at least. "An excellent 
 sentiment," he remarked gravely in English ; " but now will 
 you kindly inform me why it seems appropriate to the present 
 moment ? " 
 
 The boys nudged one another and giggled. One of them at 
 length answered in careful English, " Mr. Togo has war already 
 begun. Many Russian battle-ships, having been this day fired 
 upon, have into sea-bottom sinked. All will be siuked ! Banzai 
 Nippon ! " 
 
 " Banzai Nippon ! " roared his comrades ; and the four, with 
 sundry delighted, backward glances at the bewildered for- 
 eigner, hurried on. 
 
 Pierre, ignoring consequences, again stood still. Jinrikishas 
 clattered past him to the right, to the left, singly, or now in 
 long, black strings. The faces of human horses and vehicle 
 occupants were alike vivified by a singular excitement. Many 
 of the little trotting men conversed volubly with those whom 
 they bore. " Ikusa! Ikusa ! " was the burden of all speech. 
 
 " Ikusa," repeated Pierre, dully. " This ' Ikusa ' undoubtedly 
 means ' war.' " He knew in his soul that the rumor was true. 
 Visions of the scowling Onda, of Prince Hagane, of the leering, 
 intelligent eyes of Count Ronsard, flew past him with the real 
 faces of the streets. He cursed aloud. " War !" a new wedge 
 between himself and Yuki. 
 
 He walked on now with nervous energy. " Yu-ki Yu-ki 
 Yu-ki," his heart and steps kept pace with the refrain. 
 The whole world fell into the despairing swing of it. " Yu- 
 ki Yu-ki Yu-ki !" 
 
 A little Japanese matron, hastening to a sick neighbor's 
 house with the great news, gave him a commiserating glance. 
 Her husband was a sailor on one of the battle-ships now 
 fighting. She was proud and happy. What sorrow could it 
 be that made the young foreigner's eyes so deep and blue ? 
 Surely this was not war ! It must be love. She had heard 
 that in the affairs of love the foreigners found strange griefs.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 169 
 
 " Do-mo ! " murmured the little dame to herself, " I am 
 grateful to the gods this day to be a Japanese with my hus- 
 band in a glorious fight." 
 
 Pierre walked now, still unheeding, in a direction almost 
 due west from the French Legation. On his right hand 
 stretched the long moats edged stiffly with young willows. 
 He had been told that these trees were planted by an adoring 
 people on the day, just fifteen years before, that the Em- 
 peror, out of his wise and loving heart, had given to them a 
 parliamentary government. Only fifteen years ! The willows 
 had none of them attained full growth, and yet the nation 
 that had planted them had that morning fired upon one of the 
 proudest and most implacable empires of old Europe. 
 
 On the enormous campus directly in front of the Imperial 
 gates, citizens by thousands were assembling. They surged 
 here and there in a breathless, whispered excitement. Their 
 lowered voices and moving garments made a sound as of the 
 sea. 
 
 All eyes were turned upward to the Imperial moat walls, 
 where white dots of faces belonging to the court ladies 
 peered over for an instant and vanished. 
 
 The Emperor was not visible. The crowd did not expect 
 to see him, and had he suddenly manifested himself would 
 have felt chagrin rather than exultation. They knew that his 
 heart was with them, and they reverenced him thus silently 
 with the feeling one has in a vast cathedral, just before the 
 service begins. 
 
 The Frenchman hurried by with down-bent head, knowing 
 himself an intruder. At the Sakurada gate of the moat system 
 he again took his bearings, and saw that by continuing in 
 a straight course he would reach the American Legation. He 
 realized on the instant that this was the place where he 
 wished to go. In all this beautiful, mysterious land he had 
 but two friends, Mrs. Todd and Gwendolen. 
 
 On a steep slope facing to the northeast, and leading up by 
 several roads to the broad and thickly populated district of 
 Azabu, Tokio, can be seen a Japanese gate which is large 
 without being imposing, and severe without being dignified. 
 Perhaps the peculiar contours of the land in this unfavored
 
 170 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 spot, the infelicitous swerve of the road, and an awkward 
 grading of the hill, make the tall gateway always appear 
 just a little uneasy. This is the main entrance of the Amer- 
 ican Legation. Behind it stands a large structure of wood 
 with office-buildings attached. The contrast of buildings 
 and gate is not cheerful. Nor is the large surrounding 
 garden of less amorphous aspect. A wide stretch of well- 
 kept lawn with no particular outline, disheartening attempts 
 along the edges at bits of Japanese hill and rock formation, 
 together with certain unrelated patches of shrub and tree, 
 coexist in a sort of Eurasian tolerance. 
 
 Pretty Gwendolen openly called her present domicile a 
 barn. Mrs. Todd had begun at once buying blindly and indis- 
 criminately from peddlers, hawkers, and " curio-men," who in- 
 fest the official homes of new-comers. As a result, the high 
 walls of the Legation rooms were being rapidly covered with 
 atrocious kakemono, some too high, some too low, and all, 
 from the standpoint of art, utterly vicious. On tables, shelves, 
 and mantelpieces stood gaudy Japanese vases such as a na- 
 tive rag-picker could hardly have been persuaded to use 
 (though the price given by Mrs. Todd for a single article 
 might have educated his son), and various household uten- 
 sils, each, to the eye of a Japanese visitor, uttering a shriek of 
 incongruity. 
 
 Should a Japanese lady fill one of her low-ceiled, spacious 
 rooms with foreign lithographs representing lambs, blue-eyed 
 children, baskets of fruit, nude women, jockeys, and land- 
 scapes, each in a flaring gold frame, hanging them anywhere 
 from two feet above the matting to the ceiling line itself, 
 should she, between these rectangular blasphemies, sus- 
 pend bits of foreign underwear, old neckties, garters, belts, 
 hair-brushes, and egg-beaters, and, to complete the artistic 
 impression, set about on the floor decorated soup-tureens, 
 water-coolers with growing plants, and lard-baskets piled 
 high with Japanese cakes, an American visitor, entering 
 for the first time, would get much the same impression that 
 Japanese visitors derived from Mrs. Todd's drawing-rooms. 
 
 On this clear morning of February 9, 1904, the American 
 Legation, in company with all others of the great Eastern
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 171 
 
 capital, hummed and vibrated to the excitement of war. Tele- 
 phone wires were kept hot. Messengers went back and forth 
 ceaselessly with " chits " (notes) written in English, French, 
 Spanish, German, and other tongues. Carriage-wheels rolled 
 and rattled in every street. Pierre was ushered into the main 
 drawing-room, a place which always made him shudder and 
 think of William Morris. Mrs. Todd, Gwendolen, and Mr. 
 Dodge were already there. The two latter were standing; 
 Dodge evidently was on the point of departure. Mrs. Todd 
 sat close to the soft-coal fire, sewing some green American 
 fringe on a kesa a Buddhist priest's robe which she was to 
 use for a piano cover. 
 
 Gwendolen, first catching sight of the visitor, went forward 
 in her bright, impetuous way. "Thank goodness that you 
 came ! Is n't this war-news exciting? Was n't that banquet 
 last night, after the Eed God appeared, a regular skeleton's 
 feast ? Have you heard from Yuki this morning ? " 
 
 Before Pierre could segregate the necessary replies, Minis- 
 ter Todd was in the room. He walked slowly, studying, with 
 his thin quaint smile, a large visiting card, apparently just 
 received. He nodded all around, and then addressed himself 
 directly to Dodge. 
 
 " Prince Hagane has called. Would you advise me to see 
 him alone ? " 
 
 " No, no, Cy. I won't hear to it ! " protested Mrs. Todd. 
 "With this war started, he may be intending you bodily 
 harm ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said her spouse, patting one plump 
 shoulder. 
 
 Dodge had been scrutinizing the legend on the pasteboard. 
 
 "This is his Highness's most rigidly official card. Yes, sir, 
 you will have to see him alone. But don't commit yourself 
 by the faintest hint. We have as yet received no instructions 
 from Washington." 
 
 " Why, what was that great bunch of cables that came this 
 morning ? " asked the lady, with childlike eyes. 
 
 Todd grinned toward his secretary, who now cast a grinless 
 and apprehensive look in the direction of Pierre. Dodge 
 answered for the office, " Those related to an entirely different
 
 172 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 matter, Mrs. Todd, a personal matter. Your husband, Minis- 
 ter Todd, has had no instructions with regard to this war 
 just begun." 
 
 Pierre, reddening slightly, beckoned Gwendolen across the 
 room. They stood staring out across the wide brown lawn. 
 Mr. Todd and his assistant left the room together. Above the 
 Buddhist garment she was desecrating, Mrs. Todd murmured 
 plaintively, "I 've known it all along, though Count Break- 
 itoff in Washington assured me it could not come. I was 
 certain that just as soon as I got over here the horrid thing 
 would break out. Just suppose the Russians capture Tokio ! 
 They boast already that they will dictate terms of peace in 
 Tokio before next Christmas day, and the Russian troops are 
 like wild beasts." Here she gave a shudder, and raised her 
 voice. "Oh, Gwendolen, why did we leave Washington, or 
 even our peaceful Western home ? I'd. give ten thousand 
 dollars to be set down right now in a good Christian wheat- 
 field. This is awful, simply awful! " 
 
 " And I think it glorious, simply glorious ! " sang Gwendolen 
 from the window. " Already the prospect tingles in my 
 veins.. It is better than a coming-out party, better than auto- 
 mobiling on a road of green glass ! I feel that delicious, 
 tragic, matinee feeling I used to have as a child, just as the 
 curtain starts to rise." 
 
 " And you are not afraid something is going to happen? " 
 asked Mrs. Todd. 
 
 "I'm only afraid that something isn't going to happen," 
 returned the intrepid one. 
 
 Pierre sauntered toward the hearth. " I come of a fighting 
 race, yet now I share Madame's views rather than those of 
 her spirited daughter. This war means a new gulf between 
 Yuki and me." 
 
 Gwendolen's face sobered. "I've thought of that. You 
 are right. It means a wider gulf ; it ought to mean a wider 
 gulf." 
 
 Pierre moved nearer the fire and spread his delicate hands 
 to the flame. "Your tone, Mademoiselle," he began with a 
 most pathetic attempt at lightness, "might imply that the 
 gulf is already of sufficient width to admit despair."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 173 
 
 Gwendolen threw back her head and looked at him from 
 under long lashes. "I did n't say so," returned she. 
 
 " Speech is the least satisfactory form of intelligent com- 
 munication," answered Pierre, still trying to smile himself aud 
 her into the delusion that he was but partly in earnest. 
 
 " Did you see the way that Yuki's father watched us all last 
 night ? " asked the girl, irrelevantly. 
 
 " No, I cannot say I bestowed much attention. Whenever 
 possible, I keep my eyes from unpleasing objects." 
 
 " You do well, Pierre," asserted Mrs. Todd ; " especially 
 in this case. I was next him most of the time, and though I 
 did not look, I have acquired neuralgia in the shoulder which 
 was nearest him." 
 
 " He was n't what one would call exactly gushing," mused 
 Gwendolen. She seated herself now, and fell into a sort of 
 reverie, dropping her chin and catching it in one hand, a ges- 
 ture ludicrously like Mr. Todd. Pierre's glance into her face 
 added, it would seem, to his uneasiness. 
 
 " I presume it is only war that has brought Prince Hagane to 
 call so promptly," said he, tentatively, with a note of chal- 
 lenge in his voice. 
 
 Gwendolen gave a small sniff. "War! He may call it 
 war, but it is Yuki ! Prince Hagane stands behind that 
 old pickled samurai, Onda ; I felt it last night. I tried to 
 hint it to you then, but you were determined not to see." 
 She rose to her feet again, and began to flutter near, in the 
 fashion most disastrous to Mrs. Todd's always sensitive 
 nerves. 
 
 " Do sit down, Gwendolen, or you will have my brains as 
 tangled as this knot of silk," cried the matron. She began 
 now to jerk at the shining strands, as if they were partly the 
 cause of her irritation. In an instant they were reduced to 
 the condition of a small demented rainbow. Pierre took a low 
 stool, seated himself near the knee of his hostess, and began 
 deftly to unravel the tangle. 
 
 He had not tried to answer Gwendolen's last remark; per- 
 haps he could not. Something in his face smote the girl's 
 generous heart. She knelt at the other side of Mrs. Todd's 
 ample knee-space, crying, " Pierre, I have hurt you ! I am a
 
 174 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 horrid, brusque girl. I ought to be a telephone ' central.' I 
 didn't mean to hurt." 
 
 " That 's just your way, Gwendolen," admonished Mrs. 
 Todd. " You will do things first, and repent them after. How 
 often have I told you that an ounce of prevention is worth a 
 pound of cure ? " 
 
 "Nay, Madame," entreated Pierre, "speak not so harshly. 
 Miss Gwendolen is merely impulsive. I know her for a good 
 friend of my Yuki, and, I hope, of myself. Such candor may 
 smart a little, but it is beneficial. The truth is, I am sore, 
 wounded, aching, from a talk just held with his Excellency 
 Count Eonsard. I think I came here for balm." 
 
 " You told him of your attachment ? " questioned Mrs. 
 Todd, eagerly. Gwendolen rose slowly, went over to a divan 
 and seated herself. 
 
 " Yes," said Pierre, " I told him. And for reasons quite 
 different, quite apart from any that Yuki's friends or relatives 
 might urge, he is antagonistic to the idea of my marriage. 
 Of course his opposition means nothing to me. I care not 
 if the whole of France sailed East to prevent me. My faith 
 is bound to Yuki, and I shall not give her up. But in the 
 matter of official appointment Count Ronsard can make difficul- 
 ties. Indeed I am convinced that he has been holding my cre- 
 dentials all along, and, for his own whim, will not give them." 
 
 Gwendolen had listened quietly to the full speech, though 
 her eyes were shining with anger. " The old sinner ! " she 
 exclaimed ; "the idea of his daring to object to Yuki! What 
 were his reasons, I would like to know ! " 
 
 Pierre flushed. '" To put it delicately, that Yuki is not of 
 French descent." 
 
 Gwendolen bridled. "Oh, I see! You need n't say any more. 
 Probably he would object to me for the same reason, thinking 
 me an alloy of red Indian and buffalo. For sheer, crass ignor- 
 ance, commend me to the European savant ! Well, I would 
 like to go to Mr. Ronsard and just inform him that there is 
 no king nor emperor of Europe who need not be proud to win 
 my Yuki-ko ! " 
 
 " You may be sure I told him, with enough of vehemence 
 to suit even you, Mademoiselle."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 175 
 
 " The miserable old wretch ! " murmured Mrs. Todd, above 
 the kesa. 
 
 Gwendolen's gaze, now that the anger died, went moodily 
 to Pierre. He met the look with a smile no less winning for 
 its sadness. 
 
 " Pierre, you are a dear boy," she said, her own eyes sud- 
 denly stung by tears; "I know Yuki loves you, and I can't 
 blame her. I wish oh, I wish you could be happy together; 
 but" 
 
 " Can you not omit that last small word ? " 
 
 The girl sighed deeply, then leaned forward, her elbows on 
 her knees. "Pierre," she was beginning in great seriousness; 
 she had in her mind to ask whether, if once convinced of the 
 impossibility of marriage with Yuki either now or ever, he 
 would still demand from her fidelity, defiance of her parents, 
 and of all the established rules of her class, still hold her 
 to that promise he had wrung. 
 
 Since that banquet of the Red God, only the evening before, 
 and now fleeing with strange rapidity into the past, since she 
 had seen Pierre's very charm and artistic sensitiveness used 
 as clever traps for his entanglement, he meantime suspecting 
 nothing, Gwendolen felt not only that the marriage would be 
 indefinitely postponed, but that it would be finally prevented. 
 The subtlety, the ideality, the self-sacrificing impulses of a 
 Japanese nature indissolubly bound to Pierre must mean 
 sorrow, if not degeneration to both. As well try to graft a 
 French geranium upon the stem of a young bamboo ! Before 
 she could put her question, Mr. Todd, re-entering, diverted all 
 interest to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Todd was first to speak. " Oh, Cy, tell me quick ! 
 Has war really begun, or were those reports only to frighten 
 us ? Did he confess that war had come ? " 
 
 " He did n't confess, exactly. He admitted war, as he might 
 have admitted that the day was cold or the wind blowing. I 
 never feel quite myself before that man ! He charges me with 
 electricity first, and then hypnotizes me afterward. As clearly 
 as I can make out, it was a friendly visit, its particular object 
 being to ascertain correctly the amount of indisposition ac- 
 quired by each separate guest from last night's revelry."
 
 176 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Revelry," murmured Gwendolen. 
 
 " I hope you did not tell him that I had nightmare, Cy ! " 
 said Mrs. Todd, anxiously. 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 " I hope you did tell him that I think Japanese food deli- 
 cious, and would like to live on it," cried Gwendolen. 
 
 "I did," said her father. "He looked bored. Evidently 
 charming young American women are nothing to Prince 
 Hagane. His chief concern, it seemed, was Pierre." 
 
 "I Monsieur?" echoed Pierre, with a nervous start. 
 
 "Yes, I can't recall now any very direct questions, he 
 didn't exactly 'pump,' yet in his esoteric way he let me know 
 that all I could tell him of you he would be glad to learn." 
 
 Pierre tried to meet Gwendolen's eyes, but she had turned 
 away. 
 
 " Did you speak of my Russian mother, Mr. Todd ? " 
 
 " No ; I had the chance, but dodged it. I thought it none 
 of his Highness's business." 
 
 "Merci," murmured the other. 
 
 "Speaking of Dodging it," put in Gwendolen; "where is 
 your secretary ? " 
 
 " He got a ' chit ' from the Spanish Legation, and asked for 
 an hour's leave of absence." 
 
 " That fat Carmen Gil y Niestra," puffed Mrs. Todd. (Mrs. 
 Todd's own weight was over the two hundred mark, yet she was 
 scathing in her scorn of avoirdupois in another.) "These 
 European women are shameless in the way they run after 
 men. She 's shadowing Dodge now. I wonder what she can 
 want of him." The good lady applied herself with renewed 
 diligence to her robe. Gwendolen studied the stucco-work of 
 the ceiling. In the somewhat strained silence Pierre rose. 
 Mr. Todd was close to him. He put a hand affectionately on 
 the boy's shoulder, and looked down into his face. Pierre, in 
 spite of efforts for self-control, shrank back, his lips quivering 
 with a prescience of new pain. 
 
 Gwendolen ran to his defence. "We know what you are 
 going to say. It has been spoken already. Spare us, dad. 
 We are all upset this morning, and when one is upset good 
 advice is an insult. I challenge you to a set at tennis,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 177 
 
 Pierre. Come, come, the court is perfect, though the skies 
 be gray." 
 
 Pierre turned eagerly. " Capital, nothing could be better. 
 But my costume, I have not the necessary flannels, shoes " 
 He looked himself over in concern. 
 
 " You have your legs and arms, I presume," said Gwendolen, 
 dryly. 
 
 Catching up the rackets and a box of balls, she hurried out, 
 leaving the glass door open. 
 
 " Shut the door, Pierre," called Mrs. Todd. 
 
 Todd watched the slim young figure as he went. Faithful 
 to Mrs. Todd's admonition, he closed the panel with the great- 
 est care, rattling the knob to show that the latch had caught. 
 
 Mr. Todd sighed. " I wish that door opened into France, 
 and that I held a St. Peter's key to it," he murmured, as if 
 to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Todd wondered above the robe. "What's that pretty 
 thing you 're making ? " asked her spouse, quickly. " A piano 
 cover ? Gwendolen ought to play a regular ' Streets of Cairo ' 
 potpourri under that. Are n't you afraid the old priest's 
 ghost will haunt you ? " 
 
 "You do talk such nonsense for a grown-up, intelligent 
 man," reproved his dame, but her lips and her eyes smiled. 
 
 "Those are the times when I make my most sensible 
 remarks," said he, in return. 
 
 " I suppose you know," retorted his Susan, with doubt in 
 her voice.
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 RETURNING home from the princely banquet side by side in 
 the double jinrikisha, not a word had been spoken between 
 Tetsujo Onda and his child. The master went at once into 
 his little study, banging shoji and fusuma close around him. 
 
 Yuki, forcing back her sad thoughts, related to her mother 
 and the eager servants an account of the many beautiful 
 dishes at the feast. For their amusement she even told a 
 few of the queer foreign mistakes. Some of these were 
 received by Maru San in gasping horror. 
 
 "Ma-a-a-a!" she cried once. "A foreign lady, rich and 
 educated, leave one chopstick standing on its head in 
 a bowl of rice ! Ma-a ! But how can I believe that ? Miss 
 Yuki must be joking." 
 
 " Just think what foolish things you would do at a for- 
 eign banquet, with their awkward knives, forks, and spoons," 
 said Yuki, smiling. 
 
 Maru shook her head. This revolution of the poles of 
 etiquette was too much for her brain. 
 
 Each article of Yuki's attire, beginning with the heavy 
 satin obi (sash), was carefully folded, pressed smooth by the 
 hands, and put away lovingly in a lacquered clothes-chest. 
 Sometimes Iriya performed this service, sometimes Suzume. 
 Yuki and Maru were both considered too inexperienced for 
 such careful manipulation. 
 
 That night it was the old warrior's turn to remain awake, 
 staring at the ceiling, spelling out the future by the andon's 
 dim ligh't, and planning ways to rescue his daughter from 
 her mad attachment without inflicting unnecessary pain. For 
 Yuki was indeed the pride of his heart. It was a humiliation 
 as well as a sorrow that she should be willing to repudiate her 
 nationality.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 179 
 
 With his slow wits and somewhat rigid cast of mind he 
 had not caught the full importance of the evening just passed, 
 or the significance of the test in. which the Ked God had 
 played so large a part. Yet in his daimyo's eye, as it rested 
 on Yuki, he had seen something that stirred the blood in the 
 old samurai's veins. Surely not even the ladies of the golden 
 Fujiwara age had been more beautiful than Yuki-ko. Then, 
 Hagane was not indifferent to beauty in women. Could it be 
 possible But no! Tetsujo dared not let this fancy spread. 
 His skull would split with it. Groaning, he turned on his 
 wooden pillow and tried to sleep but in vain. 
 
 Meanwhile his daughter, not twenty feet away, behind 
 her silver fusuma, lay in dreamless quiet. The certainty of 
 Hagane's implication, and the tremendous opposition it in- 
 volved, steadied and concentrated her. She knew what she 
 had before her and deliberately willed the sleep that should 
 bring strength. 
 
 In the early dawn, within the sound of her father's restless 
 tossing, she crouched against a shoji, and in the faint pink 
 glow wrote an English letter. Every motion showed care. 
 The rustling of the long sheets of Japanese paper would have 
 betrayed her, so she wrote in pencil on a little pad that bore 
 the name of a stationer in Washington. From time to time 
 she consulted an open letter in a man's writing, a wild, illogi- 
 cal, despairing letter, the one that Gwendolen had brought 
 some days before. 
 
 " How will your thoughts be this gray morning, my dear ? " 
 she wrote to him. "Last night you were as one stung by 
 happy madness. You would not see nor hear my warnings. 
 Now you will be realizing why I wished to make warnings. 
 Lord Hagane is with my father against us. They wish me 
 not to marry with a foreigner. That terrible painting was a 
 test, and I have betrayed us by my woman's soft heart. 
 Now they are sure that the one I love is in Tokio they will 
 take stronger care against me. Dear Pierre, I do not think 
 there is any hope! We can wait, or we can die! just 
 now I believe nothing else is possible. Pierre ! If my 
 weakness offend you, and if already it seem to you far beyond 
 any help, if you, being the impatience, have not heart to so
 
 180 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 long wait, let me go ! Forget poor Yuki ! Indeed, I should 
 not have promised at all. I belong to my country, as in 
 previous time I said. I must not make sad your bright life. 
 Rather would I be forgotten, than bring you to grief. Your 
 Yuki-ko." 
 
 This letter she addressed to Pierre at the French Legation, 
 stamped, sealed it, and slipped it into the long, hanging sleeve 
 of her kimono, intending, at the first opportunity, to get it 
 into the hands of a postman. After this she arranged her 
 hair and obi quickly and went out into the kitchen where 
 already she heard old Suzumeand Mam San at work. Hardly 
 had she entered when the front gate opened and the news- 
 paper-boy ran in, his small copper bell clamoring on his hip. 
 His bovine face was crimson with suppressed joy. Beside the 
 usual morning sheet he held out a printed extra, shaking it 
 toward her. 
 
 " Look at this ! Honorably read these headlines, o jo san ! 
 Banzai Nippon ! " he cried. 
 
 Yuki reached forward for the hand-bill. " It is war ! War ! 
 Togo has fired ! " she read, in a low, tense voice. " War with 
 that great brutal nation, and we have fired ! Nippon ! 
 my Emperor ! The ancient gods be with you! " 
 
 " Three ships already sunk ! Three ! " screamed the boy, 
 wildly, and tossed up his foreign jockey-cap. 
 
 "Kwanuon preserve us! What has happened an earth- 
 quake ? " cried old Suzume, hastening from the well-curb, and 
 wiping red hands on her apron as she came. 
 
 " War ! War, nurse ! Our country is at war this minute, 
 and three Russian battle-ships are already sunk ! " 
 
 " We '11 .teach the bears that we are not to be trampled 
 Banzai Nippon ! " boasted the paper-boy, as he hurried back to 
 the street. , 
 
 Iriya, not quite dressed, thrust her head from the parted 
 fusuma. 
 
 " War, Mistress ! War, Master ! The honorable Mr. Togo 
 has sunk all the Russian battle-ships and beheaded all the 
 generals with his own hand ! " shrieked Suzume. Maru began 
 to cry. 
 
 " War ! " faltered Iriya, and shrank back into the dim room.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 181 
 
 " Banzai ! May our Emperor live a thousand years ! " roared 
 Tetsujo. Those outside could hear him hurtling about the 
 narrow room. "Tell them to hang the flags above the gate, 
 woman ! Quick ! Every moment wasted is a sacrilege ! Gods 
 of my Ancestors, at last we fight! Would that I were with 
 Togo ! " 
 
 Iriya, after giving orders for the flags, threw herself before 
 the family shrine, where lights burned always in small, steady, 
 pointed flames. "Ancestral spirits of our home, old deities 
 of this land, give strength to our soldiers and sailors ! " she 
 whispered. 
 
 Tetsujo brushed past her, fully equipped for walking. His 
 old face twitched with eagerness. 
 
 " Do you not wait for your worthless breakfast, honorable 
 master?" ventured Suzume. 
 
 Onda gave a loud laugh and tossed the old dame a handful 
 of coin. 
 
 " Breakfast ! I 'in eating and drinking food of the gods ! 
 Here ! Take this money, and all of you women go to your 
 temple and make offering ! I seek the public places where 
 men assemble." Suddenly he halted. Hagane's last words 
 came to his ears. His face turned black, and he slowly walked 
 into the house with bent head. " I had forgotten I cannot 
 go. Serve the breakfast as usual," he muttered in the voice 
 of an old man. Stumbling into the main room he said under 
 his breath, " Hachiman Sama, help me to endure ! On a day 
 like this I, Onda Tetsujo I a warrior of Hagane's clan 
 I must be held here like a tame cock in a bamboo basket ! 
 Had I not seen the look in his Highness's eye I might 
 hurl all aside and take the risk " 
 
 Soft footsteps had been following him. He wheeled, to face 
 Yuki. Her eyes were gleaming and steady, though her face 
 had crimsoned with shame. " Father," she began proudly, 
 " I know the reason of your return. All your heart burns to 
 be with other men, and to hear full news of this mighty event. 
 Go, I entreat you ! There is no fear of what you and Prince 
 Hagane think." 
 
 The old warrior himself now showed embarrassment. He 
 would not meet her gaze, but let his eyes move restlessly
 
 182 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 about the floor as he answered: "Yes, my old heart strains 
 like a bowstring to be gone and I do not dare! You 
 defied me once, my blood grows hot at the thought of it." 
 
 " Still, I am your daughter," said Yuki. " And I think you 
 will believe me when I offer you my pledge that, from this 
 moment till your return, even though it be a week hence, 
 I shall not leave this house and garden, shall not admit a 
 foreign guest to it nor listen to foreign speech." 
 
 " I believe you," said Tetsujo, with great relief in his face. 
 " You will neither go nor admit a foreign guest nor write 
 and receive letters ? " 
 
 Yuki caught up her sleeve. Onda's face darkened. De- 
 liberately drawing forth the letter she offered it to her father, 
 saying, " Here is one I have already written and shall send. 
 Will you not trust me even further and be the one by whose 
 hand it goes ? " 
 
 " Me post it ? Me put it in a box ? " he asked in amazement. 
 
 "The meaning it bears is not against your desire, father. 
 Kather may it destroy an evil that already lives. I ask you 
 to take it." 
 
 " To bargain thus with a mere girl " the samurai mut- 
 tered. Then he threw his head back. " My blood is in your 
 veins. I trust you. Give it." 
 
 Yuki, choking back a little sob, fell at his feet and touched 
 her forehead to the floor. She heard his quick and heavy 
 tread shiver through the house. Then followed, coming in her 
 direction, the gentler steps of Iriya. 
 
 Yuki lifted her arms. "Mother, mother! " she cried pas- 
 sionately, " why could I not have been born a man ? To 
 die for one's country, in battle, with the thought of the 
 Emperor like a cooling draught at the lips ! To stand on the 
 great black ship, smiling in storm and snow and fog, driven in 
 like fate itself to glorious chances ! Oh, that is to live I But 
 to be a woman " 
 
 "Yes," said Iriya, quietly seating herself. "The fortunate 
 are those who know, in this incarnation, full expression of a 
 burning heart." 
 
 "Do you feel so too, mother? you, who are always so 
 tranquil and so dear ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 183 
 
 " I too am a samurai's daughter. In the strife of Restora- 
 tion days I saw my father and my brother die I saw my 
 mother live." 
 
 " Oh, dearest one, how selfish we young souls are. We are 
 like green fruit that has no mellowness. You have suffered 
 so deeply and I never guessed." 
 
 Iriya, with half-closed eyes on the garden, uttered words 
 which until the hour of her death never quite loosed their 
 echoes from the girl's heart. " Young souls are indeed unripe 
 in the ways of love. That suffering of mine was mere in- 
 difference to the grief I shall know if, at an hour like this, 
 with Nippon in the throes of re-birth, my only child should 
 become the wife of her enemy." 
 
 Yuki cowered back. She could not look her mother in the 
 face. Up to this moment she had never dreamed that Iriya 
 had been told anything. The sense of comradeship and of in- 
 terdependence between a Japanese husband and wife is very 
 strong ; but in this case, where Tetsujo's angry violence had 
 been so out of keeping with the whole tenor of his life, Yuki 
 was perhaps justified in feeling that he would prefer to main- 
 tain a sullen reticence. 
 
 Iriya's words, and the way she spoke them, showed not only 
 that she was conversant with the whole threatening situation, 
 but that she had thought and prayed deeply. It did not seem 
 at all the every-day domestic Iriya that spoke, but an older 
 and more impersonal spirit, issuing from borrowed human 
 lips. 
 
 An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Iriya sat rigid 
 and upright, as a silver image in a Buddhist niche. Little 
 Yuki, feeling very small and young and human, crept noise- 
 lessly to her own room. 
 
 Tetsujo did not return until the following day. He showed 
 evidences of strong excitement, and could not for a while be 
 seated, but strode up and down the matted floor of the house, 
 throwing off ejaculations and phrases of war-news. He had 
 much to tell in his irritating, disjointed way. But Japanese 
 women do not show impatience. They knelt out of range of 
 his feet, but within good hearing, following his motions with
 
 184 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 feverish eagerness, and snatching at his words as at whizzing 
 fireflies. Names of those killed, quotations from foreign 
 newspapers, reports from the Tokio war-office, maledictions 
 upon himself that he was too old to go, all came in a 
 scurrying swarm from the samurai's lips. 
 
 " Refused me they refused me, those grinning, foreign- 
 ized apes at the war-office. Even my daimyo will not help 
 me. An age limit ? Gods ! Trained men must twirl their 
 thumbs while boys with soft hearts and flabby muscles defend 
 the Emperor ! Would that I had ten thousand lives to give, 
 and that each life in passing held the agonies of ten thousand 
 deaths. Even that would be but a handful of blown petals to 
 the whirling majesty of Nippon in the breath of the Eternal. 
 But wait ! There are many young men now, there are hills 
 of powder and river-beds of shot; but when that powder 
 melts like snow in a spring rain, when the last shot stings the 
 air, then may the sword-arm leap to usefulness. The Cos- 
 sacks cut and slay like demons, why not we ? For whom 
 then will be the cry but for old Onda? Onda Tetsujo ! who 
 has cut three bodies through with one slow, steady stroke; 
 who has bared a living bone so swiftly that the slain creature 
 turned inquisitive eyes on death ! Bab, I babble and rave 
 like a Meiji actor." 
 
 " Yet, Lord, it may come, it may come," whispered Iriya, 
 aloud. "Daily I shall pray and sacrifice that this desire of 
 our hearts be granted." Yuki looked upon these heroic be- 
 ings that had given her life, and knew the pangs of self loath- 
 ing. What was she, their only child, now doing for the laud 
 they loved ? Planning ways of remaining faithful to a foreign 
 lover ! She drooped her head still lower. Alas ! Had Pierre 
 not taken that promise from her unguarded soul ! If Pierre 
 even now would give her up would understand. 
 
 Tetsujo, still fuming in a noble rage, cut the floor in cross- 
 lines of hasty striding. He turned at intervals, catching back 
 his flight, raising himself up to silence as if he heard a bugle- 
 note, staring, unseeing, into the garden, then clenching his 
 fists, muttering new imprecations, and throwing himself again 
 into his restless walk. The essence of Yamato Damashii 
 breathed from him. One listened for the clank of steel and
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 185 
 
 shark's-skin armor. His right hand felt incessantly for the 
 vanished sword-hilts. All at once he stopped directly before 
 Yuki, transfixed her with fierce, tormented eyes and cried, 
 "Ouda Yuki, you are a samurai's daughter." 
 
 Yuki met his look. " I am a samurai's daughter." 
 
 " See that you forget it not." 
 
 For an instant longer he glared into her upraised face, then 
 flinging himself away he muttered, " Oh, that I had a son to 
 offer, one son only to serve my land ! They would not let 
 me go." He seated himself at last ; folded his arms within 
 the short, blue, cotton sleeves ; and sank into a brooding 
 revery. 
 
 With a few days the first frenzy and tumult of the war 
 were over. The nation settled into a state of watchful and 
 sober patriotism. Men turned to practical work, raising 
 money for the war fund, for all knew that it was indeed a 
 struggle for life or death. 
 
 Yuki had received by mail another letter. Tetsujo was 
 present when it came. She read and re-read it slowly, under 
 his very eyes, and then tore it into scraps, letting them fall in 
 small white flecks upon the red coals of the hibachi. Onda 
 stared at her, fascinated, but found nothing to say. 
 
 The note was in Pierre's most appealing vein. He urged 
 her, for the sake of both, to be a heroine. He forgave her, a 
 thousand times over, her hint of betrayal of the night before. 
 Again he congratulated himself and her on his foresight in 
 compelling the stricter pledge. " You must see now, my poor, 
 sorrowful darling, that it is the only thing to hold us back 
 from despair." Yuki's heart sagged within her. She at- 
 tempted no reply. She wondered dully how so flaming a 
 love failed to illuminate reason.. Pierre simply could not 
 understand. Well, she must be calm and clear enough 
 for both. Her deepest fear, but half admitted, was that 
 Tetsujo, with Prince Hagane behind, would now attempt 
 to end the matter by marrying her to some young noble 
 of their acquaintance. She hardly dared face the thought of 
 what her home life might become after her repudiation of 
 such an offer. 
 
 Gwendolen remained apart, and Yuki rightly guessed that
 
 186 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 it was at Minister Todd's instigation. She never for a moment 
 doubted Gwendolen's loyal affection. This restraint was a 
 proof of it, as also of Mr. Todd's clear judgment. 
 
 Pierre began now, in his restless misery, to haunt the streets 
 immediately surrounding Yuki's home. Apparently he wished 
 to establish, as a signal, a certain little quaint air from Car- 
 men that he loved. He would whistle a phrase and pause, 
 evidently expecting her to continue with the answering melody. 
 At twilight, one day nearly a week after " the banquet of the 
 Eed God " (as she always thought of it), she was standing 
 alone beside her plum-tree, now almost bare of flowers. The 
 sky stretched low and heavy, as a giant tent hung with un- 
 spilled rain. No sunlight had come with the day. The wind 
 pinched and stung with dampness. As she stared mournfully 
 upon the falling petals, holding out a languid hand to stay 
 their flight, a few large flakes of snow came down. 
 
 " I gathered petals, to show thee, love. 
 But now, in my hands they have melted " 
 
 she quoted aloud from a classic. 
 
 Her parents had been talking together in the main corner- 
 room, where now a servant brought lights. On the closed 
 paper shoji, just beside her, the silhouettes of two beloved 
 forms sprang into sudden vivid blackness. Tetsujo's stern, 
 Indian-like profile was turned, while Iriya showed only the 
 outlines of her coiffure, with the droop of slender shoulders 
 and the flower-like poise of a delicate throat. His attitude, 
 all dignity, self-assertion, manliness ; and hers, concessive, 
 yielding, and full of feminine grace, symbolized to the girl 
 the true relations, in Japan, of man and wife. " And is it not 
 better ? " she thought to herself. " Are the aggressive Amer- 
 ican women happier or more beloved?" She thought of the 
 domestic scandals, the unhappy marriages openly discussed 
 at Mrs. Todd's table. Here, at least, though such sad things 
 did sometimes occur, they seldom became topics of general 
 conversation. 
 
 The bell of the front gate rang out through the gray air. 
 Yuki, with a sudden leap of the heart she could not account 
 for, threw an arm about the tree and clung to it, listening
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 187 
 
 breathlessly. Through the paper-walled house came clearly 
 the sounds of old Suzume as she opened the door. " Hai ! 
 Hai! Sayo de gozaiinasu. Hai, danna!" (Yes, yes. It is 
 augustly so ! Yes, master.) Even the sharp indrawn breath 
 was audible. Surely it was a visitor of importance, and not 
 a foreigner. In an instant a third silhouette was added to 
 the two in the room. This bore a small parcel in its hands, 
 and bowed very deeply before Tetsujo. 
 
 " A messenger direct from the august Prince Hagane ! " 
 said Suzume's proud voice. 
 
 Yuki saw the shadow of her father snatch the package and 
 toss aside the cloth furoshiki in which it was wrapped. She 
 saw the shadow open a letter, start, bend his head nearer. 
 She saw strong shadow-hands tremble, and heard a voice, 
 which strove in vain for steadiness, give the orders : " Fold 
 the furoshiki carefully, and return it done up in clean paper. 
 Give to the messenger my respects. There is no immediate 
 reply. Offer him fresh tobacco, tea, and cakes the best we 
 have." 
 
 " Hai ! Hai ! Kashikomarimasu " (Yes, yes ! I hear and 
 respectfully obey), murmured Suzume's voice. Her shadow 
 bobbed once, twice, to the matting, and vanished. 
 
 Yuki gripped the tree hard. A messenger from Prince 
 Hagane ! and that deep, triumphant note in her father's 
 voice ! What could it mean ? 
 
 The shadow of Iriya was now reading the note. A cry 
 came. " O my husband ! It is too wonderful too splendid. 
 It will solve all difficulties. I must not believe " 
 
 On the cowering girl white snowflakes, her namesakes, fell 
 now quickly, dotting her dark hair. One, falling on a 
 cheek as white, melted slowly, and pretended that it was a 
 tear. 
 
 " Call the girl ! " said Tetsujo. Iriya rose in haste. Yuki 
 sped back along the narrow veranda to her own room. " And 
 summon the two serving-women also ! " came Tetsujo's voice, 
 on a higher note. 
 
 Yuki entered with what calmness she could. The two ser- 
 vants already squatted like bright-eyed toads in the doorway. 
 
 "Here, girl! Head this letter from his Highness, Prince
 
 188 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Hagane," said Onda. " Bow, as you receive it into your 
 unworthy hands." 
 
 The girl bowed obediently. She read the letter through 
 without a flicker of change on her downcast face. Folding it 
 with scrupulous care she returned it, again bowing, to her 
 wondering father. 
 
 " Well," he cried, " are your wits gone ? What have you 
 to say ? " 
 
 " His Highness does our house too much honor," answered 
 Yuki, quietly. 
 
 Iriya, watching breathlessly, saw what the puzzled Onda 
 did not see, that, in spite of superb self-control, a slow, sick 
 pallor was stealing into the girl's face. Behind Iriya the 
 two servants, drawn closer as by a magnet, vibrated to sup- 
 pressed excitement. 
 
 Onda caught the look of their faces. " Suzume ! " he said, 
 "your young mistress has just been asked in marriage by his 
 Augustness, Prince Hagane, daimyo of our clan." 
 
 " Ma-a-a ! " breathed the women in unison, and fell forward 
 on their faces. 
 
 "You see what they think of it," said Tetsujo, with a half- 
 contemptuous wave of his hand. 
 
 " Oh, my daughter," cried Iriya, " it is an honor so great 
 that I cannot yet meet the thought of it. You will be like a 
 Princess of the Blood. Our sacred Empress will meet you 
 face to face as a friend." 
 
 Tetsujo broke in. " You can serve your country, girl ! 
 That's the best of it. The opportunity is incredible. It 
 does not need argument. Well, Yuki ! Will you write your 
 humble and grateful acceptance in person, or shall I convey it 
 for you ? " 
 
 " I have not accepted yet." 
 
 Tetsujo bounded in his place. Iriya caught her breath, and 
 stretched forth two pleading hands, one to each. 
 
 "Do not anger me, girl!" muttered the father, with visible 
 effort to contain himself. " I am in no mood for violence." 
 
 " Nor I, father, being already spent with much contention," 
 answered Yuki, wearily. "Indeed, I should attempt no 
 speech at all, but that I see his Highness shields me by
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 189 
 
 commands against rough argument, and the condition that I 
 be given full time to decide." 
 
 "Bah," cried Tetsujo. "Even a god must have some small 
 weaknesses. Pity to women ha's always been his. Well, 
 when shall your answer go to-night, in the morning, on 
 the first rays of the sun ? Speak ! for my choler trains me 
 hard!" 
 
 But Yuki did not hasten to reply. Behind her rigid calm 
 a thousand frightened fancies sped. No thought could be fol- 
 lowed to a conclusion in this first whirl of atoms. They went 
 by her in a soundless hurricane. torn bits of hope, fila- 
 ments of fear, thin flakes of readjustment. She saw that 
 time must be gained time, and the opportunity to think. 
 An unqualified refusal would bring upon her immediately 
 consequences and new conditions which she was neither 
 physically nor mentally able to combat. She must achieve 
 an armistice. 
 
 After an interval that seemed long to her but interminable 
 to the quivering Onda, she raised her face, saying quietly : 
 " After a space of three days, at the hour of twilight, I will 
 myself deliver an answer to Prince Hagane. Will you kindly 
 convey this message ? " 
 
 " She will answer in three days ! Lord of Hell ! she will 
 condescend to answer my daimyo in three days ! This bit of 
 spoken offal must I present to a deity who burdens himself 
 with you that your family may be honored, and your cheap 
 foreign attainments used ! His magnanimity is inconceivable. 
 To a lesser man it would seem impossible. To marry you 
 openly, make you a princess, you, a shivering wench he 
 could have for the taking ! " 
 
 " He could not have me for the taking, and you know it ! " 
 said Yuki's low voice, that held an undercurrent of his own. 
 " You shame yourself and me by such raving. If you insult 
 me further I will refuse at once." 
 
 "Come, Yuki! Come quickly!" whispered the terrified 
 Iriya, dragging at her daughter's sleeve. " Your honored father 
 will strangle in his rage. Never, never, in all our married life 
 have I seen his eyes glare thus ! Hasten ! " 
 
 "Yes hasten drag her away!" gasped Tetsujo, throw-
 
 190 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ing back his head and clutching his collar. " She is not my 
 daughter! Would that my bones had crumbled " His 
 words broke off in a gurgle. 
 
 In her little room Yuki stood gazing down moodily upon the 
 convulsed form of her mother. " I know I ought to feel more 
 paiu to see you weep so bitterly, my mother," she said at 
 length. " I tell myself that I should feel, but I cannot feel. 
 Somehow I seem to be wearing armor inside instead of outside. 
 Think of it, mother, what it means to me! I love a man who 
 loves me honorably. I do not ask a sudden marriage, I would 
 wait patiently until the war is over, and perhaps your heart 
 and father's would be softened toward my hope. I will work 
 for you, I will go out and be a servant, a teacher, anything 
 to relieve you of my burden. All I ask is to remain uncom- 
 pelled toward other marriage. Yet here my father, and an 
 old man older than my father, are trapping me, they con- 
 descend to trap me ! Prince Hagane cannot possibly wish me 
 for his wife. He has seen me but twice since I was a child. 
 A man like Hagane does not know love in the sense I have been 
 taught it. Oh, I am like a bird ensnared in chains in chains 
 so heavy that I can scarcely stir a link ! Being a samurai's 
 daughter I caunot even die." 
 
 " Yuki ! Would you indeed disgrace us by marrying a 
 Russian ? " 
 
 "Not so long as it seems to you a disgrace. But that will 
 not last forever, mother. This war is to change many things. 
 Can I not belong to myself, just for the time of this war, 
 mother ? Will you not plead with father for this boon ? " 
 
 " I dare not ! I dare not ! " shuddered Iriya. " I fear your 
 father, for the first time in my life. There ! He is calling. 
 I must go." She caught one of the girl's dangling hands 
 and pressed it convulsively against a tear-wet cheek. " May 
 Kwannon soothe your bewildered heart, my loved one ! " she 
 murmured, and was gone. 
 
 " I prefer you to have as little as possible to do with that 
 hardened and ungrateful wretch ! " came Tetsujo's voice, as 
 Iriya entered to him. Yuki knew that it was raised purposely 
 for her to hear. Iriya evidently attempted some conciliatory 
 reply, for he burst out angrily, "Don't defend her, woman!
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 191 
 
 It is disrespect to me. I tell you she shall consent, whether 
 she wishes it or not ! " 
 
 Yuki smiled the smile that leaves a taint upon the soul. 
 " There are a few things that even a father even a Japanese 
 father cannot do !" she said aloud.
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 IF previous days in the Onda household had been tense, 
 those following were to reach the ultimate limit of nerve- 
 endurance. Immediately after his last tempestuous scene 
 with Yuki, Tetsujo had left the house. Yuki was minded 
 to call after him, protesting that her promise given him on 
 the first day of war did not hold indefinitely. She moved 
 forward, the words nearly sped, when he turned on her a look 
 and gesture so repellent that she cowered, and let him pass. 
 It did not seem at all her father who now looked at her, but 
 rather some angry Spirit of War, in temporary assumption of 
 Onda's body. 
 
 War ! War ! War ! The streets thrilled to it. The spar- 
 rows chirped it. The jinrikisha wheels rattled a pygmy fu- 
 sillade. In this flare of national ardor all passions burned 
 more hotly, and among them, Tetsujo's indignation against 
 his only child. Iriya, being more inexperienced than Yuki 
 herself in interpretation of men's fiercer moods, could not tell 
 her that such caloric outbursts would die the sooner from their 
 own exaggeration. Yuki moaned, and shut her hot eyes from 
 a future where her father should always be angry, and her 
 mother always trembling. 
 
 Early next day, after the reading of Hagane's letter, the 
 women of Onda's house were surprised to find their domestic 
 retinue silently increased by the addition of two grim, middle- 
 aged men who called themselves gardeners. From their read- 
 ing of all " War Extras " that the jangling bell of the newsboy 
 announced, and from their sporadic aud often devastating 
 attacks on harmless shrubs, one might have doubted their 
 skill in the professed art. Tetsujo disdained explanation, 
 and gave the one order that they were to be suitably fed at 
 meal-times in the kitchen, and treated with the consideration
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 193 
 
 due to servants hired specially by himself. Iriya had not 
 the heart, scarcely the curiosity, to question. All that day 
 she moved about, a silent, timid figure of protesting obedience. 
 Yuki understood at once that her mother had been told to 
 ignore her. She understood, also, the meaning of the so- 
 called "gardeners," and turned to her father slow, scornful 
 eyes, which he refused to meet. 
 
 What the young seldom realize, in a case like this, is the 
 suffering of those in authority, who, according to adolescent 
 eyes, delight in imparting sorrow. Yuki was convinced that 
 this strange changeling of a father revelled in his cruelty. 
 She forced herself into defiant composure, chiefly in the hope 
 of detracting from his supposed enjoyment. Her mother's 
 white face was another matter. She looked on that just as 
 little as possible. Old Suzume and Maru grew to partake 
 of their master's elfish obsession. Their peering faces and 
 bright eyes, quickly withdrawn, maddened her. 
 
 No hope or thought of solution had come through the 
 troubled night, nor, as yet, with the gray day. Tetsujo had 
 gone, presumably, to convey the detested message to his 
 prince. Yuki's one conscious determination was to send an- 
 other message to Pierre, which should state clearly and com- 
 prehensively the new difficulty that had assailed her. Almost 
 certainly her father had arranged that no more letters should 
 go forth or be received. The gardeners and Suzume would 
 see to that. At times she had a wild fancy of attempting 
 flight, urging Pierre to rescue her in the fashion of mediaeval 
 romance, and to take her to the Todds, or to some Christian 
 missionary, where they could be married and so set beyond 
 the reach of Hagane and her father. But would it set her 
 beyond the black tide of her own remorse ? How then should 
 she reconcile her fondest belief, that in a union with Pierre 
 she might serve to bring closer French and Japanese friend- 
 ship ? This would be outrage, anarchy, at the start. Yet 
 something must be done, something at least to remove 
 her, temporarily, from her father's loathing sight after she 
 should have refused Hagane's proposition. In this, perhaps, 
 Pierre himself could assist, or Gwendolen, if she could 
 only see Gwendolen. " Gwendolen ! " She stretched out her 
 
 13
 
 194 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 arms to the sunless, vacant sky, and called her friend's name 
 aloud. 
 
 Whether telepathy is a fact, or merely a pet child of some 
 philosophers, whether or not the ether of the East holds 
 subtler vibrations than our own, it is certain that exactly at 
 this moment Gwendolen awoke in her foreign bed from hurry- 
 ing dreams of Yuki, and lay awake, staring, a sudden weight of 
 apprehension full upon her. The excitement of war may have 
 sharpened American senses also. Gwendolen's mind ran back 
 for the hundredth time to that strange, memorable banquet. 
 Its meaning grew now more sharp and sinister. Something 
 had taken place there, something intangible, but very real, 
 something decisive, fatal, the effect of which would first ap- 
 pear in Yuki. Gwendolen had as her birthright some of 
 her father's intuitive judgment of character. She had read that 
 night the hatred of foreigners in Tetsujo's sullen face, and 
 did not dislike him for it. Hagane baffled her ; but she had 
 noted how deep were the eyes fixed now on Yuki, now on 
 Pierre. Neither of them would wish for Yuki to become the 
 wife of Pierre, and neither did Gwendolen wish it. The girl 
 smiled curiously at her feeling of distaste. It did not seem 
 right for Yuki to marry a foreigner, even an utterly charming 
 and immorally beautiful foreigner like Pierre Le Beau. 
 
 " I guess I must have been a Japanese in lots of my former 
 incarnations," she said to herself. "Yuki declares it's so, 
 and she should know. But " here she stopped and drew 
 out her long, unbound yellow hair in two diaphanous, glittering 
 wings. " The fates certainly have put my Oriental soul, this 
 time, into a misleading body ! " She was dressing now, and 
 stood before her pretty silver-laden bureau by a sunny south 
 window of the Legation. 
 
 About two hours later of the same day Minister Todd and 
 his secretary, sitting alone in the thrice-guarded sanctum of 
 the former's private office, looked up in incredulous astonish- 
 ment as a dainty tapping betrayed a feminine guest. Then 
 Todd's thin smile widened. " Gwennie, I '11 bet ! and on 
 the war-path ! Only that little rascal would have the cheek." 
 
 Dodge turned away to hide the glow in his brown face.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 195 
 
 Gwennie it proved to be. She entered, dainty, perfumed, ex- 
 quisite, in tan-cloth dress and seal-skins that exactly matched 
 her brows and lashes. 
 
 " I don't expect to be welcomed," she said aggressively, her 
 little white chin high in air. " But I simply had to come." 
 
 "Well?" This was from the minister. 
 
 Before stating her plea, Gwendolen threw a bewildering 
 look of entreaty upon the gloating Dodge. " Dad, I can't 
 stand it ! I have n't seen or heard anything from Yuki for a 
 week. Pierre Le Beau is driving me mad; and last night I 
 had the scariest dream about Yuki. I feel in my bones that 
 she needs me. Let me go to her, dad ! Dearest, darlingest 
 diddy-daddy, say I can go ! " 
 
 Todd put a loving arm about the supplicant, but at the same 
 time he shook his head. " Can't you be patient just a little 
 longer, girlie ? Something is bound to turn up soon." 
 
 " If Prince Hagane is in it, it will be worse than a turn-up ; 
 it will be a heave," said Dodge, shaking his head also. 
 
 " But, dad, I have been patient. You know how I hate being 
 patient. I 'm perfectly on edge when I have to wait. Every 
 little bit of me begs to be cut off, and allowed to run in 
 scraps. Oh, don't look so solemn! I'm only a girl. I can't 
 upset the earth. Everything has gone wrong this morning 
 from the minute I stepped out of bed on a tailless cat. You 
 can make it well, daddy. My heart simply tugs in me toward 
 Yuki." 
 
 At mention of her heart Dodge gave a prolonged and "envi- 
 ous sigh. Todd smiled, but Gwendolen only looked indignant. 
 Tears stood in her pretty eyes, and Dodge felt himself to be a 
 brute. 
 
 "Your Excellency," he said, "if I might be allowed to 
 suggest, why not let me be Miss Todd's escort ? If I am 
 along, I think, perhaps " He broke off with a significant 
 intonation. The two men exchanged glances, and the elder, 
 catching his chin with a characteristic gesture, walked away 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Oh, when dad looks like that, he is going over the entire 
 American Constitution before he answers," cried Gwendolen, 
 in despair. " May I not sit somewhere, Mr. Dodge ? "
 
 196 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 There were but three chairs in the room, the two revolving 
 desk-chairs, and one suggestively rigid and slippery, meant 
 for visitors. Generally, as now, it was heaped with a totter- 
 ing mass of papers. Dodge, with suspicious alacrity, leaned 
 forward to wheel the minister's chair. Before he could reach 
 it, Gwendolen had thrown herself into the other, and faced 
 the open vitals of his private desk. 
 
 In the very centre, just out of range of the minister's 
 eye, stood an unframed photograph of Carmen Gil y Niestra, 
 a languorous Spanish beauty lately arrived in Tokio. The 
 picture had come that morning by mail, and was only waiting 
 to be carried to Dodge's rooms ; but Gwendolen could not 
 know that. She was humiliated and annoyed to feel a deep, 
 dry sob rise to her throat. At another time, when her best 
 friend was not in trouble, and she had n't stepped on the cat, 
 she would have made some bright remark about it ; but now 
 she dared not trust her voice. 
 
 Dodge, carefully removing the papers to the floor, seated 
 himself on the visitor's chair, and let his eyes rest with a 
 curious, half-triumphant look upon Gwendolen's downcast 
 face. This young man, unlike others to whom she had chosen 
 to show favor, had not hastened to throw himself at her feet, 
 pleading to be sat upon, trod upon, built upon, anything but 
 the one obvious suggestion that he rise and walk away. He 
 had never tried to take her hand ; never once said that he 
 loved her, though the girl until this moment had felt certain 
 of it. Sometimes she had tried to flatter him into the declara- 
 tion ; again she would pique and goad him. The result had 
 been the same. Dodge followed her everywhere, paid her all 
 possible attentions, and said everything but the one thing she 
 had determined to hear. With an instinctive coquette, the 
 desire is not so much to overcome her quarry, as to feel that 
 there is no quarry she cannot overcome. But even from the 
 seductive moonlit decks of the steamship Dodge had escaped, 
 uncommitted. The situation was both piquant and exciting. 
 
 "Well, Dodge," said the ambassador, at length. "I am 
 willing to take your suggestion. Is the carriage ready, 
 Gwen ? " 
 
 " It 's been at your door for hours."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 197 
 
 " I '11 let you go, since you seem to feel so set on it. But 
 be careful of what you say or do, and don't promise anything. 
 Give little Snowflake iny love, and tell her I miss her about 
 the house." 
 
 Gwendolen, without a word of thanks, walked toward the 
 door. "Now, Dodge, remember," warned her father, in a 
 semi-whisper. 
 
 " If Mr. Dodge is being sent along as a sort of diplomatic 
 nurse, or a keeper to an idiot, I won't have him," flashed 
 the girl. 
 
 "Nonsense, child!" said her father. "You'd better run 
 along in a hurry before I change my mind. I don't know 
 but as I 'm weak " 
 
 Without waiting for more, the girl literally ran from the 
 room. Clerks and visitors in the outside offices looked up in 
 wonder. That dry sob in her throat had stirred again. Even 
 her dad, on this horrid day, was cross. 
 
 Outside the sun had begun to shine brilliantly. The high 
 winds, those scourges of the Tokio winter, were, for the time, 
 at rest. The people in the streets appeared contented and 
 happy enough, trudging along on wooden clogs, or trotting 
 with noiseless, straw-sandalled feet between the shafts of 
 vehicles. The small boys wore miniature flags in their caps. 
 
 When again she felt mistress of her voice, she said, with an 
 attempt at her usual gay levity, " Now, Mr. Dodge, I intend 
 to know what all that mysterious interchange of glances in the 
 office was supposed to convey." 
 
 Dodge seemed to think. " I should fancy you 'd know by 
 instinct," he answered. "Japan and Russia are at war. 
 America is neutral." 
 
 "Yes," challenged Gwendolen, "and the earth goes around 
 the sun, and the moon around the earth. But what is that 
 to Yuki and to me ? " 
 
 " You are the daughter of the American minister, and Miss 
 Yuki is under the protection of Prince Hagane. It's the 
 bother of marriage. You must see that she can never marry 
 Le Beau. The worst of it all is that Le Beau's such an 
 ass!" 
 
 " I don't consider my friend, Mr. Le Beau, an er animal,"
 
 198 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 said Gwendolen, all the more stiffly that her statement was 
 not quite true. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said her companion, meekly, and re- 
 lapsed into careful silence. 
 
 Gwendolen fidgeted. This did not suit her mood at all. 
 She wanted to quarrel. " Yuki and Pierre are frantically in 
 love, poor things ! But of course an incipient diplomat 
 doesn't take into consideration anything so trivial as 
 love." 
 
 Dodge smiled into her petulant eyes, a sort of elder-brother 
 smile that stung her. "If I am the incipient referred to, 
 you have missed your mark." 
 
 " You pretend to be Pierre's friend, but you never did like 
 him." 
 
 " When have I pretended ? " 
 
 "You are jealous because he is so good-looking. All men 
 are that way." 
 
 "Aren't girls sometimes that way too?" asked he, with 
 elaborate innocence. 
 
 The shot told. She reddened angrily. "You are very 
 disagreeable this morning, Mr. Dodge." 
 
 Again fell silence. 
 
 " Come," said the girl, changing her tactics swiftly. " It 
 is I who am beastly, I know it. I 'm going to try now to 
 be good. Tell me honestly, as a friend, do you think that 
 Pierre has absolutely no chance of marrying Yuki ? " 
 
 Dodge studied the restless eyes for sincerity before he 
 answered. "He has a chance. If she is willing to throw 
 over her parents, her Emperor, and her native land, in order 
 to run away to him, they may find protection. But if I 
 know Japanese character at all, Miss Yuki would die first 
 and she ought to. The one decent thing for Le Beau is to 
 release her." 
 
 "But to run away, by night perhaps, in actual danger of 
 her life oh, how romantic! " sighed Gwendolen, clasping her 
 hands. It was done to irritate, and it succeeded. 
 
 " Romantic ? Damf oolic ! " sniffed Dodge, before he could 
 stop himself. 
 
 " Mr. Dodge ! "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 199 
 
 "By George, it slipped out! I beg your pardon, Miss 
 Todd, I should not have said it." 
 
 "For what do you ask pardon the expression, or the 
 thought?" 
 
 " The expression, of course. I was a mucker to use it in 
 your presence." 
 
 "Am I to understand that the thought underlying your 
 remarkable utterance is unchanged ? " 
 
 "Why, er that such a step would be foolish, and er 
 unworthy ? " stammered the wretched youth, now as greatly 
 disconcerted as even Gwendolen could wish; "why, of 
 course I still think it. I have to think it!" 
 
 "I approved of it openly. I demand retraction of the 
 thought also." 
 
 Gwendolen's chance had come. Here was a bone, a flimsy 
 cartilage, it is true, but still a thing to pick her quarrel over. 
 In the making-up she might find compensation for other recent 
 chagrins. Gwendolen liked to make up. The magnanimous 
 yielding, the condescension on her part, added to the humble 
 gratitude of the recipient, brought a sense of pleasant power. 
 
 " You demand retraction of the thought," repeated Dodge. 
 He faced her slowly. She was deliberately studying the two 
 American flags embroidered between the blue cotton shoulders 
 of the carriage-driver, high on the box. The delicate profile, 
 uplifted in sunlight, had a translucency in the outline like 
 the petal of a rose. Dodge gazed with hungry heart, but deep- 
 ening frown. " You did n't mean that." He said it soothingly. 
 "You couldn't insist on anything so utterly childish as the 
 retraction of a personal thought. I 've apologized for the 
 words." 
 
 " Do you refuse, then ? " said Gwendolen, with a toss of the 
 head she had seen Julia Marlowe give. 
 
 " You really mean such a thing ? " 
 
 " I mean it." 
 
 Then I refuse." 
 
 The girl turned. This time it was Dodge's somewhat ragged 
 profile held against the sky. " You dare to refuse me ? " she 
 gasped. Her hazel eyes grew inky ; they seemed to shoot off 
 sparkles of jet.
 
 200 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tl I am at your service for everything else," he said steadily. 
 
 No other word was spoken until they reached the foot of 
 Kobinata Hill, where the betto, springing lightly to earth, pre- 
 ceded the galloping horses up the slope. 
 
 "You know," said Dodge, slowly, "this may mean to me 
 giving up every hope of happiness. And it 's such a nasty 
 little cause, like having one's eye put out by a spitball." 
 
 "Yet you prefer it to retracting one rude, silly thought ! " 
 
 " For God's sake ! " cried the badgered youth, " how can a 
 man retract what he still thinks ? Do you want me to lie, and 
 say I don't think a thing when I do think it." 
 
 "Yes," said Gwendolen, with a strange glint in her face. 
 " Lie ! Say that you do not think it. I shall be satisfied 
 with that." 
 
 " I '11 be damned if I do ! " said Dodge. " I '11 lie to please 
 myself, but I won't lie at the bidding of another, not even 
 you ! Shall I stop the carriage and get out ? " 
 
 Gwendolen, with a little choking sound in her throat, turned 
 away. Her gesture seemed an assent. Miserably the young 
 man realized that he was bound by Mr. Todd to remain with 
 her, and overhear the conversation that might ensue. In a 
 moment more he helped her from the carriage in silence, 
 allowing her to precede him to the Onda gate, and up the 
 garden stones to the door. 
 
 Old Suzume answered the knock. She parted the entrance 
 shoji very craftily, one bent eye to the crack. Her left cheek 
 could not have been two inches from the floor. This gave an 
 uncanny look, as if a severed head, or one of those long 
 gourd-necked ghosts of Japanese mountains, had appeared to 
 receive them. 
 
 Gwendolen said, "Oh!" and retreated. Dodge stepped for- 
 ward boldly, and put one gloved hand into the crack. The old 
 dame shivered at this, and seemed to cower for a spring. A 
 swift, soft rush of feet came through the house, and Yuki, 
 flinging both doors wide, sent a crooked smile toward them. 
 
 "Come quickly," she panted; "I pray you wait not to 
 remove the shoes. My father is absent. I have prayed for 
 Gwendolen ; there is great thing to be said." 
 
 Dodge shut his teeth together. He was to be needed.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 201 
 
 Without a look for him, Gwendolen, obeying Yuki's injunc- 
 tion as to shoes, sprang up the one stone doorstep and fol- 
 lowed Yuki along a dim corridor. Dodge, more deliberately, 
 motioned Suzume to remove his shoes, standing first on one 
 foot, then on the other, and balancing himself by the aid of a 
 shoji frame. The untying of shoestrings was a difficult task 
 for excited old fingers. Her beady eyes darted incessantly 
 back into the house. 
 
 " No harm can be done. I am from the American Legation, 
 and was sent to accompany Miss Todd," said he, in Japanese, 
 pitying the old dame's nervousness. 
 
 " Hai ! hai ! Sayo de gozaimasuka ? " mumbled she, greatly 
 relieved. She loved and was proud of Yuki ; she adored her 
 mistress ; but there was a single voice in that house, and it 
 belonged to Tetsujo. 
 
 Dodge went alone into the house, guiding himself by the 
 voices. They had reached the guest-room. All fusuma and 
 shoji had been closed. "Without knocking Dodge pushed aside 
 a silver panel painted with birds. At the same moment Iriya 
 entered by the opposite wall of the room, a mere white ghost 
 of propriety. 
 
 Yuki, almost in Gwendolen's arms, was pouring out rapid, 
 disjointed, incorrect phrases of English, sometimes with a 
 whole sentence in her own tongue, so that the listener could 
 catch the meaning only in fragments. 
 
 Dodge, after a bow to Mrs. Onda, walked straight to Yuki, 
 took a seat near her, and by his quiet eyes compelled her atten- 
 tion. He began to speak in slow, deliberate Japanese that the 
 mother also might understand. "Whether interpreting through 
 his careful pronouncing or divining from his emphasis, Gwen- 
 dolen, too, seemed to follow him. 
 
 " In allowing Miss Todd to call this morning, Miss Onda, 
 her father, Minister Todd, has commissioned me to say to 
 you " 
 
 " Don't you believe him ! " cried Gwendolen, flinging herself 
 bodily before Yuki. She turned flashing eyes upon the 
 speaker. " The poor child has enough to bear already, with- 
 out your giving more! " 
 
 " I must deliver your father's message, Miss Todd. And I
 
 202 THE BREATH OF THE GOf)S 
 
 shall do so, though I have to wait until Miss Onda's father 
 comes." 
 
 At sound of that dreaded name Gwendolen's courage for the 
 moment fell. Dodge quietly resumed, in Japanese, " While 
 Mr. and Mrs. Todd have only the most affectionate feelings 
 toward Miss Onda, they beg to recall the very delicate inter- 
 national questions raised by the present war. America being 
 neutral er Miss Todd's official position " 
 
 " Miss Todd's official fiddlestrings," interrupted Gwendolen. 
 " There, Yuki ! He 's through ! That 's all he had to say ! 
 Now can't we go into your bedroom, or out to the garden, and 
 finish our conversation in peace? " 
 
 " Gwendolen, dear, no ! " said Yuki, pressing her hand. 
 " It is most terribly serious time with all. I am glad to have 
 Mr. Dodge here ; he will not prevent any help, he will give 
 it. I must now relate, Mr. Dodge," she went on, very brave 
 and self-possessed, " the new, strange circumstance " Sud- 
 denly she flushed the color of a peony, dropped her face in her 
 hands, and murmured to Gwendolen, " Yes, you must say 
 it, Gwendolen. It is such immodest things for Japanese 
 girl to speak ! You tell him." 
 
 " I 'm not sure that I understand very clearly myself," said 
 Gwendolen, with a puzzled frown. 
 
 Iriya stared on, white, motionless, unsmiling. 
 
 "As far as I can make the trouble out," said Gwendolen, 
 flinging her words to Dodge, rather than speaking them, 
 " Prince Hagane backs Ynki's father, iitterly, against Pierre. 
 They won't consider the possibility of her ever marrying him. 
 Worst of all, while her heart is sore with this, they are 
 trying to force her into marriage with some rich old man, 
 some influential relative, I believe, of Hagane. Is n't he a 
 relative, Yuki ? " 
 
 " No-o ! He is not the relative," said Yuki, from behind 
 sheltering hands. " It is himself he the Prince Hagane ! " 
 
 " Prince Hagan& ! Prince Sanetomo Hagane ? " cried Dodge, 
 in incredulous surprise. " Good Lord ! Why, he 's the biggest 
 man in this kingdom, next to the Emperor and the Crown 
 Prince! Has has he made your father a formal offer of 
 marriage for you, Miss Yuki?"
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 203 
 
 Yuki nodded Yes." . 
 
 " The old sport ! So this has been his game," muttered 
 Gwendolen to herself. 
 
 At the full name of Hagane, a wintry smile of pride had 
 flashed into Iriya's set face. 
 
 "Whe-e-ew!" whistled Dodge, again. He could not get 
 this wonder fixed. " I see now why your family is wound up 
 like a spring, Miss Yuki. It 's a superlative opportunity 
 for you ! " 
 
 Gwendolen sat so still that first Yuki, then Dodge, stared 
 at her. 
 
 " What is it you think I can do with Pierre for you, Yuki ? " 
 asked the American girl, in a voice as strange as her silence. 
 
 Yuki was slightly disconcerted. " Only, dear, that I want 
 to be sure the truth is known to Mr. Le Beau. I would have 
 more peace to feel that he knows correctly. And he then will 
 understand why I cannot write to him, or see him, or answer 
 when he sings the song of Carmen I told you." 
 
 " You intend then to hold to Pierre, and throw over Prince 
 Hagane, no matter what the consequences ? " asked Gwendolen, 
 curiously. 
 
 " I know not about ' throw over.' It sounds a disrespectful 
 word to so great a man. But I am bound to Pierre, as you 
 know, by the promise." Again her face flushed. 
 
 " I '11 wager your father does not consider that promise 
 binding," put in Dodge. 
 
 " No, not my father, and not Prince Hagane," said Yuki, 
 simply. " But then, you know, they is not me ! " 
 
 "I er presume not," answered he, absently. 
 
 Now that the conversation was all in English, the pale 
 effigy of Iriya did not even turn its eyes from one face to the 
 other. It was her duty to her husband to be present, and so 
 she remained. 
 
 " Miss Yuki ! " flashed out the young man, with new anima- 
 tion. " You have n't asked my advice, and you may not desire 
 it. But let me say one thing. It seems awful to me, even 
 though I am an American, and can't know all the fine points of 
 Japanese feeling, to throw over a chance like this for a 
 Frenchman ! Is he worth it ? "
 
 204 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " How would it seem if you were in the place of Pierre Le 
 Beau ? " cried Gwendolen, angrily, before Yuki could speak. 
 
 The Japanese girl evidently was glad of the question. 
 " Yes, yes ! " she repeated. " How would you be ? " She 
 hung on his answer. 
 
 The young man's eyes were cool, his voice crisp and con- 
 vincing, as he said slowly, "In the first place, I could not 
 imagine myself having forced any binding promise from a girl 
 so far from her home and friends. I might have let her see 
 I loved her, a fellow can't always help that ; but I would n't 
 have tied her up in her own words until she had the backing 
 of her own people." 
 
 Gwendolen was all ready with a scornful word, but Yuki's 
 small ice-cold hand upon her wrist restrained her. Yuki was 
 leaning toward the young man, an eager gleam in her eyes. 
 " Mr. Dodge, what was it that you meant by the su-per-lative 
 opportunity ? " 
 
 " I seem to be turned into a sort of Information Bureau on 
 other people's morals to-day," smiled Dodge. "But this is 
 an easy one. I meant just what a Japanese would mean, a 
 rousing good chance for patriotism. Isn't that what you 
 thought ? " 
 
 Yuki's face fell, and her lips trembled. " Yes," she whis- 
 pered like a child. " That is Japanese thought." 
 
 "How lofty and superior! A Confucius come to judg- 
 ment ! " cried Gwendolen to Dodge. His calmness, his power 
 of thought, so soon after their fatal quarrel, irritated her. It 
 almost seemed to make light of her influence. Since she 
 could not command, she wished at least to sting him. 
 
 "And, Yuki, now / have advice to give. If I loved 
 Pierre as you do, if I loved any man so that the thought of 
 another turned me sick, I 'd be faithful to him until those 
 old moat pines turned somersaults and came up again as grass ! 
 I 'd marry him, though Jimmu Tenno, with a new sword and 
 mirror, came down to prevent ! You say that Pierre goes by 
 here whistling. What 's to hinder you from going to him ? 
 The women here would not prevent. Some time like this, 
 when your father is absent, mind, I don't advise the doing 
 it, only, I say, if you were tortured and driven to despair '
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 205 
 
 Yuki stopped her by a gesture. " Even that terrible thought 
 has been thinked by me. But even if I wished it, go to 
 those garden shoji, Gwendolen. Open with some noisiness, 
 and see what occurs." 
 
 Gwendolen obeyed with vehemence, placing one still booted 
 foot defiantly upon the veranda. Instantly, as if by magic, 
 the two blue-clad gardeners crouched, in threatening attitudes, 
 on the gravelled path below. At sight of the tall blonde girl 
 the men literally froze into grizzled gargoyles. Gwendolen 
 drew back with a cry, then instantly realized the situation. 
 
 "Vile spies! " she exclaimed. " Hired assassins ! If there 
 were a man here, he would drown you in that pond ! Go 
 away ! Shoo ! " she shrieked at the astonished natives. 
 Without a word, they exchanged slow, wondering glances, 
 nodded, and withdrew. 
 
 Gwendolen slammed the shoji together again. "No wonder 
 you are pale, Yuki," she said, her voice trembling with excite- 
 ment and indignation ; " I never dreamed anybody would 
 dare a thing like this ! " 
 
 " But how intensely romantic ! " remarked Dodge, in a low- 
 voice, to the ceiling. 
 
 Yuki did not try to answer. Her head drooped lower, lower, 
 with each instant. Tears were coming in uncontrollable 
 throbs to eyes that had, through deeper troubles, remained 
 dry. This humiliation before friends of another world touched 
 some secret personal spring of pride. She lifted first one gray 
 sleeve, then the other, apologizing in low, broken sentences 
 for the vulgarity of thus displaying grief. Gwendolen threw 
 herself to the floor beside her friend, her own bright eyes be- 
 coming springs of sorrow. Dodge rose, standing helplessly 
 near, and wishing himself somewhere else. 
 
 Upon this lachrymosal tableau entered Tetsujo Onda, and 
 stood for a moment incredulous, in the parted fusuma, like 
 some image of Ojin Tenno, the God of War, a scowl carved 
 deep in his brow. Gwendolen first caught sight of him. 
 Rising to her knees, she tried by looks to wither him away. 
 She might as well have blown seed-arrows from an iron dan- 
 delion. Dodge, the diplomat, rushed gallantly to the fore. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Onda," he began, bowing spasmodic-
 
 206 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ally. "Fine morning, isn't it? We were just making a 
 little call in the neighborhood, and ran in to see your wife and 
 daughter, foreign custom, you know ! and the young 
 ladies have to talk and weep sometimes over their happy, van- 
 ished school days ! " 
 
 " Ugh ! " grunted the unwilling host, scantily returning one 
 of the many bows. 
 
 "Just so just so," said Dodge, with increasing cordiality. 
 " And now we must bid you good day. Miss Todd and I were 
 just on the point of starting. This is the daughter the only 
 child, you know of the new American minister to Japan." 
 
 " I know of her, and you, and the Frenchman, and much 
 else," said Onda, with a disconcerting warp of the lips meant 
 for a smile. 
 
 " Go ! If you love me, make quick goings," whispered Yuki, 
 with her arms around Gwendolen's neck. 
 
 "With nothing settled no appointment for you and " 
 
 "It is hopeless," put in Yuki, instantly. "Mention no 
 name! They will guard me now much closer. Oh, it's my 
 father's doing, not Hagane ; he is noble ! " 
 
 " Then I will see the other, and tell him clearly. How 
 shall I let you know ? " 
 
 " A telegram. No one will keep that from me. Send it in 
 English, in hard words, you understand ! And, oh, Gwen- 
 dolen, send it to-morrow before twilight. Pray for me ! " 
 
 Ignoring Tetsujo's increasing rage, Yuki followed her friend 
 to the very door, pausing for a last embrace. "You are my 
 good friend my golden friend ! Nothing between our hearts 
 can ever come. Ne ? " 
 
 " Never ! Never ! Ne ? " answered Gwendolen, trying to 
 smile. 
 
 Yuki turned, and went back as a prisoner to an inky cell. 
 
 Out on the street, at the carriage-step, two pleasing Ameri- 
 cans paused, and eyed each other much with the expression of 
 a pair of young game-cocks. 
 
 " Well ! " said the tan-colored fowl, superbly, " why do you 
 hesitate ? Is it to beg paw-don of some one ? " 
 
 " I beg paw-don ? " echoed the other, in mild surprise. " No,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 207 
 
 certainly not ! How could you fawncy such a thing ? Do 
 you?" 
 
 Gwendolen, with a muffled exclamation, sprang unaided into 
 the carriage. " Go on ! Hurry up ! American Legation 
 Koshikwan, 1 mean! This beastly lingo " she cried to the 
 driver, and so far forgot herself as to prod him in the American 
 flags. 
 
 The startled servant looked down and over her, to Dodge, 
 for confirmation* 
 
 " It 's all right, betto ! " said Dodge, airily, in Japanese. "I 
 prefer walking back. Take the august young lady home by a 
 long, long road ! She has become honorably overheated ! " 
 
 Gwendolen gave the speaker one helpless glare, threw her- 
 self back in the seat, and was gone. 
 
 Dodge stood in the middle of the road, looking after the 
 carriage until bamboo hedges closed in upon it, and the noises 
 of its rattling wheels faded into the myriad sounds of the city 
 below him.
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 THE month of March was at hand. Tempestuous winds 
 howled and whirled in the pine and camphor trees, in the 
 flame-like, springing bamboo groves, and under temple eaves. 
 The air was full of petals and scraps of green. Sometimes a 
 tiny flake of flint stung the face, and between the teeth an 
 uncomfortable grit blew in. Angry gray clouds piled high 
 from the north, westward from the Atlantic, eastward from 
 that " rough and black " water we call the Yellow Sea. The 
 very firmament was in torment. The wind, combated at once 
 by many currents, tore at times great eddies in the gray, let- 
 ting the sun down in avalanches of light. Yuki saw the 
 shadow and the sun pass, like fleeting ghosts, across the gar- 
 den; felt the chill and warmth alternating in their wakes. 
 The wind tossed cruelly the branches of cherry-trees, where 
 sharp-pointed buds in clusters, just showing a first hint 
 of pink, were set. The plum-tree was bare but for a few 
 timid green leaves. Now and then a twig or branch snapped, 
 and fell sharply on the gravelled pathway, where instantly 
 one of the blue-robed gardeners advanced to pick it up. 
 
 In the cowed house Yuki moved like some waxen automa- 
 ton, living only in the one sense of hearing. Every cry from 
 the street, every wind-jangle of the gate-bell, sent her currents 
 of hope and apprehension. Tetsujo grimly ignored the in- 
 tensifying strain, but Iriya's pitying eyes turned more often 
 to her child. The servants kept to themselves, whispering 
 and exchanging glances. 
 
 Now the bamboo hedges which shut out the main street-line 
 bent over, at times almost to the earth, writhing, stretching, 
 and squeaking at the confining strips of wood that sought to 
 hold them erect. Besides the hedge-bamboo, "sa-sa," the 
 fence had an inner line of cruel orange-thorn.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 209 
 
 Yuki had watched the elemental conflict greedily. Sud- 
 denly a snatch of Carmen's love-song rode the wind. It was 
 the sound she had expected. Her little hands sought each 
 other within the silken sleeves, and clutched so fiercely that 
 a nail snapped. Again came the song, nearer this time, just 
 without the gate. It was a strange, incongruous note, as if 
 an English lark should rise from the bruised and battered 
 hedge. Yuki heard a movement in the next room, where Tet- 
 sujo sat among his books. Perhaps it was coincidence that 
 Suzume brought her, exactly at this moment, a fresh tray of 
 tea. The blue gardeners strolled together into full view, and 
 stooped, as if to discuss the condition of a botan bush, now 
 beaten down. 
 
 Square upon the back of one of them fell a queer winged 
 missive, a scrap of foreign paper weighted with a pebble. 
 Yuki saw it clearly. Old Suzume, with a stifled gasp, 
 crouched in her place. The girl poured tea for herself, and 
 drank it calmly. The pelted gardener, without so much 
 as a look around, lifted the scrap of paper as if it had 
 been a broken bud, and slipped it, weight and all, into his 
 sleeve. 
 
 The Carmen song stopped. Suzume, with a last sly glance, 
 slipped from the room. Yuki pressed one hand to her throat. 
 It would be no harm to sing the answering strain. What 
 though her father and her jailers heard ? If once the song 
 sped forth, not even their craft could recall it. Pierre would 
 understand, then, that she heard, but was a prisoner ; that even 
 the written note he threw could not be received. Once, twice, 
 the white lips parted, and the slender throat stiffened for an 
 answering phrase ; but no sound came. It was as in night- 
 mare dreams, where one seeks to cry aloud, and finds that the 
 voice is gone. 
 
 Now her father was on his feet. She heard his long, swing- 
 ing stride go through the house. At the door she heard 
 him kick his wooden clogs, and give a gruff order to Maru 
 San. Then the harsh scraping feet passed along the garden 
 stones, the little bell clamored, and the gate-panel closed with 
 a bang. 
 
 " Ma-a-a ! " she heard old Suzume cry. " This is not the 
 
 14
 
 210 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 master I have known for fifty years. He must be bewitched 
 by a fox." Maru gave a little giggle, which the elder woman 
 quickly suppressed. Iriya, in the guest-room, moved like a 
 cat. Yuki knew that all were against her, spies, enemies. 
 Passages from the Psalms of her Christian Bible came to the 
 girl. " They compass me round about on every side. I am 
 set in the midst of snares." She ran out into the garden, now, 
 listening for sounds of violence from the street. Nothing 
 came but the wailing of wind. Tetsujo returned as abruptly 
 as he had gone. Yuki, steeling herself against the look of 
 aversion certain to be met, went before him, not questioning, 
 but searching his face with haggard eyfcs for some possible 
 sign of at least a will-conflict between him and Pierre. She 
 fancied, in her abnormal state of mind, that something of 
 Pierre's thought must cling to his enemy, and so be trans- 
 mitted to her. But Tetsujo's face was as blank and expres- 
 sionless as the glazed side of one of Suzume's tea-jars on the 
 kitchen shelf. 
 
 Unable to breathe longer that overweighted air, Yuki caught 
 up a gray shawl from her room, and went boldly out again into 
 the garden. The rain had ceased entirely. The wind, though 
 fiercer when it came, came at increasing intervals. Through 
 one of these temporary lulls Yuki reached the bleak little 
 pond. The encircling rocks appeared older, grimmer, and more 
 shrunken. A few of the bordering plants had been twisted 
 and split. One was overturned, its ochre roots clutching at 
 the unfriendly air, the evergreen branches plunged deep into 
 quivering gray water. 
 
 As if in wonder that so frail a creature as a girl should dare 
 its strength, the storm, crouching and growling for a last 
 effort, hurled the full bulk of its viewless majesty upon her. 
 She was beaten bodily upon the rocks. But for the protecting 
 shawl she might have been blinded, or the long black hair torn 
 from her. For an instant breath stopped ; but in the wake of 
 it came exultation. Lifting her head, she smiled a challenge 
 to the storm to snatch her faint soul from her lips, and bear it 
 far, like a petal, on that streaming tide of heaven. The blue- 
 robed gardeners, crouching in the shelter of a rock, stared at 
 her in wonder. Iriya's face came for one white instant to
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 211 
 
 the veranda and vanished. Yuki could hear the very timbers 
 groan. The bands of dead bamboo, lashed in horizontal strips 
 to the living hedge, squeaked and buckled, and squeaked again, 
 in absurd imitation of animate torture. In the pond the 
 pear-shaped water was smitten into one gelatinous, cowering 
 mass. 
 
 Suddenly the wind went. Sounds all about her of stress 
 and terror changed into whimpers, whispers, moans, and small 
 complainings. The pond-water sprang up in small simulta- 
 neous waves which all pawed and clamored at the rocks for 
 explanation. Yuki stood upright, realizing dully her slow re- 
 turn to sanity and poise. The storm had swept her, for a 
 moment, out of her own reach. In the recoil she grudged her 
 soul its habitation. 
 
 Now the nonchalant gardeners crossed her path, making 
 respectful salutation in transit. Her eyes followed them 
 absently, but all at once became glued to a small sagging 
 point in the left sleeve of the shorter man. As they dis- 
 appeared around the corner plum-tree, she sank to one of the 
 rocks. As if she had not enough to bear already, without the 
 torture of speculation on the purport of those written words 
 she was never to see ! Her hands fell limp, her head sank. 
 The gray shawl crept by unnoticed inches to the earth. 
 
 Wearily the girl opened the portals of her thought to the 
 same hopeless throng of shrouded visitors, conjectures, all 
 of them, moving solemnly one behind the other, creatures 
 without a face, half-animate forms with no clear direction 
 or purpose except to move on. What was to be the end of it 
 all, for her ? There was no answer to that. Tetsujo ap- 
 parently would neither disown her nor relinquish his deter- 
 mination to marry her quickly. It did not seem much to ask, 
 only to be let alone ; and yet in some strange way this had 
 come to be a priceless, impossible boon. Pierre's note she 
 would never see. She had not been able to answer his Carmen 
 song. One way alone remained open for communication, and 
 that was Gwendolen's telegram. She had faith that, in some 
 way, this would get to her. At the cry, " Dempo ! " she had 
 determined to rush out in person and demand it. Even though 
 this succeeded, she could not fix great hope on its content.
 
 212 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Surely no thought would come to Pierre but the old loving, 
 desperate, appealing cry, " Be true, be faithful, and we may 
 yet find happiness ! " How the foreigners harped upon that 
 thought of personal happiness ! It was, to most of them, the 
 one definite aim in life. To Pierre dear, beautiful, joyous 
 Pierre it was life itself. A Japanese is taught from child- 
 hood to look upon happiness as the casual flower of his ever- 
 green garden, the lotos on a still pond of duty. It is never 
 an incentive, never in itself a conscious reward. She had tried 
 to teach Pierre this, but he had laughed at her, and said it was 
 because Japanese did not know how to love. 
 
 Yuki fixed thoughtful eyes on a small shrivelled tuft of fern 
 near her feet. Its once graceful fronds were cruelly bruised 
 and twisted, first by frost, and now by this pitiless storm. "I 
 know how it feels," thought Yuki. " My father's harshness, 
 my mother's suffering, and my own desire to be faithful have 
 so wrung and bruised my heart." After a pause she said 
 aloud, "I wonder if it thinks itself really dead?" She 
 stooped down slowly, and parted the sodden, clinging scraps 
 of brown. In the heart a nest of tiny leaflets curled, like 
 baby glow-worms, close wrapped in silky filaments of down. 
 They seemed to shrink from her icy fingers, as if to say : 
 " Let us be still ! We are only asleep. Those tattered brown 
 bed-curtains keep us warm." 
 
 Yuki stood upright again. The expression of her face was 
 altered, and her eyes now slowly softened into tears. " My 
 poor Pierre ! my poor Pierre ! " she whispered. " If he were 
 just a little more noble, if he were a Japanese, he would say, 
 'It is best that you should obey your parents, and serve at 
 once your native land.' But he will not say it! And I have 
 promised ! " She leaned over for another moment, heaping 
 the dead fern-leaves above their sleeping youth, then walked 
 slowly to the house. 
 
 One star, at least, shone clear in her troubled firmament. 
 If Pierre should, through Gwendolen's intercession, or through 
 some awakened vision of his own, telegraph, urging her to be 
 true to her better self, no matter what the grief to her plighted 
 love, then she could wish to marry that great man, Hagane, 
 to pay her filial debt to the now stricken parents, to show
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 213 
 
 her love and loyalty to Nippon ! Of course there was no 
 hope that Pierre would do this ; but if he should, if he 
 should I 
 
 The wind came again and again, but never so terribly as for 
 that one moment by the pond. Ordinary sounds of domestic 
 life arose from the Onda household, and from the neighbors 
 around it. Cocks began to crow, as if the storm-clearing was 
 of their own contrivance ; sparrows chirped. The white tail- 
 less cat picked a dainty way along the outer edges of bamboo 
 gutters. Cries of belated peddlers came cheerily from the 
 street. 
 
 " To-o-fu-u ! To-o-fu-u-u ! " called the bean-curd man, 
 with his characteristic upward inflection on the last syllable. 
 
 " Chi-chee ! Ichiban chi-chee ! " cried the milk-peddler, trot- 
 ting between the shafts of his small, closed cart. He was 
 very proud of this cart, and because of it considered himself 
 the most aristocratic kitchen-visitor on the hill. Its color was 
 a loud, blasphemous blue. On the sides, in letters of yellow 
 edged with black, were two inscriptions. The first, in Chinese 
 ideographs, announced prompt delivery of the richest and 
 freshest milk. Below it, in English, glowed the startling 
 line, "Fresh Ox-Milk Every Hours." Suzume had long been 
 a patron of the blue cart. A little thin-necked milk-bottle 
 dangled, now empty, by a bit of white cord, just without the 
 gate. This the milk-boy removed, substituting one that was 
 full, though equally stopperless. 
 
 The soba-ya (buckwheat-man), lurching and skimming along 
 under a bent kiri-wood pole that bore at one end a chest of 
 drawers and at the other a steaming furnace with bowls, 
 copper-pots, and a ladle, naturally had little voice left for 
 vociferous proclamation. His coming was indicated, at long 
 range, by the click and shiver of copper drawer-handles beat- 
 ing in unison against half-filled boxes. According to the 
 quantity of dry buckwheat in each drawer, the handle uttered 
 a different note. Needless to say, this burdened hawker loit- 
 ered long at each gate ; but at the Onda entrance he stayed 
 longest of all. It was Maru's happy privilege to bargain with 
 these several venders. Her heart found an answering thump 
 and shiver as the soba-ya drew near.
 
 214 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Honorably steamed, or augustly raw, maiden of the 
 lovely countenance? " asked he of the blushing one. 
 
 "Augustly boiled, to-day, kind sir, if you can graciously 
 condescend to bestow the amount of two sens' worth," rejoined 
 Maru, sucking in her breath with ceremonious emphasis as she 
 presented a small green bowl. 
 
 This flirtation was already becoming talked of in the neigh- 
 borhood. More than one curious u ba-san" (old woman), 
 relieved by age from personal domestic cares, sought peep- 
 holes and crannies in neighboring hedges when the smell of 
 buckwheat warmed the air. 
 
 The buckwheat man bestowed an encouraging smile. "The 
 noblest of my customers invariably prefer my worthless viands 
 honorably boiled," said he, with a side glance from under the 
 brim of his malachite Derby. 
 
 " As for that, you, by pi'eparing so deliciously the delectable 
 food, make buying necessary," simpered the purchaser with a 
 rosier glow. 
 
 A slim and seemingly boneless cur, who also had nostrils 
 for hot buckwheat, scraped a stealthy way along the hedge 
 toward them. He felt that the flirtation might have possi- 
 bilities for him. 
 
 "Do-mo ! " said the peddler, with deprecating nods. "The 
 stuff is poor, I fear. It is but your divine condescension and 
 pitying heart that make you encourage me." He lifted the 
 copper lid of his cauldron, and began ladling out a goodly por- 
 tion of the slippery ware. 
 
 "Who is the mad young foreigner with yellow hair who 
 now haunts the foot of this hill ? " asked the peddler, during 
 his precarious occupation. 
 
 "Ma-a!" cried Maru under her breath. She craned her 
 neck to look furtively up and down the street, and then asked 
 in a confidential whisper, " Is there indeed such a person at 
 the foot of this august hill ? " 
 
 " I speak simple truth. Surely you know of him. In all 
 the roads he is to be seen. He moves so quickly the children 
 say there are two of him. They cry at his approach, though 
 he flings them many rin and sen, and hide faces in their 
 mothers' sleeves."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 215 
 
 " Repeat it not from me," cautioned Maru. " Aunt Suzume 
 would surely scorch me with her pipe, should she hear me 
 gossiping. But he is a grand foreigner, son of a king, who is 
 wild with love to marry our Miss Yuki ; but she repels him, 
 for she is asked in marriage by a much greater person, of 
 Japan, a very, very great prince ! " Maru swelled her fat 
 chest like a pigeon. The interest in her auditor's face thrilled 
 her. She opened her mouth for further revelations, when a 
 sneeze from the kitchen brought her caution. "I I dare 
 not tell his name," she added weakly. 
 
 " You are honorably to be commended for your prudence," 
 gravely declared the soba-ya, though he was swallowing hard 
 this lump of disappointment. " Prudence is an excellent 
 quality, particularly in a wife. Is it true er ahem ! is 
 it true, small round one, that the ancient dame who presides 
 over the kitchen of your noble household is, indeed, your one 
 surviving relative ? " 
 
 " Te-he-he ! " giggled little Maru in blissful discomfort. 
 "She truly is, most worthy sir, but why should you wish 
 to know ? " 
 
 " Much reason is existent," said the other, with such mean- 
 ing that Maru, after an enraptured gasp, let the entire con- 
 tents of the bowl tilt, and then fall with a wet thud to the 
 earth. The white cur, having well calculated his chances, 
 reaped the reward of intelligence if not of virtue, and went 
 down the hill with a yelp of joy. 
 
 " Kwannon help me ! " cried the girl at this catastrophe. 
 " For this a great beating may be honorably bestowed upon 
 me!" 
 
 " Nay, maiden, be calm ! " said the gallant youth. " Free 
 of charge will I restore it. Give me the bowl! " Tremblingly 
 she did so. Their fingers met beneath the sage-green rim. 
 Maru's round face glowed more like a peony than ever. 
 
 " Maru ! Ma-roo / " came a voice from within. " Is the 
 buckwheat-man boiling you, that so long you remain ? Worth- 
 less vagabond ! Let him leave at once ! " 
 
 " It is Aunt Suzume ! I must go ! Again to-morrow you 
 will augustly pause at our broken-down step, will you not?" 
 
 " Though in the night I should make divine retirement, yet
 
 216 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 to-morrow at this hour would my ghost return to bring your 
 buckwheat ! " protested the swain. With one more gasp of 
 ecstasy, and the crossing of two pairs of small slanting eyes, 
 the lovers separated. A moment later the peculiar click and 
 clutter of the metal handles came back through dying gusts of 
 wind. 
 
 Tetsujo, immediately after luncheon, returned to his book- 
 room, where now he spent all his waking hours. After some 
 indeterminate search among his well-worn favorites, he took 
 down a volume of Toemmei's poems, a venerable old Chinese 
 classic, and began to read aloud. Iriya, in the kitchen, had 
 already begun to discuss the evening meal. Yuki sat, list- 
 lessly, with folded hands, in her own room, next to the library. 
 Her one thought now was to hear the cry " Dempo ! " which 
 should announce the coming of Gwendolen's telegram. To 
 look out upon an indefinite period of such days as these was 
 almost more than the girl's brave spirit could endure. Yet, to 
 Pierre she had given an oath. She bad let him break the long 
 hairpin. If he commanded her " Be firm and true," she would 
 be true, no matter what came ! 
 
 Through these dark, monotonous thoughts, her father's 
 voice, low, rich, and sonorous, with the jerky melodic chant 
 and rhythm imposed by long reading aloud of Chinese litera- 
 ture, flowed up and finally compelled her. So had she been 
 taught to read in childhood, before her long sojourn in a 
 foreign land. 
 
 " ' Let me now return, for my farm and garden are growing 
 wild! As the boat skims lightly along the water, the wind 
 plays with my sleeves. boatman ! how far yet to my home ? 
 So far, and yet the hour so late ! Now, now at last I see my 
 own loved gate, and enter with joyous rush.' " The deep tones 
 rose as in triumph, then sank again to infinite tenderness. 
 " * The paths to my steps are growing up wild with grass, but 
 the pine and the chrysanthemums still flourish. With my chil- 
 dren in my arms I enter the house, drink a refreshing draught, 
 and gaze, and gaze again at the shadows under the garden trees. 
 
 " ' Eeturn ! Return ! Why should I not return ? Let me 
 renounce the intercourse and pleasure of the world.' Let
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 217 
 
 me and the world renounce each other ! There is nothing 
 more for me to derive from the world ! 
 
 "'The farmers come in and tell me that spring is approach- 
 ing. There are rumors of war in the West. But why should 
 they interfere with my rambles ? The trees put on a smile 
 and begin to bud. The streams look busy and begin to flow. 
 What joy to see all things fall due at their season ! And yet 
 I am reminded that my season, too, is almost come. Alas! 
 The lodging of man in this Inn of the Universe is but for a 
 single season ! ' ' 
 
 Yuki's hands were pressed against her breast. In the 
 samurai's slow, fervid utterance one could feel each word fill 
 and thrill the heroic heart before utterance came to the lips. 
 He was deriving strength and comfort from the immortal 
 ode. " ' Commit then, soul, thyself upon the current of 
 things ! ' " rose the exulting psean. " 'Let me choose my own 
 time. Let me go out for my solitary walk ! Let me hobble 
 about the farm on my friendly cane. Let me toil up the 
 Eastern hill, look the clear brook in the face, and sing it my 
 dying songs. So let me end my days as days of themselves 
 may end. So shall my joy flow on with the eternal will of 
 Heaven ! ' " 
 
 Yuki sat upright, her wide eyes fixed, as it were, upon the 
 viewless flight of echo. "And they of the Western world say 
 that my people have no true religion, no deep belief. Their 
 souls crawl, where ours take wings! Nippon, Nippon, my 
 country ! " 
 
 The magnificence of her nation's past, the heroism, self- 
 sacrifice inherent in her countrymen, the passionate craving 
 for what is spiritual and sublime, the belief in watchful 
 spirits of dead ancestors, in the divinity and guidance of dead 
 Emperors manifest in the living flesh, came in a flood and 
 bore up the girl's spirit in a tide of light. What were foreign 
 education, foreign friendship, foreign pledges, love itself, 
 to a girl of Yamato Damashii? She was Japanese, one small 
 animate cell in a living tissue of race. To serve her country, 
 that, indeed, should be life's worth. "Pierre, Pierre," she 
 sobbed. "I shall not bring you joy, nor can you give to 
 me the duty that it is my part to bear. Let me go, dear
 
 218 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 one, let me go, and pray to our Christian God that your 
 kisses fade from me, and your blue eyes be turned away. If 
 I were only myself I would die, or defy for you everything. 
 But I am not myself ; I am what my ancestors, my parents 
 and my country have made me ; I am only one shivering mote 
 of dust in my country's shining destiny. Let me go, my 
 dear; Kwannon will bless you!" 
 
 Slow, helpful tears began to course, unfelt, along her white 
 cheeks. All at once the physical exhaustion of long, sleepless 
 nights and days unendurable began to tell on her. The 
 glossy head bent over, lower and lower. Tetsujo, after a long 
 pause, had begun an heroic epic of the Heike clan. The 
 words were indistinct, a sort of splendid blur. She had an 
 impression of horses, arms, war-shouts, and of fluttering ban- 
 ners on distant hills. Then all sounds began to die away. 
 She smiled faintly, and stretched out her slender young limbs 
 upon the soft matting. Soon she was asleep, with the long, 
 regular breaths of childhood. 
 
 Without stirring, she remained in the unconscious pose for 
 hours. Iriya, peeping in upon her, choked back a little sob 
 of thanksgiving, and turned away to kneel, in her room, 
 before the ancestral shrine. Lights burned here always, and 
 the pleasant aroma of fresh tea was seldom absent. With 
 hands struck very softly together, that the sleeper should not 
 be disturbed, Iriya supplicated the gods of her home and of 
 her nation that the child should be given clearer vision. A 
 European would have demanded personal happiness for her 
 daughter. The Japanese soul sees deeper, and asks, as the 
 highest boon, power to carry out, in this life, that which 
 has been decreed, and so, for the future, to achieve a nobler 
 attitude. 
 
 Just at the hour of twilight Iriya returned, and kneeling, 
 called softly, " Yuki-ko my heart's treasure you must 
 awake." 
 
 Yuki sat upright instantly. " Has the dempo come ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Iriya, presenting a pink sealed missive. "And 
 in the guest-room waits Prince Hagane." 
 
 Yuki tore the telegram apart, threw open the shoji for
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 219 
 
 more light, and read: "Find it impossible to do anything 
 with P no logic or reason pathetic but a child we all think 
 case hopeless forever in your place would accept H whatever 
 happens I am your loving faithful G." 
 
 " It is a terribly long message to come in such an expensive 
 way. Surely it is from a foreigner," ventured Iriya. 
 
 " How long has it been here, mother ? " 
 
 Iriya showed embarrassment. " Since about noon, I believe. 
 Suzume honorably received it and gave it to her master, as 
 she was bid. Your father would not let you have it now, 
 but that Prince Hagane took it from his hands and sent it. 
 He says you are to read and consider it ; also that you must 
 not hasten. What marvellous kindness he always shows, 
 that great man ! " 
 
 Yuki rose slowly. " He is great and kind. Give thanks 
 to him, my mother, and say that I shall enter within a few 
 moments." 
 
 Iriya prepared to leave. She had searched her daughter's 
 eyes for a loving recognition, but in vain. On the threshold 
 she wavered. " My baby, my only one ! " she cried aloud 
 brokenly, and held out her arms. In an instant, before Yuki 
 could respond, she closed the fusuma and ran toward the 
 guest-room.
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 PRINCE HAGANE sat in the place of honor, his back to 
 the tokonoma, where new flowers bloomed and incense per- 
 fumed the space. His robes, of the usual magnificent quality 
 of silk, had to-night a deep bronze color. The candles, placed 
 one on each side of him, threw down a yellow light, which 
 took the wrinkles from his scarred face and some of the sad- 
 ness from his mouth. To Tetsujo's feasting eyes he appeared 
 as a god; not the meek, forgiving Buddha whom women 
 and children adore, but some splendid old war-god of Shinto 
 tradition, young with the immortality of youth, yet old as the 
 world in wisdom. 
 
 The outer shoji stood well apart, letting in the chill, wet 
 sweetness of the night. The storm had now quite died away. 
 The air of the room was so still that the candle-flames stood 
 like balanced flakes of topaz, and the white smoke of the burn- 
 ing incense hung like a silver cord from the gloom above. 
 
 The moment that Yuki entered, Hagane, with his trained 
 vision, saw that some great spiritual change had taken place. 
 The look of miserable defiance he feared was not there. Iriya 
 had waited for her. The two women advanced to the great 
 visitor, and bowed before him three times, then went back 
 modestly to the far end of the room. Suzume brought fresh 
 tea, and two new balls of charcoal for the hibachi. As the 
 servant left, Iriya asked of her husband, " Shall I also with- 
 draw ? " 
 
 "It is according to our lord's will," answered Tetsujo, his 
 eyes turning to the prince. 
 
 " What would you prefer, Yuki-ko ? " Hagane's voice was 
 kind. 
 
 " I should prefer my mother to remain," answered Yuki, 
 without hesitation.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 221 
 
 "Madame Onda, I beg you to honor us with your presence," 
 said Hagane, with a slight bow. 
 
 Onda Tetsujo frowned. If his loyal nature allowed him to 
 make one criticism of his daimyo, it was of a certain lax, for- 
 eign politeness toward women. The fault seemed to increase 
 with years. Whether Prince Hagane suspected this disappro- 
 bation or not, on this occasion at least he made no attempt to 
 modify it. 
 
 " I have come in person, little Yuki-ko, to hear your thought. 
 No, do not speak yet ! " he interpolated, with a slight lifting 
 of the right hand. "Wait until I give you questions to an- 
 swer! At the beginning there must be quiet discussion be- 
 tween us four, with no haste or opposition on the part of 
 any." He looked, with these last words, directly at his old 
 retainer. 
 
 " My Lord, my Lord ! " fumed Tetsujo, " shall I be able to 
 contain myself while you condescend to bandy words with a 
 mere girl ? " 
 
 " If I command it, I think you will contain yourself," said 
 the prince, easily. Tetsujo rocked on the matting, gripped 
 his arms tightly, and was silent. 
 
 " The gods seem to have decreed no happiness for me in 
 marriage," said Hagane, impersonally, to all. " Perhaps they 
 have only new mockery in store, if now, in my old age, I dare 
 take to myself this fair flower. Yet am I tempted ; by the 
 good for her, as it seems to me; by my friendship for you, 
 Onda Tetsujo; and by the need for an official mistress of my 
 house. I can give her unusual opportunity to serve Nippon, 
 as in my letter I wrote." 
 
 Iriya, in her corner, put her face to the floor. " My Lord, 
 even that you have thought it, makes richer the traditions of 
 our house through ten succeeding generations." 
 
 "I would not have the child consent because of family 
 honors, my good dame," said Hagane, a little sadly. 
 
 " Shall I speak now, Lord ? " asked Yuki, in her sweet, 
 steady voice. Tetsujo ground his teeth, but. managed to keep 
 silent. 
 
 " Would you speak of the young Frenchman, whose mother 
 is a Russian ? "
 
 222 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki's eyes fell and her chin quivered. " Yes, your High- 
 ness." 
 
 " Speak ! fully ! " said he, after a pause. 
 
 " He offered me marriage many times, your Highness, and 
 I refused, saying that not without my parents' consent could 
 I answer. Then, at one hour, being weak, I promised. In 
 the foreign land, where you and my father sent me, such 
 promises bind, even as the oaths of men. I have been 
 bound." 
 
 " Gods of my ancestors ! Must I listen to this cat-mewing ? " 
 groaned On da. 
 
 " Be quiet ! The girl shall speak. Yes, Yuki," he con- 
 tinued, his eyes softening as they returned to her white face, 
 "I felt that you had promised. And so, in my letter, if you 
 willirecall, I assured you that you were not bound." 
 
 " Your Highness ! " ventured the girl, at length. " It was 
 your noble thought, your decision, not my own. I am bound." 
 
 Hagane looked at her in mild wonder, with the faintest 
 touch of a smile. " And not even your daimyo's word can free 
 your childish promise ? You have courage." 
 
 " The mad lynx ! Let me deal with her ! " panted Tetsujo. 
 
 " He, my father, so speaks and thinks of me ! " broke in the 
 girl, with passionate protest and a wide-flung gesture toward 
 Onda. " In that country no shame is felt for such a promise. 
 Yet ray father treats me as an outcast, a blot upon the family 
 name ! I ask you, Lord, who are great and strong, to help 
 me ! " 
 
 "To what shall I help you, little one? To marriage with 
 an alien? repudiation of a country that I serve?" 
 
 " No, Lord ; for of myself I could not marry him, now, with 
 my dear land at war. When I first knew him, war had not 
 become even a threat. Only against misunderstanding 
 and, Lord, being forced ! " 
 
 Hagane interrupted her with his slight gesture. "You will 
 be forced to nothing! not now, nor so long as my voice can 
 use the speech of living men ! Your decision is valueless 
 unless it be your own. It may be even harmful ; for the 
 young branch, held down by force, slashes heaven in its 
 rebound. Nay, child ! I would have you bend slowly to my
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 223 
 
 proffered opportunity, weighted by your own ripening desire 
 for loyalty and service. To compel you would be impiety. 
 Believe yourself protected by my word, and by iny faith in 
 you ! Be calm and think seriously, for upon this hour depends 
 more than you can fathom ! ;> 
 
 His deep voice boomed into a silence long maintained. One 
 of the tall candles sputtered and flared. Iriya rose quickly to 
 mend it. Tetsujo's arms, within short blue cotton sleeves, 
 were folded and pressed tightly down upon his chest, as if to 
 keep back straining utterance. Through the stillness his 
 quick breaths ran. The girl gazed out now, motionless, be- 
 yond Hagane into the wet blankness of the garden. Famil- 
 iar outlines of rock and bridge and pine kept there, she knew, 
 their changeless postures. Only a fallen darkness hid them. 
 So in her heart must be immovable shapes and living growths 
 of heroism and selfless devotion. An Occidental training 
 superimposed upon a child's fresh fancy; a foreign love, 
 jealously guarding for its own purpose the tissues of new 
 thought, these things hid the garden of her heart as night 
 now hid her father's garden. Hagane's look and words were 
 bringing dawn, a dawn perhaps of sorrow, a day dragged up 
 from an heroic past, and trailing its own hung clouds of 
 tears. 
 
 Hagane spoke again. His deep voice calmed and satisfied 
 the unstable silence. He changed his position very slightly, 
 facing Yuki more squarely. He raised his massive chin, and 
 a smile played on a mouth that seemed made for stern sadness. 
 Quite irrelevantly, he began to relate to his small audience an 
 incident of his crowded day. 
 
 "Do you remember, Tetsujo, Yuki also may recall from 
 her childhood's impression, that, as one stands on the jut- 
 ting corner of my Tabata laud, by the large leaning maple, 
 a corner so steep that it must be upheld by the hewn trunks of 
 pines, exactly at foot of the cliff stands a very small cottage, 
 with roof patched by the rusted sides of old foreign kerosene 
 cans ? " He paused for an answer. Yuki's eyes would not 
 leave the dark mystery of the night. 
 
 "I remember most clearly, your august Highness," mur- 
 mured Onda, with a respectful inclination of his head toward
 
 224 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 the great man, but an indignant scowl in the direction of 
 Yuki. 
 
 "An aged woman and her only child, a son, live in that 
 house. He is a good son, for though hot with the desire for 
 military service, he has kept steadily to his labor as under- 
 gardener on my place. There seemed to be no one else with 
 whom his mother could find a home. Of late the boy has 
 looked ill. I have overheard the servants say that his soul 
 was attempting to leave the chained body and go off, as it 
 wished, to the battlefield. Such agony as this repression, I 
 believe only our countrymen are capable of experiencing or of 
 enduring." 
 
 Now, at last, Yuki turned and fixed her look on Hagane. 
 He did not notice this any more than he had seemed to 
 observe her previous indifference. 
 
 " The youth dutifully kept this longing from the old dame. 
 But she questioned, and through her slow round of domestic 
 services she pondered. Then she came to understand. Per- 
 haps the young soldier-husband, dead for thirty years, had 
 returned to whisper. Whatever the cause, she came to 
 understand." He paused an instant, as if to take a firmer 
 hold upon his voice. " To-day, scarcely an hour ago, Yuki, 
 the youth, returning from labor, found his mother dead 
 before the family shrine. She had used her husband's short 
 sword. It will be buried with her. The smile upon her old 
 face had gained already the youth and glory of a god's. She 
 left no message ; the smile told him all. To-morrow the son 
 takes passage for Manchuria." 
 
 Yuki's dawn had come. It hurt her, like the birth of a 
 soul. Hagane saw the same look which, for one fleet instant, he 
 had evoked from her at Washington. His strong heart reeled 
 toward the girl. Iriya was sobbing softly. Tetsujo sat square 
 like a box. He envied the mother and the son. He saw no 
 pathos in the tale, only victory. Those two would be together 
 on the Yalu; while he, Tetsujo, famed warrior, skilled swords- 
 man, must pine at home and listen to the pulings of weak 
 women ! 
 
 The glory grew on Yuki. Above the flowers of the toko- 
 noma, above Hagane's head, hung a tattered battle-flag of their
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 225 
 
 own clan. She recognized it now. Her hands trembled. 
 She lifted them toward Hagane. 
 
 " Onda Yuki-ko ! " he almost whispered, so deep and tense 
 his voice became. "This year, this day, this very hour, may 
 be the pivot of human history upon this planet ! And is not 
 the diamond-point on which that mighty turning rests, the 
 Spirit of Japan?" 
 
 " Banzai Nippon ! Dai Nippon ! Banzai ! Banzai ! " shouted 
 Tetsujo, and beat his fists on the matting. 
 
 Hagane, with a smile that seemed to deprecate yet condone 
 his kerai's vehemence, went on directly to Yuki. "Strange 
 that Western minds the astute American politician, the 
 journalist, even the cleverest of Europe's statesmen hardly 
 claim to look forward more than a few years, five, ten, at 
 best half a century ! They want results they shall live 
 to see after them the deluge ! As they have forgotten the 
 very names of their grandfathers, so they ignore their descend- 
 ants. But we of the East count time in other lengths. We 
 do not bound our horizon with personal aim or the catchword 
 of a day. We owe, we owe ourselves, all, to a future 
 that we may not comprehend, but have no right, in our ignor- 
 ance, to cramp. What we are fighting for at this moment 
 will not be fully realized for two hundred years. Then it 
 will be seen as a great landscape in a valley. Your foreigners 
 are like children that play now in that valley. But every 
 Japanese patriot stands lonely on a mountain, very lonely, 
 very lonely ! " 
 
 "Is one alone in a shining company of spirits, Lord?" 
 asked Yuki, a wonderful glow now kindling in her long eyes. 
 " Will that youth of whom you told us be lonely, though he 
 stand singly against a squadron of Cossacks ? Where is his 
 mother's soul ? Gods of my country ! my dear Christian 
 God ! why was it not given to me to be a man ? " 
 
 " Do you think that the soul of a woman who shirks would 
 be less cowardly if put into the body of a man ? Even your 
 Christians could tell you better." 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! " cried the girl to him in great stress, " am 
 I indeed of the coward's heart ? Is this thing I call fidelity 
 but a shirking ? " 
 
 16
 
 226 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " A Japanese has no fidelity but to his Emperor ! " thun- 
 dered Onda. 
 
 "Be quiet, Tetsujo ! Listen, poor wavering little heart; 
 I will try to make you understand. You cannot be allowed 
 to marry this man, not because we wish to thwart you, but " 
 
 " I said I would not marry him, now, not now ! " 
 
 " Then what will you do ? " asked Hagane. " All are striv- 
 ing to their utmost. What will be your part ? Do you intend 
 to sit sullen and inactive here, at home ? " 
 
 " The wench shall remain no longer under my roof ! " raged 
 Tetsujo. 
 
 "She will remain under your roof, good Tetsujo, and be 
 treated with courtesy," corrected the prince. 
 
 "Let me go as a nurse ! Oh, I could never stay with them ! 
 Their harsh eyes would flay me ! I feel even now their 
 hatred ! " 
 
 " Not mine, my baby, my only child ! " wailed Iriya. 
 " Think not so of your mother's imperishable love ! " 
 
 Yuki at last hid her face. The note of anguish in her 
 mother's voice overcame her pathetic defiance. 
 
 " My official residence is cold and lonely," remarked Hagane, 
 sipping slowly at some tea. " It sorely needs a mistress well 
 acquainted with foreign etiquette. Foreigners are to be met 
 and conciliated. The Emperor himself, and his shining spouse, 
 would receive one who so served her land, and hear from her 
 own lips impressions of America, and the sentiments of the 
 people there toward us. A woman's intuition is keen, and 
 penetrates farther than a man's weightier judgment, just as 
 the tendrils of a vine creep into lattices which a tree would 
 only darken. It is in such a capacity, Yuki-ko, that you could 
 do immediate good. My disorganized servants would again 
 be set into grooves of usefulness. Another reason, which 
 must not be spoken openly, as yet, I may soon be called to 
 the front, and the several residences should not be closed." 
 
 " Lord ! You would trust with such responsibilities a weak, 
 untutored girl like me ? " 
 
 "Yes, little one, I would trust you." 
 
 " And I would be in all respects your wife ? " asked 
 Yuki, in a very low tone.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 227 
 
 " Yes. Why not ? What is the human body but a petal 
 drifting in the wind ? If, for a moment, the bright tint or 
 the fleeting perfume please, is it not best to grasp the trivial 
 pleasure ? Yet it is to great things that I call you, Onda 
 Yuki. Things of service, of the spirit, heroism perhaps, per- 
 haps self-sacrifice, for the flesh is stubborn. This shall be 
 your proof of loyalty to your Emperor and to this land ! " 
 
 " I would gladly die for them ! " she cried. 
 
 Hagane emptied the few dregs of his teacup into the hot 
 ashes of the hibachi, ignoring the ceremonial little bowl put 
 near for the purpose. " It was in Washington, I believe, that 
 once before you made that foolish remark. What use would 
 death be, especially if you seek it as an escape from conditions 
 that do not please you ? Cowardice is a crime of the spirit ! I 
 see no chance for you to serve but this." 
 
 " But to be your wife, your wife while yet he that 
 other holds my pledge ! " murmured the girl, piteously, 
 under her breath. "I prayed for freedom, but he would not 
 send it !" Gwendolen's telegraphic words, "I would accept 
 H." came to her like a little gust of refreshing wind. She 
 looked again squarely into Hagane's noble face. For the first 
 time Pierre's rose before her, a little weak, a little over- 
 delicate, with incipient lines of self-indulgence. 
 
 " My child," said Hagane, almost in a pleading tone, " Japan 
 must not lose you. Put your life into my hands, and let me 
 wield it for our country's need. I believe my motives to be 
 selfless. If indeed your young beauty blurs my vision, then 
 will punishment rightly follow. But I take that hazard. Had 
 I a son, you should be, more fitly, his wife." 
 
 "If your father's everlasting curse " Tetsujo began; but 
 Hagane stopped him. 
 
 " We need no curses, Tetsujo ! You are showing yourself 
 unworthy of this brave child. Be quiet, I say ; and let her 
 own soul speak to her ! " 
 
 Iriya gasped, and Onda bit his thick lip to the blood. 
 Yuki's lifted face had the pathos of dying music. " Will my 
 soul speak, Lord ? " she breathed. The sound of her voice was 
 cold and thin, and touched with a mystic fear. 
 
 Almost as if gathered in to answer, from the far distance a
 
 228 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 muffled chorus of a thousand whispering voices quivered in 
 the air, drawing nearer, nearer, until the sound seemed to 
 press upon their very hearts. Now over the garden a soft, 
 pale light began to dawn. It grew to a concourse of a thousand 
 spirit-lamps, crossing, recrossing, flickering, then passing on. 
 Feet moving softly, though by the hundred, went by in ghostly 
 rhythm. 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! " panted Yuki, wild-eyed. "What is it ? Do 
 you hear also ? or is it only I ? " 
 
 Hagane did not answer at once. He watched the girl's face 
 as one watches a changing chemical. When the sound had 
 grown unmistakably human, though of voices kept low and 
 tense with unusual awe, he said quietly, "You have all 
 heard of the brave young Commander Hirose, who died rescu- 
 ing his friend, in the second attempt to block Port Arthur. 
 This is a band of Koishikawa students passing down to the 
 railway station to meet him." 
 
 He stopped, wondering how much the girl could endure. 
 The glare of the white lanterns, borne aloft, ploughed a great 
 soundless trench of light through the trees and houses that 
 line the steep slope of Kobinata's hill. Light surged over 
 the thorn and bamboo hedges of Onda's home, brimming the 
 garden with a tender radiance, and revealing hillock, shrub, 
 and tree as in a faint unearthly dream. It threw a deeper 
 glow into the face of Hagane, and over the battle-flag above 
 him. 
 
 As for Tetsujo, he listened to the passing of countless feet 
 in sullen gloom. He hated the students that they were young. 
 He envied the death of Hirose. It would be a clear personal 
 joy to die that way, and have one's name blazoned as a new 
 god. A nobler soul might have cared little for such posthu- 
 mous recognition ; but old Onda's generosity did not reach that 
 height. To him, heaven was a place where spirits swaggered, 
 and bore the two swords of the samurai. 
 
 Hagane, looking only at Yuki, continued softly: "A hun- 
 dred thousand lanterns of the dead will be carried this night, 
 for the brave boy. It is but a fragment of his flesh, that was 
 found with a bit of uniform clinging to it ; but the precious 
 relic will have friends, to bear it to the temple. There his
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 229 
 
 young widow, smiling like a statue of Kwannon, awaits it ; 
 and his little son, calmly proud that his father has become a 
 great spirit. No heart in. Nippon, to-night but worships 
 Hirose! " 
 
 Hagane's voice had been even enough, and calm ; but some- 
 thing in it loosened Yuki's soul from the flesh. Again she 
 stared at him, as if mesmerized. Then suddenly she half rose, 
 leaning toward him, and hurled herself face down on the 
 mats, within reach of his hand. 
 
 " All that I have to give is dust ! The body is nothing ! 
 The gods have released me ! Take me, great-hearted man, and 
 use me to my country's need ! " 
 
 The shifting footsteps all had passed. The faint reflected 
 glamour of the lanterns spread far below along the level stone 
 road by the Arsenal. The garden was plunged again into black- 
 ness. Onda stared, as if dazed, after the lights, then brought 
 his eyes to Yuki's prostrate body. His slow wits could not 
 seize, at once, the realization of so ineffable a hope. Iriya 
 muffled her sobs in her sleeve. 
 
 Hagane, to reassure Yuki, had put a hand lightly upon her 
 thick hair. No one but the spirits if they were near saw 
 a dull red tide of passion surge up to his broad face, swelling 
 his neck into purple veins, and twitching at the sinews of the 
 powerful hands. But his voice, when he answered, was that 
 of a high-priest. " In our Emperor's name, my child, I accept 
 the gift. May the gods assist me to use it worthily ! " 
 
 Tetsujo, half crawling, reached the tea-tray, and drained a 
 stale cup to the dregs. Yuki lay so still that Iriya took fond 
 alarm. The joy and triumph faded from her face. She met 
 Hagane's look with a slight appealing gesture toward her child. 
 Hagane nodded. She crept to Yuki, tugging at her sleeve, 
 and trying to push her up from the floor. Hagane leaned 
 forward, and picked the girl up like a toy. She put out 
 a faltering hand and touched her mother. 
 
 " Come, come, my treasure ! " whispered Iriya. " Let us go to- 
 gether to your little room, where quiet will best restore you !" 
 
 " One moment, dame ! " said Hagane. " I must speak with 
 Tetsujo, in your presence." The old kerai was on his knees, 
 bowing, his exultation only exaggerating his humility.
 
 230 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 From the impersonal ring of Hagane's orders, he might 
 have been outlining a Manchuriau campaign. "Let there be 
 no delay ! Since at any hour I may be ordered to the front, 
 I wish the ceremony over, that I may instruct Yuki in certain 
 official duties before I leave. And remember, this is no time 
 for expenditure or display." 
 
 " Your will is mine, Augustuess." 
 
 " This is Friday. Next Wednesday, then, at my Tabata 
 villa ! All shall be in readiness. Is this as you wish, Yuki- 
 ko?" 
 
 ''Your will is mine, Lord," whispered Yuki, echoing uncon- 
 sciously her father's words. 
 
 "The child trembles. May I not conduct her to her 
 chamber ? " asked Iriya of the prince. 
 
 "Yes, dame," replied he, kindly. "And, brave little one, 
 farewell! I am overcharged with duties, and may not see 
 you again till Wednesday, at noon. One instant ! " The two 
 women paused, Iriya facing him expectantly, Yuki with head 
 hung low. " I want to say, here, in the presence of my too- 
 zealous Tetsujo, that Yuki is to be treated, from this moment, 
 with the respect and dignity that becomes a Princess Hagane. 
 There is to be no espionage ; no opposition ; no suggestion of 
 restraint of any kiftd ! My entire confidence is with my future 
 wife. Do you understand that, Onda Tetsujo ?" 
 
 " Yes, Lord," growled Tetsujo, crimson with mortification ; 
 but he did not forget to bow. 
 
 In her own room Yuki stood staring, dazed, ignoring her 
 mother's frequent suggestion to be seated. "No! Let me 
 breathe ! Let me learn to breathe again ! " muttered she at 
 last, and caught her mother's arm as she stepped to the tiny 
 veranda. From the guest-room beyond, where the two men 
 talked, a soft light gleamed, throwing the pebbled paths of 
 the garden into little Milky Ways of light. The shrubs lay 
 round and dark, like a flock of little clouds. Beyond all 
 rose the tall black hedge of bamboo and of thorn. 
 
 " My child," said the mother, " you have brought to us great 
 happiness and pride. Surely reward will come to you, even 
 in this incarnation. I will pray ceaselessly to Kwaunon in 
 your behalf."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 231 
 
 Yuki leaned closer to her mother. The cool wet smell of 
 the garden already stole away some of the hot bewilderment 
 from her brain. The angry waves of indecision, girlish long- 
 ing, and patriotism, which had raged so furiously together, 
 now began to recede, leaving bare at last a small white strip 
 of thought. She was safe now, pledged, not to personal joy, 
 but to heroic service. The greatest of all men was to be 
 her teacher, her helper, her husband ! Well, what of it ? 
 Nothing was too great a sacrifice for Nippon. And if Pierre 
 would only not misjudge too cruelly ! Even in this first 
 vicarious shudder of Pierre's grief, she could not feel that he 
 would suffer long. His agony might at first be intense and 
 uncontrolled, but, through its very exaggeration, would the 
 more swiftly pass. For her sake, now, he must leave Japan. 
 This was the last boon that love should ask of him. 
 
 From the street, from the other side of that inky bamboo 
 wall, came the low notes of a foreign song, a strain from 
 Carmen. The girl shivered once, and was still. 
 
 " Oh, what is it ? " cried Iriya, herself on edge, and looking 
 about in terror. 
 
 Again came the song, soft and clear. The singer stood, 
 evidently, just beyond the bamboos. Yuki's lips writhed 
 together. Her fingers tore and twitched, one hand in the other. 
 
 " Yuki ! My Yuki ! " came a voice. " Is it too late ? " 
 
 Suddenly wrenching herself from Iriya's arms, the girl sprang 
 down the two stone steps and plunged into the shadows of 
 the garden. As one fiend-driven, she sped over paths, shrubs, 
 rocks, and prim garden-stakes, until, at the hedge, she hurled 
 herself upon it, beating at it with frantic hands, and sobbing. 
 
 " Oh, go ! Go, beloved ! Never again come here ! Never 
 sing that song again, or I cannot live at all ! I have 
 promised promised a new pledge stronger than the 
 other ! It 's of my free will I give myself to him ! Go home 
 to your native land ! Go ! go ! " 
 
 " What sound is that ? What do I hear ? " cried Tetsujo, 
 from the guest-room balcony. 
 
 "It is our Yuki, walking in the garden," came Iriya's placid 
 voice. " Disturb not your honorable spirit, Master ! I am 
 with the child."
 
 232 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Tetsujo returned, to be met by a chiding, half-contemptu- 
 ous remark from his deity. A moment later, Iriya's ashen 
 face was in the kitchen. " Suzume ! Maru ! For the love 
 of Kwannon, come quickly! Miss Yuki is in a dead faint, 
 against the thorn hedge! Her hands are bleeding! Make 
 no noise ! The master and Prince Hagane must not know ! "
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 SPRING storms in Tokio, as in other capitals, sweep clean 
 a wide pathway of days for sunshine and the coming flowers. 
 On the morning after that great tempest which so nearly 
 crushed Yuki against the pond-stones of the garden, scarcely 
 could a shadow be found, so eager was the sun to atone for 
 past misdeeds of her naughty younger brother, the wind. 
 Small crumpled leaves began to straighten. Boughs, mud- 
 soldered to muddy earth, drew slowly upward. The old world 
 stirred like a conscious thing. 
 
 Pedestrians sent smiling, answering looks of brightness to 
 the sky, as they hurried along to daily work. All over the 
 great city, housewives were busy hanging out bed-clothing, and 
 standing the removable wadded straw mats (tatami) slanting- 
 wise against veranda posts, to get the full strength of the 
 sun. 
 
 In that vast, merry hive there was one soul, at least, 
 that neither saw the sunshine nor thrilled to the glory of a 
 re-created earth. Pierre Le Beau had been sitting for many 
 moments before an untasted breakfast, his body slouched 
 forward under the table, his eyes fixed vacantly on a square of 
 light slowly pushing its way through an opened window into 
 the room. Count Ronsard, already in his easy-chair, with 
 letters, papers, cigarettes, and an extra cup of coffee on a low 
 stand beside him, lifted, just before opening each fresh mis- 
 sive, a look partly amused, partly irritated upon his sullen 
 compatriot. 
 
 Tsuna, the butler, cautiously approached, and substituted a 
 fresh cup of coffee for the forgotten cold one. Pierre caught 
 at the edge of the saucer. "Merci, Tsuna," he said with a 
 smile which all his abstraction could not keep from being 
 sweet, " but take all else away. I want nothing or, at 
 least, I have eaten sufficiently."
 
 234 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Yes, Tsuna," supplemented the minister. "Clear the 
 table, and admit no guests. If a 'chit' comes, bring it in 
 yourself." 
 
 Pierre would have sunk back into his lethargy, but the 
 count, having by this time finished his mail, deliberately set 
 himself to learn the secret of this new dejection. 
 
 " What have we here, young lover ? " he cried gayly. " Why 
 do you affront the fair morning with your sighs ? La, la, I 
 know the symptoms, the rueful mouth, set eyes, loathed 
 viands, all speak the distemper of love. Come, now, un- 
 burden thyself, mon fils. I have a leisure hour. I see in 
 thee need for brisk philosophy." 
 
 Pierre shook himself free with difficulty from his haunting 
 visions, Tetsujo's black face and burning eyes; a wind- 
 swept hedge, bowing and straining in storm until at the next 
 gust of tempest it must lie flat, like the cover of a book, show- 
 ing clear her home; the white, strained, watching face; and, 
 later, in a stiller, denser blackness, faint chinks through 
 upright hedge-stems of bamboo falling from a broadly lighted 
 house ; his own last desperate song of Carmen ; the terrible 
 answering cry ; the sound of feet on gravel ; the sound of 
 tender hands beating on thorn ; a mother's sob ; and then, 
 devouring silence. How had the sun such callousness that it 
 could shine to-day after such a blackness ? 
 
 Ronsard watched him until he turned slow, haggard, miser- 
 able eyes. Then the count lowered his own. At this critical 
 point Pierre need not perceive the glimmer of pleased hope. 
 " I am not unacquainted with sorrow, and of this sort, 
 Pierre," he murmured gently. His voice might have poured 
 from an alabaster jar. Pierre felt the soothing, and still he 
 hesitated to reveal this deepest wound. In their one previous 
 discussion Ronsard's words had been drops of acid. The boy 
 shuddered anew at the remembered sting. 
 
 And yet he must speak to some one. This anguish could not 
 be borne alone. Later on, Mrs. Todd would purr platitudes 
 above him. He did not wish them yet. Now, in his bewilder- 
 ment, he needed the advice of a man, a man's supplementary 
 thought. " I should be glad to speak," he burst out impul- 
 sively, "only, dear sir, if you love me, give not that tonic
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 235 
 
 of your worldliness at full strength. I am hurt with life 
 almost to the point of flinging it aside ! " 
 
 Eonsard kept himself from shrugging. "Tut, tut," he 
 said humorously. "Had perplexed lovers the modicum of 
 existences attributed to that interesting animal, the cat, then 
 might they listen to all these small gusty impulses to suicide. 
 And, by the way, where is my Zulika, my soft, blue-tinted 
 amorette ? Fast in the sun, I '11 wager. Ah, Zulika, core of 
 my heart, come, warm me, while I hear of love ! " 
 
 At his words the great blue Persian who was sleeping near 
 the fire in a spot further cheered by the full light of the morn- 
 ing sun, stirred drowsily, opeued a reluctant eye, and closed it. 
 She moved again, with a shrug not unlike her master, gained 
 her feet, stretched her back upward, opened a mouth lined with 
 pink coral, and, with a last reluctant gaze toward the warm 
 spot she was quitting, approached her smiling master. He 
 drew her into the chair by his side, touched her whiskered 
 lips with a finger first dipped into sweetened coffee, shook 
 himself and her into smoother lines of placidity, and turning 
 again directly to Pierre, said, "Now, my son, thy father con- 
 fessor is at peace. Speak what you will." 
 
 The episode of the cat did not please Le Beau. Indeed, he 
 loathed all cats, but this one in particular, in spite of its 
 beauty. 
 
 "Your Excellency," he began in an uncertain tone, "I find 
 the thing difficult, perhaps unnecessary to impart. It has 
 become already beyond the power of any one in office to 
 advise." 
 
 Eonsard showed interest. He tucked the cat farther out 
 of sight, and said, " If you cannot tell, permit me to hazard 
 a guess. Already Mainselle Onda has received important 
 propositions ? " 
 
 Pierre nodded. He rose to his feet and began a restless 
 walking. "You are far-seeing, your Excellency," he cried 
 bitterly. " It is marriage offered from the worn voluptuary 
 of your suggestion, from Prince Sanetomo Hagane!" 
 
 " Hagane ! " echoed the other in a low, tense voice. " Though 
 I said that name, Pierre, I scarcely thought it. He is no 
 voluptuary Mon Dieu ! but a cone of granite ! As a parti
 
 236 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 for that girl, the mere daughter of a rusty samurai, the offer 
 is brilliant, unprecedented ! Of course the Onda family " 
 
 He paused in a sustained note of interrogation. 
 
 " As you remark her family ! " sneered the other. " They 
 will coerce her to the point of torture." 
 
 E-onsard drew his fat lids closer about the brightening eyes. 
 " How long has this been known to you ? " 
 
 " Since yesterday morning. I receive messages from my 
 betrothed through Miss Todd." 
 
 " Your betrothed is broken-hearted, of course, at the thought 
 of severance from you ? " 
 
 " My betrothed assures me of he? faith," said Pierre, with a 
 defiant glance. 
 
 " Ah, she will try it ! Poor little devil ! " 
 
 "Monsieur, do not make me repent already," Pierre was 
 angrily beginning, when Tsuna's voice at the door announced, 
 "A letter for M. Le Beau." 
 
 Konsard answered. " Bring it in. Shut the door. Where 
 is the chit-book ? " 
 
 "No chit-book or messenger came, your Excellency. It 
 was brought in person by Sir Onda Tetsujo." 
 
 " Ah ! Does he wait ? " 
 
 "No, your Excellency. He turned very quickly. There is 
 no answer." 
 
 " Give it into the hands of Monsieur Le Beau and depart." 
 
 " Brought by Onda, in person. It will throw light," mur- 
 mured Konsard. 
 
 Pierre was fumbling and fidgeting at the top of the long, 
 thin Japanese envelope. In an excess of childish impatience 
 he tore it with his teeth. The cat lifted its head at the noise, 
 but was pressed down instantly by the firm hand of its master. 
 It sneezed indignantly, and went to sleep. 
 
 Pierre, after two flashing readings, burst into a harsh laugh, 
 threw the missive toward Konsard, and then hurrying to a 
 window, leaned his forehead to the cold glass. 
 
 The note was in English, written on very thin Japanese 
 rice-paper, six inches wide and perhaps a yard in length. A 
 Japanese writing brush had evidently been used, for in the slow, 
 painful composition the writer had lingered, sometimes for the
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 237 
 
 following word or letter, and where the brush rested a small 
 round blot had spread. It was dated that morning. It con- 
 tained but one long sentence, built up of participial and relative 
 clauses, as in all Japanese construction. 
 
 "MR. PIERRE LE BEAU, My daughter Onda Yuki-ko having last 
 night become by her own will no force the affianced [affianced held 
 three blots] wife of Prince Sanetomo Hagane Minister of War Daimyo 
 of Konda for great honor to her family and service to her native land 
 we respectfully desire you your honorable body from our neighborhood 
 remove entirely or trouble will become, ONDA TETSUJO." 
 
 Ronsard held it oxit. " Daudet might have done better in 
 phrasing, but even he could have made the meaning no 
 plainer." 
 
 Pierre at the window gave a sound of derision, and was still. 
 
 The count sipped daintily at his coffee, and offered some 
 to the cat, who, mindful of recent indignity, turned her head. 
 Lifting the diaphanous screed, he read it once more carefully, 
 studying, it would seem, each separate word. 
 
 Pierre raised one delicate hand and tapped on the window- 
 frame the rhythm of an air from Carmen. Still Ronsard 
 gave no sign. 
 
 " Well, your Excellency, is this all you can remark ? " he 
 cried, whirling about as the strain threatened to become un- 
 bearable. " Has the father confessor nothing but the husks 
 of literary comparison to offer ? " 
 
 " Softly, my son. Another written communication will, in 
 a moment, be with you. This time it will be a chit, a legiti- 
 mate chit, in a bright new leather book." 
 
 " You are pleased to be enigmatic." 
 
 "Non, you flatter. There should be no enigmas to a 
 diplomat. This correspondent, " here he waved the sheet 
 airily, " has been at work on his creation since the time of 
 dawn. There are full three hours between his first ink and 
 his last. Miss Onda, on the contrary, writes with ease and 
 skill. Her letter of announcement went to Miss Todd. It 
 will soon come to you." 
 
 " How, in God's name, do you think such things ? " cried 
 Pierre, in reluctant admiration.
 
 238 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " I seldom think them. They are obliging enough to come 
 to me," said Eonsard, with a deprecating gesture, and sank 
 back to an attitude of waiting. 
 
 Pierre stared on, half fascinated. There was something 
 sphinx-like about the man, a gelatinous sphinx, not quite 
 congealed into certainty. Ronsard did not resent the stare. 
 He met it once or twice, smiling, with slight twinkles, or, to 
 be more accurate, slight blinks, of his small pale eyes. He 
 looked now as if he might soon purr, like the cat. 
 
 " Ah," he murmured at length, with a slight upward gesture 
 of one hand. " The servant-bell again. Your chit, Monsieur. 
 A hundred francs upon it." 
 
 "Done," said Pierre. He too listened eagerly. 
 
 As they wait, in listening silence, the reader may as well 
 be initiated into the mysteries of the " chit." 
 
 In all foreign communities of the Far East, but particularly 
 in those where English influence prevails, three hybrid words 
 become part of the daily vocabulary. The first is "tiffin," 
 the second "amah," the third and most important, "chit." 
 
 Doubtless there are persons who know the origin of the 
 last. I do not. Literally, it means a written message sent by 
 a native runner. The foreign shops in the Far East abound 
 in chit-books, made, most of them, in Manchester. They can 
 be found in paper, cloth, or leather bindings. The " elite " 
 tend toward Russia leather with a crest or monogram stamped 
 in gold. Chit-books are to social life what check-books are 
 to fiscal. The letter, note, or present comes accompanied by 
 the inevitable "chit-book." The recipient is supposed to sign 
 his name, and the hour, as in a telegram. This duty, in 
 point of fact, is very soon relegated to the head butler, or 
 the ingratiating " amah," a laxity which has produced more 
 than one lawsuit and countless domestic scandals. 
 
 Tsuna, in due time, appeared with a large black leather 
 book, aggressively and odorously new, a gold spread-eagle on 
 the back. The envelope it accompanied was large and blue. 
 It bore Pierre's name in the clear handwriting of Miss Todd. 
 
 The count signed the book and whispered Tsuna to remain 
 just outside the door. 
 
 Before opening the new missive, Pierre threw himself into a
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 239 
 
 chair, his face turned partly away from Eonsard. The latter 
 picked up a rustling Paris newspaper, and over its quivering 
 upper edge watched the smooth cheek of Pierre, his left ear, 
 and the strip of pink neck showing over an immaculate collar. 
 Out of the folds of the blue letter fell a smaller one of 
 white. This was addressed to Gwendolen. At sight of it the 
 young man's heart gave a sick throb. He hid this in his coat, 
 until the other should have been read. 
 
 " I send you this note of Yuki's in the original, because I want you 
 to see more in the changed handwriting than in the formal words. I 
 am not going to insult you by trying to say anything now, except that 
 I am sorry. I sympathize with your trouble more deeply than you 
 will, perhaps, believe. Come to me when you will. I shall say nothing 
 but kind things. It is a wide gulf of race and of inherited ideals 
 between you and Yuki. No love could hold the arch of a bridge quite 
 so wide. But remember her poor little aching heart! There! lam, 
 as usual, doing just what I vowed I would n't do. Oh, Pierre, I 
 am sorry for you, sorry, sorry ! The world does n't seem a very 
 bright place, this morning, does it ? I have been scolding a yama-buki 
 bush that insists upon opening in our garden; but the flowers just 
 laugh in my face. It is an unsympathetic universe ! Your frieud, 
 
 " GWENDOLEN." 
 
 Pierre held Yuki's letter long before reading it. A breath, 
 of her subtle personality must have clung to the scrap, for he 
 inhaled from it a new bitterness, a new anguish. With a 
 groan as of physical suffering he threw himself forward, put 
 elbows on his knees, and deliberately forced himself to read, 
 in rigid silence, the following note : 
 
 " MY DEAR GWENDOLEN, who has been my only sister, Your tele- 
 gram having arrived, and Prince Hagane having come to me in person 
 to speak of my duties and the opportunity he could give me at once in 
 this time of trouble and war, I have myself willingly consented to be 
 his wife. I am forced by nobody. You do not think badly of me for 
 this, but some other will think very badly. Oh, please to speak kind 
 and soothing things to that other. His grief is my aching always 
 sorrow. I care not at all for my own, but I care very much for hia. 
 He will think me wicked and unfaithful to have broke so solemn 
 pledge, but at the time of breaking I did not seem to myself wicked. 
 We do not know how things sometimes have happened. But this has
 
 240 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 now happened to me. Ask him to forgive me. The marriage is to be 
 held very soon ; in fact, on Wednesday of the coming week. According 
 to Japanese custom I must now be very secluded until that ceremony, 
 not even seeing my sister, which is you. I believe Prince Hagane is 
 to take me after to Kamakura. I do not care where he take me. Oh, 
 Gwendolen, love your Yuki and pray for her to be strong. Always 
 before I have been weak at a crisis. I must not now ever be weak. 
 If pity can be held toward me in Pierre's heart, beseech him to leave 
 Nippon. Your strangely feeling but loving, 
 
 " YUKI." 
 
 He let the sheet flutter sidewise to the floor, his eyes ab- 
 sently following. When it was quite still, the address being 
 uppermost, he leaned nearer. " Miss Gwendolen Todd, Ameri- 
 can Legation, Azabu, Tokio," he read, his lips moving as he 
 formed the words. "Miss Gwendolen Todd," he began, di- 
 rectly, reading again and again. A hand fell gently on his 
 shoulder. " Is there to be an answer, Pierre ? " 
 
 Pierre shook his head. 
 
 " You will retain the enclosed letter ? " 
 
 Pierre nodded. 
 
 The count went tip-toeing to the door, and returned to 
 Tsuna the pretentious chit-book. Pierre was apparently fixed 
 in an attitude of melancholy. 
 
 " Can these letters have told you anything worse ? " ques- 
 tioned the gentle voice. 
 
 " Yes," said Pierre, dully. " It is worse. She is to be married 
 next Wednesday, and with her own consent. She wishes it. 
 Next Wednesday." 
 
 Eonsard did not answer. He was trying to look sad. 
 
 " Wednesday, I tell you," repeated Pierre, now lifting blood- 
 shot eyes. "Next Wednesday! Five days ! This is Friday, 
 is it not ? Yes." He stopped now to count the days on shaking 
 fingers. " Five more days and she will be his wife. That 
 woman I love, that pure flower to whom even my honorable 
 devotion seemed desecration ! She will lie in that old man's 
 arms, she will be his wife ! God ! God ! Man ! " he screamed, 
 striking the table with one frantic fist, and then rising to hurl 
 himself in torment about the room, " don't stand there screw- 
 ing into my brain with your fishy eyes ! Have you ever known
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 241 
 
 love do you understand jealousy have you heard of 
 hell ? " 
 
 "At your age I knew all three," said Eonsard, calmly. "I 
 went through all, and I live, I eat, I intrigue, I am happy. So 
 shall it be with you, madman ! " 
 
 Pierre threw back his head in a rude clamor, meant for 
 laughter. He was passing near Ronsard at the instant. The 
 elder man reached out and caught his wrist. " Now, Pierre 
 Le Beau, stand still and hear what I have to say ! " 
 
 At the tone of command, rather than the physical detention, 
 Pierre stood still, wondering. 
 
 " This is the best thing that could possibly happen to you. 
 Yes, be quiet. You shall listen. I 've endured sufficient child- 
 ish railing for one day ! It is infinitely the best thing for you 
 for your mother for me for France ! I have a diplo- 
 matic secret to whisper. That old man Hagane for once in 
 his life a fool may be sent at any moment to review the 
 campaign in Manchuria. He and his generals may be great, but 
 Kuropatkin is greater. Do you know what that may mean to 
 you ? Ah, I thought so ; at the hope of some personal reward 
 you flicker back to sanity. What are the honor and glory of 
 France to such effete sensualists as you ? Bah, it sickens me ! 
 And yet, since some day you may become men, you must be 
 dealt with. Hagane, in his supreme self-confidence, urged on, 
 doubtless, by Onda, dares marry this youug girl, though he 
 knows her to be in love with you ! Will you destroy her love, 
 fool, by smothering it in her contempt? Hagane goes to Man- 
 churia. His young wife mourns, helas ! I see her weeping 
 in his absence. There are secrets spoken in the nuptial 
 chamber, documents left in charge of the pretty chatelaine. 
 Pierre, Pierre, celestial revenge hangs like ripe fruit to your 
 hand, let her marry Hagane, let her love you ! Do not revile 
 or scorn her. Wait wait ! " 
 
 His eyes, twinkling like those of a snake, crawled up Pierre's 
 face to his shrinking gaze. His fat hand still clutched with a 
 grasp that burned. Pierre tried to draw away. Again the 
 repulsion, the fascination in this man battled for his reason. 
 " Wait ! " whispered Ronsard once again, and turned. 
 
 Pierre felt himself released. He stood motionless. His 
 
 16
 
 242 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 wrist stung as if a sea nettle had lashed it. He looked help- 
 lessly around as though searching for something he could not 
 recall. His eyes fell on Yuki's letter. He staggered toward 
 it, snatched it from the floor, pressed it against parched lips, 
 and then, falling on his knees beside the chair, burst into a 
 passion of grief. 
 
 "^Come," whispered Konsard to the cat. " Come, che>ie. 
 We will leave poor Pierre awhile. It is more delicate, n'est-ce 
 pas ? "
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 IT was inevitable that a lady of Mrs. Todd's social and 
 confidential temperament should already have acquired an 
 inseparable friend. Mrs. Todd had a perpetual thirst for 
 what she called " sympathetic comprehension," by which she 
 meant, in reality, abject flattery. Her husband sometimes 
 treated her deepest emotions with levity. Gwendolen often 
 turned to her complaints a bright indifference more irritating 
 than the husband's soothing smile. 
 
 The present incumbent was a Mrs. Stunt, resident in Tsu- 
 kiji, Tokio, wife of an American merchant who had lived in 
 Japan for nearly twenty years. Naturally, Mrs. Stunt knew 
 everything. She was a little woman, with white hair brushed 
 high from a smooth, pink forehead. Her face was round and 
 youthful. Although not an Englishwoman she exuded odors 
 of pink soap. Her eyes were blue, bright, and hard as glass. 
 Her reputation was that of a model wife and mother, a pattern 
 housekeeper, and an exemplary member of the church. People 
 hastened to speak well of her ; they raised loud voices in 
 her praise, yet every one knew that Mrs. Stunt, when mounted 
 upon the perfectly kept bicycle she affected, was a wheeled 
 and leaking reservoir of scandal. 
 
 To the new-comer, or the casual observer, she appeared the 
 very incarnation of trustful candor, speaking of her domestic 
 affairs and those of her neighbors with a simplicity and direct- 
 ness that startled while they convinced. Mrs. Stunt, however, 
 had her secrets. One of these, unshared even by the conjugal 
 ear of timid Mr. Stunt, was her connection, virtually that of 
 foreign editor, with a Tokio newspaper, called, of course in 
 Japanese terms, " The Hawk's Eye." In addition to volu- 
 minous printed sheets of hurrying ideographs this journal 
 dispensed each day a page of excellent English, and for weekly 
 supplement issued a pamphlet entirely in the borrowed
 
 244 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tongue. Mrs. Stunt was never seen to enter the shabby gates 
 of the "Hawk's Eye" building. She turned her face away 
 even in passing the place. She often denounced newspaper 
 women, and, more than once in the company of a friend who 
 tingled or wept under the lash of a personal item, joined in 
 indignation against the cowardly villain, and wondered aloud, 
 " Who on earth that man could be ! " 
 
 The very brief notice of Lord Hagane's coming marriage, 
 tucked away in important Japanese papers like a small spark 
 in a chimney, might have been altogether overlooked, for 
 news of war came in daily, and political excerpts from Euro- 
 pean papers took much space. But " The Hawk's Eye " found 
 that smouldering spark, the mysterious breath of the foreign 
 editor blew it into new heat, piling tinder of comment high 
 about it, fanned it with the wind of gentle persistency, and 
 lo, the social world of Tokio leaped into flames ! 
 
 Long since, the demure little lady, having in mind spring 
 clothes for four lanky daughters, had extracted from her 
 new intimate, saleable particulars concerning Pierre's be- 
 trothal, Onda's persecution, and now Yuki's forced acceptance 
 of Prince Hagaue. "Nonsense, my dear," had Mrs. Stunt 
 retorted to this concluding bit of romanticism. "Japanese 
 girls don't give a fig who they marry ! For a catch like old 
 Hagane your Yuki would have thrown over a dozen spry 
 young Frenchmen, blue eyes and all." 
 
 From the first instant of meeting Mrs. Stunt and Gwen- 
 dolen had been inimical. To herself Gwendolen had called 
 the little lady a "bargain-counter snob." In return Mrs. 
 Stunt, keenly aware of the impression she had produced and 
 resentful of it as people usually are of truth, began assorting 
 items for the coming Saturday " Hawk's Eye." Gwendolen's 
 affair with Dodge, their quarrel, his immediate transfer of 
 outward devotion to the shrine of Carmen Gil y Niestra, and 
 Gwendolen's irritability ever since the disagreement, were as 
 bill-boards to the mental gaze of Mrs. Stunt. Kindly inju- 
 dicious Mrs. Todd did not betray her daughter. There was no 
 need for it. When she wept above a " Hawk's Eye " para- 
 graph that called her idol a "raw Western heiress, who 
 naturally cultivated her acquaintance with ploughs and
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 245 
 
 harrows," it was the part of Mrs. Stunt to comfort her. That 
 small lady, sitting near some more generous and less judicious 
 female friend, her eyes drooping tenderly over a " pinafore for 
 Nan," or a knitted sock for " Baby Tom," absorbed scandal 
 as a sponge absorbs warm water. 
 
 Yet let us be just. Too much may have been ascribed to 
 Mrs. Stunt. Perhaps even without her thrifty and unfriendly 
 zeal the marriage of so great a lord as Hagane must inevitably 
 have filled the papers and overflowed in irresponsible wide 
 tides of talk. Yet scarcely without her would Pierre's hinted 
 personality have been so openly involved, his parentage stated, 
 and his future course of action philosophized about. The 
 story in its parent " Hawk's Eye " was given with a wealth of 
 imaginative detail possible only to the born " society reporter." 
 In substance it was as follows: Miss Onda had come from 
 America with the Todds. With their approbation she had 
 been openly betrothed, in Washington, to a young French- 
 man of pleasing appearance and high connections. (Here a 
 secret marriage, twisted about an interrogation mark, found 
 place.) When asked for his blessing the Japanese father, 
 hitherto unsuspicious of French designs, fell into a fit, out 
 of which three eminent physicians were required to haul 
 him. Yuki was forbidden to hold communication with her 
 lover. The next step was to adorn her in sacrificial and be- 
 coming robes and offer her in marriage, or anything else, 
 to a certain powerful nobleman, whose third wife, or was 
 it really his sixth ? had recently, by a fortuitous occur- 
 rence, been "returned." Touched by the sorrow of his 
 faithful knight, and influenced perhaps by the lackadaisical 
 beauty of the girl, the nobleman agreed to take her on trial, 
 even going through the form of a legal marriage, that the 
 aspirations of the French lover might be the more certainly 
 destroyed. Pierre, who read and brooded morbidly on these 
 things, was neither soothed nor ennobled thereby. But what 
 of it ? Mrs. Stunt's four lanky daughters each had a new 
 spring dress with hats to match ! 
 
 Japanese of the better class, brushing aside like gnats these 
 stinging personalities, approved openly of the father's conduct 
 and of Yuki's swift acquiescence. It was the only thing con-
 
 246 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ceivable. Their only blame for Yuki was that she had listened 
 to a foreigner without first obtaining her father's approbation, 
 an encouragement that might now urge him to be troublesome. 
 They felt indignant that the rejected one should continue to 
 repine for what a Japanese prince had deigned to accept. Old 
 samurai blood grew warm. The daughter of Onda Tetsujo 
 marry a Frenchman with a Russian mother ! The very gods 
 held their Asiatic noses. 
 
 English and American men took, for the most part, the 
 Japanese view. Many Europeans, on the contrary, said openly 
 that they hoped Le Beau would yet " get even " with old 
 Hagane for stealing his sweetheart. With few exceptions, 
 indeed, all women sympathized with Pierre. Pierre was the 
 beau ideal of a despairing lover. His sensitive, beautiful face 
 took on with ease the lines of sleepless grief. His blue eyes, 
 at a moment's warning, could darken from melancholy to tragic 
 anguish. He could sigh in such a manner that his quivering 
 listeners, should Donne happen to be familiar, might have 
 quoted, " When thou so sighest thou sighest not wind, thou 
 sighest my soul away." Pierre's sorrow was genuine enough, 
 but he liked witnesses to his grief. Needless to say that Mrs. 
 Todd and her satellite Stunt were among Pierre's most vocif- 
 erous supporters. Gwendolen fought many a battle for her 
 school-friend, but the bitterest were pitched under her own 
 roof. 
 
 " Now, my very dear Miss Todd," expostulated the " Hawk's 
 Eye," "do you not consider at all the misery of Monsheer 
 Le Beau ? Miss Onda is to be a princess, happy, courted, with 
 a position in the highest circles. Life can offer her no more. 
 On the other hand look at the jilted lover. I never saw a face 
 that expressed such patient grief. When he turns to .me 
 those slow, beautiful blue eyes I '11 declare I feel as if I 'd 
 .like to kill that girl for making him suffer." 
 
 "Pooh!" said Gwendolen, rudely; "and when he slowly 
 turns them round to me I want to open my parasol and say 
 ' Shoo ! ' thinking it a cow. I like Pierre well enough. A good 
 deal better than you, I think, if the truth were known, but 
 he is among men what Chopin is among musicians. He enjoys 
 his sufferings and makes music out of them. Of course you
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 247 
 
 would n't understand that." Rudely she wheeled and walked 
 away, Mrs. Stunt following with venomous eyes. 
 
 Gwendolen scarcely recognized herself during these days of 
 trial. She, the joyous one, the sun-maid, now wished to quarrel 
 with the whole world. Of course Dodge's defection, and the 
 ridiculous paragraphs appearing in "The Hawk's Eye," had 
 nothing to do with her nervous condition. The causes were 
 obvious, Yuki's hurried marriage and Pierre's mischievous 
 pose of despair. 
 
 Meanwhile the absurdities of gossip increased. Once, stung 
 beyond endurance, the girl threw herself into her father's 
 arms. " Dad, how shall I endure these spreading slanders 
 about my friend ? Is there nothing we can do, nobody to 
 shoot, or challenge, or anything like that ? " 
 
 " Go fire at those sparrows on the lawn." 
 
 "Don't joke. I can't stand it. Oh, father, you don't know 
 what awful things they whisper. They stop when I come near, 
 saying it is because 'I'm not yet married.' Now just think 
 of the pitchy subtlety of that. Why should people talk so ? " 
 
 Todd held her close. " My little girl," he began, " wher- 
 ever lonely, sour-hearted women or men congregate, there 
 will the cancer-growth of scandal spread. They are the dis- 
 seminators of half our domestic tragedies. It is a disease like 
 other foul things, cancer itself, leprosy, diphtheria, though 
 not so fatal, for the thing they tackle is a man's soul and 
 character, immortal essences, never to be truly tarnished but 
 from within. As I figure it out, scandal is a good deal like 
 fungus. It may be planted anywhere, but it sticks and thrives 
 only where it finds a rotten spot." 
 
 " Oh, you help me, dad, you do help me. Of course these 
 rumors cannot hurt the white heart of my darling, but she 
 must not hear them. One question more, daddy " 
 
 Todd stopped her. " It is mail-morning, and that means a 
 busy one. You 've had a sermon long enough for one day. 
 Come to think of it, why does Dodge get out of the way when 
 you appear ? What have you been doing to my secretary ? " 
 
 Gwendolen gave a small gasp and vanished. Todd looked 
 after her. "I thought that would send her flying." He 
 turned to his desk. His face was very tender. " Poor little
 
 248 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 one," he murmured, "she's up against her first experiences 
 all in a bunch. God help her ! Things hurt worse when we 
 are young. But all will come right, with His hejp. I know 
 my child was made for happiness. She has the hall-mark of 
 it under her skin. But Yuki poor little Yuki !" He 
 shook his head, seated himself, and soon became lost in the 
 voluminous foreign mail. 
 
 Yuki, pale, white, and docile, moved like a determined 
 ghost through vistas of gray hours. In that quiet household 
 came [no hint of scandal, and for Yuki's part, had she heard, 
 she would not have greatly cared. The first brief chapter of 
 her life was gone, shut down, like a book, 'and in its pages was 
 the living flower of her love. She did not suffer now. She 
 felt a dull gladness that she was inevitably committed to 
 her duty. Temptation and further striving had vanished 
 from her days. Except for the sorrow of that dear one 
 there would be no regret. What anguish came personally, 
 through remorse for her broken faith, she would be glad to 
 bear. She had, through faithlessness, won the level of a 
 higher faith. Let her wounds gape and her heart's blood fall 
 like rain ! She wished to feel more sorrow than she felt, but 
 nothing came very clearly in these days of preparation. More 
 than once she thought, with a tiny pang of apprehension, 
 " If I have lost the power to feel pain, then are sacrifice and 
 duty alike robbed of their essential oil." 
 
 Now, in place of averted faces and blank eyes, those of the 
 Onda household fawned about her. Onda made grim over- 
 tures. The giggling of Maru San ceased only with her 
 slumber that, too, was audible while old Suzume, darting 
 about the rooms like a gray ferret, babbled out the many 
 titles that her nursling soon would wear, and made coarse 
 jests and prophecies about the future. 
 
 Iriya alone moved in the silence of her daughter's spirit. 
 The two women grew very close, though no spoken word was 
 used to show it. 
 
 Wednesday, the marriage day, arrived softly. Yuki neither 
 dreaded nor welcomed it. She had not seen Prince Hagane 
 since the night he took her answer. Quite a number of her
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 249 
 
 parents' relatives, some from distant provinces, came in and 
 gathered in the house to bid the bride farewell, to throw, 
 laughingly, the dried peas after her, to sweep the abandoned 
 dwelling to its farthest corner, and light a bonfire at the gate 
 when she passed through. 
 
 Yuki, in her white bridal robes and concealing veil of white 
 silk, thin in texture but stiffened in a way that brought it into 
 angular folds about her shoulders, stepped alone into a new 
 jinrikisha. Tetsujo and Iriya, in a double vehicle, followed. 
 These three alone went to Tabata, where they met a corre- 
 sponding party of the same small number, Prince Hagane, his 
 nearest male relative, the old Duke Shirota, and young 
 Princess Sada-ko, the old duke's granddaughter. 
 
 Hagane was unmistakably preoccupied. His thoughts did 
 not attach themselves with ease to things or persons. He 
 had an air of relief when the short ceremony came to an 
 end. Yuki now changed her white robe for a dark-hued silk, 
 superb in texture, the gift, according to Japanese etiquette, 
 of her husband. A hairdresser was in readiness to change 
 forever the wide loops of a girl's coiffure into the more 
 elaborate structure of a young matron. The Princess Sada-ko 
 fluttered near, talking prettily and congratulating herself on 
 the acquisition of a new relative. Yuki scarcely heard her. 
 She felt almost nothing. As the last touch came, the thrust- 
 ing-in of a great tortoise-shell pin, she shuddered very slightly, 
 thinking of that ivory one broken with Pierre Le Beau on the 
 moonlit prow of a ship. 
 
 With a great clattering and stamping the Hagane coach of 
 ceremony -drew up to the entrance-door. Magnificent gray 
 horses in new trappings snorted impatience to be off. ? Hagane 
 stepped in without a word to Yuki, who, at a nudge from the 
 little princess, meekly followed. The domestic retinue fell on 
 its knees in the doorway and along the pebbled drive. Hagane 
 gave the order, " Shimbashi," waved a hand abstractedly, and 
 the equipage dashed away. 
 
 The short railway journey was made practically in silence. 
 Hagane said once, as if by way of explanation, " Important 
 and somewhat alarming news has come by secret wire to-day. 
 It is necessary for me to ponder over it."
 
 250 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Honorably do not concern your august mind with a person 
 so insignificant," said Yuki. Far from resenting his silence, 
 the girl was thankful to be left to herself. She watched the 
 scenes outside with eyes at first vague and unintelligent, but 
 which soon gained a soft, increasing brightness. Earth was 
 waking from its long sleep. Yuki felt what many of her own 
 and other races have in such crises felt, a gratitude to na- 
 ture that human grief is given no part in it. The grass still is 
 busy, small waxen blossoms lift the leaves of a fallen year, no 
 matter what men may suffer. In moments of keen personal 
 bereavement, when the soul is dazed and blinded by the won- 
 der of its agony, a certain resentment comes. Like the Ayr- 
 shire poet we cry, "How can ye be so fresh and fair ? " But 
 such grief was not yet Yuki's. Her emotion still partook more 
 of bewilderment than loss. Pierre was not dead. He might 
 yet be happy, happier than with her. This thought brought 
 no personal sting. Hers was not a nature for jealousy. 
 
 Because of her marriage, through this stern, grave man who 
 sat beside her, she was to be given her opportunity for loyal 
 service. Mistrust of self, apprehensions that mocked and 
 taunted her, a certain shrinking from responsibilities so 
 thickly heaped, rushed inevitably to her mind. On the other 
 hand she had for guidance his great spirit of untarnished 
 patriotism ; she had vindicated to her parents all filial obliga- 
 tion, and springtime peeped at her from among the hills. 
 
 She saw that a thousand nameless, beloved little flowers 
 traced with bright enamelling the leaden dykes of fields. 
 Seedling rice brimmed with gold-green, small, separate pools. 
 Straw-shod farmers trampled, one by one, the rotting stubs of 
 last year's crop into the slime of fields to be new-planted. On 
 low-thatched huts the old leaves of the roof-lilies fed a spring- 
 ing growth. Everywhere decay passed visibly into re-birth. 
 So, thought little Yuki, " The very sorrow I have endured shall 
 feed my new resolves." 
 
 At the small Kamakura station jinrikishas were awaiting 
 them, accompanied by two persons, an old man and a comely 
 woman of the peasant class, whom Yuki rightly took for fam- 
 ily servants. They prostrated themselves upon the cement 
 floor in an excess of demonstration, whispering old-fashioned
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 251 
 
 phrases of congratulation and of welcome. Hagane came back 
 for an instant to things around him. 
 
 " These are my faithful servants, Bunshichi and his daughter. 
 I do not now recall her name," said he to Yuki, with his kind 
 smile. " They form our entire domestic retinue at Kamakura, 
 for it is here that I come only when in need of true repose and 
 relaxation." 
 
 " Hai ! hai ! Daima-San," cried the servants in polite cor- 
 roboration, and began a new series of deep bows. 
 
 " Hai ! " murmured Yuki, as if in echo of their subservience. 
 The woman, for an instant, met her young mistress's eyes. 
 There was something in the look of wonder, of great kindness, 
 and then, or so it seemed to Yuki, of compassion. 
 
 Hagane entered his kuruma and started off. Yuki and the 
 two servants followed. And so, on this fair March day, the 
 little Princess Hagane approached the first of her many new 
 homes.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 THE Hagane villa at Kamakura possessed its own green 
 niche cut deep into encroaching hills, its own curved scimitar 
 of gray sea-beach, its individual rocks, its blue ocean, and 
 bluer sky. A fence of dead bamboo branches, set up on end 
 like fagots, barred out spying curiosity. The house faced 
 directly to the sand. On the three remaining sides the hill- 
 slopes made retreating walls. Upon them grew spindling, 
 wind-tossed pines and loops of wild white clematis and of 
 rose. 
 
 Through the big, fragrant rooms of the villa all day the sea- 
 winds passed, stirring the few kakemono, and making flowers 
 in bronze vases nod like those more securely rooted on the 
 hills. No attempt had been made at an ornamental garden, 
 except for a few great, gray stones spread with a lichen 
 sparkling from its diet of salty dew, three curious small 
 pines, and spaces of white sand. The placing of these trees 
 and stones hinted of more organic beauty than all the convo- 
 lutions of the average Occidental millionnaire's park. It is 
 only fair to add that the millionnaire would not agree to this. 
 
 The first two hours after arrival were devoted by Prince 
 Hagane to the writing of telegrams and letters. These were 
 sent off by messengers as soon as finished. The statesman 
 strode out alone to the shore and walked there, his head 
 bent in meditation, until telegraphic answers began to arrive. 
 These apparently bore reassuring news. He sought out Yuki, 
 his sleeves quite stiff with crumpled missives, and told her 
 that already he had arranged his affairs so that he could have 
 two days to belong to himself alone. " Unless some un- 
 foreseen matter of gravest importance should transpire," he 
 added, " I shall not be disturbed. I shall give orders to Bun- 
 shichi to bring me no letters that do not bear the Imperial
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 253 
 
 seal. And now, my child," here he seated himself near her, 
 " I may be permitted to recall the fact that I have a wife." 
 
 For two days Yuki was seldom out of his sight. The shrink- 
 ing, delicate, humble, exquisite thing, now so entirely his own, 
 fed his stern eyes and heart with ever-deepening satisfaction. 
 Her pallor, her reticence, even the strained smile which she 
 sometimes turned to meet his words, were all as best he liked 
 to have them. An arrogant, self-assertive bride is, to the 
 Japanese, an inhuman monster. 
 
 On the third morning Bunshichi brought him with his 
 breakfast the accumulated mail of the two days. At sight 
 of the great heap he sent a quizzical glance to Yuki. "It 
 appears, small sweet one," he remarked, "that I am to have 
 no more hours of happy indolence." 
 
 Before the first ten were read Yuki knew herself forgotten. 
 Her bruised soul stirred within her like a wounded thing 
 recalled to animation. She started violently at his next loud 
 words. " I take the earliest train to Tokio. Have my kuruma 
 waiting." His voice was that of a master, not a lover. 
 
 Yuki rose swiftly. At the kitchen-step she paused, threw 
 back her head, and took in a few long, long breaths. The ser- 
 vants below waited, open-mouthed, for her orders. Meta's 
 kind voice recalled her. 
 
 " What do you wish, August Mistress ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Meta I was thinking I forgot. The master 
 takes the next train to Tokio. When does that train start ? " 
 
 Meta's eye consulted the Waterbury clock. "In twenty 
 minutes, Mistress. Perhaps the Illustrious One will not wish 
 to hasten so swiftly." 
 
 "Yes, yes, he desires to go at once. Go quickly, Bun- 
 shichi, call a kuruma with two runners. Our master is a 
 heavy man." 
 
 Her commission filled, Yuki returned slowly to the room 
 where her husband still sat reading letters. On the way a 
 thought smote her. " Your Highness, the train in twenty 
 minutes honorably departs. Your kuruma will be in readi- 
 ness. Was it your august intention that I should accompany 
 you?" 
 
 Hagane looked up at her in a sort of half-recognition.
 
 254 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " You ? Accompany ? No, of course not. I would not have 
 the time to give you. In a few days more, perhaps. Put 
 those scattered letters and papers into a leathern portfolio. 
 Bunshichi will know what else I need. How fortunate that 
 a train goes so soon ! " 
 
 Between this and the starting moment he had for her neither 
 look nor word. Just as he stepped, however, into the vehicle, 
 he turned as with sudden, loving remembrance, and leaning 
 far down to her said, " These days have been as the heavenly 
 island of Horai set in a sea of raging politics. You are a 
 docile and obedient wife. So shall I inform your father." 
 
 When he had really gone, and even the heavy clink of jin- 
 rikisha wheels on sand was no longer audible, Yuki lifted her 
 head, brushed back the low fall of hair from her forehead, stared 
 at the quiet sea for a moment, and then turned and walked back 
 slowly into the house. For a few moments she wavered, paus- 
 ing now, now walking swiftly, now looking about as for some- 
 thing she had lost. In such broken, indeterminate angles of 
 advance she reached a little chamber quite remote from the 
 rest, a closet darkened by nearness of a rising cliff. Here she 
 stopped short. A physical shudder ran through the length of 
 her. She moaned, bit her lips back into silence, pressed sud- 
 denly white hands upon her vacant eyes, and then, failing all 
 at once, fell to the matting, and lay, face down, along its pallid 
 surface. At last at last for a few hours at least this 
 tortured smile, this self-inflicted strain could be shaken off 
 and she, like a driven beast of burden, could lie still, to die, to 
 moan, or slowly to gather back what remained of endurance. 
 Her thoughts buzzed confusedly like a great swarm of bees 
 whose nest has been taken. 
 
 Through the sweet spring day she lay prone, inanimate, 
 stirring only at a passing sting of consciousness. " My country 
 my Emperor ! " once she moaned aloud. " Kwannon 
 the Merciful! my Christian God! must I live, can I 
 endure it? Already I am cowed and broken. Shall I ever 
 again look a flower in the face ? " 
 
 More than once the kind-hearted maid-servant knelt beside 
 her, urging food and drink, or a walk into the reviving air. 
 Yuki seemed not to hear. After one such unsuecessful excur-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 255 
 
 sion, Meta returned to the kitchen, shaking her head. " They 
 have married that beautiful young maiden to our august yet 
 somewhat ancient master, and her heart's love dies within her 
 for another. Oh, I know well enough ! " she cried, with a touch 
 of defiance, as her father lifted bleared, protesting eyes ; " so 
 was I bartered to the wicked man who beat me and drove 
 me forth. I may be of low estate, but I know a woman's 
 heart." 
 
 " Then you know the seat of folly," grumbled the old man. 
 " When your husband drove you out, I suppose he had reason ; 
 I received you, didn't I? I allow you still to call me 
 father " 
 
 "Yes, and do all your work and mine too for it," muttered 
 the woman. 
 
 " As for our young mistress," went on the old man, ignoring 
 this last impertinence, "all know her for the most fortunate 
 young woman in this empire and, therefore, in the world. Is 
 she not lawfully married to the richest and most powerful of 
 lords, to Prince Hagane ? " 
 
 Meta seated herself on a low bench and began to clean the 
 fish for dinner. "Yes, father," she answered at length, "and 
 this newly snared fish whose honorable insides I am preparing 
 to remove is to be eaten by that same rich and powerful lord. 
 Does that make the knife in its belly less sharp ? " 
 
 The round sun was bisected by a western hill-top pine when 
 Meta knelt again beside her mistress. "August Lady, you 
 must listen. A telegram has arrived." 
 
 Yuki sat up instantly. She had begun to tremble. Her 
 hair, now disordered, fell about an ashen face. " Has my 
 master come ? " she cried, a wild look flashing into her eyes, 
 but lapsing almost immediately into dulness. She put up 
 both hands and spread wide the night-black wings of her hair. 
 Meta drew down one little hand and thrust the telegram be- 
 tween its fingers. " Oh, a telegram," said Yuki, embarrassed. 
 
 " Why did you not mention perhaps Lord Hagane will 
 not come back to-night." She read the few words carefully. 
 Again that faint, sickening throb of relief passed over her. 
 She lifted her head and met the woman's eyes as she said, 
 trying to seem calm and unconcerned, " It is true, our
 
 256 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 master cannot come to-night. He bids me remain until fur- 
 ther message." 
 
 Meta bowed. " Condescend to receive my condolence, noble 
 Mistress. You will be honorably lonely, I fear. But such is 
 always the fate of one married to a great statesman like our 
 lord." 
 
 " Yes," said Yuki, eagerly, " and, Meta, I wish last of all 
 things to become an obstacle in his illustrious path." 
 
 " Mistress," said the servant, in her honest way, with a 
 smile like sunshine dawning upon the broad, fresh-colored 
 face, " all day you have eaten nothing. May I not prepare a 
 little meal to tempt your appetite ? " 
 
 "You are kind to me, Meta," said the young wife. She 
 put a hand out to the servant's arm. For some reason known 
 only to women, the eyes of both flooded with tears. 
 
 "Yes," said Yuki, her own smile dawning, "prepare me the 
 little dinner. I will try very hard to eat. Indeed I think 
 even now I am becoming quite ravenous ! " 
 
 Meta, laughing outright, hurried back to the kitchen. She 
 was a good cook, and she knew it. In this same villa-kitchen 
 she had served marvellous dishes to prime ministers and 
 princes, but never before had she worked with a heart so full 
 of love and tender compassion. Never was a meal more daintily 
 served. Slices of tai from the salt waves, embellished with 
 grated daikon and small foreign radishes ; lily-bulbs dug from 
 the hills around them and boiled with sugar and wine into 
 balls of crumbling sweetness ; lotos roots from the temple pond, 
 sliced thin and served with vinegar, ginger-root and shoyu, 
 salad of yellow chrysanthemums, pickles of coleus, cucumber 
 and egg-plant, the. whitest of rice, and tea picked but the week 
 before by the dew-wet hands of little maids at Uji. Yuki was 
 literally betrayed into enjoyment. As she ate, Meta and the 
 old man peeped in at her through the shoji, nudging each 
 other joyously at each new mouthful. 
 
 Later in the evening, when lamps were lighted, and the 
 shoji all drawn close, the two servants, with that delicate 
 familiarity, that respectful presumption of which they have 
 made an art, found pretext to enter. At first there was but 
 the usual salutation, and the expressions of gratitude that she
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 257 
 
 had condescended to partake of such badly prepared food. 
 One question led to another. In a few moments the three 
 were chatting and laughing like schoolgirls, the old man 
 bearing, in his double superiorities of age and sex, the greater 
 share of the conversation. Yuki soon found that he had a 
 single theme, the perfections of Prince Hagane. More from 
 kindness of heart than interest, she encouraged him in these 
 reminiscences; but in a very short time she was listening as 
 Desdernona to her Moor. The tales indeed were marvellous. 
 Once, at the age of six, or so said Bunshichi, the little Sanetomo 
 had gone at night alone to a distant graveyard to bring home, 
 as proof of his courage, the severed head of a criminal that 
 day executed. At eight he had slain with his own hand a 
 monstrous mountain-cat, terror of a cringing village. But the 
 story which most impressed the listener was that of a poor 
 leper, a beggar already eaten away beyond hope of relief, who, 
 having asked alms by the roadway, was questioned, the young 
 prince fixing thoughtful eyes upon him, " You ask for money 
 to buy food, is that the best gift I could offer you ? " 
 
 "Nay, Master," answered the thing who once was man, 
 " there is a better." 
 
 "Name it," said Hagane. 
 
 "Death," sobbed the beggar. 
 
 " So think I," cried the boy, and, without further speech, 
 sent his short sword to the leper's heart. 
 
 Meta always shuddered at this tale ; but Yuki raised her 
 head with so still and white a look that the old man felt un- 
 easy, and began to explain at length. " It was really the best 
 gift, Mistress, and after it our princeling had him buried, and 
 many, many prayers said for the rest of his soul. He even 
 caused search to be made for his family." 
 
 " Do you think I wish excuse for it ? " said Yuki, with her 
 strange smile. " I know not which most I envy, the beggar 
 or Prince Hagane." 
 
 The next day, fair and sweet and practically windless, ex- 
 cept in gusts of " pine-wind " from the shore, deepened the 
 balm of her preceding hours. Wild pinks sprang up like a 
 fairy people on the hills. Crows perched and chattered in the 
 garden pines. Little red crabs came out, and all day long 
 
 17
 
 258 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 drew marvellous maps upon the sand ; and the swinging cen- 
 sers of hillside roses burned a little timid incense to the sun. 
 All the forenoon Yuki busied herself about the house. A 
 long letter was written to Iriya filled with descriptions of the 
 day. Frequent excursions to the kitchen kept Meta and old 
 Bunshichi in a condition of expectant smiles. In the after- 
 noon a sudden thought came, bearing to the girl's mind a 
 hint of wonder at her own insensibility. "Why, the Great 
 Buddha is here, not a mile away from me, and not once have 
 I remembered. I will go to him ! " 
 
 Meta heard the stirring, and peeped. " Our mistress goes 
 for a walk," she told her father. "Even now she lifts her 
 adzuma-coat. I will get her geta (clogs). Nothing could be 
 better for her than a walk. It is the good food that gives her 
 strength." 
 
 "These young things beat their wings like the cliff-birds 
 when the cage first snaps, but soon they come to reason and 
 docility," chuckled the old man over his pipe. 
 
 " I go to the Great Buddha, Meta San," said Yuki. 
 
 " Will you not take an umbrella not even a foreign bat- 
 umbrella to protect your illustrious head ? " 
 
 " On these short days the sun sinks very early. See, already 
 he becomes entangled, like a boy's red kite, in the branches of 
 those tall hill pines. I need no covering." 
 
 "Should the august master deign to arrive before your 
 divine reappearance " suggested Meta, with deference and 
 a deep bow. 
 
 Yuki's face changed utterly. "I I did not think of 
 him," she stammered. " I will not be long absent, and, Meta, 
 should he come, send quickly a runner and a kuruma for me. 
 Do you think he will be angry, Meta, that I went ? " 
 
 " Nay, little Mistress, he would wish it. There is no 
 kinder man alive than Prince Hagane." 
 
 "I suppose he must be very kind," murmured Yuki, and 
 went with downcast looks into the street. The sense of 
 childish anticipation, of vivid expectancy were gone. Meta, in 
 her effort to be dutiful, had clamped more tightly the manacles 
 her mistress had just begun to endure. Why should she wish 
 to go ? What matter that the Buddha waited ? It was not for
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 259 
 
 her; she could but drag before it Hagane's obedient wife, a 
 cowed white ghost of duty. She moved forward mechanically. 
 Her head sank still further forward, as if the great black 
 orchid of her hair grew heavier. At every step the lacquered 
 bars of her high clogs went deep into sand, so that it was in- 
 creasingly hard to walk. A group of children, passing, looked 
 up into the pretty lady's face for a smile, then hurried by in a 
 small panic of fear. It is a strange woman who does not smile 
 at children in Japan. 
 
 Now she crossed at right angles the one street of the village, 
 a rough and stony thoroughfare lined with opened booths. The 
 street terminates abruptly at the foot of a hill whereon stands 
 an ancient and famous temple of Kwannon the Merciful. 
 Within a hundred yards of this hill an abrupt turn to the 
 right leads into a country of unfenced fields of egg-plant, 
 peanuts, and sweet potatoes ; then comes another bit of hard 
 paved road, and then the towering Red Gate of the temple 
 grounds of Buddha. 
 
 Yuki had noted dully that in little gardens the cherry trees, 
 always earlier here than in Tokio, were fashioning their 
 annual robes of pink. The wind from the sea, now rising, 
 threw petals out into the air before her. She watched the 
 fluttering signals eagerly, but for some morbid reason would 
 not lift her eyes to the tree. She had but one thought now, 
 a hunger for the Buddha's face. She longed to test herself, to 
 find whether, in the gap between the Christian Yuki and 
 the Princess Hagane, a shred of herself still clung. This 
 shred, it must be, that the Buddha would smile upon. 
 
 Through the gate she stumbled, her gaze still on the ground. 
 The wide stone pathway stretched soft and pink with fallen 
 bloom. A breeze, entering with her, swept the surface in a 
 mass, as though some one twitched the far end of a long pink 
 rug. Petals filled the air. They came now in a small hurri- 
 cane, fretting her cheeks with ghostly fingers, burrowing softly 
 in her collar, catching and clinging to the long folds of her 
 robe. A sob stretched in her throat and hurt her. She would 
 not raise her eyes. She reached the two long granite steps 
 leading up to the inner court of the Buddha. Here petals 
 were banked in rosy drifts. She could see the bases of stone
 
 260 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 lanterns standing before the shrine. An invisible hand seemed 
 pressing on her shoulder. 
 
 "Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu!" sobbed her 
 lost childhood through her trembling lips. 
 
 An old priest, old beyond the telling, with a face as of 
 wrinkled silver, glided out from among the flower-laden trees. 
 " You are in great grief, my child ? " 
 
 " Yes, reverend sir, in great grief ; and it is of that kind 
 which, to a stronger heart, might not be called a grief." 
 
 " I know ; that is a kind hard to endure, but its triumph 
 gives greatest enlightenment. Look to the face of Buddha, 
 and pray for his endurance." 
 
 "Pitying sir," sobbed the girl, "I have become, while in 
 the foreign laud, a Christian." 
 
 The smile on the old priest's face did not alter. " All new 
 religions are but forms of the old. Buddha will not pity thee 
 less that thou dost call him ' Ye-sus,' for He, too, was a 
 Buddha, even as you and I, daughter, even you and I, through 
 long striving, may become." 
 
 "I will dare, then, raise my eyes to him," answered the 
 girl. The old man stood very close to her, and as he saw the 
 white face lift, joined his hands and whispered, "Namu 
 Amida Butsu!" A moment later he was gone. Petals eddied 
 and settled where he had stood. 
 
 At first the young wife felt little emotion of any sort. She 
 gazed steadily into the marvellous, calm face with a glint of 
 gold under the half-closed lids and in the jewel on the forehead. 
 As she looked, it grew to be a thing not smoothed and fashioned 
 by human hands, but by the eyes and hearts of worshippers, 
 the apotheosis, the embodiment of a majestic faith, so subtly 
 wrought of faith that should belief be changed, it, too, would 
 vanish like a mist, its vibrant particles loosen and dissipate, 
 to recombine in some new symbol. How still it was and 
 calm and self-assured ! Its lines were growing rigid like the 
 formula of its creed ; but in that changeless, ever-changing, 
 pitying smile, a deathless truth still trembled. Near it the 
 hills seemed little piles of dust ; pines, centuries old, mere 
 fern-leaves of a summer. 
 
 " Give me calm, give me endurance, for they are yours to
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 261 
 
 give ! " said the girl, aloud. " I am less than the insects which 
 crawl unnoticed in the grass, I am a blown petal, frail as these 
 I crush. If my life can serve this land, or aid, in infinitesimal 
 good, my Emperor, why can I not be glad and desire no more ? " 
 
 The sun had fallen far below the hills. A crimson light, 
 a more ethereal tide, flowed across the sea, and soaked up 
 into the fibres of blue horizon mist. A cricket with the chill 
 of winter in his little voice woke. into querulous chiding. 
 Yuki shivered and rose to her feet, drawing the robe more 
 tightly. She sent a glance about the wide gardens, and saw 
 that, apparently, she was alone. She turned as if to go, but 
 an overpowering instinct made her lift her face again to the 
 brooding face above her. How colossal, how patient, those 
 dark shoulders bent in the deepening twilight! Around the 
 lotos pedestal, the cherry trees, touched now by dull crimson 
 light, changed to great billows of a smouldering sea. Crows 
 darted through them like strange black fish, then flew off, caw- 
 ing, to homes in the pines. Again Yuki turned to go, when a 
 voice that froze her to the stone said softly, " Ah, Madame 
 Hagane, what felicity to meet ! " 
 
 Pierre had sprung from some unknown shadow. He must 
 have been watching her and listening to her words. He 
 paused now, debonair, handsome, though a little pale, directly 
 beneath an outcurving granite petal of the Buddha's throne. 
 As she still stared, speechless, he struck a match against the 
 bronze and lighted a cigarette. She could not see, for her 
 own trembling, how his poor hands shook. The red match 
 glare revealed his face as distorted, evil, sinister. 
 
 "Well," he remarked once more, "have you nothing to 
 say to me ? " 
 
 This time she tried to speak, but no sound came. Her 
 power of motion, too, was in abeyance. He moved three 
 deliberate steps nearer. As though the air were glass, and she 
 repelled by its material force, she went backward the answer- 
 1 ing distance. Her left hand, clutching behind her, found 
 something hard and cold, and fastened to it eagerly. It was 
 the fin of a bronze dragon in full relief, twining upward, about 
 the trunk of a tall lantern. "Yes, go," she whispered. 
 "Do not speak more words. Go!"
 
 262 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Pierre took another stride. She cowered back bodily into 
 the writhing folds. 
 
 " For the love of God ! " she panted. 
 
 " What if one has ceased to love God ? " 
 
 " In mercy then in pity in human pity go ! " 
 
 Pierre laughed. " You enjoin pity, Madame Hagane ? 
 How quaint !" 
 
 "I am more deeply hurted now than you; but never more 
 must I be weak. I am a wife. I shall serve my native 
 country ! " 
 
 " Does treachery and faithlessness ever serve ? You de- 
 lude yourself. If Hagane is to be your strength, you will 
 fail, for either Hagane or I must die. I live now only to 
 revenge myself upon him ! " 
 
 The emptiness of the boast, the impotence of the suffer- 
 ing boy to wreak the harm he wished, did not then come 
 to her. The words rang sombre and terrible. " No no, 
 Pierre," she cried, " not that ! Our Emperor needs him our 
 country needs. Kevenge on me, Pierre ! I only was faith- 
 less. I deserve all harm you will give." 
 
 " Yes, you were faithless, but it came because of weakness, 
 and the low status of your sex in this barbaric land. Hagane 
 and your father forced you. They threatened, cowed you 
 tortured you, for all I know. Look at your hands! Mon 
 Dieu, your little hands!" 
 
 She held them forth to him with a gesture that might have 
 disarmed Beelzebub. " I tore them myself upon that hedge the 
 night you came, the night I had promised Prince Hagane." 
 Pierre glared at her an instant longer. Oh, he had meant 
 to be so harsh! Nothing was to have softened his just wrath; 
 Through sleepless nights he had scourged himself with 
 memory until his soul was flayed. Yuki should not appeal 
 to him or move him. He would get from her own lips some 
 faltering explanation of her perfidy. Yet now, for all his 
 armor of resolve, two little torn hands held out silently 
 through deepening gloom pulled at his heart, drew down 
 the visor from his quivering face. 
 
 Above them bent, like a great cloud, the head and stooping 
 shoulders of the Buddha.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 263 
 
 "Yuki, Yuki, you have ruined my life! You have 
 killed my soul ! I cannot consent to live unless to revenge 
 myself upon the man who has brought us both this agony ! " 
 
 " Pierre, if you say such thing, I must because I am now 
 Japanese wife warn my master of it." 
 
 This new affront to vanity stung Pierre back into some of 
 his assumed relentlessness. " You would defend him, be- 
 tray me already ? Count Ronsard said it would be so, but I 
 would not listen. Why should you be true to him when you 
 were false as hell to me ? I '11 kill him, I tell you, and if I 
 cannot kill him in open fight, I will find some way to harm 
 him ! I '11 have you yet, Madame la Princesse. I do not give 
 you up, even at your own words. You owe me something! 
 Come, come, you owe me reparation, help me trick him, 
 Yuki. You love me, ah, I know it ! This is my first 
 triumph, that your heart cannot forget. Yes, yes, pool- 
 shivering slave, it is Pierre you love. Now, come, deny it ! 
 When his arms are around you, do you not think of mine ? 
 When his thick lips press you, do you not faint for me ? 
 Ah, I have touched you ! " 
 
 " Go I say to you again, go, and go quickly ! You with your 
 own speech cauterize my wound. You are a coward ! Your 
 words are vipers which give their deepest venom first to you ! " 
 
 In speaking the girl had drawn herself very erect. Her 
 face, through the twilight, gleamed luminous with inner 
 fire. Over her left shoulder the open mouth of the dragon 
 yawned. Pierre could not meet her look. He cowered back, 
 and pressed his eyes with one trembling hand. 
 
 "Yuki, Yuki, indeed I scarcely know what I am saying. 
 This misery bewilders me. I cannot eat or sleep. My 
 thoughts surge in my brain like fire in a battened ship. And 
 this is worst of all, that now, so soon, you are tamed, half 
 reconciled ! You have not loved me ! " 
 
 " If I love or not love, I must not now remember. Pierre, 
 pity me a little. Go from Nippon ; help me to be the good 
 woman, and the loyal one." 
 
 But to this appeal Pierre could not reach. " I do not give 
 you up," he muttered sullenly. " And I will harm Hagane 
 when and how I can!"
 
 264 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki stepped forward a little, still keeping one hand on 
 the dragon. " Then stand aside, Monsieur Le Beau. I must 
 return." 
 
 Pierre did not move. " You shall not go," he said in the same 
 sullen fashion. Yuki cast a despairing glance over toward the 
 small house where the old priest lived, then down the long 
 stone walk, now white with petals. No one was in sight. She 
 gave a heavy sigh. On the instant the sound of Japanese 
 clogs came, mounting, apparently, the stone steps of the great 
 red gate. A form of a man in Japanese robes, unusually tall 
 for his race, slow and majestic in approach, now became 
 visible. 
 
 " Hagane ! " she said, with a great repressed cry, and bit 
 her lips to keep from sobbing. 
 
 " Diable ! " echoed Pierre. He gave a single look, a curse, 
 and pitching his cigarette on the stone flag near her, vanished 
 into the shadows of the lotos throne. Yuki, half-fainting 
 now, hung in the coils of the dragon. As though life itself 
 depended on his coming, she watched her husband's calm 
 advance. His stride was slow, splendid, and imposing, each 
 step eloquent of centuries of rulership. On catching sight of 
 her she felt that he smiled. He moved no faster. " My 
 Lord," she murmured, not knowing that she had said it. 
 
 The cigarette blinked as with a single malevolent eye, and 
 sent up an acrid smoke between them. He stepped over it, 
 apparently unobservant, and held out a hand. Yuki clutched 
 at it. 
 
 " Why, small sweet one, how white your face gleams through 
 the darkness! And you lie, like a crystal ball of fate, in the 
 old dragon's claws ! Well, here is a larger dragon come to bear 
 you home." 
 
 Yuki tottered toward him. At first touch of his hand had 
 come the sense of renewed power. " I dreamed not, Lord, 
 that your august returning might be so soon, or I should not 
 have left your house. I left with Meta the message 
 
 " She gave it carefully, but I preferred to come in person 
 for thee, little one. Here, lean on me. You tremble. Per- 
 haps the walk has been too long. To-morrow we are to leave 
 this quiet place, and you will be Madame Hagane, wife of the
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 265 
 
 Minister of War, Madame Hagane, official mistress of a 
 huge and unattractive residence. But you will brighten it, 
 and your friends of the American Legation shall aid you." 
 
 "I shall try with all my soul and strength, Lord, to be 
 worthy of you." 
 
 "I do not fear, my child. All things are not to be at once 
 expected of a single small flake of maidenhood and snow. 
 How yet you tremble ! Here, I will draw your arm in mine. 
 Cling to me. Never mind if the children on the road laugh at 
 us and say that the old prince is mad with love of his young 
 wife. In the great city I must often forget you. But wait 
 one instant " 
 
 He had been standing, half-turned from the great Buddha. 
 Now he faced it, Yuki falling back a little. He raised both 
 hands, rubbed them softly together in invocation, and Yuki, 
 marvelling at him, heard the reverent words, "Nainu Amida 
 Butsu ! Nainu Amida Butsu ! "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 So, without further preparation or experience, was the little 
 Lady Yuki, fresh from her American school, not yet com- 
 pletely readapted to her native environment, installed as mis- 
 tress of a great, official mansion. 
 
 The servants, of course, were strangers. A few of these 
 bore to Prince Hagane the relation of " hangers-on," impover- 
 ished families of soldiers and retainers left from feudal days. 
 Others had official connection with the place, and remained 
 unmolested through various administrations. 
 
 For the first twenty-four hours the young wife moved in an 
 atmosphere of dazed unreality. Her first conscious interest 
 was in the mail. She began to watch for letters from her 
 mother, or Gwendolen, perhaps from that one whom she 
 must forget. The thought of their last interview remained 
 with her as the cruelest of all her wounds. No letter came. 
 Pierre would not, in any case, have written, believing that 
 Hagane had given orders to have all letters pass first under 
 his inspection. The silence of Iriya and Gwendolen had 
 another cause. Her new and exalted rank necessitated from 
 Yuki the initial step. She did not know this, and Hagane, 
 plunged deep already into affairs of state, had not thought to 
 tell her. 
 
 She lived now almost an isolated existence. Only the head 
 butler dared personally address her. Even he, in requesting 
 orders from "her Highness," bowed and smiled with a sort 
 of deprecating commiseration, as though he recognized her 
 bewilderment. Of her husband she saw little. The longing 
 for her mother and her friend grew poignant. Through the 
 great high-ceiled rooms she wandered. The face of the great 
 dark Buddha often loomed above her. From every shadow 
 she shrank, fearing that Pierre Le Beau might be in hiding.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 267 
 
 Three miserable days dragged by. On the fourth, Hagane 
 was present at the breakfast-table. News of a great victory 
 had come. The Western world was just beginning to realize 
 the true mettle in the Japanese soul. Hagane read aloud sev- 
 eral editorials from English and American papers, and made 
 comment upon them, as though his listener were a man, and 
 his equal. He had ordered a foreign meal, and the coffee and 
 excellent food stimulated the girl. Her husband's companion- 
 ship and condescension exhilarated her. It was part of a 
 brightening future that, even before their meal was over, 
 the butler should annouuce, "Madame Onda, mother to her 
 Highness." 
 
 Yuki gave a small cry of pleasure. Hagane lowered his 
 paper, and paused to smile upon his young wife. He did not 
 give a hint that it was through his direct agency that the vis- 
 itor had come. " Ah, your eyes brighten at this news more 
 even than at victory ! " he laughed. To the servant he said 
 briefly, " Conduct Madame Onda to us here." 
 
 The servant hesitated, " Your Highness, there is with her 
 also an old attendant, a dame called Suzume, who talks." 
 
 " Shall we bid the chatterer enter, Yuki ? " 
 
 " If your Highness permit," laughed Yuki. 
 
 " Admit both," said Hagane, and returned to his editorials. 
 
 Yuki rose to welcome her guests. As the door was flung 
 back Iriya hesitated for a moment on the threshold. Without 
 a glance toward Yuki she hurried to the Prince, and, prostrat- 
 ing herself, bowed again and again, with audible, indrawn 
 breaths. Suzume, at her heels, followed suit, excelling her 
 mistress in the rapidity of repeated bows, and the power of 
 audible suction. 
 
 "Nay, little mother of my Yuki," said Hagane, reaching 
 down a hand, "rise now, I pray. Such extreme of deference 
 is not seemly in the mother of a princess. Kindly be at ease 
 in greeting your daughter, and converse as freely as if I were 
 not present." 
 
 Iriya allowed herself to be persuaded to perch on the very 
 rim of a leather chair and sip at a cup of coffee,, while she 
 and Yuki exchanged compliments and inquiries as to the 
 health of the members of their respective families. This is
 
 268 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 always the first social duty in Japan. It takes the place of 
 " weather." 
 
 No notice whatever was being taken of old Suzume, who 
 had continued genuflections and inspiration to the point of 
 vertigo, when Yuki at last came to her assistance. Nothing 
 would induce the old dame to sit on a foreign chair. " She 
 had tried them once," she protested. " They felt like a pile 
 of dead fish on a kitchen bench." Her post, self-assigned, 
 was the extreme corner of the red and green Axminster carpet. 
 While her superiors conversed, she let her keen, sunken eyes 
 dart like dragon-flies from one piece of furniture to the other, 
 from ceiling to floor, from curtain to framed oil-painting, 
 until the very texture of these things must have been photo- 
 graphed on her busy retina. 
 
 After a few pleasant if perfunctory questions and replies, 
 Prince Hagane rose, saying that he had work in his private 
 office, and afterward must leave the house. "I hope you 
 will remain with Yuki just as long as your domestic duties 
 permit," he had said last of all. Immediately upon his clos- 
 ing of the door, Iriya began congratulating her daughter upon 
 her splendid fortune, and retailing congratulatory messages 
 from relatives and old friends. The little lady's feet, as she 
 sat on the high dining-room chair, did not quite reach to the 
 floor. The draught on her bare ankles just above the tabi 
 (digitated socks) sawed like ice. With a little gesture of en- 
 treaty to Yuki, she hurried over to a comfortable sofa, where 
 she nestled, and drew her feet up under her. Yuki smiled at 
 the naivete of it. Already she felt years older than her 
 mother. She took her place on a chair, drawing forward a 
 tabouret with smoking outfit, and urged her willing guest to 
 the luxury of a small pipe. A sense of freedom, of delight in 
 this sweet companionship, swept for the moment Yuki's 
 hovering responsibilities. 
 
 " Okkasan, dear Okkasan (honorable mother), I am so 
 happy to be with you! But why did you wait so long ? " Her 
 voice was rich with tender reproving. " Three long days ! 
 Long as the castle moats when the mud is showing. The 
 prince is in this house but seldom. I have been lonely, 
 mother."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 269 
 
 " Your father forbade me to write or visit you until official 
 request was made us. Now you are a princess, dear, and far 
 outrank Sir Ouda's wife." 
 
 Yuki flushed. Her eyes sank in embarrassment. " Oh, I 
 had not heard of the strange fact. I beg your pardon, my 
 mother. I am ashamed that it is so." 
 
 Iriya laughed. " Do you beg my pardon for being a prin- 
 cess, for making your father proud and happy, when when 
 he was threatened by such disappointment ? " 
 
 Now *Iriya, too, became embarrassed. She had intended not 
 to refer to unhappy topics of the past. Yuki was thinking 
 deeply. " It must be honorably the same cause which keeps 
 my Gwendolen away." A great relief followed the thought. 
 The fear of coldness, of censure, was gone. She smiled into the 
 air before her, thinking of the letter she soon should write. 
 
 At first, unnoticed by her companions, old Suzume had risen 
 from her corner and was trotting stealthily about the room. 
 She touched now, softly, each marvellous object within her 
 reach, and talked to herself, the while, in a queer little sing- 
 song monologue. "Ma-a-a ! the honorable, huge room, and the 
 wonderful things, all belonging to our Yuki-ko ! Foreign car- 
 pets with many-colored vegetables painted on them. Strange, 
 puffy beds, high up on legs, like horses (Here she patted a 
 French sofa) . High tables, Ma-a-a ! with little carpets on 
 them, too, all ravelled at the edges. Big glass wine-cups 
 (here she lifted an iridescent flower-vase) merciful Buddha! 
 No wonder the august foreigners are so often drunk ! Gold is 
 all about, on walls and furniture, even the pictures have 
 little fences of gold around them ! I see a big singing-box 
 (piano) over in the corner. That alone costs hundreds and 
 hundreds of yen. How rich our o jo san must be ! " 
 
 Iriya and Yuki, by this time, had begun to notice the antics 
 and to smile at the crooning of the old woman. She saw it, 
 nothing escaped the arrow of those jetty orbs, but it pleased 
 her now to pretend unconsciousness of observation. She placed 
 herself in front of Yuki, as if the young wife were a large 
 dressed doll, and could not listen. "Ma-a-a! Our o jo san, 
 last of the Onda race. There she sits, straight and slim in her 
 foreign chair, just like our Gracious Empress herself when
 
 270 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 her photograph is taken ! Now she is a princess, but once she 
 was only a little girl, carried to school on old Suzume's bent 
 back. Tee-hee! My back is crooked now as Daruma, but 
 a princess helped to crook it ! " 
 
 " Don't say such things, Suzume ! " cried Yuki, quickly. 
 " They hurt me ! " 
 
 " Why should it hurt you, Yuki-ko, I mean, your High- 
 ness, when old Suzume is only proud ? " chuckled the beldame, 
 with almost malicious enjoyment. " Let me be crooked, by 
 your favor. Let me hump over like the lobster of long life. 
 A princess curved my back, tee-hee ! Ma-a-a ! Will your 
 kind eyes moisten for such a thing ? Ara ! I have ceased. Be- 
 hold me now, your Highness, straight and slim as a young 
 willow down by the moat." She threw back her shoulders and 
 swaggered comically. 
 
 " That is better. How is it that little Maru did not come 
 to-day?" asked Yuki, determined, if possible, to change the 
 current of the old soul's thought. Her effort was strikingly 
 successful. Simultaneously Suzume's face and hands fell. 
 " Ma-a-a ! I am a fool. Moths have eaten my memory ! Maru 
 crouches yet outside the street gate, waiting for permission to 
 enter." 
 
 " And I, too, forgot. Kwannon, forgive my selfishness," 
 murmured Iriya. 
 
 " Oh, poor, poor Maru ! " cried the hostess, her face a bright 
 tangle, now, of smiles and tears, " the cold wind blows down 
 that street. Go quickly, Suzume. Fetch her, instantly ! " 
 
 The spoiled old servant cast a cunning eye to an electric 
 bell set in its black wood disc. " August Princess," she 
 whined, " deign but to put your smallest finger upon that 
 white pebble yonder, and at once a fine man-servant will 
 enter. Maru will be much comforted to receive her summons 
 from a grand maw-servant in foreign clothes ! " 
 
 Iriya's face showed vexation at the old servant's forward- 
 ness, but Yuki laughed and touched the bell. She was be- 
 ginning to realize, in a sort of glad wonder, that her heart 
 grew lighter with every smile. 
 
 Maru came into the room sidewise. At every few steps 
 her knees apparently gave way. She did not know, in a for-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 271 
 
 eign house, just when she was expected to kneel and bow, so 
 kept herself in readiness to drop at an instant's notice. Her 
 face was round, like a dish. Her beady eyes snapped and 
 sparkled with excitement. The small button of a nose, blown 
 on by unfriendly winds', glowed in the centre of her counte- 
 nance like an over-ripe cherry. At sight of Yuki, she found 
 her cue and grovelled. " How is it ? " asked Yuki of her 
 mother, when Maru was at last persuaded to hold her head 
 erect, " that, I not having yet written, you and the servants 
 came to me ? " 
 
 " Why, did you not know of it ? Prince Hagane sent, last 
 night, a special messenger." 
 
 " No, I had not heard. Prince Hagane is very kind." 
 
 At the curious tone Iriya sent a keen look to her daughter. 
 She did not like the expression gathering on the down-bent 
 face. " Come, my jewel, you have not shown us half the won- 
 ders of your new home. Shall not Suzume and Maru be given 
 bliss ? We can stay but an hour. " 
 
 "An hour!" echoed the young wife, in dismay. "That is 
 already half spent. Oh, mother, one hour ? " 
 
 " Such are your father's orders. You know we do not dis- 
 obey him." 
 
 Yuki sighed. " I know. Well, let us see all that we can 
 in the short space. This room is but the dining-room, where, 
 as you have seen, we eat foreign meals. There is a Japanese 
 wing and smaller dining-room, which I shall often use when 
 my master is absent. Now let us go into the long hall, then 
 into the zashiki, or drawing-room." In passing the hall- way 
 she saw Mam's eyes fasten on the telephone box. It had, 
 indeed, an unrelated, black look, set so squarely against the 
 flowered wall-paper. Yuki felt the tug on an inspiration. 
 " Come, mother ; I shall not need to write to my friend. I 
 shall talk to her through this ! Like the old sennin (genii), 
 who whispered to each other from peak to crag of far moun- 
 tains, I shall talk clearly to the slope of Azabu ! " 
 
 Iriya caught her sleeve. "I fear for you to talk in that 
 strange way, my child. The gods may not like it." 
 
 "Ah, mother, in America I have talked for hours and was 
 not injured."
 
 272 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Our gods were not in America to see," murmured Iriya, 
 and followed with evident reluctance. Suzume and Maru came 
 close behind. Yuki boldly pulled down the receiver and held 
 it to her ear. The servants uttered short squeaks like mice. 
 
 " Moshi, moshi ! " called Yuki, giving the Japanese tele- 
 phone cry. 
 
 Maru shuddered. " Is it a deaf devil, that the o jo san 
 speaks so loudly ? " 
 
 " A whole nest of devils, Maru San," said Yuki, with mis- 
 chievous and impressive gravity. " There are green and red 
 devils like those that the lightning bolts bring down, and 
 little foreign devils in boots and beards, and " 
 
 " Oh, let us go ! let us go ! " cried the little maid, and 
 clutched Suzume's sleeve. 
 
 " America no Koshikwan," Yuki was replying, in apparent 
 unconcern, to the devils. Suzume had realized the situation. 
 " Fool ! " she said to the cringing Maru, giving a scowl and a 
 light cuff on the ear, " the princess is only telegraphing in 
 talk instead of writing. The house-servants laugh at you. 
 We shall have no face ! " 
 
 By this time the imperilled princess was talking rapidly in 
 English. Her countenance quivered, brightened, changed, as 
 if a person stood before her. In pause of listening she would 
 nod, smile, listen again, giving murmured ejaculations. 
 
 The verisimilitude proved too much for Maru. In spite of 
 cuffs fiercely renewed, and a desperate effort to keep her limp 
 body from the floor, she sank from her mentor's grasp, clutch- 
 ing the thin old legs, and sobbing, " They are bewitching our 
 Miss Yuki, I know they are ! Foxes are shut in that black 
 box ! She will get full of them, and then they will all fly out 
 to eat our hearts ! " 
 
 " They 'd have a sop of sour jelly with yours, cuttlefish ! " 
 said Suzume, kicking in disgust. Finally, in utter exaspera- 
 tion, she seized the culprit by the ear, sliding her bodily down 
 the hardwood floor, and depositing her in a moaning heap on 
 the back veranda beneath a water-cooler. 
 
 "Gwendolen, Gwendolen!" Yuki was crying. "I have 
 just now learned, I think, why you have not come or wrote to 
 me." (Pause.) "Yes, it was just that thing, my rank, it is
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 273 
 
 called. Alas, do you remember, Gwendolen, that poor little 
 sea-maid how she feel when the proud grandmother beckoned 
 eight large oysters to fasten upon her scales ? Well, I have 
 now the pinch of such oysters. But I will not care so much 
 if only you will come ! " (Pause.) " My mother is with me, and 
 her servants, but they must go very soon. I will be alone. 
 Yes, he is to be absent all the day. Oh, come quickly, 
 quickly, I cannot bear some more long waiting." Yuki 
 wheeled from the telephone. " She will come, mother ; my 
 friend will come ! Let us go to the long drawing-room and 
 wait for her. I will send tea and cakes to comfort the silly 
 Maru. Some other day we shall see all of this big house. 
 It is very ugly, though costing much money. That is honor- 
 ably often the case with foreign things. Oh, mother, I have 
 been so hungry for you and my golden friend ! She will be 
 brought to us in the long drawing-room. "We are in heart and 
 soul, if not in race, true sisters. How kind she was to me at 
 school ! I have written you before. The other girls would 
 tease me. They asked impertinent questions, and would 
 always be tormenting me to dance. Gwendolen was the only 
 one to see how I felt. She protected me, and would not let 
 me dance until my heart began to sing. She knew that real 
 dancing, like poetry, should come only when your heart sings, 
 not just because you are requested. Sometimes in home- 
 sickness I would dance, sometimes in joy of springtime 
 flowers. Those girls tried, too, to dance, the funny Ameri- 
 can girls ! But they could never learn. Not even Gwendo- 
 len could learn, though I taught and taught and taught 
 her!" 
 
 Excitement bred of the coming visit caught her up like a 
 leaf. Prattling on, she moved swiftly into the long room, 
 beckoning now and then for Iriya to follow. The mother kept 
 at quite a distance, embarrassed by this lack of restraint in a 
 married daughter. In the centre of the room the girl paused, 
 and, as if impelled, threw herself into a pose of wonderful 
 beauty, every bone, every inch of white flesh set, as it were, 
 into visible expression of a poetic thought. " I did not know 
 that ever again I should wish to dance like this," Iriya heard 
 her murmur. "Yes, I am coming back to myself. Even 
 
 18
 
 274 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 that little soul that fled on the ship, it may come back last 
 of all, but it will come." 
 
 Half dreamily she passed into a second pose. The transi- 
 tion was music. Now her long eyes closed into a mere gleam- 
 ing thread, her lips parted, and trembled. Almost without 
 motion of her mouth she talked on, in broken Japanese 
 phrases, uttering them in rhythms, which subtly related to 
 the gestures of her body. "No, those girls could never 
 dance, never dance, with their honorably stiff shoulders 
 and their limbs like trunks of young trees. They attempted 
 it with fervor, but they could not augustly dance. But I will 
 dance again, and my souls will listen. I will dance the dance 
 of the Sun Goddess and of morning, because my friend is 
 coming ! " She hummed, now, the tune and the words of a 
 famous classic. Iriya, completely under the spell, sank to 
 the floor in the attitude of a singer, caught up the rhythm, and 
 sang with her : 
 
 " Night is where thou art not, 
 
 Oh, my beloved ! 
 
 Night lies in the stone rolled close against thy door. 
 Let the sighs of spring, 
 
 ( My sighing, oh, divine one,) 
 Let the salt waves' weeping (my salt tears) allure thee ! 
 
 The beautiful gestures flowed one into the next, like cur- 
 rents of living water. 
 
 " Lo, she awakens ; light with shining fingers frets the dark 
 rock fissure- 
 
 She approaches ; see the black rock melt." 
 
 "Hark! listen!" cried the dancer, and paused with arms 
 outspread. It was as if winds stood still, as if a flower-branch, 
 tossed in air, lost suddenly its power to return. Iriya caught 
 her breath. She too rose. Jinrikisha wheels were on the 
 gravel. " My hour is gone," said Iriya ; " I know it from the 
 shadows. I will now return home, taking the servants with 
 me. You remain here, my child, and greet the friend who 
 now enters." 
 
 "Yes, I will remain here, mother, my dear, dear mother, 
 I will greet my friend," whispered the girl. The glamour of 
 the dance had swept back and held her. Half in the world of
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 275 
 
 poetry, half in the material present, she wavered. The dawn 
 of her friend's coming shone through both. Iriya, with a last, 
 tender look, slipped from the room. Yuki's lip quivered like 
 a child's as she saw her mother go. But now, down the long 
 hall, came the tap-tap of high-heeled foreign shoes. A new 
 tremor stirred Yuki's lips, a little hint of fear hid in her eyes. 
 
 Gwendolen paused on the threshold. For a long moment 
 the two stood transfixed, gazing, searching, each the face of 
 the other. Yes, a barrier had grown between them, the 
 mystery of marriage, the recollection (on Gwendolen's part) 
 of unspeakable slanders, the ghostly, intangible stirring of 
 race antagonism, to which they themselves could not have 
 given name. Yuki began slowly to whiten, but Gwendolen, 
 with a backward toss of the head like Diana on a hilltop, 
 cried out aloud, " My sister !" and the two friends, crashing 
 through phantoms, found each other's arms. They clung 
 close, sobbing and swaying. Whispers started, but never 
 found conclusion. Names were repeated with every intona- 
 tion of deep love. " My friend, my Gwendolen ! " " Yuki ! 
 Yuki ! Yuki ! " A dozen times they drew back, looked again, 
 and clung closer. Finally they succeeded in reaching a sofa, 
 and sat down, with hands still intertwined. 
 
 "And you, little you, are the mistress of all this great 
 house ! You are to give receptions, and be the chief hostess. I 
 suppose you will chaperon me, you chicken ! Is n't it a joke ?" 
 
 " It do seem joky," admitted Yuki, with another sigh of 
 full content. 
 
 "Well, Madame la Princesse, may I give you now my first 
 social commission ? I want a prince of my own, a Japanese 
 prince. Let him be poor, all the better, but his trade- 
 mark, I mean his crest, I insist on having it warranted as the 
 real thing." 
 
 "What would then become of poor Mr. Dodge ? " 
 
 " Mr. Dodge ! " echoed the other, with greatest scorn. " You 
 certainly never had any idea I would look twice at Mr. Dodge ! 
 Besides, he is making a fool of himself over that fat, ogling 
 Carmen Niestra. Ugh ! She reminds me of a huge suet pud- 
 ding with sweet sauce. I always suspected Dodge of low 
 sentiments."
 
 276 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " I know not of this Miss Carmen," said Yuki, in a troubled 
 voice. "But I like Mr. Dodge, always, very, very much ; and 
 I am sure he loved you distractionately ! " 
 
 "That just about expresses it!" cried Gwendolen; and 
 little Yuki never knew why her friend laughed so heartily, 
 while the dark shadow of an unspoken pain still clouded 
 her bright eyes. "Let's change the subject," the American 
 said quickly. " Dad told me to give you lots of love, and to 
 say that all of us were looking forward to that grand first 
 reception of yours. Next Thursday, isn't it? No, Friday. 
 We got our cards yesterday." 
 
 "You will come and assist me in the preparing, won't you, 
 dear Gwendolen ? " 
 
 " I could n't be kept away ! " 
 
 "And Mrs. Todd, too. Your kind mother, will she not 
 come ? " 
 
 Gwendolen averted her face. "The truth is, Yuki, mother 
 takes Pierre's part. Nothing that dad or I can say has influ- 
 ence. That awful Mrs. Stunt owns mother now, body and 
 soul ; and Mrs. Stunt has no tender feelings to spare for her 
 own sex." 
 
 " I am not surprised at your mother, or even greatly hurt. 
 It is right that he should have friends to sympathize. 
 Say to your mother, please, that I do not resent." 
 
 " I '11 say nothing of the kind ! " cried Gwendolen, indig- 
 nantly. " It would please Mrs. Stunt too much. Oh, they 
 will be waiting to question me about you. Mrs. Stunt's eyes 
 will glare like those of a hungry hyena. I shall tell them 
 that you are superbly indifferent. That will fetch them ! 
 Mrs. Stunt, as it is, will be the first to enter your reception- 
 rooms, the odious little painted ghoul ! " 
 
 All brightness had faded from the young faces. Each 
 stared upon troubled visions. " Since we are on such topics, 
 Yuki," Gwendolen began, " I might as well tell you and have 
 done with it, Pierre himself is acting like a spoiled child, a 
 cad. He wants to make trouble." 
 
 " His threat is to harm Prince Hagane, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes ! But who told you ? " She looked sharply at her 
 companion. Yuki apparently had not heard. Gwendolen
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 277 
 
 went on. " Dad simply laughs at him for a foolish blusterer. 
 He says a cricket might as well shake its fists at a graiu 
 elevator." 
 
 "There is no rumor at all that Pierre may go home to 
 France ? " 
 
 "Absolutely none. Eonsard is using him as a cat's-paw. 
 Since your marriage Pierre has been openly announced Second 
 Secretary of the French Legation. A sinecure, but it gives him 
 entree to all court functions, to official receptions, to 
 your reception, Yuki." 
 
 " I have thought of this also," said Yuki. " He could not 
 harm my husband in such an open place." 
 
 " No, but with that demon of a Ronsard behind him he 
 could embarrass, perhaps mortify, both you and Hagane." 
 
 Yuki fell silent. Her slim hands clasped and unclasped 
 nervously. Her eyes were fixed on a spot of carpet near her 
 feet. " Of course it is certain that so great statesman as 
 Hagane thought of all such dangers before he wished to marry 
 me," she murmured, as much to herself as her companion. 
 
 "Good gracious, Yuki Onda!" broke in Gwendolen, with 
 startling abruptness. " What are those fearful scars on your 
 hands ? Did they torture you after all ? " 
 
 Gwendolen's shocked face and horrified tone expressed 
 more than she would willingly have admitted. 
 
 Yuki's eyes flashed once. She drew her hands within her 
 sleeves. " How can you say such silly thing ? Nipponese do 
 not torture ! " 
 
 Gwendolen, to hide her emotion (for she did not entirely 
 believe Yuki's vehement asseveration) sprang up and began 
 walking up and down the room, near the sofa where Yuki sat, 
 watching her. "What is it that you were about to warn me 
 of Monsieur Le Beau ? " asked the latter, calmly. 
 
 "He is weak silly sentimental; bleating all over the 
 place about his blighted hopes, his ruined life. He makes 
 me ill ! " The girl was thankful to expend on the absent 
 Pierre indignation to which she dared not ascribe the real 
 source. Those gashes on her friend's small hands were 
 burned already on her own heart. It did not occur to her 
 that accident had caused them. In a time of such conflict,
 
 278 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 they must be, necessarily, the marks of cruelty and violence. 
 Yuki guessed the pent-up fount of passion in her friend, for 
 she remarked quite coolly, " I assure you, Gwendolen, those 
 little scratches were made by me, myself, on our garden 
 hedge. I was the stupidity. No one caused but myself. You 
 know I have never told to you an untruthful thing. As for 
 Monsieur Le Beau, he has all reasons for saying that I have 
 ruined his life." 
 
 "Ruined his grandmother!" cried the other. " There you 
 are, looking meek again. No wonder that all men are bullies 
 when we turn coward at the first frown. I thank Heaven it 
 was no man, however, that made those scars on you. If it had 
 been " She stopped short, looking so fierce that Yuki had 
 to smile at her. " Well, Amazon ? " she asked. 
 
 "Oh, I hate all men! young ones in particular. Pierre 
 thinks his heart is bleeding, but, after all, it is chiefly his pre- 
 cious vanity. He don't like being jilted! Subtract vanity from 
 the average man and you don't leave much beside the fillings 
 of his front teeth. They are all alike ! I know them ! " She 
 flung herself to the sofa and clasped her arms once more 
 tightly around her friend. The outburst had relieved her ; 
 but a new sadness came. Yuki was still very pale. A little 
 pathetic drooping had begun to show at the corners of her lips. 
 Gwendolen was by nature the antagonist of resignation. She 
 hated the dawning look of it on Yuki's face. " Yuki, Yuki, 
 shall we ever be happy again as we were at school ? Yet 
 we were restless there. All our thoughts flew westward, far, far 
 westward, and over that broad ocean, to your Japan. We 
 could never be really happy, we thought, until we had reached, 
 together, this country of your birth. Oh, it is beautiful, as 
 you told me! Each day its beauty deepens. I know now 
 what you meant by yama-buki fountains all of gold, and 
 the wide, still yellow lakes of ' na.' In our Legation garden 
 the cherry -trees are crusted over with tiny pointed rubies, 
 which soon yes, very soon must turn to flowers. All that 
 I see is beautiful, and yet, Yuki, think in how short a time 
 life has brought us both deep sorrow ! " She drew a sigh, the 
 long, luxurious, despairing sigh of untried youth. Yuki, 
 having griefs more real, echoed it in softer cadence.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 279 
 
 " Yes, the cherry-buds will open, and the fountain of your 
 yama-buki toss, no matter what we are feeling ! Is it not 
 kind to be so ? I have heard that your Legation garden is not 
 very harmonious. Will there be many bright spring flow- 
 ers in it ? " 
 
 " The garden is a blot, but it is a big blot, and things grow 
 there, thank Heaven ! Have n't you ever been to the American 
 Legation at all? Yuki, I have an idea! " 
 
 "No," Yuki had answered. At the new sparkle of excite- 
 ment in the fair face she unconsciously sat more erect. 
 
 "I have an idea!" Gwendolen repeated. "You are now 
 your own mistress. Why can't you drive home with me, and 
 give mother a surprise ? Nothing would soften her like that, 
 the Princess Hagane to call in person ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will do that thing! " cried Yuki, taking fire at 
 once. " How clever you are, Gwendolen ! I would sit here 
 mourning for the month and not have such bright idea. I tell 
 you, listen ! We will send your jinrikisha off, then you stays 
 to luncheon with me, and after luncheon we takes the pump- 
 kin and some rats and turn them into a great coach with 
 horses, and drive off in splendor, like two little Cinderellas, 
 to your mother's house! Oh, what jolliness! let us go up- 
 stairs and remove your hat ! " 
 
 " What ! " cried the other, in mock astonishment, " you have 
 an upstairs, and beds for me to fling my wraps upon, and a 
 brush and comb, perhaps, for me to rearrange my locks ! " 
 
 " Come see ! " challenged Yuki. They ran off together, 
 Yuki darting up the steps, Gwendolen catching at her fly- 
 ing heels, both laughing, giggling, uttering short shrieks. 
 " Well," panted the American, sitting prone upon the top 
 step, " it seems that life is going to be worth living after all ! "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 EXCEPT in rare cases the ceremony of marriage among Jap- 
 anese is still unmodified by foreign innovation. These people 
 prefer to regard it as the most intimate of social functions, a 
 family sacrament, a transition to be made in grave silence, not 
 in the buzz of comment. Congratulations may follow, they 
 never precede, a wedding. 
 
 In the case of Prince Hagane, his official necessity for a wife 
 appeared significantly enough in the engraved cards of invita- 
 tion, sent out by hundreds, to announce weekly receptions 
 (beginning with a certain Friday) held by the Prince and 
 Princess Sanetomo Hagane in the residence of the Minister of 
 War. That word " War," printed so smoothly among high- 
 sounding titles, bore little relation to the dark clouds of conflict 
 pouring in about Port Arthur and spreading a sombre pall 
 above Manchuria. Dark, too, was the shadow cast upon the 
 hearts of loyal Nipponese. For a lull had come, a mysterious 
 silence. Explanations were not offered to the people. Dead 
 bodies or fragments of bodies, were still brought home for 
 burial; new troops, by midnight, threaded city streets and 
 crowded the railway stations, bound for the front, yet no sounds 
 of battle came. It was as if a wheel had stopped, throwing 
 out the entire mechanism of a well-ordered campaign. At the 
 Imperial Palace in Tokio conferences were held daily, Hagane, 
 of course, being present. Sometimes Sir Charles Grubb and 
 his American colleague were called. 
 
 Yuki noted the deepening gloom on her husband's brow. In 
 his scant hours of home-staying he seemed, now, only half- 
 conscious of her existenqe or its relation to himself. Once or 
 twice he had roused himself to answer kindly enough some 
 question of hers regarding the coming reception. 
 
 Meanwhile Gwendolen and the young wife were together 
 daily. The " old times " at Washington, to which they so often
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 281 
 
 tenderly referred, as to an epoch centuries removed, gave 
 promise of recrudescence. They laughed, giggled, ate olives, 
 made fudge, and otherwise enjoyed themselves. If the 
 absence of Pierre and the buoyant Dodge saddened at times 
 these innocuous revelries, each girl hid her own regret. 
 
 Mrs. Todd, as Gwendolen prophesied, had melted instantly. 
 The friendly visit of the Princess Hagane, the gentle pleading 
 of the schoolgirl Yuki, unchanged in spite of her new glitter- 
 ing husk of rank, surprised that small camp of prejudices 
 in its sleep, and soon waved a bright laugh of victory. At 
 the next visit of Mrs. Stunt, however, before the Medusa- 
 like disapprobation of that noble countenance, Mrs. Todd 
 froze timidly again, to be again sun-thawed by Yuki, and 
 recongealed by Mrs. Stunt, until the will-power of the good 
 lady took on, through too frequent tempering, not, indeed, 
 the elasticity of a Damascene blade, but rather the pithiness 
 of an honest vegetable left in a winter nook. 
 
 During a softened interval Mrs. Todd had promised to stand 
 in Yuki's receiving line. Even at the moment she had given 
 a few sentimental sighs for Pierre, and made a mental reser- 
 vation that she would "explain "to his satisfaction. When 
 Mrs. Stunt turned a hard, reproving eye, she fain would have 
 rescinded altogether, but this time both Mr. Todd and Gwen- 
 dolen upheld her. Thus bravely seconded, she dared for once 
 defy her mentor. Mrs. Stunt made gestures of acrid resigna- 
 tion, and turned her face away. During the afternoon she 
 concocted several choice paragraphs for " The Hawk's Eye." 
 
 A clear, blue day in early March dawned for Yuki's first 
 reception. Sunshine coaxed new flowers from the springing 
 lawn, and rolled apples of joyous discord among the crows and 
 sparrows. The two chief decorators, Gwendolen and Yuki, 
 had not dared to rely on the day for external brightness. 
 Draperies added to the long shapeless windows hung ready to 
 exclude sunshine and storm alike. At Gwendolen's sugges- 
 tion, candles and quaint candelabra were to give the key-note 
 to decoration. Old junk-shops and second-hand dealers in 
 temple brasses had been rummaged with rich results. Branch- 
 ing clusters of tapers sprang everywhere from plain spaces on 
 the walls. Standing candelabra and quaint single candle-
 
 282 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 sticks occupied tables, mantels, and the tops of cabinets and 
 book-shelves, alternating with bowls and vases of cut flowers. 
 The wall-lights, placed tactfully but a few feet above the 
 head of an average man, threw into softened shadow the vast 
 and disproportionate ceiling. Yuki's delight was pleasant to 
 witness. She never could have dreamed as she often told 
 her friend that the old lecture-hall could look so well. The 
 garish hangings and unspeakable oil-paintings became incon- 
 spicuous, and were further softened by wreaths of sinilax 
 and other imported hot-house vines. As the opening hour 
 approached, Yuki became more and more excited, though her 
 efforts after matronly calm were apparent. Even the knowl- 
 edge that Pierre would certainly come that afternoon should 
 not daunt her. Nothing had been heard from him since that 
 one interview at Kamakura. Of this Yuki had not spoken, 
 not even to Gwendolen. Well, let him come, and give her 
 pain ! She deserved it ! Still would friends be left, Gwen- 
 dolen, and Mr. Todd, and the dear mother, Iriya, and and 
 her husband, Hagane. Her troubled heart faced round to 
 him, but it was as if she stood before a stone precipice. He 
 was too great ; she too close. 
 
 All through the forenoon of that busy day presents had 
 been arriving. The flood-gates of official recognition had been 
 thrown wide. Gifts of flowers, of fruit in wonderful baskets, 
 of growing plants in exquisitely glazed hana-bachi, came in 
 embarrassing confusion. Baron Tsukeru, who united a passion 
 for Japanese peonies to a more exotic devotion to orchids, 
 sent a great lacquered tray heaped with broken rainbows, 
 hoar-frost, and strange, flying insects turned to flowers. Old 
 Prince Shirota, who had been present at their marriage, sent 
 to the prince and his new princess a box of eggs, together 
 with a humorous poem, saying, " May each smooth egg betoken 
 a life of wedded happiness, and may each year bring an heir. 
 So shall joy and the house of Hagane be immortal ! " A cabinet 
 minister sent a case of champagne, also with a poem ; but his 
 was paraphrased from Tennyson. Sweetmeats, oranges, and 
 loose flowers came literally by cartloads. 
 
 The great central offering, however, was a heap of exquis- 
 itely wrought confection representing blue waves, with a pair
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 283 
 
 of Miyako-dori, birds symbolic of conjugal felicity, float- 
 ing upon the sugared sea. This gift, placed reverently upon a 
 little table to itself, needed no card. Upon the unpainted 
 side of the satin-wood box in which it was fashioned, shone 
 the Imperial insignia, a gold chrysanthemum with sixteen 
 petals. 
 
 The master, twice during the forenoon, had rolled up to the 
 door in his carriage, gone into his private office, closed the 
 doors tightly, and busied himself with desk-drawers and 
 papers. In a few moments he emerged and drove away with- 
 out having spoken. On a third visit, he came into the draw- 
 ing-room, in search of Yuki. She and Gwendolen were at the 
 far end, both looking upward and talking (one in English, 
 one in Japanese) to a bewildered servant on a stepladder, 
 who paused to listen, his face copper-yellow among the loops 
 of smilax. Neither heard Hagane until he was fairly upon 
 them. Yuki gave a start ; but Gwendolen brought down level 
 eyes and smiled at him. He spoke first to the guest, holding 
 her hand closely for an instant, and uttering some conven- 
 tional, though, in this case, sincere expressions of gratitude 
 for her kindness to Yuki. He then asked of Yuki the exact 
 hour at which the reception was to commence. He spoke in 
 English. "Four, your Highness," answered Yuki, in the 
 same tongue. " I shall be in this apartment at four," he 
 said, and then took his departure. 
 
 The two friends watched through the window as he stepped 
 under the porte cochere and entered the carriage. 
 
 "Your husband is a king among men, my Yuki." 
 
 " It does not become a Japanese wife to admit so." 
 
 " The hair he leaves on his barber's floor tingles with more 
 manliness than the whole body of Pierre Le Beau." 
 
 " It does not become the one who has made Pierre suffer to 
 say so." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Nonsense ! He enjoys his suffering. But of 
 course I might have known you would make some such retort. 
 Do you want me to try to keep him away from you this after- 
 noon, or is it part of your penitence to assist him in insulting 
 you ? " 
 
 " Oh, help keep away, if you can ! " gasped Yuki. " Prince
 
 284 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Hagane will be standing by me then. I wish most of all for 
 him not to be annoyed." 
 
 "I wonder whether you realize, small Princess " Gwen- 
 dolen began, then suddenly stopped. Her look, as she scru- 
 tinized the upturned face, was singular; her tone, more 
 curious still. She closed her lips tightly now, as if to forbid 
 the thought to come, shook her blonde head, and facing back 
 to the window tapped a hollow rhythm on the pane. 
 
 Yuki's cheeks grew hot. " Some one some one need me, 
 I think," she murmured, and literally ran from the room. 
 
 Prince Hagane, punctual to the instant, fresh from the 
 hands of his man-servant, impressive, unforgetable, in dark 
 native robes of silk, took his place at the head of the receiving 
 line. Yuki wore a robe and obi of splendid brocade, too heavy 
 for an unmarried woman, but now befitting the dignity of a 
 peeress. The colors were her favorite gray and pink, shot 
 through with threads of silver. In her dark hair were pink 
 orchids, the living flowers. She wore no jewelry but a broad 
 gold band on her wedding finger, a concession to her Chris- 
 tian principles, and a clasp to her obi-dome, or flat silken cord 
 which holds the great folds in place. This clasp represented 
 intertwisted dragons. Like the ivory pin which she and Pierre 
 had broken, it was an heirloom in her father's family. 
 
 The new kinswoman, little Princess Sada-ko, was to be near 
 her, above Gwendolen in the line, but lower than the matron, 
 Mrs. Todd. Mr. Todd had " begged off." So also had Yuki's 
 parents. Onda, in fact, spurred by his dread of meeting 
 foreigners, found good pretext for visiting a village nearly a 
 day's ride away. 
 
 Guests had not begun to arrive. Even the Todds (Gwen- 
 dolen had gone home two hours before to change her dress) had 
 not yet made appearance. Hagane stood quietly in his place, 
 and let his gaze move slowly through the changed and deco- 
 rated rooms. The candles gleamed with intense yet softened 
 brilliancy. In an adjoining parlor he could see the corner of 
 a long table spread with rich food. Servants in livery moved 
 about, noiseless as shadows. A distant door was opened. 
 The flames of the candles leaned all one way, fretted a little,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 285 
 
 then stood upright. A few drops of wax trickled over to the 
 floor. Instantly a servant came with knife and saucer to 
 scrape up the hardening substance. 
 
 The old Prince Shirota sat in a low chair near the fire, with 
 a late American magazine on his silken knees. Iriya hovered 
 near, devouring with proud eyes this vision of her daughter 
 consorting on equal terms with princes. Servants stole every- 
 where, soft, sleek, gentle, like well-fed animals. 
 
 A curious expression grew in the eyes of Hagane. His 
 mouth writhed into a harsh and ugly smile which did not pass. 
 Yuki felt the change in him, glanced up, and shrank a few 
 inches further from his side. He did not notice her. He had 
 been reading, but a few hours before, the written report of a 
 Japanese spy, one of the few who had escaped alive from the 
 very citadel of Port Arthur. The conditions of that for- 
 tress were plainly stated: food in abundance, ammunition, 
 men, stone walls practically impregnable, a brave man in 
 command, all things in Russian favor ; and yet by Japanese 
 life that stronghold must be taken, by death the national 
 honor be restored. As their Emperor read, and laid the paper 
 down, he had bent his head, as if praying, and one hand had 
 covered his down-bent eyes. Hagane shivered at that memory. 
 Hunger, privation, cold, the agony of wounds untended, the 
 deeper agony of remembered little ones soon to be fatherless, 
 praying now in distant mountain villages, this must the 
 Japanese know to full measure. Food and shelter in Man- 
 churia could alleviate, and for such alleviation, money was the 
 only aid. Food, clothing, shelter, ammunition ! Why, the 
 very candles fanning out a brief existence on these walls 
 would feed a brave battalion for a week ! The table yonder, 
 spread with delicacies for foreigners already gorged, that 
 long table would bring peace nearer by a hundred cannon de- 
 tonations. The outer world, civilization so-called, demanded 
 that tawdry ostentation still show her front. 
 
 " My Lord your Highness," whispered Yuki, barely touch- 
 ing his sleeve, " has aught offended you ? " 
 
 He looked down into her anxious face. His noble scorn 
 melted into sadness. "Nay, Yuki, I was but counting the 
 lives of soldiers by these candles on the wall."
 
 286 THE BREATH OP THE GODS 
 
 " Lord, so have I thought, even to the point of weeping ; 
 yet you had told me to make some display, to have things 
 fair to look on." 
 
 " I blame you not, my good child. There is no fault at all 
 in you; yet the smell of that rich food sickens me. I long 
 to be in the field with men ; to share their handful of cold 
 rice, their shred of salted fish. I hate the silk upon me, 
 the soft rug at my feet, the smiling servants, how can they 
 smile ? "When the foreign manikins arrive, it will be hard 
 fighting for me not to laugh at them, to throw, like some 
 stung cuttle-fish, the inky substance of my scorn why 
 should they laugh and feast ? But, little one, I rave. You 
 have never heard the old volcano growl before ? Well, I 
 shall be calm now ; let us draw pink clouds about me, and 
 set spring flowers among the fissures of my soul." 
 
 " I fear you not, my Lord, I but adore your spirit. I, 
 too, in my weak woman's way, have had a thought. Shall we 
 not purchase less rich food another time, and fewer candles ? 
 Instead, I shall buy thread and cloth and cotton. I will this 
 very day invite the women here to weekly meeting for sewing. 
 Princess Sada has been telling me that many are already 
 started. We can make bandages, clothing, cover for your 
 brave men. Into the texture we shall weave our very hearts. 
 Tears of pity may, indeed, soothe noble wounds no less than 
 the ointment of our surgeons. Shall it not be so, my husband ? 
 May I speak to my friends to-day ? " 
 
 Hagane had lifted one hand to his mouth while she made 
 eager speech. It was steady enough when he answered. 
 " You have pleased me, little one, greatly have you pleased 
 me. I shall speak of this even to our Sacred Sovereigns." 
 
 Gwendolen came bounding in like a child. " Do you recog- 
 nize me, Yuki? " she cried, pitching her long cloak backward. 
 " Of course Prince Hagane would not." 
 
 She stood before the two, a shimmering vision of white, 
 touched at intervals by gleams of primrose hue. Hagane 
 smiled. " If I mistake not greatly, it is the entire costume 
 worn by Miss Todd when first I was honored to make her 
 acquaintance. You called the ball a debutante's I think." 
 
 "Heavens, Yuki, think of his remembering! I see now,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 287 
 
 Prince Hagane, that you are truly a great man. What on 
 earth have you been doing to your prince ? " she added in a 
 lower tone, as Hagane stepped forward to greet Mr. and Mrs. 
 Todd. "He doesn't look a day over thirty -five, and hand- 
 some He is the noblest-looking man that ever I saw ! " 
 
 Mrs. Todd, resplendent in her favorite mauve satin, violently 
 adorned in butter-colored lace, took her place next to Yuki. 
 She liked well the importance of the position, yet kept furtive 
 glances scurrying toward the door in outlook for Pierre and 
 Mrs. Stunt. It was the apparition of the latter that she 
 dreaded most. She trembled in recalling Mrs. Stunt's threat 
 of forbidding and condemnatory conduct. " Not in Yuki's own 
 house, my dear Mrs. Stunt," she had pleaded. "Don't go to 
 the reception at all if you disapprove so of their behavior. 
 Wait until you meet them outside." To this Mrs. Stunt had 
 replied only by tight lips, and a glance of incorruptible virtue, 
 as one who should say, " Get thee behind me, Satan ! " Mrs. 
 Todd envied her friend the rigidity of her moral nature. 
 
 Mrs. Stunt came among the very first. Although small in 
 stature, she never failed to make herself conspicuous. She had 
 acquired an air of patronage, of condescension. If a person 
 or a group of persons continued to converse within the first 
 few moments of her appearance, she had a way of looking at 
 the offenders, of singling them out, that was never thereafter 
 forgotten. On this occasion she was resplendent in a new 
 gown of silvery gray silk, very tight as to bust and hip, and a 
 trifle scanty as to skirt. A reason for this insufficiency showed 
 in the yokes and sleeves of the Misses Stunt, lank, timid dam- 
 sels of fifteen and thirteen respectively, who followed with 
 unquestioning eyes their energetic mother. Each had a pink- 
 ish frock hung from a " guimpe " of silvery gray. 
 
 Kind-hearted Mrs. Todd literally held her breath as this 
 important person bore, like a small nickel-plated naphtha 
 launch, straight to the dark sea-rock of her host. The tight 
 gray waist had the sheen of armor. Mrs. Todd watched for 
 the steely reflection in her friend's bright eyes. They were 
 now lifted to the face of Hagane. But no ! barbed light- 
 nings did not flash admonition from their depths. Never were 
 blue china beads more free from righteous indignation than
 
 288 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 those upraised orbs. She literally grovelled, first at the feet 
 of Lord Hagane, then before his bride. Yuki received her 
 gushing compliments with unsmiling lips. This made no 
 difference. The Misses Stunt were then signalled to grovel. 
 
 Mrs Todd's mouth, opened in incredulity during this brief 
 scene, had forgotten to close. Something like indignation 
 tingled through her full veins. Was Mrs. Stuut after all the 
 hypocrite Gwendolen said she was ? " Mrs. Stunt ! " she called 
 eagerly. Surely some explanation could be made. 
 
 The valiant one swept by her with a nod. She gave but 
 one short sentence, back-flung, "Dear Mrs. Todd, how very 
 warm you 're looking ! " 
 
 Princess Sada, whose title Gwendolen took pains to enun- 
 ciate distinctly, came in for her share of compliment. The 
 American girl next her, half-angry, half-hysterical with sup- 
 pressed laughter, was hastily whittling a mental arrow, her 
 keen eye searching, meanwhile, for some weak spot in the self- 
 love of her foe. Mrs. Stunt, scenting trouble, her percep- 
 tions in this regard were canine, would have avoided the 
 girl, but farther down the line were more Japanese. An- 
 other princess might be stowed among them. Mrs. Stunt 
 could not relinquish a possible princess. She gathered up her 
 mantle of effrontery, and went to her doom. 
 
 U 0h, Mrs. Stunt, not that high, fashionable hand-shake 
 between old friends," cried the clear, sweet voice. Guests 
 now poured into the doors. Many paused to hear the next 
 sound of that pleasing voice. " I can't tell you how glad I 
 am that you have met at last my friend Yuki, the Princess 
 Hagane ! You have talked so much about her, and now you 
 have really met. I saw Yuki's joy in the meeting. You were 
 intoxicating in your sincerity, dear Mrs. Stunt, a pewter-mug 
 literally frothing with felicitations ! Why, and here is Miss 
 Stunt and Miss Leonora Stunt! Yes, I am glad to see you 
 both; but move on, children; you must get mama to bring 
 you with her on some of her frequent visits to the Legation ! " 
 
 Mrs. Stunt carried her tarnished pewter bravely down the 
 line. She was actually dull, leaden-toned with rage. It was 
 not so much Gwendolen's impertinence that stung her, but 
 the fact of the loud, clear voice, pitched for all to share.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 289 
 
 Whatever Mrs. Stunt's good opinion of herself, she could not 
 but realize that most of those who overheard rejoiced in the 
 Stimt humiliation. 
 
 The moment she had spoken, Gwendolen regretted it. " A 
 mean, tawdry, contemptible bit of revenge ! " she muttered to 
 herself. "I feel already nearly as vile as she." The girl 
 looked up to meet her father's deep-set eyes. A pathetic 
 little nioue, a single pleading gesture, and the tenderness 
 returned to them ; but his first look rankled. 
 
 It had been decided between Mr. Todd and his daughter 
 that he should remain near some door or window in the thick 
 of arriving-time, where at each loud carriage entrance he 
 could draw aside the drapery and try to recognize the equi- 
 page. When the French coat-of-arms appeared he was to 
 signal Gwendolen. Of course Le Beau would accompany his 
 chief. The two now were inseparable. The only plan which 
 Gwendolen's thought had suggested was to intercept Pierre 
 at the door, and with what wit and invention then came to 
 her aid, try to separate him from his evil genius, Konsard, 
 and, if possible, keep him away from Yuki. 
 
 Dodge entered airily alone. He wore a crimson carnation 
 in his buttonhole and dove-gray " spats " above his patent 
 leather shoes. Seldom now did he accompany the Todd 
 family to any social function. Gwendolen had been asked by 
 her parents the cause of this sudden aloofness, and they had 
 received in turn the ambiguous and not altogether respectful 
 reply, " How should I know ? Am I our secretary's keeper ? " 
 
 Dodge paused now near the door through which he had 
 entered. The rooms were filling rapidly. His clear, dog-like 
 eyes of hazel brown threaded the crowd, resting the fraction 
 of an instant on each form. He searched, apparently, for 
 some special object. Gwendolen, in her pretty debutante's 
 gown which should, by rights, have evoked pensive memories, 
 received but the usual light stroke of observation. The brown 
 eyes shot on past her, swept around the walls, came back to 
 the door where the owner of them stood, and then turned 
 about to the entrance hall. " Ah ! " said Dodge, under his 
 breath. The eagerness of the sound carried it to Gwendolen's 
 ear. She saw him disappear. A moment later he re-entered 
 
 19
 
 290 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 with. Carmen Gil y Niestra, languid and beautiful, in cream 
 lace and crimson carnations. 
 
 The two young people came down the line together. Yuki 
 gazed with some curiosity on the face of the Spanish 
 girl. Gwendolen waited for them. She held herself like a 
 young Empress receiving coronation felicitations. The white 
 debutante's dress seemed to become alive as Dodge neared it. 
 One long tulle fold streamed after him as he went by. 
 Gwendolen caught at it angrily. 
 
 Mr. Todd touched his daughter on the shoulder. She 
 slipped out quietly to the hall-way, threw on the long dark 
 cloak she had left there for the purpose, and was in the door- 
 way before the French barouche had entirely stopped. Pierre 
 issued first, and without having observed her, stood ready to 
 assist his chief. He gave a nervous start as Gwendolen touched 
 him. "Let the count go in alone," she pleaded. "I must 
 speak with you." 
 
 The minister now emerged, a pendulous and unstable bulk. 
 Gwendolen flew to his side. He looked into a face vital with 
 excitement, hurt pride, vague apprehension. Her eyes were 
 fairly black, her usually pale cheeks, red as Carmen's flowers. 
 Her beauty smote the old sensualist with delight. " Mon 
 Dieu, Mademoiselle, but you are lovely," he murmured partly 
 to himself. Ignoring physical disadvantages, he paused to 
 make her a deep and courtly bow, his hand pressed reverently 
 upon that portion of his torso where, beneath layers of un- 
 healthy fat, squatted the small toad of his heart with the 
 cross of the Legion of Honor about its neck. 
 
 " I am glad that you think me lovely at this moment," said 
 the girl, coquettishly, swallowing hard her rising disgust. " I 
 want you to help me. Please go in without Pierre. Do not 
 let the usher call his name just yet. I must speak alone 
 with him." 
 
 Count Ronsard's admiration was supplemented by a shrewd 
 and contaminating look. He and Pierre crossed glances. 
 The minister bowed again, this time with less ceremony. 
 " Whatever beauty asks is already granted." 
 
 He whispered something to a servant who had stepped up 
 to take Pierre's place. The servant hurried in before. Ron-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 291 
 
 sard climbed heavily, alone, the two stone steps of the por- 
 tico. Gwendolen had drawn near Le Beau, when the bawl of 
 the usher, in a voice unusually loud and distinct, arrested 
 her. " His Excellency Count Ronsard, Minister of France, 
 Monsieur Pierre Le Beau, Second Secretary to the French 
 Legation." 
 
 Gwendolen caught her breath. Her eyes began to blaze. 
 At this instant Count Ronsard, now on the top step, gave a cry, 
 tottered, and would have fallen but for Pierre's agile spring. 
 
 " My ankle, ray infernal ankle ! I have sprained, perhaps 
 broken it ! " he groaned aloud in English. " Your arm, my 
 son, I cannot walk alone." 
 
 Thus supported, he limped heavily into the drawing-room. 
 Yuki hurried to meet him. A low cushioned chair was 
 wheeled for his convenience. He dominated at once the 
 entire assemblage. Formal greetings ceased. Half a dozen 
 different nationalties crowded in to inquire about the accident. 
 He and Pierre took turns in explanation. French, German, 
 Spanish, Italian, English, Japanese, each was answered cour- 
 teously in his own tongue. Yuki sent upstairs to her medicine- 
 case for bandages and liniment ; but this attention the gallant 
 count repelled. His boot would keep the swelling down, 
 he said, until the sick chamber of his own house could be 
 reached. 
 
 Gwendolen let fall her cloak in the hall way ; whoever 
 would might rescue it. Slowly she entered the drawing-room, 
 paused near the interesting group about the sufferer, and stood 
 watching, her whole slight frame in a hot tingle with impotent 
 anger. No mark of pain rested on the flabby countenance of 
 Ronsard. Pierre looked far more ill. This fact but added to 
 Gwendolen's uneasiness. Yuki had a tender heart for human 
 suffering. She heard the count's brave self-control admired, 
 and her disgust turned to a mental nausea. For the moment 
 no counter-stroke occurred to her. Even the keen eyes of 
 Prince Hagane were, apparently, deceived. He stood near the 
 Frenchman expressing grave concern. Yuki, perforce, re- 
 mained within calling of her afflicted guest. Hagane at 
 length moved off. Pierre, Ronsard, and Yuki were together, 
 a meeting that Gwendolen had striven against, and plotted to
 
 292 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 prevent. Gwendolen fancied that her schoolmate already 
 turned more wan, that she trembled and shrank from the low 
 words that were spoken. She was a white dove picked upon 
 by vultures. Mrs. Stunt stood across the room gleaning items 
 with her steely gaze. 
 
 Discomfited, utterly worsted, Gwendolen trailed slow steps 
 down the lighted vista. She longed for her father, but now 
 he and Prince Hagane had begun to talk. A vacant window, 
 half-hidden in trailing vines, allured her. She hurried to it, 
 threw aside the curtain, and looked out into the deepening 
 twilight. All of this fair March day had been blue and wind- 
 less. The night was a bowl of liquid sapphire, a deep aerial 
 sea into which the house had been lowered, like a great illu- 
 minated bell. So tangible, so intense, was the outer blueness 
 that it seemed to Gwendolen, should she lift the sash an inch, 
 a gentian tide must gurgle in through the fissure, steal along 
 the wall to the shadowy floor, and silently fill the long rooms 
 with a purple flood. 
 
 That moment brought to the girl her first tinge of worldly 
 bitterness. Heretofore, with the one exception of her quarrel, 
 things had seemed naturally to come right just because she 
 wished it. Even in dreams, things always came right for her. 
 Now, by some shabby turn of fortune, the reverse was true ; 
 failure marked every effort. Being young, healthy, and 
 totally unacquainted with real sorrow, it was inevitable that 
 she should luxuriate in an imaginary despair. She stared into 
 the night, envying its cool blue depths of silence and oblivion. 
 She raised long lashes to the stars, gleaming faintly now like 
 small phosphorescent mushrooms springing on a damp blue 
 field, and wondered, sighing, whether on those distant planets 
 lived any girl so miserable as she. 
 
 "Miss Todd," murmured a low voice. She wheeled back 
 to the lighted room with a gesture so sudden that two large 
 tears splashed upon her cheeks. Dodge stood beside her half- 
 abashed, altogether eager, deeply flushed by the late battle 
 with his pride. Gwendolen's heart gave a bound toward him, 
 then sank down whimpering. The girl, too, felt an over- 
 whelming need for tears. One kind word more from Dodge, 
 one faint concession on her part, and she must surrender
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 293 
 
 utterly, bend down with her face hidden, and sob out her 
 anxieties and her relief. Oh, if they were but alone, and 
 she could " make up " as she longed to do ! But now, because 
 all eyes might turn to them, because she had not the self-con- 
 trol to explain, his tenderness must be met by scorn, in self- 
 protection she must lash herself to stoicism by blows rained 
 on him. She drew herself upright. He could not see how 
 feverishly one primrose-colored hand clutched the window- 
 frame. " You have mis-taken your corner, Mr. Dodge," 
 she jerked out in a voice that needed to balance every word, 
 like an acrobat on a wire. " Miss Niestra is, I think, in an- 
 other part of the room." 
 
 " I have, as you say, mistaken the corner. I shall not offend 
 again," said Dodge. 
 
 The girl's heart called out after him. She bit her lips to 
 keep back the gush of tears. " Now he will hate me forever 
 and ever ! He '11 never want to speak to me again, " she told 
 herself. She threw her head back, and stepped out into the 
 light. Scrutiny would help to steady her. Count Ronsard 
 still held court, his two attendants being Pierre and Yuki. 
 Gwendolen's generous heart flared into new anger for her 
 friend. " What are my stings to Yuki's ! " she cried to her- 
 self. " Those two men are devils to torture a woman as I 
 know they are doing ! " Gwendolen felt a sense of returning 
 energy. She had found a definite task. 
 
 Count Ronsard, who flattered himself that he understood all 
 women, to whom raw debutantes were as glass candy jars in a 
 village shop-window, felt a little surprise, perhaps even a 
 little excitement, as Gwendolen, smiling like a tall white 
 angel, bore down upon him, and announced, in her sweetest 
 voice, that she had come to " keep him company." Enlighten- 
 ment and a challenge lay in her two next sentences. " Bring 
 me that footstool, Pierre. Yuki, darling, let me take your 
 place now as ministering angel to the count. Other guests 
 may need you." 
 
 Like a snowy bird of Paradise flecked with gold, she 
 perched beside the caged Frenchman. He saw through her 
 feint as clearly as she had seen through his. Having avowed 
 himself incapable of walking, he had no choice but to remain
 
 294 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 where he was, or to return home. In sheer intellectual delight 
 at the girl's wit and daring, he yielded himself to her snare. 
 Her sentences enwrapped him in bright skeins. Excitement 
 gave her pungency. She realized that she had never talked 
 so well, and even in the midst of it regretted that it had to be 
 wasted on an " old pig." Pierre hovered about sullenly until 
 released by a nod from his chief. No further speech did he 
 obtain with Yuki. Gwendolen noted, with malicious satisfac- 
 tion, how close the young wife kept to her husband's side, how 
 tenderly the great man leaned and spoke with her. Together 
 they now moved through the crowded rooms, delivering invi- 
 tations to the sewing-meeting on the following Monday, the 
 first to be held. The air of the room crackled to eager accep- 
 tances. Mrs. Stunt's was the explosion of a small torpedo. 
 Tranquillity and her usual pale-rose flush came back to the 
 face of the little princess. Gwendolen's sparkling eyes jeered 
 light into those of Count Konsard. The man was a great 
 man in his distorted way. As yet life's greatest values 
 were, for him, of the mind. Rising at last with ostentatious 
 and smothered groans, as he prepared to limp to his waiting 
 carriage, he gave the girl her meed of praise. "Mademoi- 
 selle," he said gravely, " it would be a happy day for France 
 were you to become the wife of one of her diplomats." 
 
 " Merci," said Gwendolen, with a French curtey. " The 
 profession allures me, but an American diplomat will be 
 good enough for me ! "
 
 CHAPTEE TWENTY-THREE 
 
 A SHORT whispered colloquy between Hagane, the little 
 Princess Sada-ko, and Yuki, during the reception, a few 
 days before, resulted in the decision that the Japanese ladies 
 should be asked to come quite early to the sewing party; 
 the foreign contingent to be bidden later, about one in the 
 afternoon. To all Japanese the early hours of the day 
 are best. Yuki knew that this was not the case with for- 
 eigners. Besides, to have served a hot foreign luncheon to 
 an indefinite number of guests would have taken from the 
 purpose of such a meeting most of its charitable intent, and, 
 very likely, all of the material profit. The simplest of Jap- 
 anese collations, a bowl of thin fish soup, rice, tea, a fairy 
 dish of pickles, one sweetmeat, maybe, this could be served 
 with propriety to the Empress herself, had that gracious 
 lady been present. These women worked for their own 
 hero soldiers, for their own adored Nippon. Their utmost 
 efforts were privileges; what the foreign ladies gave might, 
 among themselves, be considered alms. 
 
 When all had arrived, that is, the foreigners as well as Jap- 
 anese, they were to be given for entertainment, music of the 
 two worlds. First, English songs from a charming soprano, a 
 Mrs. Wyndham of Yokohama, justly celebrated in the East, 
 as in her own land, for an unusually pure and lovely voice. 
 For Japanese they were to have improvisation and martial 
 chanting from a Satsuma biwa player, a court musician in 
 highest favor with their Majesties. The lending of him to 
 Yuki for this meeting had been a royal answer to Hagane's 
 modest statement of his young wife's plan. 
 
 The Japanese ladies, mostly of the noble class, began to 
 arrive before the blue morning mists had quite lifted from 
 the long, gleaming surfaces of castle moats ; before the wild 
 white herons, perching on great down-sweeping arms of castle
 
 296 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 pines, had warmed their chilly feathers to the skin ; before 
 the budding cherry-boughs had dared unfold a single dripping 
 leaf. By eight o'clock that end of the huge upstairs hall set 
 apart for their exclusive use had few vacant places. The 
 Japanese ladies brought scissors, thimble, and needles; ma- 
 terial and thread were contributed by Prince Hagane. Yuki's 
 mother was among the first. Iriya grew younger and prettier 
 with each day, in this new pride and happiness won through 
 her only child. She had not brought the servants. Yuki 
 insisted that they be sent for. They came as upon the 
 chariot of the wind, released by a gruff sound of acqui- 
 escence from their master, their blue sleeves flying hori- 
 zontally in the morning air. Little Maru, whose excessive 
 love for candy kept her in a condition of pink rotundity, 
 gasped joyously for breath. " Ma-a-a ! " she cried at first 
 sight of a courtyard filled with crested kuruma ; and 
 "Ma-a-a!" again, as she tripped on the top step and fell 
 full-length into the hall ; and " Ma-a-a ! " once more as the 
 obliging butler stooped to rescue her, until Suzume, frown- 
 ing heavily, called her a beau-curd, and bade her cease 
 exclaiming. 
 
 It was a gentle company that worked in the upper hall. 
 Shining black heads bent as one above tumultuous yards 
 of white cotton cloth. The peculiar odor of cambric and 
 unbleached domestic was mixed with Japanese perfumes of 
 sandalwood and incense, and with the unique aroma of 
 hair-oil made from camellia berries. Work went on steadily. 
 Great white towers of bandages were finished, and removed 
 by servant-maids, who staggered, laughed, and joked softly, 
 as they bore the tottering burdens to the packing-room down- 
 stairs. Sounds of hammer and nails arose as the packages 
 went into boxes. They could hear workmen haggling over 
 the spelling of certain Manchurian addresses. 
 
 In the big hall the nobly -born seamstresses talked, smiled, 
 raised eyebrows, nodded, shook their heads over bad news, 
 and gave small, half-finished exclamations over good, much 
 as a roomful of Western women might have done. The for- 
 tunes of war dominated interest. Bereavement had already 
 fallen upon more than one of the gentle company. Death
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 297 
 
 was spoken of quite simply, with no affectation of distress. 
 Universal contempt was expressed for a certain young widow 
 who had been coarse and self-centred enough to faint at her 
 husband's tomb. "Hirotsune's spirit must have covered his 
 eyes with shame at that sight, and thanked the gods she 
 had borne him no son," said an elderly aunt of the dead 
 hero, Hirotsune. 
 
 But not all the conversation was of war. The rise in the 
 price of provisions was commented upon by anxious house- 
 wives. In all cases the household expenses had been cut 
 down, and the money deflected to the national treasury. 
 This seemed as natural to them all as that water should 
 flow. "The poor food makes, of course, no difference to 
 us who are adult, or to our boy children," murmured one 
 sweet-faced matron. "But sometimes the babes, and the 
 very old servants, grumble a little at having barley mixed 
 with their rice." Fashions, since no one thought of buy- 
 ing new gowns, was, for once in a female gathering, utterly 
 ignored. Gossip concerning foreign residents, especially 
 women, remained, as usual, an engrossing theme. The latest 
 Yokohama and Tsukijii scandals were whispered, not with- 
 out zest. These high-nosed, fierce-looking creatures of their 
 own sex were a source of constant marvelling to Japanese 
 women. "Kitsui" (mannish) they were called, as the ex- 
 treme of disapprobation. Yuki defended them, and gave a 
 softer coloring to some of the alleged misdeeds. Gwendolen 
 she cited as an example of a Western girl who must, in her 
 past incarnations, have been entirely Japanese. The guests 
 listened politely, but Yuki read skepticism on their calm 
 faces. 
 
 During the long forenoon not once was a voice raised or a 
 loud laugh heard. Yet not one face ever lapsed into indif- 
 ference. One might have gained from the resilient poise of 
 slender throats an impression of yielding strength. Their 
 chatter was a murmur, with tripping, short interludes of 
 sound, and cooing, long-drawn vowels soft as their own 
 white hands. They were a flock of gray doves in a sheltered 
 niche. Never, one would have said, were creatures more 
 tender, more feminine, more dependent. So would a for-
 
 298 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 eigner have thought, to see them; but a Japanese knows 
 the truth. Not a Avoman there but might be the child, the 
 parent, the wife of a hero. Many had looked calmly on 
 death. Not one among them would falter at the extremest 
 test of heroic sacrifice, and should the call come, this little 
 sewing band would rise, arm itself with swords, and deal 
 what desperate death it could upon intruding enmity, before 
 at last plunging sharp surrender into its own brave heart. 
 
 At noon the Japanese meal was served. After it came a 
 little pause of rest, enlivened by smoking from small gold 
 pipes, and the drinking of added cups of tea. Just before 
 one o'clock the sewing was resumed. Then the little silk-clad 
 ladies waited, in deeper agitation than they would have 
 felt in facing Kuropatkin, for the coming of their foreign 
 friends. 
 
 Mrs. Todd was punctual almost to the minute. With her 
 came Gwendolen and Mrs. Stunt. A slight coolness now 
 existed between the two elder ladies. Mrs. Stunt's explana- 
 tion that her effusiveness to the Haganes was merely " sar- 
 casm" had failed to convince even so trustful a nature as 
 Mrs. Todd. Coolness, however, did not keep Mrs. Stunt from 
 a neighborhood where she might derive profit. 
 
 She had walked on foot to the Legation, declaring that her 
 jinrikisha-man was shockingly drunk, and had begged a seat 
 in the American carriage. It was, of course, given, and by 
 the time Yuki's residence was reached the artful one had re- 
 gained sonie of her lost favor with Mrs. Todd, and deepened 
 the loathing of the silent Gwendolen. 
 
 The three came up the stairs together, their foreign shoes 
 pounding in unison, causing the huge, badly constructed house 
 to rattle at every window. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Todd, as she lifted her lorgnette 
 to survey the long hall and the gathered company, "a regular 
 sewing-bee, is n't it ? And I see, Yuki, you 've got the piano 
 upstairs, after all. I did n't believe you 'd get it up those 
 steps." 
 
 Yuki had, of course, met them at the door. She and 
 Gwendolen fell, through force of habit, far in the wake of 
 the bustling dame. Mrs. Stunt kept well beside the leader.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 299 
 
 The two girls clasped hands shyly, and looked at each other 
 with side glances, like happy children in the first embarrass- 
 ment of play. Many of the Japanese ladies lifted glances of 
 interest to the tall blonde girl. This must be she of whom 
 the Princess Hagane had spoken, the girl with the face of 
 the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, with the strayed soul of a 
 Nipponese. She wore this afternoon a simple costume of 
 golden-brown silk. It was just the transition tone between 
 her golden hair and the darker brows and lashes. A wide 
 hat of bronze-colored velvet piled high with paler plumes 
 balanced itself on her delicate head. Bronze-colored gloves 
 ran up the slender arms to the elbow, where the sleeves fell 
 away in a deep pointed ruff. A belt of dull yellow shark's 
 skin and bronze boots completed the costume. The seated 
 women, ignoring the advancing bulk of Madame Todd, the 
 restless insistency of her companion, let smiling eyes rest 
 on Gwendolen, then nodded to each other, and exchanged 
 glances, as if in corroboration of Yuki's previous words. 
 
 " I am keeping seats for your party, dear Mrs. Todd, over 
 there by that most sunshine window," said Yuki. "Please 
 see that a chair is held for Mrs. Wyndham, who is so very 
 kind to sing for us. Ah, I hear many peoples arriving. I 
 see Mrs. Wyndham now. I will advance to her." Yuki 
 hurried off, and soon returned with the prima donna, whom 
 she delivered into Mrs. Todd's efficient hands. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Wyndham," cried that lady. "Oh, I beg 
 pardon. Mrs. Stunt, Mrs. Wyndham; my daughter, Miss 
 Todd, Mrs. Wyndham. I didn't realize that you had not 
 met Miss Todd." 
 
 " I called at your Legation last Tuesday, the proper day, 
 I am sure, but failed to see Miss Todd," said the English- 
 woman, stiffly. 
 
 Mrs. Todd flushed crimson. Mrs. Stunt turned away to 
 hide her satisfaction. A public slight to Gwendolen gen- 
 erally meant, for Mrs. Todd, attempted annihilation of the 
 offender. She turned angered eyes to Mrs. Wyndham, and 
 would have spoken, but Gwendolen pressed her arm. "No, 
 mother dear, don't defend me; I deserve it. Let me speak. 
 Mrs. Wyndham, I am mother's despair at the Legation. I
 
 300 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 forget reception-days half the time. I I " here she 
 lowered her voice to a delicious, confidential whisper, "the 
 fact is I I shirk them. So many old frumps, you know! 
 It's getting to be a regular hen-roost. But, honest, I am 
 sorry I was out last Tuesday, and I want you to give me 
 another chance." Gwendolen could generally be irresistible 
 when she chose. Now she chose not only to win Mrs. 
 Wyndham, to whose high-bred English face she had taken 
 an instant liking, but to deal another blow to her enemy 
 Mrs. Stunt. 
 
 In both efforts she was successful, though Mrs. Wyndham 
 did not capitulate all at once. The sparkling hazel eyes 
 and the gray ones met. Suspicion lived a little longer in 
 the latter. "Please," murmured Gwendolen. Suspicion 
 died. "I am always at home on my Wednesdays," said the 
 Englishwoman. 
 
 "I'll be there," laughed Gwendolen. "Have me a place 
 set at your breakfast-table!" 
 
 Yuki had vanished to perform her duties of hostess. Mrs. 
 Todd and her small party took the "sunshine" seats, and 
 a Japanese lady whom they had not met brought them for- 
 eign sewing materials. Work had not begun with them 
 when a low, plaintive voice leaned to Mrs. Todd's large 
 ear. "Please, please, help me in all ways you can, dear 
 Mrs. Todd. This is much worse than that reception I held 
 downstairs. So many foreign ladies are come, and they 
 all look at everybody so very hard! Ask kind Mrs. 
 Wyndham to sing just as soon as she are ready, and soon, 
 please." 
 
 Mrs. Wyndham rose instantly, and looked with composure 
 over the sea of lifted heads. Every chair was now taken, 
 and servants brought up new ones from the rooms down- 
 stairs. She was used to audiences, also to commendation. 
 In her hands she held a roll of music. Mrs. Wyndham was 
 one of those colonists a large class in the Far East 
 who never forgive Japan for not being England. She em- 
 phasized her homesickness by withdrawal from all native 
 interests, except, as now, when she could give pleasure and 
 assistance by her voice. It was her pride that she ate
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 301 
 
 no Japanese products. Everything on her table was "im- 
 ported." Even her garden held only English flowers. That 
 great sea of spiritual and physical beauty which lies in Jap- 
 anese character, and in its environment, was to her non- 
 existent. Such dwellers in the East are like children who, 
 in springtime, search the grass for fallen apples, and never 
 once lift their disappointed faces to the pink canopy of 
 bloom. 
 
 As may be inferred, all Japanese music was, to Mrs. 
 Wyndham and her intimate associates, mere squeaking, 
 caterwauling, an excruciating discord. She spoke constantly 
 of " civilized " music. She was fond of referring to the Eng- 
 ish school of harmony. She was exaggerated in her use of 
 English method. 
 
 "Shall I be compelled to play my own accompaniment?" 
 now asked Mrs. Wyndham. Her pretty face showed concern. 
 
 "If the music is not too hard I will try," said Gwendolen, 
 springing from her chair, while scissors and thimble fell clat- 
 tering to the floor. She gave the fallen articles a contemptu- 
 ous glance, and, without a motion to rescue them, followed 
 Mrs. Wyndham to the piano. 
 
 A group of young Japanese girls, put in a corner to them- 
 selves, exchanged looks of delight, and began to titter like 
 wrens. "How much do the ways of the honorable foreign 
 scissors and thimble resemble those of Japanese scissors and 
 thimble ! " they confided one to another. 
 
 "My thimble generally rolls off the veranda and buries 
 itself among pebbles. I think it possesses an imp! " laughed 
 one. 
 
 " Mine goes always into the red coals of the hibachi," 
 giggled another. 
 
 "That is precisely the conduct of my worthless article," 
 added a third. "The water-kettle has to be taken aside, 
 and grandmother scowls. Then we all dig for the thimble 
 with the copper fire-sticks. When we find it, it is quite 
 black, and Ma-a-a ! so hot, that it must be dropped at 
 once into cold water, where it hisses like the head of a small 
 serpent." 
 
 "Now what shall I sing for such a crowd as this?" mused
 
 302 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Mrs. Wyndham, as she shuffled the loose leaves of her music. 
 Her words had the sound of inner meditation. 
 
 " What would the Japanese like best ? " asked Gwendolen, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 "Oh, my dear! I wasn't thinking of them!" protested 
 the other. "They are incapable of appreciating any real 
 music. I was thinking of our foreign friends." 
 
 " Yuki Hagane is a Japanese. She loves the best music. 
 Brahms is almost a passion with her. She says that he 
 sounds like the wind in pine-trees, high above a great 
 battle." 
 
 "Oh, Brahms!" said the other. "I never sing Brahms. 
 He is too harsh and unpoetic. These bellowing contraltos 
 affect him. As for me, I must have something light, poetic, 
 full of melody." 
 
 "Here is our American McDowell," murmured Gwendolen, 
 and bent her face that its expression might not be seen. 
 "Being patriotic by profession I plead for McDowell." 
 
 "You do not consider him, over their heads?" asked 
 the Englishwoman, dubiously. 
 
 "Oh, well, you can give them Sullivan next time, and 
 bring down the average ! " Mrs. Wyndham bent a sus- 
 picious look, but Gwendolen's lifted gaze was that of a 
 seraph over a last harp note. "I'll try McDowell. Can 
 you play the accompaniment?" 
 
 "I can at least attempt it," said Gwendolen, meekly, and 
 forthwith rippled out the prelude with an ease that further 
 deepened suspicion. 
 
 The song began with a single note, long sustained, the 
 voice striking in abruptly among hurrying chords. Mrs. 
 Wyndham's beautiful voice took it like a star. Suddenly, 
 with another upward swerve, the note wavered, passed into 
 a new kindling as into the life of a bird, and swept along on 
 higher currents with motionless, outspread wings. 
 
 The foreign ladies exchanged glances of rapture. The 
 Japanese workers, on the other hand, stared first in aston- 
 ishment, then w r ith growing apprehension. Surely this was 
 not singing ! Something must be going wrong with the 
 honorable insides of the kind lady! They stole timid looks
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 303 
 
 toward their hostess, and by her calm, interested face were 
 reassured. Still the piercing note went higher. The singer's 
 throat swelled slightly, and her face turned red. From the 
 group of Japanese girls one hysterical chuckle escaped. That 
 set off the whole lot. Staid matrons bowed convulsed faces 
 to folds of cotton cloth; silken sleeves came into requisition. 
 A few of the foreign ladies looked about and frowned. Yuki 
 half rose from her chair. 
 
 Now, fortunately, the highest note was reached. It broke 
 its flight with a great twitter of wings. The bars of a 
 staccato love-song began. Again the Japanese women stared, 
 but now in admiration as well as wonder. Never were sing- 
 ing notes so light, so delicate, so silvery ! As the song ended 
 (and indeed it had been exquisitely given), the foreign ladies 
 burst into simultaneous applause. Led by the bolder among 
 them, the Japanese followed suit. 
 
 "Oh, we can't let you stop at that, dear Mrs. Wyndham," 
 came Mrs. Stunt's high, rasping voice. " Won't you give us 
 that lovely thing of Goo-nowd's you sung at our last Charity 
 concert ? " Mrs. Wyndham consented. After Gounod it was 
 an English ballad, then another and another, until at length 
 the singer, with pretty petulance, turned from the piano say- 
 ing that she had already monopolized too much time. A great 
 buzzing of thanks and congratulations surged about her. No 
 expression of admiration was too exaggerated. In fact there 
 was none that pretty Mrs. Wyndham had not heard many 
 times before. She accepted these tributes now, as usual, with 
 deprecating smiles, and little protesting shakes of the head, 
 finally declaring that they would make her conceited if they 
 did n't stop. 
 
 No one noticed the American girl, still at the piano. She 
 gave a swift look around, and seeing that the biwa player 
 had not come, began whispering to the keys the first notes 
 of one of Chopin's most delicate fantasies. Like the down 
 on a moth's wing, it came. Like crystal raindrops, then, 
 mixed with the perfume of bruised petals, and sometimes 
 the distant yearning of a bird. This was music that even 
 the untutored Japanese girls could feel. It held the sound 
 of their own koto strings, it breathed whispers of their
 
 304 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 own trees, and winds, and sighing sea-stretches. Gradually 
 all voices in the room ceased. Faster the notes came, though 
 still with a suggestion of whispering. Gwendolen's white 
 hands became a misty blur. The theme drew closer, with 
 now a wind-driven swish of rain and scurrying petals; now 
 the nearer cry of a bird, and a low under-rhythm of human 
 sorrow. The sounds whirled -and lifted into melodious agi- 
 tation. The caged bird seemed to give low plaints of fear; 
 the wind and the rain drove close, dashed into the face of 
 silence, and drew back. Then all sounds died away in waves 
 of exhausted sobbing. Gwendolen sprang up, leaving the 
 piano vibrant. She hurried to the nearest window, turning 
 her face from all in the room. . 
 
 Mrs. Wyndham was the first to speak. Her light laugh 
 had an artificial sound. "And to think, my dear, that I 
 insisted upon knowing whether you could manage my 
 accompaniments ! " 
 
 Gwendolen did not heed. She wa.s tingling with the ex- 
 citement and unrest that Chopin's music so often brought 
 her. Yuki came softly, slipping a little scarred hand into 
 that of her friend. 
 
 "I hate Chopin!" cried the American girl, in a low, 
 angry voice. "I wonder why I keep on playing him ! 
 Every time I say I won't, and then I go and do it ! He is 
 morbid, he is childish, he is French ! One sees his weak 
 chin quiver, and the tears roll down his cheek ! He wants 
 you to see them. I hate him, I say ! But, oh, he is a 
 compelling genius ! " 
 
 " Yes, he do like every one to see him when he cries. But 
 when I hear him I think, ' Oh, what must it be to a person's 
 soul to be able to cry such tears of music ! ' ' 
 
 A sound at the main entrance-door caused the little hostess 
 to turn. "Ah, there is the Satsuma biwa player! I must 
 now go to him. He, too, makes tears, Gwendolen, but of a 
 different sort. Perhaps you will not wish to cry for him. 
 You may even think him to be funny, as many of the Jap- 
 anese ladies thought Mrs. Wyndham's beautiful singing to 
 be funny. You must not try to stay, you and Mrs. Todd, 
 if it will tire you."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 305 
 
 As she hurried away Mrs. Wyndham drew slowly near. 
 "You naughty one ! I shall owe you a grudge for this. 
 You are not to be forgiven until you promise to come 
 often often and let us play sometimes together. You 
 are a genius ! " 
 
 "Not quite that, I think," said Gwendolen, smiling. 
 "Though, indeed, I have never known a friend to take 
 music's place, except Yuki; and now that she is a prin- 
 cess, I suppose I can't feel her to be so much my own. I 
 shall love to come to you and play. Your voice is like sun- 
 shine on an English fountain." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the other, " what a charming speech ! No 
 man could say anything half so pretty ! Now, as reward, I 
 am going to give you a piece of valuable advice." She leaned 
 confidentially near. "Make your escape while you can." 
 She nodded significantly toward the biwa player, who, with 
 Yuki beside him, stood shrinkingly in the doorway. " I 've 
 heard him once, or one like him. It is what you Ameri- 
 cans might call ' the limit ' ! " 
 
 "You mean for me to go? But I have never heard any 
 Japanese music at all ! " protested Gwendolen. 
 
 " Oh, in that case " said Mrs. Wyndham, with her deli- 
 cate shrug. " If you care for the experience ! " She hurried 
 off with many protestations of regret. Several other ladies 
 followed her example. 
 
 The biwa player now stood beside the piano. Two Jap- 
 anese tatami (padded straw mats six feet in length) were 
 brought in and placed upon the floor. Before inviting him 
 to be seated Yuki made a hesitating little speech to the com- 
 pany, first in English, then in Japanese, saying to the for- 
 eigners that while the music to come would doubtless be 
 strange, and possibly displeasing to them, to her and her 
 compatriots it was a trumpet-call to heroism. " It stirs our 
 blood to every drop ! " she cried, forgetting, for the instant, 
 her shyness. "It echoes to the brave deeds of a thousand 
 years ago, it foretells deeds more greater that may come ! 
 It is the crying of strong souls, it is breath of our fathers' 
 Gods ! " 
 
 Gwendolen, in that vague sort of way in which impressions 
 
 20
 
 306 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 of alien customs are formed, had believed all male musicians 
 in Japan to be blind. Some one had told her so, or she had 
 read it. She was surprised, therefore, and interested, to see 
 in this famous singer of battle-hymns a young man, indeed 
 almost a boy, with thin, shaven face, tumultuous black hair 
 not too closely or evenly cut, tossed in thick locks all over 
 his well-poised head ; and eyes, large, straight, expressive, and 
 brilliant enough to be the ornament of a young French or 
 Italian seigneur. He showed a slight embarrassment, at 
 first, in the presence of so many women. He was used to 
 the audience of statesmen, to the flashing response of 
 Majesty. Here were not only Japanese girls, mere chil- 
 dren, but a great company of high-nosed, pink and purple 
 foreigners. Saturated as he was, made up of lore and 
 legend, with songs of the Lady Sakanouye, or of Ono no 
 Komachi never far from his lips, even Gwendolen's bright 
 beauty seemed a trifle abnormal, bleached, repellent. 
 
 Now his hostess, the young Princess Hagane, looked into 
 his eyes, and spoke to him in their own tongue. "Be not 
 concerned, honorable sir, at the presence of foreign women ! 
 They cannot understand your words, of course; but I am 
 sure they will listen courteously. As for us, we Japanese 
 women, we are the wives, the daughters, the mothers of 
 heroes. Our frail lives toss as thin flames on the altar of 
 prayer. We cannot fight, we can only pray and work. Sing 
 strength to us as we minister to distant soldiers dying, per- 
 haps on barren fields, or heaped, dead, in the ploughed siege- 
 trenches of this fearful war ! " 
 
 His deep eyes seemed to drink of her inspiration, so long 
 was the gaze with which he held her. " I am honored to sing 
 at your bidding," he answered. He had forgotten to bow at 
 the words. He forgot that she was a princess. He recog- 
 nized her as a spirit. Forever after this slight girl, seen 
 but once, became one of the poet's galaxy of pale, pure stars. 
 For years he could not sing of the death-struggle of the Heike 
 clan without a vision of her prophetic eyes. 
 
 He took his seat very slowly on the soft straw mat. Yuki 
 withdrew, and became lost among her guests. The biwa, a 
 large lute in the shape of half a pear, had been held, all this
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 307 
 
 time, closely against the young man's breast. Now, in taking 
 his seat, the instrument was extended to the full length of 
 his right arm. It gave out, under his close grasp, a sleepy 
 hum. For an instant only it was placed apart from him, on 
 the mat, that he might spread and smooth the knees of his 
 silken robe, draw his stiff sleeves into exact angles, and 
 adjust the low kimono collar. Then he turned impatiently 
 again to the lute. It murmured to him ; he drew it close, 
 smiling as a mother upon her babe. 
 
 " Ain't he handsome for a Jap ? " whispered Mrs. Stunt 
 to Gwendolen. The girl winced. She was studying him in 
 her own way. His manner, just before beginning, was aloof 
 and reserved, as if he were restating to himself consecra- 
 tion to service. The Japanese women, even the oldest, gazed 
 upon him with deep reverence. 
 
 "Beethoven may have smiled like that, or St. Francis of 
 Assisi," thought Gwendolen. "It is a look, not of race, 
 but of immortality." 
 
 The player's head lifted slightly. He was losing con- 
 sciousness of material presences. His part was with the 
 unseen world; he must draw down currents of a mighty 
 past, and send them as new streams of influence, on through 
 a menaced future. For he was to improvise, not to repeat. 
 His theme alone was set, a most heroic incident of civil 
 wars, resulting in extermination of a dominating clan. The 
 annihilation of the Heike might give him text, but the flow 
 of rhythmic words should vibrate, thrill, moan, quicken, 
 purl, or shatter, as the mood of the moment might demand. 
 Doubtless in this pause he was invoking, in full faith, the 
 souls of those dead heroes; offering them possession of his 
 human frame, and entreating higher gods to make him 
 worthy of the test. 
 
 His low voice and the first three slow notes rose together. 
 The minor quality suggested lamentation. A short passage, 
 rapidly chanted without accompaniment, made the hearts of 
 the listeners beat a little faster. Then voice and instrument 
 clashed together ; both whirled nearer, until, all at once, 
 silence ! The player looked about the room in bewilder- 
 ment. He stared down upon the biwa. He closed his eyes
 
 308 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 and swayed slightly backward, then forward, then back again. 
 Suddenly he reopened his eyes. They were larger, more 
 brilliant; they flashed a new fire, the glare of battle reflected 
 in their depths. Words now came rapidly. His sentences 
 fell of themselves into long, unstable rhythms. Cadences 
 were lacking. All phrasing, except in rarest intervals, 
 broke into the air with a sob, a sigh, a shuddering gasp. 
 Often now the biwa strings were slashed across by the ivory 
 plectrum, and the human wail rang through vibrating re- 
 sponse. Then voice and strings plunged into a seeming dis- 
 cord, a frantic wrack of sound exorcised an instant later by 
 pure calm notes struck separately, like the drip of slow water. 
 
 In the sense of Western harmony there was none, but some- 
 thing in the weird vibrations of long notes, the intricacies 
 of overtone, and, above all, the unbelievable subtleties of 
 rhythm, gave to one eager American listener, at least, her 
 first insight into a new world of sound. " They are nearer 
 in this, as in all their other arts, to nature," she thought to 
 herself. " They summon the very essences of being, and find 
 skeins for entangling them. Without conscious representa- 
 tion, they suggest to the human ear the lisp of sea winds, 
 the flutter of fire, the rushing monologue of mountain streams. 
 They hear sounds we Westerners never hear. I believe the 
 very mists are audible." 
 
 As the emotion increased and the subject became more 
 martial, the time of the music grew rapid, broken, synco- 
 pated, involved. Soft, melodious passages shattered into 
 jarring notes. Like European troubadours of France, or 
 the meistersingers of mediaeval Germany, he yielded him- 
 self to the unconscious swing of impulse, and sang what was 
 given him. Lines shortened. Syllables became more stac- 
 cato. It was dramatic, undidactic the deeds rather than 
 the thoughts of men. His diction became more simple and 
 direct, with sharp, incisive verbs at the end that rang like 
 smitten steel. His whole body, at times, was shaken. After 
 some terrific passage, while the sobbing lute-strings sustained 
 the passion, his body would bend over and down, as if, in 
 its abandonment to joy, grief, or battle ardor, it would hug 
 the instrument that had become its soul.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 309 
 
 Now he sang of the hero youth, Atsumori, of his in- 
 sistence upon honorable death at the hand of his conqueror, 
 Kumagaye. 
 
 " The Hour of the Hare comes at last, and the red sun advances, 
 Raised like a cry and a shield in the mists of the morning, 
 
 " Warriors and chiefs and the dauntless brave youth Atsumori 
 Drive to the sea all the hordes of the sweating red demons." 
 
 The dove-gray garments of the Japanese women, folded 
 so modestly across seemingly quiet breasts, began to stir 
 and palpitate. More than one tear fell upon the bandages. 
 Yuki's face, set now unfalteringly upon the singer, grew 
 ever more white ; her long eyes burned, and trembled apart. 
 Unconsciously she went close to him, and, kneeling upon 
 the hard floor, drank of his voice. The group of Japanese 
 maidens hid faces in their bright sleeves. The air stirred 
 and tingled with invisible influences. Gwendolen began to 
 shiver like an animal which knows not its own source of 
 fear. The charged atmosphere, the face, the voice of the 
 singer, Yuki's great glowing eyes, swept in her soul strained 
 chords of unknown feeling. She felt in herself the vibra- 
 tions of that trembling lute. In its cell a soul, just wakened, 
 fumbled at a new discovered latch. " Surely it must be re- 
 incarnation," whispered the girl. "Surely I have felt and 
 seen all this before! Yuki and I together have listened; 
 that look was on her face. Yuki ! " The cry was scarcely 
 a whisper. Yuki, many feet away, could not possibly have 
 heard, yet instantly she turned, the eyes, night-black and 
 hazel, caught and clung together, with half ghostly memories 
 that were the same. 
 
 " Hissed there the sea with the scorching of steel and of passion, 
 Rolled up the clouds from the sky and the shore in a tumult, 
 There on the sand lies the body of young Atsumori." 
 
 One great crashing across the strings, " like the tearing of 
 brocade," and the singer's head fell forward, his frame 
 trembled and shrank, he quivered into stillness. Yuki half 
 crawled to him, holding out a protecting arm, and facing her 
 guests like a young tigress. "Do not any one speak. Do
 
 310 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 not crowd about him," she cried in English. "His soul will 
 be weary from the long journey." 
 
 The Japanese women understood, and returned quietly 
 to their sewing. The foreigners tittered, shrugged, and ex- 
 changed glances, then they, too, began to work. A servant 
 brought tea to the singer, and a glass of cold water. At 
 length he stretched out a trembling hand to the latter, and 
 having finished the draught, rose quietly and went from 
 the room, with Yuki close behind. A few moments later 
 Gwendolen heard her returning, unaccompanied, along the 
 hall. She went out to meet her, thankful indeed for the 
 privilege of a few words alone. 
 
 " Yuki-ko," she faltered, "I just wanted to say that at last 
 I understand, I think I understand entirely." 
 
 Yuki, still half in the world of shadows, gave her a 
 strange look. "You understand, Gwendolen? Is it my 
 marriage you speak of ? " 
 
 " Oh, so much more than that ! " cried the other, with a 
 little sob. " Had you been what the conventional foreigner 
 calls ' faithful,' you would have been the most faithless girl 
 in all the world ! " 
 
 "You are a wonderful friend," said Yuki. Her voice had 
 the strange quality of her look. Both had caught the rhythm 
 of low martial chanting. "But even you, my Gwendolen, 
 did not hear or understand it all. There is tragedy before 
 me. You did not hear that in the music ? " 
 
 "I thought I heard it, darling, but I shut my ears ! I 
 shall not believe. We can compel even tragedy, Yuki. 
 Nothing can harm you with Hagane's love!" 
 
 " It is of that the tragedy come. But do not trouble. If 
 I can serve Nippon, I asks no more of this life." 
 
 "Yuki, what can you mean?" cried the other, holding 
 her back. 
 
 "Hush, dearest; do not trouble," smiled Yuki. "See, the 
 guests turn their heads to listen. I must go to them. I 
 have no fear at all."
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 THROUGHOUT the months of March and early April this 
 strange hiatus in war bulletins hung, like a gray sky, above 
 national enthusiasm. The more dignified of the newspapers 
 still adjured the populace to patience, still exhorted them to 
 have faith in their wise and careful leaders. " The Hawk's 
 Eye," on the other hand, bereft of inflammatory battle themes, 
 served up, with new condiment of ingenious suggestion, the 
 personal gossip of the hour. Few of the weekly issues (those 
 printed entirely in English) omitted a guarded slur upon the 
 conjugal felicity of the Hagane household. Gwendolen came 
 in for her share of veiled allusion. Yuki-ko, each week stung 
 by the contemptible malice of the attack, promised herself 
 that never again should the paper be opened in her home. 
 Gwendolen, at the American Legation, weekly did the same. 
 The results of both resolutions were equally humiliating. 
 
 This was not a happy time for Gwendolen, creature of 
 sunshine and spring breezes as she seemed. The continued 
 strained relations between herself and Dodge interfered quite 
 seriously at times with the young man's official duties. Mr. 
 Todd leaned more heavily than he knew upon his attache's 
 four past years of experience in Tokio life, and resented an 
 attitude of one of his own family, which kept Dodge so rigidly 
 within the paling of mere officialdom. Mrs. Todd, who had 
 never professed great friendship for the secretary, now most 
 loudly denounced his " outrageous flirtation " with the Spanish 
 girl, and even declared it an affront upon her Legation. Gwen- 
 dolen, urged one moment to stop the affair, " as she certainly 
 could by the lifting of a finger," was, the instant after, taunted 
 by her inability to do so. 
 
 The public friendship between Dodge and the charming 
 Senorita deepened obviously with each day. Hints of an 
 early marriage flecked "The Hawk's Eye." Mrs. Todd began
 
 312 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 to feel herself personally injured by her wilful daughter. 
 Finally, goaded into action and spurred by her own restless 
 heart, the girl made a counter-move of a sudden and desperate 
 intimacy with Carmen herself. Such things are not unknown 
 in the history of adolescence. Carmen yielded to the Amer- 
 ican's bright fascination with the caressing languor character- 
 istic of her. The two girls lunched together, dined, drove, and 
 had tea together, and spoke of each other in exaggerated terms 
 of endearment. Dodge, whatever his private surmises, retained 
 an unaltered front. Naturally he and Gwendolen were more 
 often together. She showed to him an air of cherished hos- 
 tility, varied by small lightning-flashes of appeal. Two femi- 
 nine currents blew full upon him. Dodge kept his hat on. 
 The beautiful Castilian bore toward him the attitude of an 
 indulgent conqueror. Gwendolen aided this, and whenever 
 possible threw Dodge into the position of Carmen's accepted 
 lover. Also, for some reason known only to herself, she en- 
 couraged the Spanish girl in her belief in Dodge's overwhelming 
 adoration. 
 
 Gwendolen soon discovered that her new friend had an un- 
 controllable yearning for " dulces," and eagerly embraced this 
 opportunity for demonstrating her new affection. Gwendolen 
 scoured the alleys of old Yedo for novel sweetmeats ; she 
 purveyed from the French shops of Yokohama imported dain- 
 ties ; she sent a telegraphic order to a certain New York con- 
 fectioner. Carmen appreciated and devoured all results. The 
 Japanese confections, which many other European ladies might 
 (without, of course, having tasted) pretend to despise, she 
 declared delicious. The " ama-natto," or small purple bean, 
 boiled and sugar-coated with lilac frosting, she called " fairy 
 marron." Mikan, or small oranges preserved whole, with a 
 flake of cinnamon and ginger, gained an established place on 
 the Spanish Legation table. " Hakka ame," that delicious tri- 
 angle of peppermint cream, improved from an American mis- 
 sionary's original recipe, vied in public favor, as a hors-d'oeuvre 
 with French bonbons, salted almonds, and olives. 
 
 Once Carmen's French maid, suspecting, perhaps, more than 
 a purely altruistic intention in Gwendolen's persistent offer- 
 ings, warned her young mistress against immoderate indul-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 313 
 
 gence in sweet foods, and protested, with many gesticulations 
 and a hint of tears, that the very last importation of Paris 
 gowns already needed the letting out of seams, and would 
 soon be unwearable. "Nonsense, Lizette," smiled the pam- 
 pered one, "not eat dulces ? I have always eaten dulces. 
 How, in the Virgin's name, would one get through a novel 
 without a plate of dulces beside it?" 
 
 The maid sent a hostile glance to Gwendolen, which the 
 blonde beauty had the conscience not to resent. Eapidly in- 
 creasing embonpoint was Carmen's one menace to beauty. She 
 had already begun to pray to her patron saint for diminution. 
 On the prie-dieu invariably lay a half-nibbled chocolate. Were 
 not Gwendolen's friendship so open, so obvious, one might 
 have suspected that she connived with fate to circumvent her 
 Carmen's petition ; that actually she assisted in the mournful 
 process of burying perfect features and luscious, languorous 
 dark eyes in warm cushions of pink fat. But no, we must not 
 think such things of Gwendolen. 
 
 Because of the new intimacy and an increasing activity in 
 Tokio society Gwendolen now saw much less of her school- 
 mate, Yuki. Perhaps it was as well. The Princess Hagane had 
 her own lessons to learn, and they were Japanese lessons. 
 Following close upon her first sewing-meeting came Yuki's 
 presentation to Their Majesties. The court ladies welcomed 
 her into their midst. As in humbler Japanese circles she 
 was immediately asked innumerable questions. In return 
 she began learning, from her high-born interrogants, the new 
 language of extreme court ceremony. 
 
 Another reception and another sewing-meeting fell due. To 
 the latter of these functions a mere handful of foreign ladies 
 came. Gwendolen and Mrs. Todd were detained, actually, by 
 some globe-trotting Washington associates, who landed that 
 very day at Yokohama. In the two subsequent gatherings 
 foreign attendance ceased altogether. 
 
 Each reception was, however, a " crush." Gossip is a mag- 
 net; the presence of eligible young men not exactly detrac- 
 tion. Mrs. Stunt and others of her kind went openly to see 
 whether Pierre Le Beau would attend, and how he would con- 
 duct himself before host and hostess. It was the secret craving
 
 314 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 of such social vultures that a scene, the more disgraceful the 
 better, be enacted for their entertainment, and the disappoint- 
 ment was correspondingly keen when neither Pierre nor Count 
 Konsard attended. The count, indeed, sent cards and a gift of 
 flowers. No mention at all was made of the younger man. 
 
 Three of the Hagane official functions had taken place. 
 March hurled itself gruffly into the outstretched arms of 
 spring. Gwendolen knew why Pierre stayed away and why 
 Konsard remained so impassive. She had good reasons for 
 not telling Yuki. At her friend's silence the latter wondered. 
 Instinct told her that there was a deeper explanation than 
 mere forgetfulness. More than once she had nerved herself 
 to inquire; but always, just on the point of asking, something 
 had happened to interfere. 
 
 A new cry, which affected Yuki far more openly, began to 
 ring through the current press. " If complications have arisen 
 in Manchuria let Prince Hagane go and unravel them ! " This 
 demand grew in insistence with each day. Presently the whole 
 nation had arisen, and was clamoring, " Send our War Lord, 
 Hagane, to the front ! " Yuki waited patiently for her hus- 
 band to inform her of the reception of this demand in high 
 quarters. Like a good Japanese wife she dared not force the 
 issue. On every side her part, it seemed, was to wait, to com- 
 mand herself, to endure suspense. To an impatient nature 
 such as Gwendolen this would have been torture. To Yuki, 
 trained through centuries of brave ancestors to play her 
 woman's part of uncomplaining quiescence, the strain was not 
 so great. Her ignorance of Pierre seemed, indeed, the heaviest 
 burden. She scanned now the English columns of every 
 paper, hoping against hope that her eyes would seize the 
 printed assurance of his return to France. This was the young 
 wife's prayer, uttered on her knees each night, muttered 
 through pale lips a hundred times each day, that Pierre would 
 go quietly home, and in his own dear land forget the woman 
 who had broken faith with him. His threat against Hagane's 
 life did not sound to her absurd. It re-echoed to her, always 
 with a pang of fear. Love and hate alike give preternatural 
 insight. By injury to Prince Hagane alone could Pierre gain 
 full revenge. By this means he could strip the flesh from the
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 315 
 
 bones of her loyal sacrifice, laying bare the grinning skeleton 
 of a national disaster, wreaked through her. 
 
 Of course she could not speak these fears to Hagane. There 
 was no one, not even Gwendolen, to whom she could whisper 
 them. Hagane was now seldom at his home. She gathered, 
 once or twice, from gossip of the servants, that he had spent 
 the previous night and day at the Tabata villa, with a small 
 company of statesmen as his guests. In the infrequent visits, 
 she, studying his face with unconscious intensity, saw the 
 same power, the same sadness, the invincible strength un- 
 shadowed and unexcited by this renewal of popular hero- 
 worship. The thought that he might leave her alone, to fulfil 
 the duties of his position, brought to the young wife a pang of 
 terror, of misgiving. She believed it to be merely a shrinking 
 from heavy responsibility. To outward appearance she and 
 Hagane stood on opposite shores of an increasing chasm; but 
 in her heart, when she dared listen to its timid pleadings, she 
 knew it to be a narrowing, not a widening, void their joint 
 lives spanned. She could not doubt that he felt some grave 
 pleasure in seeing her on his expected visits to the great shell 
 of his official home. The weekly receptions, where she bore 
 herself with ever-increasing dignity and poise, did indeed give 
 to the husband a deep impersonal satisfaction. It was more 
 than satisfaction that he felt, as he saw the great filled packing- 
 cases sent away each week to suffering soldiers in Manchuria. 
 
 Once, coming in upon her unannounced, as was his custom, 
 he had suddenly taken the white thing in his arms, thrown 
 her head back to his shoulder, and gazed into her eyes as 
 though to drag from some hidden depth an awakening thought, 
 
 a cradled possibility. Yuki's lids drooped under the blind- 
 ing force of his look. She felt as though a great silent wind 
 blew, pinning her against a rock. Surely in his twitching face 
 was more than a calm self-congratulation ! It was the man, 
 the master, summoning by right what was rightly his. Love 
 
 strong, terrible, yet tender, showed for an instant in his 
 dark eyes. He went from her as quickly as he had come. 
 No word had broken the silence. During the rest of that 
 day Yuki rocked in her heart a new-born hope, a possibility 
 so strange, so ineffable that she dared not open her eyes to its
 
 316 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tiny face. With bowed head and fast-closed lids she hushed 
 it. That day set her feet on the temple-stair of shining 
 prophecy. But how dare she, already to one pledge so faith- 
 less, climb upward, even on bleeding knees, to that splendid 
 portico above ? 
 
 April spread her witchery of green and flowers over a 
 thousand barren hills. Wild azaleas, wigelia, and boke (pyrus 
 Japonica) 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 dykes, and copses (forgotten and unbuilded, sometimes 
 in the very heart of Yedo) for tsukushimbo 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 butterflies. The sun poured down upon them 
 in equal measure his golden cataracts of joy. 
 
 Saturday 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 anticipated 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 Saturday morning proved unusually large. 
 An American mail-ship was in. Several letters and papers
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 317 
 
 came from trans-Pacific friends, a great many Tokio social 
 invitations, a few notes relating to Red Cross matters, arid 
 one folded pamphlet with a Japanese 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
 
 318 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 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 shivered 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 passages 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 fear- 
 fully, 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 her- 
 self 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 gods of his race. " Yes," thought the young wife, " I 
 wished to suffer for. the wrong I have done, but these wri th- 
 ings of a polluted personality can scarcely be dignified by the 
 name of suffering. It is as if one went forth bravely to com-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 319 
 
 bat 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 defile- 
 ment." The sound of tearing paper soothed her. One by one 
 she snatched 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 mass to the grate. A soft explo- 
 sion 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 
 Hagaue 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 ser- 
 vice 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 abandon- 
 ment 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 massive 
 hand leaned on her shoulder. She had no impulse now to 
 shrink from him. She longed to cower against the strong
 
 320 THE BREATH OF. THE GODS 
 
 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 restitution 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 assembling. 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 Gods 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 scrap 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 password. 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 Eat (1 P.M.). Yet it is also imperative 
 that you receive, equally, all guests. Those unbidden you 
 must get from the house."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 321 
 
 " 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, com- 
 mences your vigilance. Tale-bearers and enemies may be lurk- 
 ing 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. 
 Sunshine, like a golden fluid, brimmed up the azure walls of 
 day. From garden-beds nearby, and from path-borders lead- 
 ing into hazy distance, blossoms beckoned. She saw only an 
 iridescent blur. The jinchoke (called by foreigners Daphen 
 Odora) rose in waxen masses of white or arbutus pink. Aza- 
 leas 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 fol- 
 low. 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 Eng- 
 lish violets. The thought of Pierre's danger came now with 
 less of acid pain. Perhaps this illness was to save them both 
 
 21
 
 322 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 and Hagane. The long hospital days might bring to the 
 young Frenchman clearer judgment, and perhaps a more for- 
 giving heart. In convalescence, surely, he would wish to re- 
 turn 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 cluster 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 cluster 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 ine back there, Yuki ! 
 My room has bars, like a cage." 
 
 " How did you get away ? " 
 
 " Little Jap nurse could n't resist me. Told me of a back 
 entry. Nice little nurse in white cap. Jap cap; cap 
 Jap. 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
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 323 
 
 until you feel better. Will you follow ine 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 space with 
 radiance. 
 
 " What dear little rooms ! " exclaimed Pierre, as he scram- 
 bled 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 cushions. They are your Japanese 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." 
 
 " No ! " said Pierre, fractiously . " Medicine no go ! Kusuri, 
 ikanai ! Too much kusuri every day at hospital. Nurses all 
 carry spoons in their belts. I don't need more medicine, Yuki ; 
 only for you to kiss me. You have n't kissed me all day ! " 
 He threw himself among the bright cushions and began toss- 
 ing his head from side to side. 
 
 " I will kiss you when I get back," said Yuki. " Only prom-
 
 324 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ise to lie here very quietly until I can come, and many times 
 I will kiss you." 
 
 Pierre raised himself on an elbow and looked dubious. 
 " Kiss me before you start," he demanded. " You break 
 promises, you know. And this morning you have such a 
 droll fashion of going suddenly far away, and then starting 
 back quickly, just like the end of a trombone that one is play- 
 ing. You must be a witch, Yuki, to move so swiftly through 
 the air. Kiss me, or I shall not believe it is really you." 
 
 With a heart strained to the limit of endurance Yuki knelt 
 beside him on the matted floor and pressed her ashen lips to 
 the red coal of his mouth. Pierre, seizing her with super- 
 human strength, kissed her again and again, until the tortured 
 woman felt that she must rend the air in clamor to some 
 native god or demon who might save her. This passion, 
 branded on the soul of Prince Hagane's wife, gained a new 
 and terrible power of defilement. In a spasm of anguish she 
 wrenched herself free, went backward from him, and seized 
 the shoji's edge to hold herself. " I will kiss you no more 
 until you take the medicine," she said, with a steadiness that 
 surprised them both. 
 
 He lurched forward, grasping at a swaying sleeve. She 
 eluded him. " If you are not more controlled I will leave you 
 altogether, and send police to take you back to Yokohama ! " 
 He grovelled at her feet and whimpered. " I '11 be good. 
 Don't send me, Yuki. But if I lie quite still you '11 kiss me 
 many, many times again when you return, won't you ? " 
 
 Yuki hesitated. He dragged himself half upright. " You 
 shall. I '11 kill you ! I '11 kill myself, here ! You must kiss 
 me. A wife always kisses her husband. Swear that you will 
 kiss me ! " The light of increased madness glared in his 
 beautiful eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I '11 kiss you, I swear it," faltered the girl. Pierre 
 laughed foolishly in his satisfaction. " Then I '11 lie still 
 among your pillows, little wife. Old prince sha'n't find us. 
 Put us in boiling oil, that old prince. Don't be gone too 
 long, little wife." 
 
 Yuki hurried along the intricate paths toward the house. 
 Dry sobs rose one after another slowly, coming relentlessly
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 325 
 
 upward in her slender throat with a distention that grew to 
 agony. "I must not stop to think, I cannot give up now," 
 she panted. "O Kwannon Sama, what am I to do?" This 
 black hour, like some dark chemical, was turning the memory 
 of all other grief to light. The one conscious thought which 
 her mind hugged jealously was Pierre's necessity for medicine. 
 Fortunately, she knew a little of this, and kept a well-filled 
 chest. His fever was terrific. Human pity demanded that 
 she first allay this raving torment of the blood before deliver- 
 ing him to cold officials, or even to Count Eonsard of the French 
 Legation. Her thoughts and plans in this present bewilder- 
 ment could get no further than the fever-draught now to be 
 given the sick man. With shaking hands she prepared it, 
 and then a second drink, a powerful sleeping-potion. She got 
 back to him as noiselessly as she had come. Apparently no one 
 had seen her. Pierre was now in actual fever-madness. He 
 had thrown coat, waistcoat, and watch in various parts of the 
 room. The cushions were strewn wide. A corner of one rested 
 in hibachi ashes. In one of his hands he clasped tightly the 
 half of a long ivory hairpin. 
 
 With the patience of a mother and the ingenuity of a wife 
 she coaxed him, at length, into swallowing one of the draughts. 
 He did not demand the promised kisses. He did not know her 
 now, or, rather, the recognitions came in short flashes, like 
 heat lightning. Sometimes he took her to be Gwendolen and 
 accused her angrily of connivance with Hagaue and the am- 
 bitious Onda family. Again he thought her the German head 
 physician and raved of his wrongs. He passed rapidly from 
 one language to the other, essaying at times his broken 
 Japanese. It was generally in English that he denounced 
 his faithless sweetheart, and the epithets directed against her 
 caused Yuki's heart to sink with shame, not for herself, 
 but for him. 
 
 A longer interval of sanity came. He recognized his com- 
 panion with piteous little cries and tears of joy. He believed 
 that at last they were married, and prattled on of the long, 
 happy future, of their little home in France, until Yuki, hav- 
 ing come for the moment to the end of suffering's capacity, 
 listened with a dreary smile and dull ears.
 
 326 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 The second draught, the sleeping-potion, was to be given in 
 half an hour. Through that interminable time she waited, 
 his head upon her aching knees, his fevered hands reaching 
 ever for her face, her shoulder, until lethargy alone saved her 
 from an answering insanity. The plan was half formed in her 
 dull thoughts to administer this potion, then, when slumber 
 overcame him, to close the shoji, and leave Pierre to sleep away 
 the fiercest fever while she could think out a way of getting 
 him from the garden. But for the political meeting, falling 
 so strangely on this very day, the situation would have pos- 
 sessed no great peril. It would have been merely a sick man 
 who, in delirium, had wandered unknowingly into Hagane's 
 garden. The servants might have found him ; Eonsard have 
 been telephoned for, and Prince Hagane himself asked what was 
 best to do. This was what might have been ; but here was the 
 matter as it really lay. A Frenchman, and attache of the Lega- 
 tion, ill or well no less a Frenchman concealed in Hagane's 
 garden, sheltered and protected by Hagane's young wife! 
 Yuki gave a convulsive shudder. The sick man gasped, and 
 clutched the air as if he thought himself falling from a height. 
 Fate smiled a thin, hard smile down into Yuki's eyes. 
 
 The girl did not resent Fate's prophetic stare. Already she 
 knew herself trapped. Her wild thoughts had run since the 
 beginning of eternity in this same ring of fire. There was 
 time for nothing. The one frail chance was that Pierre should 
 sleep on through the meeting undiscovered. Already twelve 
 o'clock had come. From the high land near the samurai 
 Onda's home, a big bell boomed and quivered out over the city. 
 The echoes stirred and shifted tranquil layers of the noon. 
 Fear sank down like soot upon a crouching woman with the 
 sick man on her knees. 
 
 Pierre, for some moments past, had gradually ceased the rest- 
 less tossing of his head, and was forgetting to utter short, dis- 
 jointed words. The fair hair, that had been so stiff and dry, 
 clung now in moist locks about his temple. His delicate hands 
 ceased twitching and picking at Yuki's gown, and fell over 
 limply on the floor. Caught loosely in the right hand lay the 
 broken hairpin. To any Japanese, of any class, this would 
 be fatal evidence. Under her fairy-like touch he gave a start,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 327 
 
 clutched more firmly at the pin she was trying to take, and 
 threw his hand upward above his heart. Again Fate smiled, 
 and Yuki bowed her head. Now a soft, regular breathing 
 began. The healing sleep was on the sufferer. His face was 
 growing young and gentle. Yuki stared down into it, tear- 
 less. Her heart, like some living entity beaten and tortured 
 too long, had lost the power of sensitive response. There was 
 only a dull, incessant aching that was becoming, already, an 
 acknowledged part of her. 
 
 He was safe. To-day's crisis, at least of the devouring 
 heat, was over. He would awake refreshed and clear. As for 
 her, everything had grown so vague and far-away she cared 
 very little what might happen. The insensibility of reaction 
 bore her outward on a warm tide. Danger lost its mean- 
 ing, and grew but a shadow-play on life. A Frenchman in 
 Hagane's garden, and a crucial meeting to go on in the house ! 
 There was something piquant, fetching, in the idea. Yuki 
 nodded above it and smiled. Oh, she was so tired, so tired of 
 everything ! A little malicious something was tapping, tap- 
 ping, just at the base of her brain. The ache at her heart be- 
 numbed her. A desire, dull and insistent as the pain itself, 
 crept to her, just to lie upon the matting near poor Pierre and 
 rest. They belonged together, the weak ones. Chance and 
 disappointment had thrown them about like toys. What had 
 such as they to do with the God Hagane ? Yes, she had better 
 fail once more, and it would be the last. Let the grave states- 
 men come and go, let Hagane seek her ! She had nothing to 
 do but the easiest of all things, just to do nothing, and all this 
 benumbing misery would be at an end. 
 
 She wondered, still smiling, in what way Hagan6 would 
 kill her. She fingered curiously the stops of a dozen fearful 
 thoughts, and felt no fear. Had law permitted him to carry 
 the two swords of his class, the short one would deal a quick 
 and merciful death. Since he was unarmed perhaps he would 
 simply let one of the servants slay her, not caring to soil his 
 hands with such feeble stains. 
 
 An influence was coming over her in rhythms, like tepid 
 waves. A delicious lightness blew upon her brain. She 
 gasped for insensibility as for music, dumb, perfumed music,
 
 328 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 drunk in by pores of the flesh. One small nerve of desire 
 began to tingle. " Oh, let it go on," she cried to her soul ; 
 " have no interference ! Let me pass into nothingness by this 
 heavenly gliding ! " 
 
 As from a great distance came footsteps and the sound of 
 commonplace voices. Yuki moaned aloud, and crept an inch 
 nearer her companion. 
 
 " She was seen last coming in this direction," said a speaker ; 
 " li, the gardener, saw her." 
 
 " She is not in the adzuma-ya ! Can it be that our gracious 
 lady has gone for repose to the tea-rooms ? " 
 
 "Baka! " exclaimed the other whom she now recognized as 
 Tora, the butler; "is not that great official residence sad 
 enough and lonely, that the poor child seeks a more desolate 
 place ? I pity her." 
 
 "Luncheon becomes honorably cold upon the table," mur- 
 mured the boy, showing compassion in his own way. " And 
 foreign food when chilled, with the grease becoming as wax 
 about the edges, is of all sights the most disgusting." 
 
 "Ara," sighed Tora, "she eats little enough even when 
 the food is hot." 
 
 " Those many disgraceful things said of our lady in the news- 
 papers," the younger servant was beginning, when Tora 
 stopped him fiercely. " Gossip not of your betters, boy ! You 
 should not read such things. There are no truths in printed 
 scandals. Come, not that way, she is not in the tea-rooms. 
 I see a fresh disturbance of the gravel along this path." 
 
 To the listener's intense relief they turned sharply to the left. 
 Wide awake now with an intensity of sensitiveness that made 
 every stirring leaf an enemy, the young wife crept outward 
 from between two shoji, closing them with the extreme of 
 care. In full sight, on the veranda, lay her little foreign 
 handkerchief. No other woman on the place used lace- 
 bordered handkerchiefs. Tora must have seen and recog- 
 nized it, and, in an instant, perhaps, of protection, have led the 
 boy aside. Yuki's cheek burned. She dared not think Tora's 
 thoughts. This humiliation was a wound made with a weapon 
 of poor metal, yet she could not, even then, refuse gratitude 
 for the delicate consideration.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 329 
 
 As the two servants came again into the main part of the 
 garden, their mistress walked quite leisurely a few yards be- 
 fore, stooping now and then to a flower, or gazing up with 
 smiles to a blossoming cherry-branch. 
 
 " Luncheon is served, your Ladyship," said Tora, gravely, 
 and bowed before her in the path. 
 
 " I will come immediately," returned Yuki. She did not 
 meet his eyes.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 DURING the short, uncomfortable meal Tora stood like a 
 painted stake behind his mistress's chair. The "boy," at- 
 tempting to supply the watchful efficiency his senior for once 
 appeared to lack, kept his small eyes darting from her white 
 face to the " dirty wax " at the edge of her plate, until Yuki 
 thought she must deliver herself over to an attack of laugh- 
 ing hysterics. Tora poured and brought her wine unbidden. 
 Again she resented his presumption, again felt a cowed sense 
 of thanks for his solicitude. 
 
 Abandoning the table at the first possible moment, she went 
 swiftly upstairs to her own chamber and rang for the maid. 
 The simple morning robe of smooth silk must be changed for 
 a more elaborate afternoon toilette. She selected a curdled 
 gray cre"pe with tiny silver pine-leaves sprinkled through it. 
 The under-robe was turquoise blue ; her wide sash of blue- 
 black satin brocaded in conventionalized silver pine-branches. 
 
 The transfer went on with breathless celerity, yet the hands 
 of the mantel clock moved faster still. Ten minutes only 
 lacked to the hour of the Rat. The sound of carriage-wheels 
 crunching gravel rose from the drive below her. Yuki gave a 
 restless motion of her entire body, and turned her face around 
 to the maid, who now tied the great loop of the sash. 
 
 "Patience an instant longer, your Ladyship,"' smiled the 
 maid. " Let me but girdle your illustrious person with the 
 obi-dome and I shall be done." 
 
 " Here is the obi-dome," cried Yuki, her voice betraying her 
 impatience. " I shall retain one clasp while you wind it around 
 the sash." She took up from among the American toilet 
 articles on her dresser the article desired, a flat, soft braid of 
 silk with golden clasps. Yuki, as she had said, held one end 
 against the front of her sash, while the maid dexterously
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 331 
 
 threaded the high sash loop at the back, and brought the 
 answering clasp to its mate. It clicked like an old-fashioned 
 bracelet. 
 
 A servant knocked on the door. Yuki herself answered. 
 With mingled relief and perturbation she read on the cards 
 the names of Mrs. Todd and Miss Todd. It was an unfortu- 
 nate time for their visit, yet now as always the thought of 
 Gwendolen's presence brought a little stir of excitement, a 
 sweet glow of true happiness. During her flight downstairs 
 Yuki formed the clearest resolution that had come to her in 
 the distracting day. She would tell Gwendolen of Pierre's 
 presence. If help were possible, Gwendolen would find a way. 
 The new hope brought a little glow to the face which greeted 
 her American friends. A little talk on unimportant, pleasant 
 matters would refresh and steady her. For a moment only 
 did the bright illusion abide. Gwendolen and her mother 
 bore, in common, an air of hesitating excitement. 
 
 " Oh, what is wrong now ? " cried Yuki to them both. 
 
 " Well, you are quick ! " said Gwendolen ; " have we become 
 mere transparencies, or do your wits acquire a preternatural 
 alertness in these big rooms ? Yes, there is something wrong 
 not fatally so, only a menace." 
 
 " We felt it our duty, Yuki " began Mrs. Todd, on her 
 lowest register. 
 
 " Now, mother," Gwendolen interrupted, " you promised 
 faithfully to let me tell Yuki in my own way. You sound as 
 if you hooted from a cave. It isn't anything horrid, dar- 
 ling!" This last speech was directly to the princess. 
 " Don't begin to fade away. It is simply that Pierre, who has 
 been ill at the German hospital in Yokohama, escaped this 
 morning, in delirium, and the authorities are after him." 
 
 "In delirium raving in delirium the poor tortured 
 boy ! " echoed Mrs. Todd's sepulchral tones. 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? " breathed Yuki. Her face showed un- 
 mistakable relief. Gwendolen stared at her, incredulous. 
 
 Mrs. Todd put up her lorgnette. "All! Did I understand 
 you to say all ? Is it not enough ? Have you known before 
 to-day of his terrible illness ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, I have not, dear Mrs. Todd. And by ' all ' I
 
 332 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 did not mean the heartlessness, as you think. I only meant 
 I meant 
 
 " Humph ! " said the matron, suspicion deepening with the 
 sight of the young wife's confusion. " Perhaps Pierre has 
 been here already. Has he been here, Yuki ? " 
 
 Yuki looked more embarrassed than ever. She hesitated 
 the fraction of an instant. Gwendolen's eyes sent out one 
 hazel gleam. " No, dear Mrs. Todd," answered Yuki ; " Mon- 
 sieur has not set foot in this house since my first reception, 
 many weeks ago." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Mrs. Todd again, and closed her lorgnette 
 with a disappointed snap. " Well, there 's time for him yet ! 
 You had better look out, for if he is found here She shut 
 her lips with a snap like the lorgnette-case. Because of avowed 
 sympathy with Pierre, the good lady had assumed an air of 
 displeasure with Yuki which all the new rank and wealth 
 could not overcome. Yuki, strange to say, liked her the 
 better for it. She hugged the memory of Mrs. Todd's cool 
 looks as a fanatic might have hugged his haircloth shirt. 
 
 Gwendolen had turned away. She did not wish either Yuki 
 or her mother to gain a hint of her personal thoughts. At 
 Yuki's last statement, her quick mind had supplemented, " He 
 has not set foot in this house. No but the garden is wide, 
 the steps and galleries inviting." Yuki hid some gnawing 
 secret, of this she was sure. More carriage- wheels crunched 
 the gravel and Yuki's heart at once. 
 
 " Ah," said Gwendolen, coolly, now beside a window, 
 " here 's the Emperor come to see you, Yuki ! " 
 
 Yuki ran forward gasping. Anything might have happened 
 on this reeling day. 
 
 " No," laughed the other. " I just teased you. But it is 
 some magnate, I assure you. My heavens, what a swagger ! " 
 
 Mrs. Todd, hastening to her daughter's side, drew the win- 
 dow-curtain farther. Her face glowed with satisfaction. 
 "Prince Korin," she announced, "he is a dear man! I shall 
 be pleased to meet him again." 
 
 " Come along, mother," said Gwendolen, a little brusquely; 
 "he has n't called on us." 
 
 "I sha'n't do anything of the kind," said the matron, indig-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 333 
 
 nantly. "Prince Korin took ID e in to dinner last week at the 
 German Legation. Doubtless he will be as much pleased as I 
 to renew the acquaintance." 
 
 "Please do not urge your mother to depart," Yuki flung 
 back over her shoulder as she went toward the door; "I want 
 to speak with you, Gwendolen, on some important matter." 
 Without a qualm she delivered the wondering peer into the 
 outstretched hands of the American lady. Drawing Gwendolen 
 to a corner of the big room she said, in a low and agitated 
 voice, " He that one we spoke he is even now asleep in 
 this garden. It is terrible, but I could not send him off. I 
 gave medicine ; he was nearly to die of great illness. Make no 
 sound or look of surprise ; no one suspects, unless it is the 
 butler, Tora. Perhaps you can help me. What makes all 
 more dangerous, more terrible, is a secret meeting of state to 
 be held here this very hour. Prince Korin is the first. You 
 and Mrs. Todd must go before Hagane come, or he will feel 
 great anger to me. Your father is to arrive. Oh, Gwendolen, 
 do you see any way to save ? " 
 
 " It is the most frightful complication I ever knew in my 
 life," said Gwendolen, awed for once into calm. "Why, of 
 all days, should the meeting fall on this ? " 
 
 " Some terrible crisis in war. All may depend on this hour, 
 our very national existence." 
 
 "I knew something was up. Dad is cross as a bear, and 
 Dodge struts like a turkey. Yuki, there is but one thing. 
 Your husband must be told the moment he enters this house ! " 
 
 " Oh, if I could do that! " cried Yuki. "No such tearing 
 thoughts could I have felt. But he has given orders to me 
 not to disturb his mind on anything until this meeting has 
 passed." 
 
 "Nonsense, you must disobey of course," said the other; 
 " unless I myself could get Pierre out of the garden." Her 
 practical American wits worked rapidly. " I can do it I think. 
 You must have smaller gates to these high walls." 
 
 " Yes, yes, on all other days," said Yuki. " But not just for 
 this one day. Everything everything for these few hours 
 are bolted. I think it to be karma, Gwendolen. No use to 
 fight for me ! "
 
 334 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Now look here, don't go into despair so soon. You say 
 you gave medicine. Is it a sleeping draught ? " 
 
 " Yes, first the strong fever-cure ; then, half-hour later, a 
 sleeping potion. It is strong. It would keep the Japanese 
 asleep for many hours." 
 
 " Go to your husband, Yuki. You must do it ; never mind 
 disobedience ! " 
 
 " But if some strange thing that you, not being Japanese, 
 cannot foresee should hold me back, do you think there is 
 other chance ? " 
 
 "Of course," said Gwendolen, "everything is in your favor. 
 He .will sleep until after the meeting, and then you can tell 
 your husband. Only the risk even a tiny risk is so 
 dreadful I shrink from having you take it." 
 
 " Yesterday Hagane said to me, * A wise man never leaves 
 something to chance,' only in such way does chance surely 
 serve him." 
 
 " You '11 come through. Don't you fret, darling. The police 
 would not dare search for him here. Ah, more statesmen ! 
 this time in humble jinrikishas. The prime minister in a 
 street kuruma ! It is time for me to get mother away ! " 
 
 Ignoring the scandalized side-looks of Prince Korin, Gwen- 
 dolen stooped to her friend, folded her very closely, and whis- 
 pered a low torrent of words of love, of encouragement, and 
 of confidence that she did not altogether feel. Fate hung dark 
 banners on the false battlements of Yuki's official home. The 
 great square shadow, creeping now toward the east, gathered 
 dampness. Gwendolen shivered violently as she passed under 
 the porte-cochere. 
 
 " You need n't have been in such a nervous hurry, Gwen- 
 dolen," said Mrs. Todd, with tart asperity. "Prince Korin 
 and I were having a delightful chat." 
 
 A beggar, unusual sight for Tokio, crept in through the 
 wide gates toward the fine waiting carriage. The driver 
 leaned over, menacing the intruder with a long whip. Gwen- 
 dolen stopped him. A sudden impulse made her open and 
 invert her pretty purse. A few silver coins fell into one 
 gloved hand. She leaned down, pressed them on the wonder- 
 ing supplicant, and whispered in English, "You are a Jap-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 335 
 
 anese. You have a soul in that foul body. Pray for my 
 Yuki!" 
 
 Yuki welcomed the new arrivals, repeated her password, and 
 ushered them personally into the office. She stationed her- 
 self by a window, now watching and praying that her husband 
 might come soon, and alone. Three more kuruma rattled in, 
 common street kuruma. In the first two were Sir Charles 
 and a Japanese cabinet minister ; in the last, Hagane. The 
 three fell into deep speech before the drawing-room could 
 claim them. Hagane led them, as if by instinct, to the office- 
 door. None seemed to perceive the little hostess, clutching 
 at a window-curtain. 
 
 " My Lord," she faltered, coming forward swiftly to within 
 a few feet of her husband, "may I speak " 
 
 He turned half-recognizing eyes. " Who already have seats 
 in the inner office ? " 
 
 She named the two men. u Two more of our countrymen 
 and Mr. Todd to come," he murmured. " That makes the 
 number." 
 
 "Cannot I see your Highness a brief instant ? " she pleaded. 
 
 Two more Japanese gentlemen entered on foot. Hagane 
 conducted them to the door of the office. Yuki kept close to 
 him. 
 
 "Lord, Lord my husband !" she cried in desperation. 
 
 The note of appeal at last carried. " Any personal matter 
 must wait, my child," he said, not unkindly, but with a de- 
 cision that blighted hope. " I thought I instructed you as to 
 this also." 
 
 Minister Todd arrived. He appeared both anxious and ex- 
 cited. In his hand he carried a leathern portfolio filled with 
 papers. His nod toward her had absent-minded indirectness. 
 " Oh, Yuki, it 's you, is it ? I suppose you have been coached. 
 Have the rest come ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the office there, where I am to conduct you. 
 May may I speak a moment, Mr. Todd ? " 
 
 " Is that the office ? " he asked, pointing. " I tell you, 
 little Princess Yuki-ko, big things are doing this day of our 
 Lord. You wish to speak with me ? " 
 
 Hagane's face appeared between the portieres. " Ah, it is
 
 336 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 his Excellency of America. Now are all come. This way, if 
 you please, Mr. Todd. Remember, Yuki-ko, leave not this 
 room until I speak with you again, and, if possible, let no 
 guest enter." 
 
 " My husband," cried the girl, " this matter on my heart 
 is no light thing. I must speak ! " Both men turned, frowning 
 slightly. "We cannot attend to hearts just now, my child," 
 said Hagane. " You must defer your communication." 
 
 " That was n't like Yuki at all to stop us at such a time," 
 mused Todd, as he followed his host. "Your Excellency," 
 he said to the broad silk-clad back before him, " are you sure 
 that we did well to rebuff that little girl ? " 
 
 "I am only sure, this hour, that our land is menaced." 
 Salutations from the other statesmen interrupted this personal 
 trend of talk. 
 
 They had passed into the office together. Yuki, standing 
 alone in the centre of the big room, wan with the new re- 
 jection, watched them with a curious external interest, and 
 dwelt in her mind upon the difference of character exhib- 
 ited in the two vanishing backs. The hollow brass rings 
 of the portieres hissed and clashed together. A steady arm 
 drew the wooden panels of the door. She heard a key turn. 
 She was alone on guard. With a gesture so common to Jap- 
 anese women she put both hands up lightly to her hair, pat- 
 ting abstractedly the shining loops. A dizziness crept under 
 her eyelids. The ugly walls of the room began slowly to turn 
 on axes of silence. She felt her head droop with the strange 
 drowsiness she had known an hour before ; a low moan came 
 from whitening lips. Staggering to a window she threw up a 
 sash, flung the blinds apart, and, clasping her clenched hands 
 upon the sill, knelt, and let her head rest upon them. 
 
 The inrush of the sweet spring winds, and this interval of 
 quiet, following so closely upon a series of bewildering events, 
 brought soon a balm of healing. Yuki had a nature essen- 
 tially calm and self-contained. Emotion stirred and some- 
 times swept her from her feet, but it was an emotion that had 
 no surface-play. Each quiver of her face answered but weakly 
 some fundamental throb of being. She had not the usual 
 girlish terror to bestow on scampering mice and dark corridors.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 337 
 
 Excitement generally steadied her. The one unruly, unclas- 
 sifiable influence in her life had been Pierre, his strange 
 love-inaking, his exotic fascination. 
 
 In a little while she rose from her knees, drew a chair 
 toward the opened window, and seated herself. Her eyes, in- 
 stead of seeking the natural loveliness without, fell, in a new 
 abandonment to thought, upon the great bouquets of Hano- 
 verian roses woven in the foreign carpet at her feet. In the 
 garden-bed just beneath her, bushes of daphne, of azalea and 
 the golden yama-buki were in bloom. A bird, swinging on a 
 spray of the weeping pink cherry just across the path, sang to 
 inattentive ears. Bees droned incessantly. From the closed 
 doors of the little office came a reflected murmur. Now from 
 the blur of tone shot a sudden slap as of a hand struck upon 
 a bare table. A voice cried in English, " Gentlemen ! gentle- 
 men ! " and a chorus of voices, " Sh-h-h " Yuki caught 
 herself back to the terrific import of the moment. What were 
 those great men thinking and saying behind the closed doors ? 
 And what was her small single danger to the issues they 
 represented ? She walked down the west wall of the room 
 in the direction of the office. Two low French windows, 
 opening, indeed, to the very floor, gave upon an uncovered 
 balcony. She parted the glass door-frames of a window and 
 stood still, gazing outward, this way and that, down and along 
 curved paths where sunshine lay like yellow silk, and flying 
 shattered waifs of blossoms made wonderful wind-blown pat- 
 terns. Her eyes clung longest to a little path just skirting 
 a great stone lantern, for this led to certain tea-rooms at the 
 far end of the garden. Now she walked slowly all around the 
 room, pausing at the main door which led in from the front 
 hallway. Footsteps were advancing. Yuki opened to them. 
 
 " The noble Sir Onda has arrived, father to your High- 
 ness," said Tora. 
 
 Yuki hesitated. " Does my mother accompany him ? " 
 
 " No, your Ladyship, it is Sir Onda alone. He desires audi- 
 ence with my angust master, but I told him I had received 
 orders to usher all visitors directly to your presence." 
 
 "Quite right, Tora," said Yuki, trying to smile in a pleas- 
 ant, unconcerned way. "Now say to my father that his 
 
 22
 
 338 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Highness, Prince Hagane is absent, but may return in the 
 space of two hours. I am engaged on certain duties at my 
 Lord's command. And, Tora " 
 
 " Yes, your Ladyship." 
 
 " See that the visitor issues well into the street on leaving, 
 and close the iron gate." 
 
 " Yes, your Ladyship." 
 
 The man's words and his bow had been quite as respectful 
 as usual, perhaps a little more than usual, yet Yuki could not 
 divest herself of the impression that there lurked a threat of 
 comprehension, of nearness. "When I have explained all to 
 my prince, we shall, perhaps, send good Tora away to some 
 country estate. I could not endure his presence if I knew he 
 harbored such a belief, and equally impossible is it for me to 
 condescend to self-defence," thought the young wife. In her 
 morbid state of consciousness, she could almost see, as a 
 clairvoyant, Tora creeping to the shoji of the tea-rooms, 
 parting the panels with crafty, expectant fingers ; she could 
 hear his gasp of consternation, of not altogether displeased 
 agitation, as he discovered the beautiful young foreigner 
 asleep on the floor, as he gazed, grinning, upon the broken 
 hairpin. 
 
 Since the butler's knock, and Yuki's few words with him, 
 absolute silence had prevailed in the little office; the very 
 door seemed holding its breath. Yuki heard the panel pushed 
 cautiously to one side, and knew that her husband listened. 
 She went to her former place by the window. Now the bees 
 outside, and the buzz of human voices within, recommenced. 
 Into the latter crept vivacious exclamation. The clink of 
 glasses arose, and now the sharp detonation of a match; 
 more than once a smothered laugh was heard. Yuki sat by 
 the window in apparent calm ; her agony of suspense would 
 soon be over. Those were the sounds that come at the end of 
 an important conference, not in the midst of it. She clenched 
 her little hands together within gray sleeves, and faced the 
 office-door, to be in readiness with her smile when the grave 
 procession should emerge. Another ten minutes elapsed, and 
 another; the garden shadows gained visibly in length. Like 
 a little image of propriety, she sat, and, for all her prepara-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 339 
 
 tion, a small shiver passed along her frame as the office-door 
 at last went flying aside. 
 
 So set had been her eyes, her thoughts, upon this door, that 
 she had not heard the sound of stealthy footsteps without or 
 the soft brushing aside of clustered shrubs. Pierre stood, 
 bareheaded, under the weeping cherry. The drooping branches, 
 each set along its entire length in single pink amethysts of 
 bloom, enclosed him as in a fountain. The lower part to his 
 knees was hidden in waves of yama-buki. The wind, now 
 rising, concealed with tossing sprays his trembling nook. 
 
 First the doors of the office, then the thick portieres had 
 been flung aside by Prince Hagane. The notable company filed 
 in, the Japanese not forgetting the slight, ceremonial bow to 
 Hagane, who stood smiling to let them pass. The last to 
 emerge was Minister Todd. He bore in his hand a paper 
 folded and sealed. Hagane kept close behind him. As the 
 rest of the company came forward, making adieux to the 
 flushed and dignified little hostess, these two stood apart, 
 talking in low tones. Todd now and again tapped the paper 
 by way of emphasis. 
 
 Pierre, crouching among the sprays of yama-buki, saw and 
 heard it all. His fever and madness were, for the moment, 
 things that had not been. The price he would later pay for 
 this immunity did not trouble him now. He seemed all mind 
 and spirit and keen intelligence, with no encumbering body. 
 Nothing was impossible. He would scarcely have been sur- 
 prised had he begun to drift toward that inner room without 
 effort, as one sometimes drifts in dreams, and to enter unper- 
 ceived by anyone but Yuki. There she stood, his sweetheart, 
 his promised bride, kept from him by that great monster who 
 towered near and kept talking to the thin American, and kept 
 tapping a paper that bore a great seal, red like blood. It 
 should be blood, Pierre thought, with a slight rise in his 
 excitement, the blood of that old toad who had cheated him 
 of this flower. But did a toad have blood at all ? Well, there 
 was a way to find out ! When the American left he would 
 steal in, a new St. George pursuing an uglier dragon. He 
 felt now feverishly in his pockets for a knife, a pistol. He 
 remembered now that the pistol, a pretty toy of silver and
 
 340 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 pearl given him by a Parisian actress, had been left at the 
 French Legation. A moment after, reason again grasped 
 him. He smiled bitterly, calling himself a child, a fool. 
 Nothing could be worse for France or Yuki either than the 
 death of Hagane at his hands. Some other way must be 
 found. The Japanese themselves had a saying, " If you hate 
 a man, let him live." Yes, let the old man live. Yuki's true 
 lover could yet win her, undrenched in any blood. That 
 paper now, if he could secure such a paper Hagane 
 would give any price for such a paper ! 
 
 All the guests had gone but Mr. Todd. He smiled down at 
 Yuki and said, "Well, little girl, I guess Uncle Sam has done 
 your country a good turn." 
 
 "Madame la Princesse is not burdened by me with state 
 secrets, your Excellency," interposed Hagane, with more than 
 his wonted haste. 
 
 "I understand. I sha'n't say more," laughed the other. 
 " What was it, Yuki, that you tried to tell us just before the 
 meeting ? " 
 
 Yuki now could afford to smile and look demure; her 
 danger was over. The great strong rock of Hagane's presence 
 was near. " The need is past now, I thank you, Mr. Todd," 
 she said. 
 
 " Good-bye, both of you. You 're looking mighty young and 
 happy, Prince, if there are hard struggles in the nation ! " 
 
 He was gone. Yuki, glancing upward to her husband, 
 was surprised and then herself embarrassed to note signs of 
 discomfiture on that bronze countenance. Was it possible 
 that Todd's light words could move him ? Yuki went closer 
 still. She could not meet his eyes, but, oh, the restfulness, 
 the relief in his splendid nearness ! Her explanation rushed 
 to her lips and hung there. After the manner of good wives, 
 she must first show interest in what was uppermost in his 
 thoughts, and afterward could gently incline him to her own 
 desire. 
 
 "Is that the very wonderful paper just signed, Lord?" she 
 asked, putting up a hand. 
 
 Hagane glanced at the document, then bent to his wife the 
 look she dreaded, yet longed for. Under it she stirred and
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 341 
 
 quivered. '" You are a white flower," said Hagane. "Do you 
 really care to know ? " 
 
 "I I wish not to be disrespectfully inquisitive," stam- 
 mered Yuki, " only, if the importance is so great, is there not 
 danger to your august person in bearing it about ? " 
 
 Again Hagane smiled. His young wife hung her crimson- 
 ing face. He put out an arm and caught her to him. "Is 
 that your fear you thing of snow and plum-blossom ? Ah, 
 Yuki Yuki you are my wife. When this time of stress 
 and peril is at an end, I shall try to teach you something of a 
 brighter hue than duty." 
 
 Pierre, high on his knees among the yama-buki, saw and 
 heard it all. 
 
 " If there be danger, you must not bear it ! The risk is 
 terrible. Think, Lord, how our country needs you!" Her 
 apprehension lifted her a little from self-consciousness. 
 Hagane's answer was calm, steady, with a thrill in it. " Then 
 who is to bear it, small sweet wife, if I should put it down ? 
 But, no, there must be no thought of thee and me not yet. 
 I belong to the land. In all haste must I take the paper to 
 our Imperial Lord. Every moment means a danger. Ring 
 instantly for the carriage, I must go ! " 
 
 " The single horse coupe is now being repaired," said Yuki, 
 in a troubled tone, " and, more unfortunate, one of the pair of 
 carriage-horses is ill ; but I can order your kuruma with two 
 runners." 
 
 " Unfortunate," echoed Hagane, in a lower tone, " yet such 
 small annoyances beset the way of all. Ring for my stoutest 
 kuruma, Yuki, and have three runners. They will bear me 
 as swiftly as any horse." 
 
 "Lord," faltered Yuki, not moving from him, "you as- 
 sured me that after the meeting I should have speech with 
 you. The matter is indeed of importance, perhaps of great 
 danger." 
 
 " Well, I will listen, child, if you can be brief. But first 
 touch the bell and give my order." 
 
 Yuki went across the room from him. He, frowning 
 slightly at the delay, stood as he had been standing, his back 
 squarely to the office-door, his left shoulder toward the opened
 
 342 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 French window. Yuki, not ten yards before him, had reached 
 the wall where the electric button was set. She raised a slim 
 hand to it, but before she could press it, a certain flicker as 
 of an animated shadow moving in the room behind Hagane 
 drew her curious and anxious glance. The outstretched 
 arm fell, paralyzed. She attempted to speak, to cry aloud, 
 but her throat had turned to cork. Pierre Le Beau was creep- 
 ing into the room like a thief, a cat, skirting the wall in the 
 direction of the office-door. He caught her frozen stare of 
 terror, and made a defiant gesture, commanding silence. 
 
 Hagane raised his head. The delay puzzled him. He had 
 been examining again the crimson seal. The look on his 
 wife's face, come with such terrific suddenness, sent some- 
 thing almost like fear through his heart. He thrust the paper 
 in his breast, and turned to scan the room. Pierre was in the 
 safe shelter of the columnar, massed portiere. 
 
 Yuki clawed and mowed her way through a jungle of fire 
 toward her lord. " Master, master ! " she whispered hoarsely. 
 She could say no more, and fell prone on her knees before 
 him, reaching upward for his grasp. 
 
 " What ails you, child ? In the name of Shaka, what has 
 hurt you ? " He bent to raise her, but she grovelled, eluding 
 his hands. 
 
 " I am ill, very ill ; let us go quickly to our chamber," 
 she managed to choke out. Now she fluttered backward, 
 luring him, like a wounded bird, her long, gray sleeves 
 trailing after. 
 
 " In Shaka's name ! " he cried again, " I cannot understand 
 the suddenness." 
 
 Pierre now left the portiere, and stole softly toward the 
 bent back of the prince. Yuki thought him mad, with a 
 new strength and cunning of murderous intent. She sprang 
 up to her feet, hurling all her slight weight against Hagane 
 with such force that he swerved. With a movement like 
 light she had passed him, set her back to his, and was facing 
 Pierre. " Here here kill me not him " she panted. 
 " I am ready ; I do not fear. See how white my breast and 
 soft! Oh, blood will look so pretty here, like the red seal ! " 
 She tore aside the dove-gray folds of her gown.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 343 
 
 Hagane, wheeling to them, half drew the paper from his 
 breast. The Frenchman saw, and as Hagane turned, lowered 
 his head so that his face might still be hidden, reached out 
 a hand, and, with one demon-directed dart of the nervous 
 ringers had touched, had clutched, had wrenched away the 
 long white screed of fate that bore a single drop of blood. 
 
 For one awful crash of time, the solid earth split beneath 
 the statesman's feet. Pierre had gone through the low window 
 like a breeze, and his flying track through the shrubs stirred 
 them scarcely more. Hagane staggered as his mind confirmed 
 this strange, annihilating loss. A. moment more and he was 
 again calm master of his fate. He took Yuki by a shoulder, 
 held her from him, and scorching her eyes with the scorn of 
 his, said steadily, " So this is what ailed you, Princess Hagane ! 
 Why did you give no warning ? Tell me the name of the thief." 
 
 Yuki blinked and moved her head backward and forward 
 through the air. She put up a hand to herthroat of cork, and 
 smoothed it. 
 
 " Answer me, Yuki, who was that man?" 
 
 She did not answer. Suddenly she sagged to his feet, 
 wrapping her long gray sleeves about his ankles. "Oh, 
 Master, do not kill him ! He is a very sick person, yes ! I 
 will get the paper for you, Lord. I will get it for you, I will 
 get it!" she chattered in English. Why, at this central 
 crisis of her life, she should have spoken English to a Japanese 
 was something that she never understood. 
 
 Hagane looked down upon her silently. He could not 
 move for the coils around his feet. He saw clearly that she 
 had reasons for detaining him, and his mind went naturally 
 to the one solution. " This was a lover she protected." Yet 
 he was calm, his grave dignity unassailable. His lips, his 
 chin, his down-bent lids were of metal ; only at the temples, 
 veins sprang and stood like branches of dull red coral. 
 
 "I shall not ask again, Yuki ; will you tell me the name 
 of the man who has gone ? " 
 
 Yuki stared up at him through flickering lids. The air 
 snapped into little particles of jet and tinsel. Things were 
 getting the queer look. She feared that she was going to 
 laugh. "Was there a man, Lord?" she questioned.
 
 344 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Gods!" said Hagane. His nostrils blew in and out, and 
 still his voice was even and kind, "Yuki-ko, your country, 
 the life of our Emperor, may be menaced by this theft. Can 
 any bodily passion exonerate this ultimate crime ? " 
 
 A great spasm seized the crouching woman. " Lord, have 
 mercy on my weak heart ; but I can get the paper I alone 
 can get it ; I will buy it for you with my life ! " 
 
 "Bah your life! We do not offer carrion to the Gods. 
 Unloose my feet, poor soiled thing. Do not touch me ! " 
 
 Yuki hid her face against his feet. Her arms coiled like 
 steel bands. 
 
 Slowly and deliberately he knelt and untwined, as he might 
 the tendrils of a vine he did not wish to bruise, her clinging 
 arms, the long gray sleeves. There was no roughness in any 
 movement except at the instant when he snapped the obi- 
 dome, intending to use it to bind her wrists. She felt his in- 
 tention, and waited craftily until he had almost drawn the 
 first noose, then slipping her arms away, encircled again his 
 patient feet, babbling, "Let me get it. He was ill; he did not 
 know. Harm him not. I will get the paper." In her dis- 
 tracted thought some other self, anterior to this, seemed to 
 be at a great distance, running side by side with Pierre, and 
 jerking out to him through failing breath : " I hold Hagane 
 back, but it cannot last very long. Do not harm him, I 
 will do what you wish, Pierre, I will be what you wish ; 
 already Hagane casts me off, but do not harm him. Quick, 
 quick, poor inad boy, my strength fails ! Hagane is coming 
 coming " 
 
 His first failure brought no impatience to the statesman. 
 With more elaborate care he again knotted the obi-dome and 
 drew it. He succeeded now in securing the fluttering hands. 
 His one sign of agitation was deep, heavy breathing. As he 
 raised his head from the task, on the white balls of his eyes 
 tiny crimson threads broke through. Yuki stared upward, dazed, 
 into his face. " Look not on me," he said, as he prepared to 
 rise. " Put your false face to the earth. If I thought a shiver 
 of obedience, of loyalty were left in your cringing soul, I would 
 command you to stay here quietly and seek not to follow, and 
 so make more open this disgrace. Hide your eyes, I say I
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 345 
 
 Sooner would I caress a grave-worm than thee ! " He pushed 
 her down with some violence, rose, and hurried to the rear 
 of the house. Yuki turned her face sidewise to follow 
 him. U A kuruma," she heard him call, "and three swift 
 runners ! Ten yen each to the men if they start within the 
 moment ! " 
 
 He stood bareheaded in the sunshine, his watch opened in 
 his hands. As if by invocation, the kuruma and the grinning 
 coolies appeared. Yuki crawled a few inches, and strained her 
 dry throat outward, listening for the address he was to give. 
 No effort had been needed for hearing. His voice had the ring, 
 the resonance of a deep bell, as he said aloud, " To the French 
 Legation ! " 
 
 Yuki, when she was sure that the whole place had fallen 
 quiet, slowly lifted herself to a sitting posture on the foreign 
 carpet, in the very centre of a huge bunch of vermilion cab- 
 bage roses. She gazed with intense scrutiny at one of these 
 unearthly blossoms. It reminded her of something, a very terri- 
 ble something, which had happened to her long ago. She tried 
 to put a hand out and trace the irregular circle, but something 
 held her hands together. She stared now at the hands, at the 
 twisted obi-dome. Its golden clasps, now broken, hung down 
 and clinked together like the toys on a lady's chatelaine. The 
 sight recalled her to the present, and solved the suggested 
 mystery of the harsh red rose. It was of sealing-wax the 
 flowers had reminded her, of a great crimson seal, of 
 enamelled paper. 
 
 "But I kept him back quite a little while," she said aloud, 
 and nodded in satisfaction. " Less danger will come to both 
 because I held Hagane back. How could he know it was Pierre ? 
 How could he think so quickly to go to the French Legation ? 
 Will Pierre be really there ? Oh, he is a terrible man, that 
 great Hagane ! Even the voices of the air speak to him ! He 
 called me 'carrion,' rather would he fondle a grave-worm 
 than little Yuki ! Ah, his eyes said not so this morning, no, 
 not this morning, my great Lord Hagane." 
 
 She moved her hands restlessly in their bonds. "Poor 
 little hands," she murmured. " He tried to bind you. Shall I
 
 346 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 set you free ?" She put her ear down against them. "Oh, yes, 
 indeed I can release you," she smiled as if the hands had an- 
 swered. "The obi-dome is soft and insecurely tied. Even a 
 great prince like Hagane cannot tie a knot that a woman's 
 fingers cannot unfasten ! " With a few deft turns of the wrist 
 she loosed the cord, letting it slip to the floor. 
 
 For an instant she stared at the bright red marks on her 
 wrists, then put both hands upward to smooth the loops of her 
 hair. She seemed a little surprised to encounter such disarray, 
 and began thoughtfully to coil up, foreign fashion, the blue- 
 black hair which fell in streams along her shoulders. With a 
 little shiver she drew her kimono together at the throat. " Why 
 did Pierre wake so soon ? " she whimpered. " He came and 
 took something from Hagane. He did not understand his 
 own crime, being so very ill. No, he could not have willingly 
 slain Yuki, had he understood. Hagane said that my country, 
 my Emperor, may be harmed through Pierre. I must get the 
 paper back at once, at once ! Why am I waiting ? Oh, I must 
 go swiftly, as they went ! " 
 
 With spasmodic motions she lifted her trembling body 
 upward. The gorgeous obi, stiff with silver pine-boughs and 
 robbed now of the indispensable obi-dome, slipped down 
 about her in coils, as of a huge wooden shaving. She grasped 
 instinctively at the folds. Her eyes continued to search 
 restlessly the corners of space. 
 
 " Oh, Pierre, naughty, naughty Pierre ! " she went on whis- 
 pering. "You promised to lie still. You gave your word 
 to Yuki when she helped you. Now they may both need to 
 die, poor Pierre and little Yuki, too. They may die with 
 the cherry-blossoms all dressed up for them to see ! If only 
 my poor head would stop moving, and I could think what I 
 must do ! " 
 
 She put one icy hand against her temple. With the other 
 she tried to keep the falling robes from catching on her feet. 
 Tottering and stumbling, she reached the hall-way. A 
 frightened servant-woman knelt near the door. "Mistress, 
 Mistress, in Amida's name, tell me what terrible thing is 
 here ! " 
 
 Yuki half closed her lids and peered forward, trying to
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 347 
 
 recognize the speaker. " Oh, Ine, is that you ? Yes, a terri- 
 ble thing, two terrible things ! My hair has fallen and my 
 obi slips away. Arrange me quickly, Ine, quickly, and call 
 a swift kuruma like Prince Hagaue's. I must go somewhere 
 now." 
 
 " Kashikomarimasu " (I hear and will obey), faltered the 
 woman, but instead of advancing, crouched backward. She 
 was afraid of the strange light in her mistress's eyes. 
 
 " Quick, I say ! Did you not hear me ? " cried Yuki, 
 angrily, and clapped both hands together with a sharp sound. 
 The obi fell, surrounding her in one great shimmering wheel. 
 The terror in Ine's face brought the young wife to her senses. 
 " It really is nothing, Ine," she said, trying hard to smile. 
 " I had a little fall there in the drawing-room, and am dazed. 
 Do not concern yourself or speak to the other servants. Go 
 now at once and bring my long black adzuma-coat, another 
 obi-dome and some foreign hair-pins. I have not the time to 
 be entirely redressed. I will await your coming here." 
 
 Yuki stood at the foot of the steps. The servant sped 
 upward. From the far end of the hall came Tora. The 
 prearranged impassivity of his face was noticeable even to 
 one in Yuki's excited state. " Well, Tora ! " she said 
 haughtily. 
 
 " Did you not wish me, your Ladyship ? " asked the man, 
 bowing in exaggerated deference. Yuki felt a hot wave 
 pass along her neck and vanish against the pallor of her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " I did not," she answered steadily. " But since you are 
 here, I wish you to order my kuruma with two swift 
 runners." 
 
 " Yes, your Ladyship." He did not move. 
 
 " You heard my order ? " 
 
 " Your Highness," said the man, turning pale as he spoke, 
 " I am only a servant, but I once lost by death a daughter of 
 your age. There is something I would like to say." 
 
 Yuki bit her lip ; a struggle went on within her. The dip 
 of the scales came through Ine, who now hurried down the 
 stairs. 
 
 " When I return, Tora," said the young princess ; " I am
 
 348 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 sure you mean to be kind and not presuming. I will speak to 
 you when I return." 
 
 Tora shook his head as he turned away. As Yuki's 
 kuruma rattled from the gate, he went back musingly alone 
 toward the Cha no yu roo,ms.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 
 MRS. TODD and her daughter, in driving away from the 
 Hagaues' official home, had given the order, "Suruga Dai." 
 To be truthful and more accurate, this euphonious, topograph- 
 ical title, spoken in Japanese with a delicious softening of 
 continental "u's," and blurred Italian "g's," was, under Mrs. 
 Todd's crisp American tongue, transformed to the alert and 
 inharmonious " Sew-roo-gar Da-eye." The driver, fortunately 
 inured to these attacks upon national enunciation, drove as 
 straight to the desired spot as if Yuki herself had named it. 
 
 Suruga Dai, so called because from its elevation can be seen 
 the distant plain of Suruga with its glittering single treasure, 
 Fujiyama, is a curious little welt of land, rising in a small 
 loaf through the very heart of modern Tokio. Official resi- 
 dences climb the slopes, foreign homes perch at the top, Jap- 
 anese villas and gardens crown it. A fashionable hospital, 
 endowed by the Empress, has risen there within a decade; but, 
 on Suruga Dai, the dominating presence is a huge Greek 
 Church, built and utilized for her own purposes, by Russia. 
 From far down the bay of Yedo, from car windows on the 
 busy, curved track that leads from Yokohama, this edifice 
 stands as a sort of saturnine beacon. Staring, treeless, defi- 
 ant, with square white walls that hurt the eyes with their 
 blank brilliancy, and a squat blue-tiled roof fashioned to a 
 Byzantine dome, it rises above the verdure-hidden eaves of 
 the Imperial palace, checks the vista to many a narrow street, 
 and hangs, a menace and a humiliation, above the wide plain of 
 alien interests. Boatmen on the Sumida River, poling down 
 rice, and wood, and charcoal from distant villages, glance up 
 toward it with a scowl and a prayer. If they were Roman- 
 ists they would cross themselves and ask protection of the 
 Virgin. Being heathen, they merely invoke the great living
 
 350 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 national spirit of their race, bow reverent heads to the thought 
 of their Emperor, and stop at the next police-station to register 
 their names as volunteers for the army. Russia has claimed 
 to believe that the commanding position of this church is indic- 
 ative of future rulership. They have boasted openly, in the 
 Far East, of this coming thraldom. What the Japanese will 
 do with the inimical temple and its priesthood in case of their 
 ultimate victory over Russia is an interesting problem. With 
 their tolerance for all religious belief, their innate delicacy 
 and dignity, the foreigners who best understand them would 
 certainly predict an unchanged policy of forbearance. 
 
 Mrs. Todd did not take a great deal of interest in Tokio 
 street scenes. Her mind generally streamed back like vapor 
 to the exalted personage she had recently left, or blew on 
 before to an anticipated welcome. This was the case to-day. 
 Rudely torn from her Prince, she was thinking of the little 
 
 Countess K , now in the Suruga Hospital after an attack of 
 
 appendicitis, to whom she had promised a visit. Count K , 
 
 one of the rising statesmen of the country, was a particular 
 friend of Dodge ; Minister Todd also believed great things of 
 his future. Gwendolen, beside her mother in the open car- 
 riage, answered intelligently, but with obvious lack of interest, 
 the commonplace remarks addressed to her. A foretaste, a 
 prescience of tragedy, lurked like a fog in the air. Companion- 
 ing Yuki's dilemma came her own, recognized even in this 
 moment of irritation as incomparably less important, though 
 still maddening with the sting of nettles, Dodge's foolish 
 devotion to Carmen, his continued coolness to herself. She 
 was not old yet, or experienced enough, to put herself in 
 another's place. Dodge was trying to hurt and humiliate her. 
 Worse still, he was succeeding. She needed to ponder no 
 further. One does not write a geologic treatise on the pebble 
 in one's shoe. Dodge wished to injure her. It was cow- 
 ardly, unmanly. Dodge prided himself on his Southern 
 blood. Gwendolen, with a sneer, thought him or tried to 
 believe she thought him a degenerate specimen of chivalry. 
 If at last he should attempt another overture to her friend- 
 ship, she would know well how to scorn him ! 
 
 A great jerk of the wheels, and renewed vociferation from
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 351 
 
 the coachman, started the horses in a nervous scamper up the 
 slope. Gwendolen's head went back, the hatpins tugged at 
 her yellow hair. She clutched at the velvet brim of her hat, 
 and at the same moment her lifted eyes fell on the white 
 walls and sagging dome of the Greek Church. The scowl she 
 gave it might have been borrowed from a rice-seller on his 
 barge. " Detestable barbarians ! " she muttered. " If they 
 ever should dominate this land ! " 
 
 "Gwendolen," said her mother, also jerked and unnerved 
 by the speed, "you are far too exaggerated in your expres- 
 sion of hatred to Russia. Even Cy says so. You are going to 
 get the Legation into trouble yet ! " 
 
 Gwendolen threw herself back into a corner and sulked 
 if a thing the color of light and flowers can be said to sulk. 
 She went at least into partial eclipse, and retained her pe- 
 numbric mood to the hospital and within it. The pleasure 
 of receiving guests seemed, in the case of this little invalid 
 countess, to be entirely cancelled by her distress at remaining 
 rudely on her back, without a single bow. Mrs. Todd tried to 
 put her at her ease, speaking very loudly, as she often did in 
 talking to the Japanese, as if their ignorance of civilized lan- 
 guages lurked in the ears as well as the tongue. Everything 
 in the room was foreign, the white and brass bed, tables, 
 chairs, spoons and medicine bottles, vases, even the lithograph 
 framed portraits of the Emperor and Empress hanging on the 
 opposite wall. The nurses wore gingham dresses, aprons, and 
 white caps. The cloven hoof showed literally (and with 
 opprobrious connotation deleted) in the thick-soled white, 
 digitated socks on which they sped with the lightness and 
 swiftness of a breeze in a meadow. Relatives of the countess 
 came in presently, greeting and thanking the illustrious visitors 
 in her behalf. In spite of efforts to be at ease, the whole 
 visit crackled and creaked with starched formality. Gwendo- 
 len was glad when her mother rose to go. 
 
 In the short drive home they passed directly by the gate 
 of the French Legation, and skirted the brick and plaster 
 Avail which hides a fair garden. " It is a shame for a bachelor 
 to keep this lovely place to himself," observed Mrs. Todd, 
 pensively.
 
 352 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " It would be a much worse shame for him to try to marry 
 any decent woman," said the girl, darkly. 
 
 " Gwendolen ! Gwendolen ! What on earth has come to 
 you lately ? You are not like yourself, these days ! You 
 seem to hate the French as much as the Russians. Neither 
 nation is troubling you, just now, nor Yuki either ! " The 
 parent put up her lorgnette to study her daughter's fair, 
 dissatisfied face. 
 
 Gwendolen went back to her corner and the sulks. 
 
 At the American Legation Mrs. Stunt awaited them. Mrs. 
 Todd went with more than usual willingness to her friend. 
 Gwendolen had not been an inspiring companion. The friend- 
 ship between the two elder ladies, threatened as we have 
 seen by certain events at Yuki's first reception, had received 
 some skilful soldering, and, being new-painted by Mrs. Stunt's 
 voluminous explanations, had a fictitious lustre. Mrs. Todd 
 was neither far-seeing nor revengeful, yet, quite often now 
 she passed a thoughtful finger across the soldered spot. 
 
 Gwendolen went alone to a smaller reception-room. She 
 wished to know above all things whether her father was now 
 with Prince Hagane. There was but a single source of infor- 
 mation, Mr. Dodge. At first she thought of going to him in 
 person. What was that " snip," or his opinions, compared with 
 Yuki's danger? Her courage faltered, and she compromised 
 with it by a short note sent into the office by a servant. 
 
 " Mr. T. Caraway Dodge. 
 
 " My DEAR MR. DODGE, Kindly inform me whether my father, 
 Mr. Todd, is in the office. If not, where he has gone, and at what 
 hour he is expected back. 
 
 " Very truly, 
 
 "GWENDOLEN DE LANCY TODD." 
 
 In a very few moments she flushed, and bit her lip over the 
 following reply : 
 
 "Miss Gwendolen de Lancy Todd. 
 
 "MY DEAR Miss TODD, Your father, Mr. Todd, is not in this office. 
 I am not at liberty to communicate the name of the place to which he 
 has gone. He expects to return about 2.30 p. M. 
 
 " Very truly, 
 
 " T. CARAWAY DODGE."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 353 
 
 " Pshaw ! I might have known it ! " said Gwendolen, under 
 her breath, as she tore the note to small pieces. She looked 
 at her watch. " Just one, and he can't get here for an hour 
 and a half. What shall I do until he comes ? " As if in 
 answer, the luncheon-bell rang. She moved toward the big 
 dining-room, dreading to see Mrs. Stunt. Yes, she was there, 
 wriggling, smiling, opening her innocent blue eyes, as usual. 
 Gwendolen's greeting was civil, and no more. She sat through 
 the meal in silence, and ate practically nothing. Mrs. Stunt 
 tried a few tactful remarks about the girl's " being in love," 
 as a reason for the lack of appetite. After the unquiet meal, 
 Gwendolen saw, with new dismay, that the ladies were to take 
 possession of the main drawing-room. This deprived her of 
 the solace of her piano. She wandered aimlessly about the 
 big rooms, starting a letter to an American friend, and desist- 
 ing, after the first page, pulling out bureau drawers, and 
 forgetting why she had opened them, doing, in fact, all those 
 vague, self-irritating things that indicate a perturbed and 
 joyless mind. 
 
 She longed for intelligent human companionship, for her 
 father. When dad should come, she told herself, she would 
 lose this restless heart. She longed for him and his counsel 
 with a physical hunger. Her mind veered again and again 
 to Dodge, only to be whirled off fiercely. Mrs. Todd as a 
 confidante was impossible, even had the wily Stunt not claimed 
 her. Secure in the conviction of a commonplace mind, good 
 Mrs. Todd would have rushed at once to the Hagane residence, 
 demanded instant audience of Hagane, and failing in that have 
 hastened to the Cha no yu rooms to rescue her ailing protege. 
 No, Mrs. Todd, with all her kind heart, could not be trusted ! 
 
 The moments passed somehow. Gwendolen saw, through 
 an upper window, her father's approach. He came in a 
 hired street kuruma. Even at this distance she could see 
 that the strain was gone from his face, if not the excitement. 
 He caught a glimpse of her, smiled, and waved to her. Before 
 the girl could reach him, he had entered the office and con- 
 fronted Dodge. Now she was brave. With dad to guard her, 
 she could brave a hundred such as Dodge. She burst in upon 
 them, giving the coolest of nods to the secretary, and pouring, 
 
 23
 
 354 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 without warning, a series of petitions and exclamations upon 
 her wondering father. At last he made out that she wished 
 to see him alone. Dodge had been quicker. Already the 
 inner door of the office closed behind him. Todd turned from 
 the blank panel to his daughter. The teasing twitch was on 
 his thin lip, the sparkle in his eye ! " No, no, I can't stand 
 it just now, 1 'm worried, oh, so horribly worried, and you 
 must help me, dad, as you always do. Am I not your only 
 little girl ? " 
 
 "You rascal," said Todd, seating himself, and drawing her 
 down. 
 
 " Anything but a rascal to-day, dad. This trouble is real. 
 Yuki may be in danger, I can't help her. I have thought 
 and thought and thought, until my brain goes round like flying 
 ants in the sun. I can't help. I am an impotent, miserable, 
 feminine girl. What did you see at Yuki's house ? " 
 
 "Why, I saw only what I went to see," answered her 
 father. He gazed with some concern on the chatterer, as if 
 indeed she were light-headed. 
 
 " The meeting is over safely, then, and nothing happened ? " 
 
 "The meeting is over! How did you know of it? The 
 meeting is over and everything happened. History may be 
 changed because of it ! " 
 
 " Then Pierre did not wake up ? Don't think me crazy, 
 dad ! I can see that you do. All that time, while you 
 statesmen were closeted with Hagane, Pierre Le Beau lay 
 asleep a little way off, in the garden. Now perhaps you will 
 see what has worried me ! " She gave a triumphant look. 
 
 "Good Lord!" said he. Then again, on a higher note, 
 " Good Lord! " He put her from him, rose, and began walk- 
 ing the narrow room. Gwendolen nodded in satisfaction. At 
 last he was stirred as deeply as she could wish. 
 
 "Yuki isn't to blame. He wandered to that garden in 
 delirium. He must have gone there first thing, for she 
 does n't know how long he had been in hiding. When she 
 discovered him, the gates were already barred, and Hagane 
 had given her instructions. His fever was awful. She gave 
 him medicine for it, and then a heavy fever mixture, and put 
 him to sleep in the Cha no yu rooms ! "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 355 
 
 " Hagane being in ignorance ? " 
 
 " Yes. She said she was going to try her best to tell him 
 before the meeting, though he had commanded her not to dis- 
 tract his thoughts. She was going to try anyhow, but if she 
 failed, there was nothing for it but to trust the good Lord to 
 keep him asleep until after the meeting, and then to tell her 
 husband immediately." 
 
 Todd gave a deep breath as of relief. He pushed the hair 
 back from his forehead. " God ! It was a risk. She is too 
 young to face such tragic responsibilities ! Poor child ! poor 
 child ! But I guess it 's all right now ! " Gwendolen heard 
 him mutter. 
 
 She caught his arm. " You think she is safe ? You left 
 husband and wife together ? " 
 
 " Yes, and he looked at her as though she were an angel 
 just come down. I even dared to tease him a little. I told 
 him he looked young and handsome ! The old War God 
 almost blushed." 
 
 Suddenly the smile on his face turned gray. He stood per- 
 fectly still, his long arms dangled. Life and youth ebbed 
 from him. 
 
 " Father ! Father ! " cried the girl, in agony. " What is it ? 
 A terrible thought has come to you ! Don't hold it back. I 
 must hear. I will go mad! " 
 
 Todd seated himself, and touched his handkerchief to his 
 lips. " I think I had better not speak it, daughter." 
 
 " Tell me, tell me ! " said Gwendolen, fiercely. " Look at me, 
 look into my eyes, father. I have your own strong spirit ! " 
 
 " As I was coming home," began Mr. Todd, obediently, 
 through whitening lips, " I walked the first part of the way, 
 you know, to cool my excitement. The meeting had been 
 terrific in importance, terrific " he paused. 
 
 Gwendolen was now on her knees, reaping every look, every 
 word, with her bright eyes. "Yes, yes; Yuki may be in danger." 
 
 "A group of fellows were standing in front of the British 
 Legation, Potter, Wyndham, and some others. They stopped 
 me, and were chaffing and joking as those English try to do, 
 when a rickshaw with three runners whizzed by like a Ken- 
 tucky handicap, and there was Hagaiie sitting bolt upright,
 
 356 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 with a face like an old No mask. ' That 's deuced odd,' says 
 Wyndham; 'not ten minutes ago a yellow-headed foreigner 
 without a hat went by at the same pace. Looks as if Hagane 
 were on the scent.' " 
 
 "Oh, oh; did he say that the first was Pierre ? " 
 
 "No, he did n't say it ; he did n't need to. They all looked 
 it." 
 
 For one instant Gwendolen cowered against her father's 
 knees. Then she rose, straight, tall, self-possessed, and held 
 a hand down to her father. "Come, dad," she said, almost 
 with a smile, " we have no time to lose." 
 
 He sprang up, facing her. The faces glowed with the same 
 purpose, a white fire reflected from surfaces of ivory. Both 
 pairs of eyes burned to black jet. "Come, then," he said 
 simply. He took his hat in passing. She was bareheaded. 
 A sealskin cap was lying on Dodge's desk. She caught it up, 
 as her father had done his hat. Hand in hand they hurried 
 out, Dodge, in wonder, watching them. They went down the 
 Legation hill and there summoned kuruma, with two runners 
 apiece, promising a good reward for haste. Only once the 
 girl spoke. " Oh, dad, my heart weighs me to the earth with 
 its whispers." 
 
 At the Hagane home they were told that every one was out. 
 Gwendolen's quick eye saw that the servants were frightened, 
 demoralized. She insisted on having English speech with 
 Tora. He came sulkily, and at first refused to understand 
 her words. This man's need for self-control gave Gwendolen 
 her most unbearable twinge of apprehension. " Tora ! " she 
 cried aloud, "I love your mistress. I am good friend of 
 Prince Hagane. We wish to do only good things. Don't you 
 understand ? I love good we will do good, not harm. 
 Tell us where she went." 
 
 Tora studied the two faces intently. "Both Master and 
 the Princess Yuki-ko went ve'y quick, French Legation. Mooch 
 troubles, I think." He turned away, as if wishing to say no 
 more. 
 
 The eyes of the two Americans met again. " That is a place 
 where I cannot take you, unannounced, my dear," said Mr.Todd. 
 
 " It is a place, too, where I think I could do little good.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 357 
 
 But she is unharmed ; that is certain. Konsard cannot afford 
 to have violence there." 
 
 " Don't fancy things more terrible than they are," said Todd. 
 " I myself am full of hope. If I can get in at all, I can help 
 explain. In the meantime, be very cautious, and go home 
 quietly." 
 
 " Yes, go home quietly to wait ! Oh, I knew that was com- 
 ing. To wait, to be stretched out flat on the rack of hours, 
 with every little red-hot minute pinching me. But I will go. 
 I trust you, dad, to do the best. I will wait patiently, as 
 meekly as Yuki herself could wait. That is all I don't like 
 about Yuki, her meekness. Oh, my poor darling, what will 
 those vile men do to you ? " 
 
 Again at the Legation gate she dismissed her two coolies, 
 paying them an incredible sum for immunity from bartering, 
 and walked in, along the gravelled driveway, on foot. Dodge, 
 who had never left the neighborhood of his office window, felt 
 a renewed thrill of rapture at the sight of his cap, set like a 
 brown, inverted bird's-nest, on her bright curls. It would be a 
 different cap. No one should wear it after this consecration. 
 He watched the slight figure with yearning tenderness. Some- 
 thing in her walk, a sort of suppressed excitement in her 
 whole person, showed to him. The unusual hung about her. 
 Deliberately he came out from his den to follow. She gave 
 no backward glances. 
 
 Across the front of the Legation she hurried, taking a path 
 that led into the garden and wide lawn at the right. At its 
 rim she poised, uncertain ; then, as if coming to a swift deci- 
 sion, took a diagonal course across the turf. Exactly in the 
 centre of the wide, green space grew a clump of gigantic 
 mushrooms with white tops and thick blue bodies. As she 
 ueared them the mushrooms began to bob and nod in an agi- 
 tated fashion, while funny little hissing breaths came from 
 the midst. They were the professional lawn-weeders, little 
 old women with round faces and high cheekbones, each armed 
 with a pygmy sickle. They worked in a tiny grazing squad, 
 devouring, root and all, each intruding tuft of clover, dande- 
 lion, pilewort, and even the spring messenger, tsukushimbo, 
 beloved of Japanese children.
 
 358 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Kon-nichiwa," cried the girl, in her high, sweet voice. 
 
 " Kon-nichiwa (good day), o jo san," responded the little 
 company, rising, as corks on a single wave, and bobbing down 
 again as one. 
 
 Gwendolen, interested in spite of her anxieties, stood still 
 to watch them. Dodge, unperceived, leaned against a kiri tree 
 at the edge of the lawn, with eyes only for her. 
 
 Their blue backs with a white ideograph bore the unanimity 
 of a pack of cards. "I feel just like Alice in Wonderland," 
 thought the girl. " Oh, I know I am Alice. They have been 
 painting all the dandelions white. Was this done by order of 
 the duchess ? " she asked aloud, and touched a snowy flower 
 with her foot. 
 
 The little dame nearest sent up a shy, sparkling glance, 
 "Hek! hai ! Udzukushii tampopo gozaimasu ! " (Ha, yes, un- 
 usually fine dandelion honorably is !) She flushed crimson, 
 and went feverishly to work again in the shadow of the tall 
 golden one. 
 
 Gwendolen watched them for a few moments longer. She 
 seemed again to be undecided, for she looked first toward the 
 house, then outward, to the far end of the garden, where a 
 clump of young sugi trees made a fragrant, shadowy retreat. 
 " That awful Mrs. Stunt must be gone by this. I believe I 
 will go in and let Chopin make me more wretched still," she 
 was thinking. She looked more wistfully toward the far cor- 
 ner. "No, I '11 just go over there and have out one big, good 
 cry, with no one to bother me. If I cry in the house, mother 
 will bring me aromatic spirits of ammonia." Acting on the 
 latter impulse, she started, running now toward the trees. 
 
 " Ara ! it runs well ! " whispered one of the grass-cutters to 
 a neighbor. " These foreigners all have big, strong legs." 
 
 " I never can tell the foreign men from the foreign women," 
 remarked another. 
 
 " Z>o-mo ! you simpleton ! " retorted the first. She was 
 the one to whom Gwendolen had spoken directly, and though 
 covered with confusion at the moment, now vaunted herself 
 upon the incident, and prepared herself to take precedence in 
 all comments concerning the strange doings of "I-i-jin." 
 " Do-mo I it is easy to observe. The men have upper bodies
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 359 
 
 square, like a box, and this box is tightly covered with woollen 
 cloth. From the lower corners of the square come two stiff 
 legs, like posts. Now the women show no legs at all, but the 
 middle of the body is shrunken very small, like a sake gourd 
 about which a string has been tied when it is green. Poor 
 things, it must surely hurt them to be so bound. It is a prac- 
 tice more strange than that of encasing feet, used by Chinese 
 women." 
 
 "They all look alike to me, I say," repeated the first, un- 
 impressed by this erudition. Perhaps the boastful breath of 
 the speaker awoke a small coal of obstinacy. "The children 
 are small in size, so I know them to be children ; but all faces 
 are alike, as the faces of cows, pigs, and horses are alike, and 
 all are hideous ! " 
 
 "That one, now, was not so frightful of aspect," ventured 
 a kindly third, and pointed her sickle to the spot where 
 Gwendolen, having climbed a low hillock, just disappeared 
 beyond. 
 
 "That one would have been almost good to look at, but for 
 its nose ! " 
 
 " The noses of all are like these sickles," said the dogmatic 
 first. 
 
 " Buddha teaches us to be content with what cannot be 
 changed. Perhaps to the foreigners themselves the sharp 
 noses are even beautiful ! " said the gentler critic. 
 
 A chorus of hisses and low laughs greeted this unheard-of 
 generosity. The little speaker flushed under the shower of 
 raillery, but did not abandon her humane position. Something 
 in the American girl's face had flashed excitement, a new in- 
 terest, a feeling almost like recognition, into her narrow vista. 
 She hoped she would be called to work often in this huge 
 garden, where the bright-haired o jo san might wander. 
 
 Upon the hillock which rose in front of the little sugi 
 grove, corners of rough stone stuck out, and shrubs had been 
 planted, chiefly of azalea. Mingled with the many-colored 
 blossoms, there curved long wands of yama-buki, that most 
 golden flower, the gorse of the Far East. For once Gwendolen 
 passed these waves of beauty by. Down there, over among 
 the tree-trunks where the ground was winter-strewn with
 
 860 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 fragrant brown sbreds of leaves, one could sit and cry to one's 
 heart's content. Deliberately she held back the fast-rising 
 sobs until the haven was gained, and then, hurling herself to 
 earth, gave vent to her grief and prophetic fears. " Oh, my 
 poor little Yuki ! What are those hard men saying to you 
 now? What will they do if they think you wrong? And 
 I can't help you ! I can do nothing ! Oh, I wish we had n't 
 come to this place ! Will any of us ever be happy again? I 
 have my own grief, but I hide it, ashamed, before your peril ! 
 Oh, my little sister, my only little sister ! If I could only 
 catch you up like a drifting petal, and hide you in my heart, 
 and run away with you back to our other home, back to school- 
 days, and happiness ! But we '11 never be young again, we '11 
 never be happy. Oh oh oh, my heart will break ! " 
 
 The azaleas stared down in stately dignity ; the yama-buki 
 tossed dissent. On a sugi limb quite near, a row of sparrows 
 placed themselves, slowly puffing out their feathers in unison, 
 like so many buns in a warm oven. They cocked their heads 
 suspiciously toward the prostrate girl, and gossiped about her, 
 saying she had stolen her hair from the sun. 
 
 Dodge, half ashamed of himself, but led on by something 
 stronger than conventionality, passed the nodding group of 
 weeders, answered their salutation in an absent-minded fash- 
 ion, and continued a slow but unswerving route toward the 
 sugi trees. At the hillock he paused. A curious sound on 
 the other side drew him upward. His brown head pushed 
 a way through the yama-buki limbs. Gwendolen was crying. 
 He stared, not half believing his senses. Gwendolen, the 
 gay, insouciant, defiant, enchanting Gwendolen, weep like this 1 
 Sooner should the stars send down beams of soot ! 
 
 A big something that partook of the physical nature of a 
 hedgehog burrowed upward in his throat. Something sweet 
 and unaccustomed stung his lids. 
 
 " Oh, my heart will break ! " sobbed the girl once more. 
 " There 's nobody to help me ! There 's nobody to listen ! " 
 
 With a single bound Dodge had cleared the hillock and was 
 on his knees beside her. A startled, upward look met him, 
 expectation, a wild joy, new bitterness, these flashed in 
 turn across her expressive face. With a wide movement of
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 361 
 
 resistance, she turned away from him and buried her tear- 
 stained face upon her knees. 
 
 Dodge stood instantly. " Do you mean that I am to go ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Sobs alone answered him. She could not drive him away. 
 His presence, his nearness, were appallingly sweet. Neither 
 could she yield tamely where she had promised herself a 
 policy of condescension. 
 
 Despairing of further verbal instruction, and glad in his 
 heart that the repulse had not been more vehement, he walked 
 off a few paces, and seated himself against a tree. Gwendolen 
 held her breath until he was safely on the earth again. 
 She could not have borne his instant desertion. All he had 
 to do now, Dodge was well aware, was simply to wait, and 
 be still. The one thing impossible to Gwendolen was in- 
 definite silence. Even before he began to expect them, the 
 hysterical words came fluttering, as on broken wings, to his 
 ear. " I suppose you are glo glo Boating on this scene of 
 my agony ! You li li like to see me hideous, with red- 
 rimmed eyes and a gar gar yamet nose ! " Again the head 
 went down, and the tiny lace ball of a handkerchief came into 
 requisition. 
 
 "I can't see your eyes, Gwendolen, or your nose, either. 
 I am not looking for them. But if they were emerald green 
 it would n't phase me. You are in trouble. I didn't know 
 you could cry like this. I wish I could be of some aid, some 
 little comfort to you." 
 
 Never before had he called her " Gwendolen " in this grave 
 assured tone. No mere love-sick boy could have done it. 
 The voice was that of a man, with a man's power and mas- 
 tery and self-respect. The woman in her put up a protecting 
 hand, but the deeper nature responded with smiles. Reason, 
 instinct, affection, clamored, like insistent children, for the 
 boon of grace. Her heart leaned down to them. " Recog- 
 nize him, confide in him, win him now, forever," cried the 
 voices. " Nothing can help you, in a time like this, as his love 
 might help. You need him, foolish one, why not admit it 
 and have peace ? " But Vanity and Pride put on horrid masks, 
 and frightened the petitioners. She kept her eyes hidden.
 
 362 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Well, shall I go or stay ? " asked Dodge, calmly. The 
 young man listened in admiring wonder at his own smooth 
 tone. How could his thumping heart and brain direct that 
 tranquil flow ? 
 
 " You are wel wel welcome to stay if you care to. I don't 
 own the grove," said the girl. 
 
 Dodge picked a bit of leaf from the earth and began to 
 shred the frail, brown lace. " I was awfully sorry, Miss Todd, 
 not to be able to tell you this morning where the Minister 
 had gone. I am only a servant, you know, and must obey 
 orders." 
 
 "Oh, it's no matter," said Gwendolen, airily. She was 
 elated to find her spirits, her self-confidence, returning in a 
 tide. " I know all about it now, a good deal more, I dare 
 say, than you yourself." 
 
 " I know nothing, except the place where Mr. Todd was to 
 go and the purpose of the meeting. He was about to tell me 
 the result of it, when you came in and carried him off in 
 triumph ! " 
 
 " Not in triumph, good heavens, not in triumph. This is 
 the most awful day of my life ! " She lifted her head now, 
 throwing it backward to the slight wind, and drawing deep 
 breaths. She expected him to urge her confidence, to ask, at 
 least, what trouble had come to her. Already she had more 
 than half decided to tell him all. He was a safe confidant, 
 one of whom her father would approve, and she must 
 admit that, at times, he had clear judgment. He kept an 
 irritating silence. Gwendolen began to fidget. 
 
 " Well, don't you care whether I suffer or not ? I thought 
 you said you wanted to help me ! " 
 
 "I want it more than I want anything else in the world, 
 except one thing," said Dodge, and moved two trees nearer. 
 
 "Well, well," cried the other, nervously, "I shall tell 
 you. I have been simply dying to tell somebody. To bear 
 a suspense like this all alone is like keeping your fist in a 
 water dyke, or barring a door with your arm, or some of 
 those dreadful heroic things." Hampered at first by a con- 
 stantly recalled determination to maintain her dignity, she 
 began the exciting history of the day, starting from the moment
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 363 
 
 when she heard of Pierre's escape, and ending with the visit 
 of her father and herself to the deserted Hagane mansion. 
 
 Dodge listened to all with an interest that a barometer 
 might feel. He was silent, except for a very few terse, 
 direct questions. Not an exclamation escaped him, and not 
 a point. As she neared the end, Gwendolen's voice gave way, 
 and the little handkerchief was raised. Dodge moved a tree 
 nearer. 
 
 "Now tell me what you think, tell me truly. I have 
 buried my own thoughts in the earth, and sit here on their 
 grave." 
 
 " Let my thoughts go there with yours, dear," said her com- 
 panion, mournfully. " The affair is as bad as it could well 
 be. Luck alone is going to save your friend, and from what 
 I have seen and known of Miss Yuki, she doesn't seem marked 
 out by good luck." 
 
 She did not resent his hopelessness. Apparently she had 
 foreseen it. The telling of her story had eased while it had 
 wearied her. She gave a long, sobbing sigh, like a child, and 
 let her head droop. 
 
 Before she knew it Dodge's arm was around her. "I'd 
 give my life to keep this and all other sorrows from you, 
 Gwendolen. But all I can offer now is myself. Come to 
 me, darling, put your poor tired little head against me, and 
 let me try to comfort you." 
 
 The girl began to tremble piteously. In her nervous state, 
 the brimming tears soon overflowed. "No no " she 
 whispered, trying to push him off. " It is not me you love, 
 you are Car-car car-men's ! She said so. You belong to 
 Car-Carmen ! " 
 
 " I belong to Carmen's cat ! " cried Dodge. " What am I 
 to Carmen or Carmen to me ? " 
 
 "Then you de ceived her!" 
 
 "Pshaw! I'll make Carmen a sugar man in my image. 
 She '11 like that lots better. I love only you only you, you 
 beautiful, golden, tormenting angel of a girl ! If you had n't 
 kept me on pins and needles, I would n't say it ! I love you, 
 I say. How could any man in his senses ever love any other 
 woman after once seeing you ? "
 
 364 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Gwendolen tried to be stern. "No," she said again, "you 
 don't love, you don't respect me. You were horrid that day ! 
 You defied me to my face. You would n't apologize. Will you 
 apologize now ? " 
 
 " Indeed I won't," he cried with a ring of victory. " I 'd be 
 a mucker and a sneak to do so, and you would never want to 
 look at me again. Deny it, and deny that you love me, 
 oh, Gwendolen, Gwendolen ! " 
 
 With a little sob, in which a golden feather had been caught, 
 she leaned to his arms. 
 
 He took up the little brown sealskin cap, flung it back to 
 her head, and, in his most boyish, impudent, and ecstatic tone, 
 said in her ear, " You know the penalty for wearing another 
 fellow's hat ? "
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 IN his favorite small smoking-room at the French Lega- 
 tion, crammed with motley Japanese and Gallic bric-a-brac, 
 Count Ronsard fumbled nervously with his nether-lip. 
 
 "You sent for me, your Excellency?" said the secretary 
 Mouquin, at the door. 
 
 "Allons! Entrez ! It is the devil! what our English 
 cousins call 'the beastly bore.' But for his mother, the 
 Princess Olga, I would wash my hands entirely ! " 
 
 He went through the gesture, revolving one fat pudding of 
 a fist about the other, and closing with an outward fling of 
 both, and a shrug that made his body quake. "No news 
 at all, Mouquiu?" 
 
 "Nothing decisive, your Excellency. A mere hint, a 
 hushed rumor, that Le Beau was last traced to the neigh- 
 borhood of Prince Hagane's official residence." 
 
 " Sacrebleu ! You should have probed." 
 
 "I asked a few questions guardedly. Your Excellency, 
 one hesitates to put a match to a powder-train." 
 
 "Quite true, Mouquin. And when did the hushed rumor 
 have it that he was seen, what hour?" 
 
 " Before noon, not long, in fact, after his mysterious 
 escape from the nurses." 
 
 Ronsard's head dropped forward an inch. A sickly glow 
 drove the usual gray pallor from his face. 
 
 "Doubtless," ventured the secretary, "Monsieur Le Beau 
 will find his way sooner or later to you ! " 
 
 "Certainement! Certainement ! " cried the other, finding 
 relief in sarcasm. "He will come weeping to the arms of 
 Mother Prance. Bah! I would that Mother Prance could 
 greet him with the toes of these boots ! " 
 
 He thrust forward pointed patent-leather tips, and stared 
 at them, as if calculating the punishment they might inflict.
 
 366 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Mouquin, not being asked to find a seat, still stood by the 
 door. The very air of the room held in solution, with its 
 blue smoke, the dampness of foreboding. The first secre- 
 tary's voice sounded thin. 
 
 "The doctors think this mad exposure means his certain 
 death, your Excellency." 
 
 "Death! H'm! He'll take good care to stay alive till 
 we 're all involved. It 's too late for him to die." 
 
 The other raised his brows but made no answer. 
 
 "Have an absinthe, Mouquin?" 
 
 Without noticing that Mouquin shook his head Ronsard 
 leaned over heavily and poured a little of the liquid into a 
 glass, filling it up with water. Without drinking, he stared 
 as if he saw a vision in its milky depths. 
 
 "Just a chance the air is thick with plots Pierre might 
 be feigning the Princess Hagane who knows? per- 
 haps connives, betrays Pshaw ! " Count Ronsard dreamed 
 under his breath. 
 
 "No further orders, your Excellency?" asked the younger 
 man, patiently, his hand on the door. 
 
 "No yes! Bring me the first news of that wandering 
 lunatic and avoid the police! " 
 
 The words fell before a fury of feet that bowled down the 
 outer corridor. The door burst open, nearly flinging Mouquin 
 to the floor. Pierre Le Beau reeled in, crimson, panting, 
 wild-eyed, hatless, and waved at the startled minister a 
 large paper sealed with a red seal, round and clear as a Jap- 
 anese sun. Ronsard in the millionth part of an instant 
 recalled himself. He sat erect, but his eye gleamed beady 
 and keen as a rat's. He was holding back with impartial 
 judgment a riotous flush of hope. But Mouquin, as if hypno- 
 tized, locked the door and backed up against it. Pierre's 
 eyes caught the cloudy green of the absinthe, still standing 
 in the minister's glass. He tottered toward it, tried to speak, 
 but merely pointed in jerks with his free hand. Ronsard 
 silently held out the glass and motioned to an empty chair. 
 Pierre drained the drug standing, then fell rather than 
 sat. A sweat sprang suddenly to his skin. The fair hair 
 plastered itself in little brown sickles on his white forehead.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 367 
 
 " What is it, Pierre?" 
 
 Eonsard's eyes had not left the document half crumpled 
 in Pierre's fist. His voice had a bracing echo. A returning 
 wave of unhealthy strength warned Pierre to action. 
 
 " Yes ! " he cried, swaying across the table, holding out 
 the paper and shaking it up and down. "I've done it! 
 What you wanted ! Sold my honor to Hell for it ! Quick ! 
 Quick ! America ! The war ! " 
 
 Pierre's head, not yet balanced by the stealthy drug, reeled, 
 and the large envelope dropped on the table. Bonsard recog- 
 nized the great Cabinet seal. With a wolfish twitching at 
 the corners of the mouth, which his utmost effort could not 
 control, he slowly pushed his hand across the polished ma- 
 hogany. Then two currents of thought met, and he paused. 
 The fretfulness, the lax instability of flesh, were gone. He 
 sat stiff, a compact mass, in his broad chair. One could see 
 that behind the ample jowl stretched a great square bone. 
 
 "First, what is it, Pierre?" he repeated coldly. 
 
 Pierre rocked in his seat. "A state paper of utmost 
 import signed by Grubb and Todd and all the Japanese ! 
 
 It means alliance ! I saw them all as I crouched in the 
 garden. E-ead it, quick! The wax is hardly set." 
 
 Konsard's mouth watered, but his brain grew firm. 
 "Wonderful! Past belief!" he said. "But tell me how 
 did Monsieur obtain possession? " He was measuring the 
 depth of Pierre's insanity, gazing desperately for signs of 
 returning judgment. " Is it safe for me ? " he continued 
 quietly. 
 
 "Good God, man! " cried Pierre. "Here I win you, with 
 my life, perhaps, the very key to this war to history for 
 all time and you prate about safety! Is war safe? Is 
 anything safe?" 
 
 Konsard's voice came low and stinging. " Tell me ! Where 
 
 and how did you get it ? " 
 
 Pierre was too over-wrought to lie, even had he dared. 
 He swaggered. He stretched forth a hand and snatched 
 the paper defiantly. "I took it yes, from the body of 
 Prince Hagane! Glorious, wasn't it? Mon Dieu! Think 
 of it! In his official residence ! "
 
 368 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "It means the Cross of the Legion of Honor," said Mou- 
 quin, weakly, against the door. 
 
 " Hagane ! " Konsard had exclaimed in spite of himself. 
 He knew it meant the utmost of something, but which 
 glory or dishonor ? Either was incredible. " Yes, yes, 
 Pierre," he said soothingly, as to a child; "Hagane's body 
 I understand. But why did n't Hagane stop you? " 
 
 "Why ? It is droll he could not! He was tied, tangled. 
 His feet were tangled yes, tightly entangled ! He was too 
 busy with that to follow." 
 
 Pierre's laugh turned Ronsard sick. 
 
 "What or who entangled him, Pierre?" 
 
 "You keep her name out of this, damn you ! " 
 
 Ronsard's pendent underlip went gray to the root. "Then 
 she will die, too." He breathed it to himself. 
 
 Whether Pierre heard or not, his tense attitude relaxed. 
 He cowered back in his chair. Mouquin, thinking he had 
 fainted, ran forward. 
 
 " No ! No more absinthe ! No medicine ! Coffee ! For 
 God's sake, coffee! That may keep me up." 
 
 A new thought flashed to Ronsard. " Mouquin ! Ring, 
 and yourself receive the coffee just outside the door." 
 
 His words rang quick and clear. " We must think, now, 
 like gods or demons for swiftness," he went on to Pierre. 
 "Hagane will be with us at once! How did you keep 
 ahead? You must deny, deny! Don't you see, it compro- 
 mises France? " 
 
 Pierre raised his eyes sleepily. "Hagane come? No, 
 Excellency ! he did not see " 
 
 "Madame will tell him, fool." 
 
 "Never ! She will die first." 
 
 "Ah, allow me, then, to congratulate you," Ronsard per- 
 mitted himself to sneer. Then swiftly, "You have been 
 seen! The servants! The police " 
 
 "Your Excellency," chattered Mouquin, darting a ghastly 
 face through the door, "Prince Hagane is announced. He 
 is coming down the hall he is here ! " 
 
 "I thought I heard footsteps. Hold him, just a moment." 
 Ronsard rose to his feet. With a low whisper that stung
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 369 
 
 with the lash of a knout he bent to Pierre. "Stand, you 
 fool ! And if you have never known what it is to be a man, 
 try the feeling now ! Hide the paper in your breast. There ! 
 Smile, though your face crack ! " 
 
 Pierre thrust the document into his coat and rose to greet 
 Hagane, who entered calm, dignified, and stately, not a fold 
 out of place, nor a hair ruffled. If any characteristic were 
 intensified it was in deliberate tardiness of advance, an undue 
 rigidity of self-restraint. He bowed deeply to Count Ron- 
 sard, ignoring, for the moment, the presence of the younger 
 men. 
 
 "Your Excellency will be surprised, perhaps annoyed, at 
 this unceremonious call. It concerns a personal matter which 
 could not be delayed. There is nothing ofiicial, you under- 
 stand. It lies between Monsieur Le Beau and myself." He 
 turned now to Pierre with the slightest inclination of the 
 head, and then bowed more deferentially to the flaccid 
 Mouquin by the wall. 
 
 "Anything that brings your Highness is an honor," re- 
 turned Ronsard, himself placing a chair for the great man. 
 
 Hagane seated himself with the same painstaking calm. 
 As he did not speak, his host continued, with obvious effort 
 at composure, "What does slightly surprise me, your High- 
 ness, if you will allow me to say it, is er your seem- 
 ing so certain of finding Monsieur Le Beau here, when your 
 efficient police have been searching " 
 
 "Le Beau has been here for some time," put in Mouquin, 
 who was so nervous that he should have been elsewhere. 
 
 Ronsard winced. A sombre fire flickered in Hagane's 
 eyes. "And am I to infer that the efficient police, of 
 whom his Excellency so kindly speaks, have failed to keep 
 in touch with Monsieur's Legation?" 
 
 The two young men crossed glances of dismay. Quickly 
 Hagane turned his eyes to Pierre's flushed face. Each 
 moist curl burned it like a scar. "And similarly, I sup- 
 pose, I am mistaken in thinking that Monsieur Le Beau has 
 but just arrived in great haste." 
 
 Before an answer could be found, footsteps and a timid 
 knock made interruption. Mouquin craned his neck around 
 
 24
 
 370 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 to the aperture of the door, altering but slightly the position 
 of his body. 
 
 "A servant says, Excellency, that the American minister, 
 Mr. Todd, telephones from his Legation that he must see 
 you immediately." 
 
 "Go, Mouquin, and stop him," said Ronsard, glibly. 
 " Say I am out. But if he is already started wait for him 
 at the door, and be careful to usher him into the small draw- 
 ing-room, and keep him there till I come. Conciliate him. 
 Your conversation, you understand, is to be on the high C 
 of flippancy." 
 
 In the short interval Pierre had regained self-control. 
 "Lord Hagane, in what way can I serve you?" He made 
 a great effort to be nonchalant. 
 
 Hagane leaned slightly toward Konsard. "Perhaps you 
 have heard, Excellency, that a few moments since, Monsieur 
 Le Beau picked up, in my humble home, quite by accident, 
 a private letter that I had carelessly let fall." 
 
 "A private letter!" Ronsard turned with well-feigned 
 astonishment to his subordinate. " Oh, no ! Monsieur Le 
 Beau is the soul of honor ! " 
 
 Pierre could not think how to weigh the naturalness of in- 
 dignation against a gentlemanly magnanimity. "The prince 
 is mistaken," he said weakly. "It must have been another 
 man." 
 
 Without a flicker of anger or impatience Hagane, still 
 facing the count, inquired, "Does the young man act with 
 your authority ? " 
 
 " Mon Dieu, your Highness ! No. Monsieur Le Beau has a 
 certain official connection but in such a private matter " 
 Spread hands and a shrug completed the thought. 
 
 "Were you not at my villa this morning?" Hagane had 
 turned suddenly to Pierre. 
 
 What could the Frenchman say? "No," came the pliant 
 lie. 
 
 "Come now, Prince Hagane!" began Ronsard, genially. 
 "You see it's all a mistake. Forgive the boy his embarrass- 
 ment. He is ill. To accuse him of purloining a private 
 letter ! Mother of God ! In France it means a duel "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 371 
 
 "Not purloining, your Excellency," corrected Hagane. 
 " Taking by accident, quite by accident. That is different. 
 If our young friend was suffering from delirium he may have 
 forgotten. Ask him to feel in his pocket." 
 
 " It 's a damnable lie, hatched for some personal reason," 
 said Pierre. 
 
 Hagane slowly rose. It was as if bronze moved. Konsard 
 instinctively imitated him, watching closely. He was con- 
 vinced, now, that Hagane knew ; but could not guess his next 
 move. 
 
 "My time is valuable to-day," said the Japanese, drawl- 
 ing a little. "I must speak with Monsieur Le Beau alone." 
 
 Blank silence fell on the group. Hagane looked from one 
 to the other, a slight shade of contempt growing in his eyes. 
 "Is Monsieur Le Beau afraid?" he asked politely. "I assure 
 you, gentlemen, I am unarmed. Even so, he might feel safer 
 with a knife, a pistol. I regret that mine is at home, or I 
 would be pleased to lend it. Perhaps one of these gentle- 
 men can accommodate you." 
 
 Pierre's face was growing white in a circle about his 
 mouth. He stepped to Ronsard's desk, took out a revolver, a 
 pearl and silver toy, and slammed it on the table between 
 himself and Hagane. 
 
 " Go, your Excellency ! " he said, with eyes on Ronsard. 
 "I, too, desire private speech with him." 
 
 "Pierre! Pierre! remember France," cried Count Ronsard. 
 
 Hagane bowed to the speaker. 
 
 As Ronsard hesitated at the door, Mouquin pushed it 
 open cautiously and brought in the coffee. "Not yet, Ex- 
 cellency," he said. Hagane waved his refusal of a proffered 
 cup. Pierre poured himself three cups in succession, drain- 
 ing quickly each scalding draught. 
 
 Hagane bowed again to Ronsard. "Now," he said simply. 
 
 "Get out, Mouquin. Remember, Prince, the boy is ill." 
 
 "I can take care of myself," Pierre said, his boyish head 
 thrown back. 
 
 Left alone the two men faced each other. Pierre leaned 
 with one delicate hand on the table. Nervously exalted and 
 chafed by silence he hurled words at his sombre opponent.
 
 372 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " If your time is really valuable you waste it, my Lord. I 
 advise you to inquire elsewhere." 
 
 "Let us be seated," said Hagane, with a pleasant smile. 
 Pierre, as at a physical thrust, went backward into a chair. 
 "Now, shall we smoke?" continued the other, his tone 
 deepening in friendliness. Its suavity had the effect of 
 smothering. Pierre fought it off with a rude weapon. 
 
 "Certainly, your Highness. Cigarettes or opium?" 
 
 " Ah ! Do you keep the latter luxury ? " inquired the prince, 
 with interest. " Have Frenchmen adopted this vice also ? " 
 
 "I meant for you only," explained Pierre, foolishly. 
 
 " You must be a new-comer, unaware that I, myself, had 
 the drug excluded from Japan. You Christian Europeans 
 had already forced it on China." 
 
 Pierre did not look up or try to answer. He felt his 
 every move a false one. The steadying of the coffee did 
 not come fast enough. He was in a hurry to get in some 
 telling thrust. He must defend himself and Yuki. Count 
 Eonsard should, after all, acknowledge him a man. The 
 smooth, cool tones of the other now flowed like a refreshing 
 liquid through his brain. 
 
 "Am I right in thinking this your first visit to Japan, 
 Monsieur ? " 
 
 Pierre, half dazed, answered, with instinctive politeness, 
 "My first, yes. But I have for years been interested." 
 
 "May I venture to ask what special phase of our civiliza- 
 tion has been honored with your interest ? " 
 
 Pierre's demon nudged him. "It's woman," he said, 
 with a short, ugly laugh. 
 
 Hagane's smile grew almost fatherly. "In that you are 
 no exception to the majority of your countrymen, Monsieur." 
 
 "To be accurate I should have said a woman." 
 
 The nobleman took a long whiff at his cigarette before 
 remarking thoughtfully, "It is an unending source of won- 
 der to our students, Monsieur, that you of the West, even 
 your greatest thinkers, take women so seriously. Now with 
 us, apart from the one function of becoming the mothers 
 of our sons, they are to men as playthings to children, 
 as flowers, or bright-colored birds."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 373 
 
 "Am I to infer, then, that to your Highness one woman 
 would be about as desirable as another?" 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur ! You are caustic. Not quite that, I pro- 
 test. There is discrimination, even in playthings. And we 
 must always take into account the effect of physique, and 
 character, upon possible sons." 
 
 At repetition of this sickening thought Pierre's rage gave 
 a convulsive bound. The veins in his temples burned the 
 skin. His delicate hands clenched themselves into steel. 
 He grasped the pistol, brandished it wildly, and putting his 
 face close to Hagane hissed, " Leave out the name of Yuki, 
 and your satyr's thoughts of her, if you expect to live ! " 
 
 The prince's raised hand concealed an expression of amuse- 
 ment. Sadness, not altogether convincing, took its place. 
 Pierre sank back to his chair sulkily, ashamed of his 
 violence. 
 
 Hagane's eyes lowered themselves, as if in embarrassment, 
 to the table. He toyed with the brittle stem of a wine-glass. 
 " It is unfortunate you are so excitable. For it was just about 
 Yuki no, never mind the pistol that I was thinking 
 to take you into my confidence." 
 
 Le Beau stared. The prince continued thoughtfully : " You 
 have been her friend " 
 
 " I am her friend ! " 
 
 " Exactly. I thought you ought to be told. After to-day 
 there will be no Princess Hagane. She leaves my roof 
 and must publicly relinquish my name." 
 
 The prince spoke blandly. Pierre's eyes seemed to pro- 
 trude. The shock of this menace counteracted the coffee. 
 "She is innocent " He corrected himself. "Why? What 
 has she done ? " 
 
 Hagane smiled pleasantly. "Her innocence, as you call it, 
 is too dangerous. My duties, you know. She distracts me, 
 tires me. A mere child ! " 
 
 "You never cared for her. You took her from me to show 
 your hellish power. Now you will cast her out, dishonor 
 her relentlessly, for a new whim!" 
 
 "Monsieur should know best why I cannot trust her." 
 
 A wild thought leaped like flame about Pierre's distorted
 
 374 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 fancy. " Can you mean that she goes utterly free free to 
 be happy back to her father's home ? " 
 
 Hagane lowered his eyes. When he spoke his tone was 
 conciliatory, even regretful. 
 
 "Onda, being my kerai, will scarcely consent to receive 
 her." 
 
 " Monsters ! both of you. I see I might have known. 
 But the Todds, thank God, are her friends ! " 
 
 Hagane half lifted heavy lids. "Minister Todd, who 
 has signed that stolen paper, may er hesitate." 
 
 " Mother of Christ ! What will you have me think ? 
 What is to be her fate ? Some foul black thought still 
 bubbles behind those reptile eyes of yours ! Out with it ! 
 Is she to be cast forth helpless, friendless, at the mercy of 
 the first charitable stranger " 
 
 Hagane lifted a hand. " Now we approach reason though 
 by a somewhat frenzied path. You are the succoring knight. 
 Merely return to me, with unbroken seal, the document I saw 
 you take, and for reward I ask you to receive free, and un- 
 trammelled, the person of the present Princess Hagane." 
 
 Suspicion drove back into shadow a host of eager thoughts. 
 After one incredulous look Pierre burst into a clamor of 
 mirthless laughter. " So it is a bribe ! What fools you 
 must truly think all foreigners. Give the princess to me 
 bodily? This is melodrama. Even had I the paper and 
 should return it I still deny, damn you! you would take 
 powerful precaution that she did not come." 
 
 "Do you so greatly distrust your powers of attraction ?" 
 
 "No, nor her love, God bless her! But I distrust you 
 and your Oriental subtleties. She would come she loves 
 me but you would not let her. What guarantee can you 
 offer ? " 
 
 Hagane looked pained. "No one has ever doubted my 
 word. But if you need it, take Japan's most sacred oath 
 by the life of our Emperor! Prevent her? Oh, no. I 
 shall urge compel." 
 
 Pierre struggled to preserve his balance. "Even in this 
 barbaric country have even you such power ? Can 
 you not be called to some account ? "
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 375 
 
 "I regret the necessity of being vulgar," said Hagane, in 
 a composed voice, " but I see I must explain. It is my 
 what you call position my er rank. It might not 
 be possible to every Japanese, Monsieur. But as things 
 are, the woman is as much mine as a French spaniel would 
 be yours. Again I assure you, by the life of my Emperor, 
 she will come. Again I ask, Do you accept my bargain?" 
 
 Pierre whispered to himself Count Ronsard's words, " Re- 
 member France ! " He tried to keep his reason, but the wave 
 of hope had surged high. He saw as in a vision Yuki, dis- 
 graced, rejected, wandering alone through the wind-swept 
 streets. He saw her face sheltered upon his arm, that 
 little face so pure, so delicate, so well-beloved. Her deso- 
 lation touched him for a moment with an unselfish grief. 
 "She is proud she is brave!" he cried aloud. "Even at 
 your orders will she come?" 
 
 "I think so, Monsieur. She might possibly consider it a 
 last chance to serve the country she has wronged." 
 
 "Yes, and she might prefer to die." 
 
 Hagane sent a curious, cold look to search the young man's 
 thought. "Do Christians dare to die?" 
 
 The acid scorn bit deep. "Yes," raved Pierre. "And they 
 dare to live, and, sometimes, they dare to slay! I do not 
 consent, remember. I believe it yet to be a trick, a mockery. 
 If I find it so, I swear in the name of that Christian God 
 whom you blaspheme if I find that you are holding out 
 the one bribe that you know I would sell my soul to the 
 devil for thinking to gloat over the new deviltry of 
 snatching it away I'll I'll " He broke off, mouth- 
 ing for words that would not come. 
 
 His hand unconsciously fingered the cold surface of the 
 pistol. Again Hagane looked bored, r and made a gesture of 
 distaste. 
 
 "Don't sneer like that, you toad of hell!" shrieked his 
 companion. "You think this bluster, but I mean it. I 
 mean it terribly ! " A sudden sound in the outer hall cut 
 short the threat. Footsteps, in stockinged feet, or in the 
 Japanese tabi, came swiftly. Both men by instinct fixed 
 eyes upon the door.
 
 376 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki walked straight to her husband and stood still. Their 
 eyes met. "I thank the Gods that you are safe," she said 
 aloud. Her glance moved quickly to Pierre, surprising on 
 his face a hurt, incredulous expression. 
 
 " Monsieur, be comforted. It is for the country, not for 
 me," mocked Hagane. 
 
 "And now, Madame," he said, with bloodshot eyes on 
 Yuki, "have you explanation for this new act of disobedi- 
 ence, of affront to my dignity?" 
 
 'Yuki did not hasten to reply. Whether the power had 
 grown from without or within that childish form, a new 
 strength was now hers. She had the look of one who, after 
 long wandering in a dangerous forest, has spied a path. 
 
 The gray robe, hastily caught back to decorous lines, showed 
 traces of rough handling. Over her head she had thrown a 
 light wrap called a dzukin. It hid her forehead with a nun- 
 like band, was crossed under the chin, and knotted loosely 
 behind 'the head. Not a strand of hair emerged. Her face, 
 in the dull silver setting, gleamed like a long white pearl. 
 
 Hagane observed the change in her. The repulsion left 
 his eyes. He waited in patience, and with some curiosity, 
 for her answer. "I came, your Highness," she vouchsafed 
 at length, "because without me you cannot get the paper." 
 
 Hagane's eyes went instantly to Pierre. 
 
 "Yuki, for God's sake are you mad?" cried the French- 
 man. " I know of no paper. I have assured him that I do 
 not know of it ! " 
 
 "Give him the paper, Pierre," said the girl, gently. 
 "Through me it was lost, and if I am to have a human 
 soul hereafter give him the paper." 
 
 Hagane sucked in bitter triumph from Pierre's discom- 
 fiture. His eyes crucified the boyish face. Like a brood 
 of dark vultures his conjectures swooped down to the cower- 
 ing prey. Yet before Yuki's entrance he had, for a mo- 
 ment, felt talons at his own breast. Instinctively Pierre 
 had clutched at his coat, where the document lay concealed. 
 Hagane said softly, "Perhaps it is as well, Madame, that 
 you have disobeyed. Yet on your lover's countenance I 
 do not observe signs of joyous welcome."
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 377 
 
 "I came looking for no welcome, Lord, nor has personal 
 desire directed me. I have done great wrong. Again has 
 my weakness proved my enemy. But a hope of partial 
 atonement has not gone altogether from me." She stretched 
 both hands to Pierre. "Pierre, if you have known love, 
 give me the paper." 
 
 "I do not understand," stammered Pierre. ''Are you 
 against me for that man? Here is the chance of our revenge, 
 our passport to happiness. I have not harmed him other- 
 wise. Would you take this one possible chance from me? " 
 
 " I am not against you, Pierre. I am not for Hagane. It 
 is myself, my wretched, shivering self, for which I plead. 
 No, you cannot understand. I am Japanese. I must regain 
 the paper. Through my cowardice you won it. At any 
 sacrifice you can name I must get it back." 
 
 Hagane saw how she labored to keep her voice gentle and 
 soothing. She had the accents of a suffering mother who 
 tries to coax a sick child. The husband saw more in the 
 calm, ashen face. "You have yet patriotism," he said, so 
 low that she alone heard. 
 
 To these words she gave no recognition. She watched the 
 Frenchman as Hagane studied her. The folds of her dzukin, 
 heaped high and light about the slim throat, stifled her. She 
 tugged nervously at it until one end came loose and fell. By 
 inches the flexible fabric crawled down from hair to shoulder, 
 then down her body to the floor. The disorder of the thick 
 hair, one blue-black lock almost hiding her left temple and 
 streaming to her breast, gave her an unfamiliar, a weird, 
 even a supernatural appearance. 
 
 Hagane still held a cigarette in the death-mask of his face. 
 He took it out now carefully. " You speak of revenge, Mon- 
 sieur, meaning, of course, the personal revenge. Euro- 
 peans conceive all offences to be personal. You weaklings 
 have your code, your jumping-jack ethics. Something 
 touches a spring, and your honor leaps up and crows. You 
 could hardly understand the language we now speak, though 
 our words were purest French. I will attempt to elucidate. 
 This woman refers to an essence underlying all personali- 
 ties and all time. It is a stratum of substance which boils
 
 378 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 and seethes in our sun, which sets the planets swinging in 
 their steady paths, which ebbs and flows, a thin, resistless tide, 
 down through the world of ghosts. We call it ' En.' You 
 have no better word, I think, than ' Necessity.' This woman 
 had a trust and failed. Sometimes the sabre slash of fatal 
 weakness lays bare a hidden source of strength. I believe 
 it to be so with her. The gods have smiled a ritual of 
 sacrifice ! No, you do not understand. If I sang an ob- 
 scene song your eyes would sparkle, now they are bits of 
 dull blue clay. Onda Yuki-ko ! " he said in another tone, 
 and with a voice slightly raised, "have you the thought 
 that, in winning back for your land this stolen document, 
 you become worthy again to be my wife, to bear my 
 name? " Yuki's head went up a little. If Death himself 
 could smile he would perhaps own the gleam which for 
 an instant lighted her dark eyes. "Lord, we agree that I 
 have failed. There is no deeper degradation. As for re- 
 suming your name, you should have understood, before 
 this, that I shall not need it." 
 
 Pierre wrinkled his forehead. The three stood. Pierre 
 leaned against the edge of a massive table, and sometimes 
 steadied himself with hands upon it. He bore upon the 
 oaken surface now. The drift of their conversation, though 
 in careful English, was indeed beyond him. Hagane did not 
 menace Yuki. In her look toward him was no hint of fear. 
 Yet between them, across from each to each, in all the space 
 around them, the spider tragedy hurried unceasingly, 
 and wove a closing web. They stared out from the black net 
 with faces of calm nobility. An influence shook the French- 
 man, vibrated through the particles of his brain, shrank 
 and inflated his soul in its clay vessel. In bewilderment, as 
 one reaches out in the dark, his voice cried, " Is this your 
 sorrow, Yuki? Do you wish still to be his? If you bid 
 me, perhaps I too can sacrifice. Shall I buy his mercy for 
 you with this paper?" He snatched it out, but instead of 
 presenting it, held the white rectangle again against his 
 breast. The seal glared and winked like the inflamed eye 
 of a pygmy Cyclops. 
 
 This was Pierre's supremest moment. Never again did he
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 379 
 
 reach an equal height. The altitude turned him cold and 
 dizzy. Blood surged in his ears, and tears of self -appre- 
 ciation, of self-pity, sponged with a misty blur the room and 
 its occupants. 
 
 Yuki, catching her underlip between her teeth, and bruis- 
 ing her slim hands together for control, went nearer. " Pierre, 
 I thank you. I shall never forget this greatness, in another 
 world or this. You do much to restore what you, too, have 
 lost. But I cannot bid you sacrifice. Hagane would not take 
 the paper at that price. I myself must find a way to win it." 
 
 Hagane sat like a mass of clay new fallen from a cliff. 
 Yuki's voice trailed off. An angelic sweetness hung about 
 the echoes. 
 
 Now the clay was troubled. It stirred heavily. Hagane 
 rose with his usual massive deliberation. " Tell her, French- 
 man, the price I had already offered you." 
 
 "I shall not do it with that pure face before me, Hagane." 
 
 Hagaue bowed. No hint of sarcasm cheapened the salu- 
 tation. "Then, Yuki, I must speak it. I offered him in ex- 
 change for the paper your fair, white body to be his, as a 
 dog is his, as a snatched blossom. That was my bargain." 
 
 For an instant she swayed and leaned one hand on the table 
 opposite from Pierre. Hagane placed a chair for her. Before 
 sinking to it she spoke, her eyes set on her husband, her 
 voice grave and contained. " Then, Lord Hagaiie, you have 
 revealed a depth of degradation below the uttermost punish- 
 ment which I should have thought you willing to bestow." 
 
 "Also," continued Hagane, "I ventured to declare, and 
 to believe, that you would go to him willingly." Pierre 
 quivered under this insult to the woman he loved. But 
 Yuki did not look ashamed. Pushing back the hair from 
 both temples she bent her eyes upward, as though invoking 
 strength from unseen powers. 
 
 " Yes,- Yuki, darling," cried Pierre, coming to her. "He 
 will free you honorably. You shall be mine forever, and 
 we shall soon forget these horrors of the past. I will 
 give him the paper if you wish it. What do I care for 
 Konsard or for France if I, with this, can buy your life- 
 long happiness?"
 
 380 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki shivered in all the length of her limbs. Hagane 
 turned away. His face could not be seen with the utter- 
 ance of his next words. Curiously enough they sounded 
 apologetic. 
 
 "It was the only way I saw, Yuki, the only bribe that 
 such a man might take. Your body, soiled already, have I 
 offered. Do you understand?" 
 
 Pierre's gaze, too, had fallen. Shame weighed all lids. 
 An abnormal silence came to the little group. Yuki broke 
 it with a long, long breath, as of relief and comprehension. 
 The men looked toward her. Hagane clenched a brown fist 
 to a cluster of throbbing veins. But the Frenchman gaped, 
 incredulous, and gaped again. For Yuki was smiling at 
 something far away. A light already not of earth lay on 
 her waxen brow. " Y"es," she whispered. "Yes, now, at 
 last, I understand. You will not force the gift, Hagane. 
 It must be mine. Why, Pierre, look not so strange because, 
 at last, I understand. You cannot know yet, poor Pierre, 
 but soon you will know too. I must be yours, of course. 
 Have you not planned, and spisd, and stolen for this?" 
 
 "Yuki," said Hagane, in a deeply troubled voice, "if Mon- 
 sieur Le Beau by any chance should give the paper uncon- 
 ditionally should refuse the price 
 
 "No! no!" she cried, with a quick note of terror, and 
 sprang to her feet again. "Where would be my atonement, 
 my reparation? Think it not, Lord. See that your great 
 mercy be not merciless. I shall go, gladly, gladly, to Mon- 
 sieur Le Beau ; my heart falters not for myself, but him. 
 It is a cruel deed to him." 
 
 "And well deserved," muttered Hagane. 
 
 "Being myself weak, Lord," said the young wife, "I feel 
 that the deserving is, after all, the hardest pang." 
 
 Pierre dashed his hand across his brow, and went to a small 
 sideboard for a liqueur. Again these strange people were talk- 
 ing their mystic gibberish. Yuki was more clear, indeed. 
 She had stated openly to her husband that she wished to 
 be given to another man. Neither seemed to feel the least 
 delicacy or shame. In Pierre's fastidious thought this fact 
 made a tiny stain for Yuki. The old brute evidently wanted
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 381 
 
 to be rid of her, and she, eagerly accepting freedom, did not 
 shrink from claiming at once a more desirable companion- 
 ship. At the last moment should he, Pierre, refuse to 
 grasp the prize he had turned criminal in pursuing? No, a 
 thousand times no! Yuki's friendless condition demanded 
 his deepest pity. It was with a faint touch of condescension 
 that he leaned to her, saying, " Do not falter now, Yuki. Our 
 goal is in sight. I will be true to you. I will yet make you 
 happy!" 
 
 "Happy! happy!" echoed the woman in a ghost's voice. 
 "All foreigners think and say only that one thing, happy ! 
 Pierre, Pierre, I need so much more than happiness ! " 
 
 The pathos of her voice, her small face, touched him to a 
 manlier emotion. She was so young, so white, so helpless ! 
 
 "What it is possible for me to give you I live but to 
 bestow, my darling," he said, and, kneeling, kissed a small, 
 scarred hand. "I can promise love, protection, deep re- 
 spect, for the slime of this man shall not cling to you! " 
 
 Hagane snatched him bodily from the floor. His eyes 
 blazed like a beast's. " Time will come for puling. A few 
 things are yet to be said. Let us conclude the savory bar- 
 gain. I must be gone." 
 
 "Yes, let us finish quickly," whispered Yuki. 
 
 "Gallant lover," continued Hagane to Pierre, "when and 
 how do you wish to claim your prize?" 
 
 "Now, at once," cried Pierre, rallying a little under the 
 scorn hurled toward him. "You have the eyes of a demon. 
 She would not be safe alone with you. Take the paper now, 
 and let me have her! " 
 
 Yuki shivered again, and hid her face in her sleeve. 
 
 "I shall not harm madame. This I can assure you. But 
 the earliest possible hour for your ecstasy will be to-night! " 
 
 " To-night to-night ! " moaned Yuki. 
 
 " It must be so. You cannot pass another night beneath 
 my roof, and there is none who dares receive you but this 
 brawny champion." 
 
 "To-night! It is an eternity away !" cried Pierre. "See, 
 love, the sun already is low. I hear the moat-crows cawing. 
 To-night we shall begin to live! "
 
 382 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Kwannon Sama oh, dear Saviour, help me to endure," 
 said Yuki to herself. 
 
 " To-morrow I join the army in Manchuria. Whatever is 
 to do must be completed before the dawn." 
 
 "To-night! To-night, this very night! " sang Pierre, like 
 a schoolboy. "They called me sick, but I am already a 
 well man ! That was a marvellous draught you gave me in 
 the tea-rooms, Yuki." 
 
 For the first time Hagane showed a puzzled frown. Yuki 
 explained quickly. "Oh, I had forgotten that you did not 
 know. Pierre wandered delirious into our garden this fore- 
 noon, your Highness, just after your instructions to me. I 
 could think of no way to send him off, so I took him to the 
 Cha no yu rooms and gave him a fever mixture and a sleeping- 
 draught. I believed he would remain asleep until after the 
 meeting." 
 
 "But I didn't," laughed Pierre. "It must have been the 
 God of Good Luck that woke me when he did." 
 
 " I tried to tell your Highness before the meeting, although 
 you had given me orders not to disturb your mind," went on 
 Yuki to her husband in the same quiet way. " Perhaps you 
 will recall my effort." 
 
 "I do," said Hagane. "It goes far to exonerate you. Tell 
 me more in detail." Yuki closed her lips. She did not wish 
 to be exonerated, at least by Hagane. This was her one 
 supreme opportunity for full expiation, for sacrifice. No 
 one should wrest it from her. 
 
 "I woke in good time," babbled Pierre, to whose brain the 
 liquor was giving a strange lightness. " I saw the statesmen 
 come and go. They whispered and leaned down. I saw 
 Todd, and Sir Charles, and Yuki by the window. I saw 
 my Lord Hagane come to her with the great paper in his 
 hand. She was going to betray poor Pierre to him, but 
 first the great lord must have his say. He told her of the 
 paper and then he made iron love that old lord. I 
 could hear his joints rasp. 'Yuki, you are my wife! When 
 this time of stress and strain is over I shall teach you 
 something of a brighter hue than duty!' Ah, ha! making 
 love, like any schoolboy ! She never kissed you as she has
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 383 
 
 kissed me, Hagane. Oh, she cared for me in the little tea- 
 rooms. We played we were married. Go there; you will 
 find the cushions, the trinkets strewn around,- the broken 
 hairpin." 
 
 A dull purple tide rushed upward to Hagane's face and 
 stayed there. No battle-wounds could sting and torture 
 like the mincing mimicry of the Frenchman's words. His 
 control was superhuman. He leaned an instant nearer the 
 fireplace to flip off a cigarette ash, then faced his compan- 
 ions coolly. " I must remember to investigate the scene of 
 romance." 
 
 Yuki bowed. If she had craved martyrdom, here were as- 
 suring circumstances. Pierre's thoughtless words, Hagane's 
 passionate calm, were prison manacles. They snapped on 
 wrists already scarred. She welcomed the cold compulsion. 
 
 "Well," Pierre hurried on, "let us get back to business. 
 To-night, you say? I agree, but where?" 
 
 "Should the noble count permit such base use of it, the 
 most suitable spot would be your Legation," said Hagane. 
 
 Pierre gave a hiss. His head was on fire again. He 
 must hurry and have things settled before the full con- 
 flagration came. "More melodrama! I feel the sincerity 
 of your suggestion. Shall 1 summon the noble count to be 
 asked? " 
 
 "Certainly. I shall await him here. Kindly hasten, as 
 the day already wanes." 
 
 Pierre fell back a little, half in derision, half in appre- 
 hensive credulity, like a harlequin in two shades. 
 
 "You really mean it! Well, I shall go. I will get him if 
 he is to be brought. He must come, I shall be in need of 
 him. It is all a dream, a fever dream. Will you give parole 
 to stay here till I come back, you and Yuki?" His bright 
 eyes shot suspiciously from one to the other. There was still 
 so much he did not understand. 
 
 Hagane sighed. He assumed the expression of one who 
 has had an insect light upon him and whose dignity forbids 
 him to brush it off. 
 
 "Answer the Frenchman, Yuki-ko." 
 
 "We will remain, Monsieur Le Beau," said Yuki.
 
 384 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Left alone, the husband and wife instinctively drew nearer. 
 After gazing for a long moment Hagane suddenly put out 
 his hands. Yuki thrust hers within them and lifted wide 
 eyes. Her face had a look of blurred moonlight. Out of the 
 mystic whiteness her eyes gleamed like deep spiritual wells, 
 where hopes and possibilities, already death-shadowed, drifted 
 in a spectral sheen. Hagane tightened his clasp, and at the 
 same instant let his own soul come full into his face. Yuki 
 shivered. Her lips parted. Virtue flowed in upon her from 
 his touch. She thought, as in a vision, of the Kioto statue 
 worn smooth by the touch of dying men. What ghostly com- 
 fort that image could have held was but a feeble emanation 
 beside the blinding power of this living god. 
 
 "All things are not yet clear to me," said the man. 
 " Something is hidden, and you jealously conceal the hiding- 
 place. Yet you sheltered that spy. You prevented me from 
 following. Speak your whole heart, Yuki." 
 
 "If I have a secret, Lord, it is one which aids to purify 
 and consecrate my sacrifice. I long for that sweet hour, 
 Lord. My parched spirit strains toward it." 
 
 Hagane's lips twitched once. "Yuki, as to the ear of 
 your ancestral gods, tell me, should this paper be regained 
 by means less terrible, are you worthy to be my wife? " 
 
 Thinking of her weakness, her great and not ignoble 
 efforts doomed always, it would seem, to failure, and with 
 the knowledge of this man's greatness full upon her, Yuki 
 answered simply, "No." Her very innocence betrayed her 
 and sealed the doom of death. 
 
 Hagane had a man's thoughts. Pierre's boast the dis- 
 ordered rooms of the tea-house the broken hairpin 
 lashed him with a fiery hail. He groaned and dropped his 
 face. 
 
 " Yuki, Yuki ! " came a voice as though from a mangled 
 soul. "Did you not begin to feel it? I love you! From 
 that first instant in Washington I have loved you 
 more dearly than I ought. The Gods punish me for my 
 infatuation ! " 
 
 Yuki's cheeks grew faintly tinged. "Once, nay, twice, 
 Lord, my heart bespoke it, but I dared not listen. If a
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 385 
 
 star had slid through the night to my hand, I would sooner 
 believe that I dreamed, awake, than that the heavens had 
 lost a star." 
 
 "A soul a face a heart like thine, Yuki to be 
 befouled by a Frenchman's love!" he cried in agony. 
 
 "Dear Lord," whispered the girl, "perhaps by suffering 
 greatly in this life perhaps in my completeness of expia- 
 tion I shall, in the next life, be near thee ! " 
 
 Hagane could only groan. The black spider busied itself 
 about them. A strange stillness fell on Yuki. She put up 
 a hand to her husband's shoulder, drawing him closer. "My 
 soul is like a quiet pool, my husband. Gaze in, softly, and 
 see your own face there. Nay, break not the shining by 
 thy tears. You must help me to suffer greatly. Let no 
 interference come. This last treachery to the weak boy 
 who has loved me is part of the pain. He will forgive 
 me and forget. He will even be happier than for me to 
 live on as your wife your loved wife! That is too heavenly 
 a thing for one so frail as I. Let me die, Lord, as you and 
 I, though without speech, have agreed upon. At last I shall 
 serve. Will you promise to befriend me to that hour, my 
 husband?" 
 
 " To that hour and beyond ! " groaned Hagane. A moment 
 after, he said, "Do you realize, my Yuki, what may be the 
 power of a soul freed like yours, shot suddenly from the 
 bowstring of a fixed purpose? It is a thunderbolt of the Gods! 
 Not only in your body's death, but through your free soul, 
 after, shall you aid Nippon ! " 
 
 The wonder in her wide gaze grew. A dawn, it spread 
 circling to outer rims of darkness. Currents of unseen force 
 seemed to whirl in the air about them. 
 
 " Soul of my Yuki, I shall summon you to fields of death. 
 Stand near me in perplexing hours, cleave to him who is 
 to be thy mate in a nobler rebirth! Breathe your power 
 through me in moments of despair, lift up your voice when 
 a thousand guns roar death, when ghosts spring up like 
 flames, and the commander sobs to hear the cry of ' Victory! ' 
 So shall you be worthy ! " 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! Already art thou a God, and I thy chosen 
 
 25
 
 386 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 comrade ! Wield my freed spirit to our country's need ! At 
 last I shall be strong. Into thy hands Lord " 
 
 Things of the flesh flared up and blew back forever, like 
 scraps of burnt moor-grass. The white flint of her soul had 
 struck from him its spark of immortality!
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 PIERRE'S visible return was preceded by a great chatter of 
 his voice, now in English, again in French. Evidently he had 
 more than one companion. Hagane and Yuki drew apart. 
 Pierre stood at the door which, with a wide French gesture, he 
 had flung open. The tall figure of Minister Todd entered, 
 followed closely by Count Ronsard. It was the latter who 
 saw to the careful closing of the door. 
 
 " Mr. Todd ! " Yuki faltered, under her breath. Here was 
 a new and terrible trial. Hagane gave her a glance. He saw 
 her slight figure stiffen, and her face grow still again. The 
 light upon his stern countenance was almost as beautiful as 
 her own. 
 
 Pierre began a hurried and vaporous explanation. "Mr. 
 Todd was here, your Highness, as you were already aware. 
 He desired greatly to come, and his Excellency, the count, 
 wished it ! " 
 
 "Entirely unofficial," Ronsard hastened to add. "It is a 
 personal misunderstanding, nothing more. I have been assur- 
 ing Mr. Todd that it is utterly unofficial ! " 
 
 Todd raised his thin hand. Reassurance had already corne 
 to him. Yuki was safe, and Hagane had the look of an altar- 
 piece. No personal harm, at least, was to be done. "Before 
 this goes one step further I want to say for myself, that unless 
 Prince Hagane is quite willing to have me, I leave at once. I 
 don't pretend to understand what has happened, but I have 
 full faith in Yuki and her husband. There, your Highness! 
 I am through with my little stunt. Shall I strike roots, or 
 reverse the throttle ? " 
 
 "Unless against the wishes of Madame la Priucesse, I desin 
 you to remain." 
 
 " Madame la Princesse ! " mocked Pierre, angrily, under his 
 breath.
 
 388 THE BEEATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki's dignity equalled that of her husband. "Kindly 
 remain, Mr. Todd," she murmured, with a slight bow. 
 
 "Your Highness," said Todd, still addressing Hagane, 
 "now tell us how many grains- of wheat are in this chaff of 
 foolishness Pierre is giving us ! Something about your going 
 to send my little Yuki off like a piece of broken china, for 
 him, Le Beau, to patch together at his leisure. Pshaw ! Of 
 course the boy is out of his head ! " 
 
 Hagane thought deeply before he made reply. His sobriety 
 and deliberation gave unusual weight to speech always im- 
 pressive. Each word was a nail driven straight into the lid of 
 an abandoned hope. 
 
 "Madame la Princesse has offended in a way peculiarly 
 Japanese, difficult, I think, too difficult even for your 
 sympathy and kindness to comprehend. There is no need to 
 dwell upon it. She leaves me of her own free will. She and 
 I understand each other perfectly. That is all! We shall 
 detain you two gentlemen but a moment." 
 
 "Entirely unofficial, your Excellency will observe," whis- 
 pered Ronsard, nervously, to the American. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I made that much out for myself/' said Todd to 
 Hagaiie. "If you intend to separate, it is deplorable, but 
 clearly none of my business. It 's the other heinous sugges- 
 tion, that of handing her over to another man, that makes 
 me hot in the collar. Don't tell me I must believe this of 
 your Highness ! " 
 
 Neither Hagane's eyes nor voice faltered. "The man, 
 Monsieur Le Beau, has a service to perform for Japan. He 
 asks a certain price. Yuki alone can pay that price." 
 
 "It is simple enough, Mr. Todd," Pierre burst in. The 
 discussion went in a direction distasteful to him. He did not 
 wish the matter of the paper, and its means of acquirement, 
 laid bare. "I can do the prince a service. For it, Yuki 
 becomes my own, as from the beginning she should have been. 
 This little talisman merely rights the mistakes of Fortune." 
 He held out the document, shaking it to attract attention. 
 
 " The very paper I helped to sign, this day ! " said Todd, 
 wondering. " What, in the name of Beelzebub, are you doing 
 with it ? Hagane was to guard it with his life ! There 's
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 389 
 
 something queer in this. I smell foul play ! Did Yuki, 
 could Yuki have ?" He checked himself, reddening at the 
 baseness of his quick suspicion. Yuki, facing him, gave no 
 answering flush. She was white, white beyond belief in a 
 thing that lived at all. Her low voice gave each syllable full 
 measure. "I was partly to blame that Monsieur Le 
 Beau secured that paper. I shall pay his price." 
 
 Todd's eyes still hung on her, fascinated, incredulous. He 
 could not believe her capable of vileness. He knew that no 
 depth of personal degradation could begin to compare, in the 
 Japanese mind, with an offence against loyalty. It was to 
 them, truly, the sin against the Holy Ghost. Yet, by her own 
 words, Yuki was condemned. His stung thought flashed to 
 Pierre, and fastened on him. "Then, man, it is a double 
 wrong ! I do not know yet how you got the thing ; but if 
 she is implicated, you owe it to her, far more than yourself, 
 to be decent ! In the name of morality, of honor, do not 
 sell the thing ; give it back without condition ! Your propo- 
 sition is damnable ! " 
 
 " His Excellency Mr. Todd was one who signed the paper ; 
 he pleads for its return," murmured Eonsard to the air. 
 
 " Never mind that ! " flashed Todd. " The paper does n't 
 trouble me a little bit ! I am thinking of Yuki ! " 
 
 "But Mr. Todd Yuki, she wish to pay that price. 
 She wish to be given so to Monsieur! " said the Princess 
 Hagane. 
 
 Pierre flashed a look of triumph into Todd's dazed eyes. 
 Defiantly he went to Yuki, caught her hand, and kissed it. 
 " You see and hear her for yourself ! " vaunted Pierre. Todd 
 appealed dumbly to Hagane for extrication from this amazing 
 skein of tangled interests. Hagane brooded on his wife with 
 tenderness, with the ache of love, as over a dying child. 
 Yuki drew her hand from Pierre and went to the minister. 
 "Don't try to understand," she urged him, piteously, "don't 
 defend me ! You cannot understand, not even Gwen- 
 dolen could understand ! " She caught her breath sharply, 
 with a new and untried pang, " Oh, Gwendolen, my dear 
 one!" she moaned, "I had forgotten you. Gwendolen 
 Gwendolen ! "
 
 390 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "If I might be allowed to say a word iii behalf of France," 
 ventured Ronsard, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Your Excellency," interrupted Pierre, "let us have no 
 further discussion. I cannot be interfered with, even by you. 
 The thing is done ! I have agreed ! Prince Hagane protects 
 us all ! All are satisfied. Cela! " 
 
 "Yes, yes," echoed Yuki. "Everything is settled! " 
 
 " Here 's one thing that is n't! " flared out Todd. " I say to 
 you men, French and Japanese alike, damn you for a set of 
 cold-blooded, fanatical politicians! Out of the bunch I respect 
 no, I despise a little less, Le Beau, for though an egoist and 
 a fool, he is at least on fire with love. As for you two states- 
 men, there 's something rotten in your refrigerators ! I know 
 what Le Beau has to sell, of course ; and it is not worth the 
 sacrifice of this poor shivering child ! Ronsard, speak up for 
 France, without permission or apology. Where is your honor, 
 where that little cross with the red ribbon, that you stand by 
 and see this wedge of opportunity driven by a boy's lust into 
 sand ! " 
 
 "Your Excellency!" thundered Hagane. "Though you 
 signed the paper, it is not yours. I claim it for Nippon! 
 I alone am responsible ! " 
 
 Yuki cowered an instant, pressing both hands against her 
 ears, then she rallied, and crying, "Do not interfere, it is 
 Hagane's concern and mine," went up to Todd, and seized his 
 arm. for emphasis. He pushed her off. " It may be Hagane's 
 business, but I make it mine ! God ! These are not the Dark 
 Ages. I'm not the man to stand aside and have a woman 
 burned at the stake of political exigency. I '11 turn traitor my- 
 self ! I '11 tell the purport of the paper ! I '11 wire my resig- 
 nation to Washington next day ! But I won't keep still ! " His 
 lean figure flashed with indignation like a gleam that plays 
 along an unsheathed sword. 
 
 Yuki, wheeling back to him with incredible swiftness, caught 
 down the upraised hand, and strained it to her breast. She 
 threw herself against him, praying, it would seem, for eternal 
 life. "Oh, my friend, you are noble, but you make the ter- 
 rible mistake ! You will kill my soul, which has but just 
 come alive. Let me go to Pierre, as is now planned. You
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 391 
 
 think, maybe, that I do some great sacrifice for my country, 
 like that good girl, Jeanne d'Arc. But you think too high. 
 I am bad ! I am the cat ! I have no love for Nippon or for 
 Hagane ! No, I have the one wish now, to go to Pierre 
 to Pierre ! I was close to him a moment, and now you come 
 to drag me away. Keep me not from Pierre ! " 
 
 Todd scrutinized her from between stiffening, half-closed eye- 
 lids. The gathering corner-wrinkles had the effect of sparks. 
 " It 's no good, Yuki ! " he said quietly. " It don't work a little 
 bit ! I 've known you too long! " 
 
 " Oh, but I is bad, very bad ! You did n't know, of course 
 not! I was sly to hide every things. Pierre and I have 
 arrange so that, in spite of cruel father, and Prince Hagane 
 and all, we comes together at last ! Ah, push me off again ! " 
 she cried convulsively. " That is right ! I care not if I lose 
 you, and Mrs. Todd, and Gwendolen, and my good name, 
 everything ! if only I can go to Pierre this night ! Just let 
 me do what I wish, as all have agree but you. Try not to 
 prevent ! " 
 
 At the wild light in her eyes, the impassioned ring of her 
 voice, Todd, his faith for the moment quailing, had pushed her 
 off a few shuddering inches. She clung still to his hand. By 
 this he drew her near again, and probed. Before his first 
 word, she must have surmised the change, for she swayed in 
 his hold, shuddered violently, closed her lids, and let her lips 
 form a few dumb words of prayer. 
 
 " Yuki ! " Todd began, in a voice so low that the others 
 scarcely heard. " Yuki, this is a part you are playing. Eter- 
 nity is your stage, and tragedy your curtain. The room 
 smells of it. You are not bad. You harbor now a heroic 
 design. I cannot understand, but I believe it to be supreme ! 
 Before God, look into my eyes, and tell me the truth. I will 
 not betray you ! " 
 
 She lifted calmly, now, the great, dark orbs. He gazed 
 down into them, to the thought that lay, like a white rock, in 
 the clear depths. In absolute moments the human soul has a 
 speech of its own and an ear to listen. Her lips moved no 
 more. She was not conscious of further effort to make him 
 see. Without grosser statement, knowledge came to him.
 
 392 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 This life of earth already had lost its hold on her, Pierre 
 was less than a shadow on a stream. Todd knew that she 
 was to die, that the discarded shell of the thing he loved 
 would be Pierre's prize. By the same ghostly prescience 
 Hagane knew that certainty had laid her cold touch upon the 
 American. He averted quickly his dark face from the sight. 
 Ronsard, who was nearest, saw a mighty shudder blow upon 
 him ; then the face, now twitching, lifted toward the light. 
 His lips moved. Ronsard could not surmise the trend of the 
 broken, muttered words ; but Yuki, who had neither heard nor 
 seen, knew that he was praying. 
 
 Todd loosed the girl's hand now, not in rebuke, but as one 
 incapable of sustaining longer the' fragile burden. The alert- 
 ness, the eagerness went from him. All at once he was a 
 middle-aged man. " And I must stand by and do nothing ! " 
 he whispered, half to himself, half to her. 
 
 "Oh, you can still do much. You can believe in me, and 
 Gwendolen will not need to scorn me. I will thank you 
 always, if only for what you have just understood." 
 
 " Come ! " said Hagane, sharply. " A woman's endurance 
 has a limit. The paper, please, Monsieur Le Beau." 
 
 Ronsard touched Pierre's arm. " Not until you have received 
 your price." 
 
 " When Yuki comes to me to-night, and not before," said 
 Pierre, valiantly. He was pleased with the sound of his own 
 bravado. 
 
 Yuki threw a piteous glance toward her husband. " Then 
 shall I accompany, now ? I think I can do all, alone." 
 
 Hagane did not answer her. He held Pierre in a hard gaze. 
 " To-night ? " he questioned. " How can I be sure that the 
 seal will be intact ? " 
 
 "Sir!" said Pierre, indignantly, "your suggestion is an 
 insult ! " 
 
 "Ah ! do thieves who enter other men's homes to rob them 
 still wave the flag of honor ? " Pierre drew back, flushed and 
 scowling, with a muttered curse. Todd gave a great start. It 
 was the first time he had heard the specific charge. How 
 then, if Pierre were a mere common thief, could Yuki be 
 involved ? Again he was baffled. He shook his head sadly,
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 393 
 
 and kept silence. Hagane had begun to speak again. " I am 
 willing to refer the matter to arbitration, but shall not con- 
 sent to the document remaining here. Let it be put into the 
 hands of a third party, until to-night." 
 
 " Yes," said Yuki, eagerly. " Mr. Todd will keep it. All 
 trust him ! " 
 
 Pierre and Eonsard exchanged apprehensive glances. To 
 refuse was impossible. "An an excellent plan," said 
 Ronsard, with a watery beam. "But, since Russia is our 
 ally " 
 
 " Utterly unofficial, you know. A purely personal mis- 
 understanding," reminded Todd, not without a gleam of 
 malice. " In your present attitude, Count Ronsard, you can 
 scarcely claim anything further. France's honor hardly rests 
 on felony ! I am willing to hold it ; and, if the prince 
 should fail to drive in the sacrificial lamb, otherwise Yuki, 
 France gets the paper, I presume." 
 
 " Exactly," said Hagane, and Ronsard in a breath. 
 
 "Only," interpolated Yuki, in her low, clear voice, "no 
 sacrificial lamb is to be driven, your Excellency, only a 
 woman gaining her soul's desire." 
 
 Pierre triumphed in glances about the room. Couldn't 
 the fool American see that Yuki was simply dying to get 
 away from old Hagane and come to him ! Why this continued 
 talk of sacrifice ? It sounded like the Japanese themselves. 
 Pierre sent an ardent, encouraging look to the girl. To his 
 surprise, her face was set steadily upon Hagane, and in his 
 answering gaze was the same embarrassing rapture. 
 
 " Well," said Todd, sharply, "ami to keep the paper or not ? " 
 
 "My dear colleague," stuttered Ronsard, paddling the air 
 with gestures of concession, " of course, in your keeping it is 
 as safe as say in my private desk. Pierre ! " There 
 was a sharp tang to the name. 
 
 The young man reluctantly handed the envelope to Todd. 
 He took it with a crooked smile. Hagane and Yuki remained 
 calm as statues. 
 
 " Madame," the host said, with fictitious gayety, " perhaps, 
 as a matter of delicacy, congratulations are not in order ; yet 
 allow me to assure you of my good-will and homage ! '
 
 394 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Yuki met his look. Her face was still expressionless, like 
 a Japanese painting of a high-born lady where repose is the 
 desired essential. Something underlying the white calm 
 disturbed him. After her few gentle words, "I thank your 
 Excellency," he was glad to turn away. 
 
 " To-night at eight," said Hagane, moving toward the door. 
 " Can all be present at eight ? " 
 
 The three men bowed gravely. Ronsard for once had for- 
 gotten etiquette. He was allowing his visitors to leave alone. 
 Yuki, with no further look for Pierre, prepared to follow her 
 husband, but Todd came to himself with a queer, choking 
 little sound. In two long strides he overtook her. 
 
 " Yuki, how can I stand it ? You are like my other 
 child ! I am in a bed of nettles, and you have tied my hands ! 
 I have agreed to take this paper chiefly on the hope that I may 
 stir Le Beau to a nobler issue. You must agree, you must 
 to a less awful price." 
 
 Yuki's lifted face was whiter now than any death, but some- 
 how, under the icy surface a flower was frozen. " Pierre will 
 not agree, because I have said I wish to go to him. You have 
 understood the Japanese heart strangely ; but even yet, 
 there are spaces you have not dreamed. I pray God for you 
 to fail, dear Mr. Todd, but I ask his blessing on your kindness. 
 Give to those dear ones at your home, my Sayouara, and my 
 undying love ! " 
 
 Todd writhed as if stung by an unseen serpent. " And yet, 
 within my bounds of confidence and honor, . I must reason 
 with Pierre, must speak more fully with Ronsard ! " 
 
 " I trust you utterly," said Yuki, as she faded through the 
 doorway. 
 
 Ronsard, recalled perhaps by the mention of his name, 
 hurried forward now, and accompanied the noble guests to the 
 portico. Left together, Pierre and Todd eyed each other. 
 On the younger, more beautiful face, vanity and self-satis- 
 faction were spread as scented unguents. The hour was his. 
 He had triumphed ! Yuki, in spite of all these grave men, 
 was to be his own. Oh, he would make her happy ! 
 
 It is said that the colorless color ' white ' is merely a cunning 
 admixture of all hues. In the same way, the iridescent strug-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 395 
 
 gle of contempt, pity, incredulity, disapprobation, whirling 
 together in the American's mind, coalesced into blankness, 
 the consciousness of a situation hopeless, irremediable. 
 Without a word or exclamation he sank to the nearest chair, 
 put his long, lean arms out upon the table, and laid his face 
 upon them. So the two men remained, until the heavy foot- 
 steps of Eonsard came back into the hall, until he entered, 
 and, casting an eye on the prostrate form, asked of Pierre, in 
 a whisper, " Is his Excellency ill ? " 
 
 "No," said Pierre, irritably. "He is not, but I am. No- 
 body seems to think of the strain I 've been under all this 
 time. With your permission, Excellency, I '11 have one of 
 the servants telephone for a physician. This hellish fever 
 is on me again. I must keep my reason until this night is 
 over ! " 
 
 Rousard, without answering, waddled to a chair, moved his 
 short legs outward, and let the attraction of gravitation do the 
 rest. The room shook with the impact, jangling empty cups 
 and glasses on the table. He drew out a silken handkerchief, 
 and with it odors of violet and vervain. 
 
 " Oui, oui," he made answer at length, " have your phy- 
 sician. You will need him before you are through. And 
 when the servant comes, kindly order tea, sandwiches, coffee, 
 liqueurs, anything which may strengthen. Bah ! It is vaude- 
 ville tragedy ! " He settled himself with grunts and short 
 groans of distaste. Todd was deliberately overlooked. The 
 silent form gave both observers a sense of uneasiness. 
 
 Pierre's orders given, strength suddenly deserted him. He 
 went to a couch, where pillows in Japanese brocades were 
 heaped. "With your permission, gentlemen," he muttered. 
 He threw himself down upon his back, bending his head 
 upward into the soft squares, until the profile was drawn thin 
 and clear, as that of a mediaeval figure on a tomb. All day 
 long, ever since his escape from the hospital (and could it be 
 possible that his flight had taken place since dawn of this 
 very day?), illness had toyed with him as a jungle tiger with 
 its prey, letting him go free for a moment, only to spring back, 
 fastening deeper claws. Now the fever held him, and moved 
 like a tumultuous sea across which was hung a molten, blind-
 
 396 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 ing sheet of brass. Down in the valleys of the waves it was 
 dark, and cold, and terrible. Sea-creatures grimaced at him, 
 holding out long, wavering arms. Oh, the valleys were terri- 
 ble indeed ! But up on the swelling crest was far worse, for 
 there he burned. Sometimes his brain went wild in the tor- 
 ment of flame. His lips blistered and cracked. Once, when 
 he threw a hand suddenly upward, a pink finger-nail split to 
 the flesh. The intervals had a rhythm, a relentless, horrible 
 recurrence. He knew in anticipation the agony of each moment 
 just before it came. Now, now he was beginning to rise, 
 to be borne up from the liquid, icy trough toward a plane of 
 fire. He groaned aloud, and cowered. Soft footsteps went 
 around the room. Porcelain or some such brittle substance 
 went clashing gently. To him it was as shells of the sea, 
 caught up with him in the wave ; caught up from slimy depths, 
 like him ; torn from a nether world of cold despair and whirled 
 upward, as he was being whirled ! Soon they would crack, 
 too, and the pretty colors be burned and blackened. A voice 
 came out of the water. It sounded like Ronsard's voice. 
 " Look at the young Monsieur ! Diable ! Fever is gaining. 
 I would he were safely back in the hospital." 
 
 "Then why not take the responsibility of sending him 
 there ? " drawled the American's voice, that thin, nasal, self- 
 confident voice that Pierre hated, It lashed now, like sea- 
 nettles, in his face. 
 
 Pierre writhed, and tried to toss aside the pillows. " I 
 won't go back! You need not plan ! You cannot force me ! " 
 lie tried to scream. His parched lips opened. A hissing 
 noise came from his throat. He thought he had really 
 screamed the words, but the quiet, uninterrupted flow of con- 
 versation behind the wall of the wave convicted him terri- 
 bly of delusion. He gnashed his teeth, struggling to rise. 
 
 " Good God ! " cried Todd, reaching him at a bound. u The 
 man is in convulsions. A doctor, quick, or he '11 die here ! " 
 
 Ronsard pressed a bell in frantic haste, and sent all the 
 Legation servants forth in search of physicians, warning 
 each to go in an individual direction. As a natural con- 
 sequence, they went in a frightened phalanx. Police-officers, 
 seeing the confusion, hurried in. Everywhere was dismay
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 397 
 
 and disorganization. Todd alone retained a little judgment, 
 giving the sick man ammonia to smell, and bathing his fore- 
 head with cold water. 
 
 It was a young American practitioner who first gained 
 the house. Had it been a German (of whom there are sev- 
 eral of world-wide reputation resident in Tokio), he, in 
 behalf of his reputation, not to mention common sense, 
 would certainly have insisted upon sending the invalid back 
 to Yokohama, where, indubitably, he belonged. The Amer- 
 ican being younger, more imaginative, and with less reputa- 
 tion to jeopardize, might lend himself the more readily to the 
 unusual. Konsard and Todd, each in his own way, both, 
 of course, intensely desirous of getting Pierre safely in hos- 
 pital walls, nevertheless advanced persuasions to keep him 
 away from the desirable haven until the following morning. 
 The physician was evidently puzzled by the presence of con- 
 flicting motives. As a final statement of his own position, 
 he said, " I insist that you gentlemen recognize the measures 
 I must employ to give him an interval of strength and lucid- 
 ity must take away at least fifty per cent of the patient's 
 chances of recovery ! " 
 
 Todd answered for both. " We understand. It is the dick- 
 ens of a thing for us to have to decide on ; yet, since the 
 man, if in his senses, would consider us traitors to shut him 
 up before eight to-night, I don't see anything else but to let 
 you dose him until that time." 
 
 "Exactly," corroborated the French minister. 
 
 "And, doctor," added Todd, in a slightly embarrassed tone, 
 "it is a mess. We can't explain. Mum's the word, you 
 know." 
 
 "Oh, I knew before you told me," said the young doctor. 
 Then he went to work. 
 
 An hour later Pierre, gasping, and pouring out from his 
 entire frame the very sap of vitality, still lay on the sofa, his 
 fever gone, his mind clear, uplifted, pellucid, as it had been 
 on awakening in Yuki's tea-rooms three hours before. 
 
 The doctor had departed. Neither Todd nor the French 
 minister had left the room. The two politicians tacitly un- 
 derstood that neither trusted the other, yet, strange to say,
 
 398 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 neither resented it. The issue at stake was too big for per. 
 sonal irritation. In the reaction of his excitement Todd 
 pondered anew, with ever deepening foreboding, upon the 
 thing that Yuki's eyes had told him. Ronsard, overflowing 
 in his cushioned chair, brooded of France and her already 
 humiliated ally, Russia. 
 
 "Le Beau," said Todd, at length, rising and walking in 
 the direction of the sofa, "you're too sick a man to be 
 pounded by all the arguments I have been getting together 
 for you, but there are just a few things I must say, and 
 which his Excellency Count Ronsard here should hear me 
 say." 
 
 "Speak," said Pierre, languidly; "it will make no differ- 
 ence at all, Monsieur, but I shall listen." 
 
 " I want you to return that paper quietly, as a gentleman 
 should, and I want you to go back to the hospital, as a ra- 
 tional being should. You are precipitating a crisis that Na- 
 poleon in his best days might shrink from, and you are too 
 ill to stand on your feet. You don't know yet what you 
 are doing. Rely on stronger men, just now, and in all your 
 future life you will thank God that you listened ! " 
 
 Pierre shifted his position slightly and tried to smile. 
 Ronsard placed himself at the other end of the couch. His 
 eyes held Todd. "Before Pierre tries to answer, it is but 
 right to him, to France, that I should speak, your Excel- 
 lency." He went close to Pierre and touched him. "Pierre, 
 I urge, with all the fervor, all the loyalty, all the passion of 
 a son of France, that you give up not the paper ; that is 
 ours, but the woman. None but a coward and a sensualist 
 would sell away from his country a paper which commands so 
 terrible a price." 
 
 "I am impaled upon the diameter of widely differing 
 opinions," said Pierre, sarcastically. 
 
 Todd's next words were very quiet. They were addressed 
 to Ronsard. " The advice of your Excellency is both just 
 and creditable. You speak as a diplomat; I merely as a man. 
 I know what was in the paper, and I know also that a man's 
 honor, that nameless, indescribable essence which makes 
 him a man, once blackened, with the stain eaten in, can never
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 399 
 
 be brightened. Pierre has but an hour or two to change 
 himself from a low thief to a man. Give up the paper, 
 Pierre, and save the woman you say you love!" 
 
 "Bah!" Ronsard interrupted with a rudeness the others 
 scarcely had believed possible to him ; " you accuse French- 
 men of sentimentality, Mr. Todd. What is this desire of 
 yours but sentiment, false sentiment, puerile, absurd ? You 
 spur the boy's honor in order to save a woman who prob- 
 ably does not wish to be saved. You play upon him ! I 
 see a tear in his youthful eye. He thinks of Madame, de- 
 serted, in need of comfort! Who should condole with her 
 but he ? Pouf ! If you yearn to be a hero, Pierre, make of 
 that very desire a nobler sacrifice for France ! Break your 
 heart if you will, but with the shattered fragments trace the 
 name of France ! Upon this paper that you hold, the future 
 of a great war may hang. It has written instructions, 
 values, perhaps a secret treaty. Think what it may mean, 
 not only to our own land, to Russia, but to you!" He 
 leaned to finger a little red ribbon dangling from a cigar-box 
 on the table. Pierre's eyes shot a dull gleam. "When 
 Hagane comes, defy him, break your word, retain the 
 paper, but give back the wife he so easily discards ! " 
 
 Pierre had fallen back in his pillows. "You don't know 
 what you are talking of, neither knows," he said, tossing 
 his head feverishly. "You will set my veins on fire again 
 with your chatter. Yuki, Hagane and I understand each 
 other " he broke off with a querulous gesture. 
 
 Todd had begun to bristle. Sneers were rare to him, 
 but now his lean face assumed one. He caught up the red 
 ribbon which Ronsard had let fall, and cried to him, " You 
 scorned the motive of honor, of pity for a woman, yet wave 
 the red flag of personal ambition. Pierre, can you not see 
 for yourself how flimsy is his argument? You think you 
 understand Yuki and her husband, but you do not. A terrific 
 tragedy hangs over us all. I insist, I implore you, Pierre, 
 try to reason this out for yourself, not as a Frenchman, a 
 lover, or a diplomat, but just as a man, a man, and what 
 makes him a man, with a little fuse of God sputtering in 
 him, and not an animal minus the fuse, made up of intellect,
 
 400 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tastes, and inclinations ! Think of that shivering, white-faced 
 girl, that Oriental Jeanne d' Arc who faced us all so 
 bravely an hour ago. I tell you, man, if you loved her 
 decently, you would turn sick at the thought of receiving her 
 at the hands of her lawful husband. Boy, try to think for 
 once in your life of some one besides yourself, and may 
 God have mercy on you and my little Yuki." 
 
 His voice broke on the last word. Ronsard jerked his 
 body, and gave a low sound of irritation. Pierre flared up 
 into feeble passion. 
 
 "And I tell you, Mr. Todd, that you talk nonsense ! I 
 have thought of Yuki, only Yuki ! I think now of no one 
 but Yuki. I too pitied her, and did what I could. I offered 
 to give the paper back into her hands, with the one condi- 
 tion that Hagane should pardon what he fancies her offence 
 and should receive her back openly as his wife. They both 
 refused ! " 
 
 " You did what ? Hagane refused what ? " exclaimed Todd. 
 He thought that the fever was again upon its victim. Ron- 
 sard looked concerned and felt Pierre's white forehead. He 
 met their eyes triumphantly. He was pleased at the effect 
 of his words. Something in his boyish face impressed the 
 diplomats with the truth of the unbelievable statement just 
 made. "Now, perhaps you will let me alone for a while," he 
 said disdainfully, and turned his back. 
 
 The elder men exchanged glances of dismay, and by a 
 common impulse left the couch. Pierre felt himself again 
 a conqueror. His words, like a querulous barking, followed 
 them. "I really do not feel able to endure more talk, or 
 more tobacco-smoke, just now, gentlemen. The doctor said 
 I must have sleep before to-night. If I could only sleep ! 
 After a fine deep sleep I should be strong again, the doctor 
 said it ! But they will not let me alone, they talk and 
 argue, but they are ignorant. Yuki and I understand each 
 other." With little childish, spasmodic movements he settled 
 himself among the sheens of brocade, keeping his face to the 
 wall. Small sounds of discontent, passing into moans and 
 feverish starts, came from him. 
 
 Todd stood, perplexed, by the table. Ronsard, in equal
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 401 
 
 agitation, hovered near, and then with a side glance at the 
 sick boy, crushed his cigarette into a tray. Todd's lean 
 shoulders bent over as with a weight. "After that last," 
 he muttered, " I guess I might as well clear out. Is there 
 anything further to discuss, your Excellency ? " he asked of 
 Konsard. 
 
 The Frenchman's, eyes shifted. His protruding underlip 
 trembled until he felt it shake, and raised a perfumed laden 
 handkerchief for a screen. Todd saw the uncertainty, the 
 battle between etiquette and fear in his colleague's face, and, 
 with a dry smile, took the paper from his breast, slapping it 
 down upon the bare table. 
 
 "My dear sir, my most valuable friend," began Konsard, 
 in his oiliest manner, "you tear my heartstrings with the 
 implied doubt. Your honor is not to be questioned. Yet I 
 would be glad to know just where you intend to remain this 
 fateful afternoon." The contrast between his tone and the 
 relief in his fat face were too much for Todd. He threw 
 back his head to laugh. Pierre, already dragged far out in 
 an undertow of sleep, did not turn, but Eonsard glanced up 
 suspiciously. His half-buried eyes had a tinge of red. 
 
 "It's just this way, Count," said the other, easily. "I 
 know what is in this little billet, you don't. I assure you 
 that the price is not big enough by half for the promised 
 reward. Yet if it were a thousand times bigger, and if I 
 dreaded and disapproved of the whole business ten thousand 
 times more than I do, yet, having given my word to Prince 
 Hagane and Yuki, and having accepted the er shall I 
 call it confidence ? of you and Le Beau, I should keep 
 strictly both to the letter and the spirit of my bargain. I 
 can't imagine, to be frank, the inner workings of a man 
 who could do anything else. I am an American. I have 
 been a senator, and I now represent my Government in a land 
 which fills me with the most intense admiration. Does that 
 put any lubricator on your troubled waves ? " 
 
 "My dear sir," purred the Frenchman, "let us be seated 
 for a moment more. I thank your Excellency for these new 
 assurances, and appreciate the generosity of them. This has 
 been an afternoon of trial for me, of deep humiliation. 
 
 26
 
 402 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Your nobility adds but one more pang, and, in the name of 
 France, I can bear it! I shall give five hundred yen to the 
 poor of Tokio when this most detestable affair is at an end. 
 It is my first experience of the kind, and shall be my last. 
 Pierre's public dismissal from the service of this Legation will 
 be in the morning papers. I shelter him no longer." 
 
 Todd made no comment. He had refused to take the prof- 
 fered seat. "Your Excellency, I feel the need of fresh air. 
 I must go. But before leaving you I have two questions to 
 put, answer or not as you think best." 
 
 "At your service, Monsieur." 
 
 "Have you any knowledge of the motive which prompts 
 Yuki to take so strong, so vital a part in this hellish arrange- 
 ment and do you know her offence ?" 
 
 "I can answer both. The first is obvious enough. Madame 
 has the natural desire to pass from the arms of winter to that 
 of spring. The other query, I cannot give a positive reply, 
 but will share the data." 
 
 Todd waited in silence. Konsard arranged his words with 
 some nicety. "In the first excitement of Le Beau's arrival, 
 as he came in like a maniac, waving a white screed, and 
 gasping out to me its nature, I cried, 'Then where is 
 Hagane ? He must be close behind you ! ' Pierre, with a 
 meaning glance, assured me that the great man could not 
 follow, being detained." 
 
 " Detained ? Well, go on ! " 
 
 "I marvelled, as you do, at the phrase. 'Detained,' Pierre 
 said, entangled, tied, quite cleverly, by Madame and her 
 long gray sleeves. Did you not notice the disarray of 
 Madame's toilette?" Ronsard looked up now full at his col- 
 league, as if to enjoy the effect. Todd steadied himself. He 
 would not give this man the satisfaction of gloating over new 
 wounds. The whole terrible thing came clear to him. He 
 saw why Yuki needed to die. It was no punishment inflicted 
 by Hagane, but a last desperate self-atonement. 
 
 "Ah!" he answered Ronsard, with wonderful coolness, 
 "I thank your Excellency for the elucidation. It is com- 
 plete. Now, with your permission, and if your mind is 
 entirely at rest, I will say ' Good-bye until to-night at eight. ' *
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 403 
 
 "Certainly," bowed the count, who did not relish this 
 acrobatic reversion to tranquillity. " The disclosure, I trust, 
 makes no difference in your sentiments." 
 
 " Heavens, man ! how could it ? I 'm not a tin fish on a 
 red barn, to wheel round with every wind! Don't you see it 
 is as much to me as anybody else that the thing gets back, 
 unopened, to Hagane?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I presume so," muttered Eonsard, and ac- 
 companied his colleague to the door. The American went 
 out on foot. Ronsard slowly retraced his heavy steps to 
 Pierre. Stopping beside the sleeper, he stared down, first 
 thoughtfully, then in growing antipathy and disgust. France, 
 America, political acumen, possible distinction for himself or 
 Todd, all were blocked by this sick animal who lay, inert as 
 a log, clear across the current of affairs. Well, endurance 
 came with the thought that a few hours more would see 
 the end! 
 
 Ronsard turned away at length, moved restlessly around 
 the room, and at last, with a resigned sigh, took out a pack 
 of cards, drew a table before a long pier-glass, and, solemnly 
 dealing two hands, played piquet with his silent, gray shade, 
 until the day went out, and the first purple waves of night 
 came rushing in across a soundless shore.
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 IT had been said of Mr. Cyrus C. Todd that one might 
 recognize him for an American half a mile away. The alert- 
 ness, buoyancy, and self-confidence of a growing nation had 
 expression through him. He held himself like a flagstaff 
 from which waved the Stars and Stripes. To-day the bright 
 invisible folds clung about him like a shroud. He felt the 
 weight of tears upon them, tears that soon must be shed. 
 Look where he would, no door of escape for Yuki opened. 
 After all it was so much more Hagane's affair and Pierre's 
 and even Ronsard's! But what comfort would this reply 
 bring to Gwendolen? Ah, there was the pang! Gwendolen, 
 who had known no sister but this frail bit of pearl and moon- 
 light that held so deep a soul! Todd's head sagged between 
 his shoulders. His step lost firmness. He was a man aged, 
 to outward appearance, ten years in a day. 
 
 An inspiring bit of news had come during that forenoon 
 from Manchuria. The land-engagements by which Russia 
 was to restore her prestige lost at sea, and inflict a terrible 
 retribution on her audacious enemies, had begun, and Japan, 
 as on sea, was victor. At another time Todd would have 
 rejoiced with the nation. Now the whole campaign became 
 to his fevered imagination a colossal Juggernaut destined to 
 crush one little girl, a wheel of fate (karma, Yuki would 
 have termed it) on which a white moth should be broken. 
 
 Todd seldom gave himself over to self -communion, yet 
 those long days in the bright loneliness of his wheat-fields 
 had once bred the habit. An ominous and most mysterious 
 factor in his thought was a sense of pre-knowledge, of a 
 relentless inevitability, of the desirability, even, of the sac- 
 rifice. The thing came, like a predestined growth, from the 
 soil of necessity. "Joint knit to joint expands the full 
 formed fate." As if, indeed, some ghostly counsellor leaned
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 405 
 
 to him, the event, from which his human, his conventional 
 selves recoiled, shuddering, seemed to his spirit a thing de- 
 signed, not cruelly, by the Gods themselves. Yet to think 
 of Yuki his little Yuki dead with her youth folded like 
 helpless wings about her! The man groaned and stumbled 
 in his path, as, weeks before, Pierre Le Beau, dazed with a 
 more ignoble grief, had groaned and stumbled on these very 
 stones. 
 
 The day was Friday, the hour approaching five of the 
 afternoon. Little girls in brilliant-colored kimonos played 
 ball, or hop-scotch, or hide-and-seek around the corners of the 
 streets. Solemn-looking babies, with a mat of black hair 
 tipped to the backs of otherwise smoothly shaven heads, 
 loitered, engrossed apparently in Zen meditation, in the 
 vicinity of their elders. The clothes of these pygmy abbots 
 being wadded both in front and back, one, in his abstraction, 
 toppling over, might regain his equilibrium with a single 
 bound, like round-bottomed toys that always stand on end. In- 
 fants of a size smaller had warm swallows' nests slung from 
 the backs of elder sisters. These living burdens made no 
 difference at all in the freedom of sports, or in the slumbers 
 of those carried. In hop-scotch, the heads of the babes went 
 up and down with each hop, until the slender necks should 
 have snapped. But, no, babies were meant to pass most of 
 their existence in this manner, and being Japanese, they 
 took it philosophically. Sun, wind, or even a light snow 
 might fall on the upturned faces, and sleep still line the 
 swallow nest. 
 
 Schoolboys, in little squads, passed at intervals. Some 
 among them must have been of the very lot who had once 
 informed Pierre of the meaning of "Ikusa! " Many wore the 
 foreign school uniform of dark-blue woollen cloth made into 
 scanty trousers and "bob" jackets. With this outfit went, 
 inevitably, coarse leather shoes. Other students had been to 
 their homes to change the regulation school garb for the more 
 comfortable wadded kimono, held in place by soft white 
 girdles in endless yards of cloth, and completed with Japanese 
 geta or clogs. All alike wore dark-blue military caps with 
 the names of their school across the front in Chinese ideo-
 
 406 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 graphs of gold. Their faces were smooth and brown; their 
 eyes like dark jewels. They looked fearlessly upon the tall 
 American. A few lifted their caps lightly, in token of 
 respect, but many more stared, and often turned away with 
 an independence very close upon audacity. Todd, in spite of 
 his troubled reverie, was beguiled into smiling at them. Few 
 indeed responded to his pleasant look. It savored to them 
 of condescension. Abreast with a small battalion of young 
 swaggerers, Todd, for an experiment, said distinctly, " Banzai 
 Nippon!" The boys stood as if electrified. Todd pointed 
 to his button of the Order of the Rising Sun. Suddenly caps 
 and voices went high in air. "Banzai Nippon ! Banzai 
 Nippon!" they shouted. They crowded now about the 
 minister, their faces all smiles, the mistrust vanished. They 
 examined his button eagerly, then his watch-charm, his neck- 
 tie, pin, and signet-ring. 
 
 "A-rr-e you the A-iner-i-kan?" asked one, in rheumatic 
 English. 
 
 "Yes," answered Todd. "I am the new American minis- 
 ter, A-mer-i-ca no Koshi." This was one of the few 
 Japanese phrases he had acquired. 
 
 "Banzai Nippon! Banzai Nippon!" came the renewed 
 shout. "American good friend to Nip-pon yes?" asked 
 another lad. 
 
 "Huh.! We all same lick off Russia's boots," growled a 
 surly youth. 
 
 "Well, I hope you do, though you mustn't say I said 
 it ! " laughed Todd. " Good-bye ! Good-bye ! You are fine 
 boys!" 
 
 "Good-bye! Good-bye, sirr! " called out the boys after him, 
 with caps in hand. It is to be regretted that most of them 
 said, " Gooroo-bye-roo ! " but the sentiment, at least, was 
 faultless. 
 
 Todd, looking back to them, wondered whether there were 
 any incipient Togos, Kurokis, and Haganes among the strip- 
 lings. He sighed. The untarnished enthusiasms of youth 
 are always saddening, though very precious. One of the 
 boys looked like Yuki. The likeness led him back, like a 
 jailer, to his dark cell of meditation.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 407 
 
 " What am I to say to Gwendolen ? " was now his despair- 
 ing cry. Gwendolen's eager questions, Gwendolen's clear 
 eyes, they would soon be torture-irons. She knew enough 
 of the situation to have a right to all, yet how on earth was 
 he to tell of a thing which no one had stated to himself, a 
 fleck of terrible certainty drifting to his gaze from Yuki's 
 soul? Now a revulsion against the whole morbid situation 
 flooded his being. He felt as he had sometimes felt in dreams 
 when a horrible thing crept near, and he, though half -con- 
 scious that it was only a dream, still sub-consciously must 
 endure the pangs of reality until he could wrench himself 
 awake. Perhaps this also might prove a phantasm of the 
 night! He snatched at the delusion. The voices of young 
 children, the whirr of the low red sun through fleeting 
 jinrikisha wheels, the gentle, restraining touch upon his hand 
 of falling petals, jeered softly at the self-deceiver. 
 
 The city streets shortened now to purple vistas. Across 
 from the smouldering west a single planet, isolated by its 
 own brightness, preened itself with feathers of light. Todd's 
 thoughts moved on like the shadow-pictures of a revolving 
 lantern. Each was a silhouette, black, angular, menacing. 
 If Yuki had indeed held Hagane inert, if an impulse of love, 
 even of pity for a sick man, had prevented the instant regain, 
 ing of such a paper, naturally she must get it back, though 
 at the price of her life. But what did the babbling sick boy 
 mean by saying that he had offered to return the paper to 
 Hagane, if only Yuki would be forgiven, and that both as 
 with one voice had refused? Here was the knot that pulled. 
 
 Hagane did not hate or scorn his young wife ; Todd would 
 stake his honor on that point. Never had a human counte- 
 nance shone with deeper tenderness than that which Hagane 
 had turned on Yuki within a few moments, too, of her wrong- 
 doing. The more urgently she had insisted upon fulfilling 
 the bargain, the brighter the faith in her that Hagane's eyes 
 had betrayed. Yuki's secret was plain enough. She was to 
 die by her own hand, giving her hostage of a soul to Hagane, 
 the body of her death to Pierre. Both she and Hagane had 
 been assiduous to use the one term "body." Todd could 
 understand this much, but what was Hagane's hidden source
 
 408 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 of light? Here conjecture failed. If Yuki's death were the 
 only possible way of redeeming the paper, all motives would 
 be plain ; but Pierre said that he had offered to restore it. 
 This was a great thing for Pierre to have done. Todd's heart 
 ached for the poor, weak, tortured boy, so soon to be over- 
 whelmed in an iridescent wreck of his own making. 
 
 Yuki was to die! This one thing alone was terrible enough. 
 His weary thought went on in a creaking treadmill. To 
 Hagane the mere fact of death would, of course, be less terri- 
 ble and less important. Mere animal existence, for its own 
 sake, no matter how pleasant the surroundings, is scorned 
 by a true Japanese. They have other lives to live, even on 
 this old planet. They are to come again, soothed and 
 strengthened by the few years of interval, each in the fresh, 
 new body of a little child. In such tender blossoms of their 
 own race they re-enter a world from which, smiling or shiver- 
 ing, as karma may have tended, they departed. Return- 
 ing, they are dazed, a little wistful, a little timorous, yet 
 grateful for the new chance. Believing that great sorrow and 
 great temptation come always from the deeds of a previous 
 existence, they meet them bravely, carrying their own bur- 
 dens, clear in determination to retrieve that past, and mark 
 out for the future a straighter and a higher way. The gentle 
 Amida, Kwannon of Mercy, Jizo with the tender smile, all 
 may help them. Fudo Sama, immovable in a torment of 
 flame, Monju, Aizen, and the old Shinto Gods may give 
 them strength; but each human soul has wrapped in itself 
 the power of growth and of decay. So, mounting, striving^ 
 failing, reconquering, at last the pilgrim may approach that 
 shining mystery the world calls "Nirvana,"- that glare of 
 glory where the soul is swallowed up in light, and so passes 
 on to new realms of a radiance so ineffable that human thought 
 falls helpless and blind before it. 
 
 He had heard Yuki tell all this to Gwendolen before the 
 days of her Christian conversion. His listening had been 
 more eager than he cared to show. Gwendolen had voiced 
 his thought, as she replied, with a long sigh of wonder, "It 
 does seem reasonable. So many things that we have to guess 
 at are explained by this thing you call reincarnation. Love
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 409 
 
 at first sight, sudden aversions, family tendencies, that 
 queer feeling of having been in a new place many times be- 
 fore I think I'll turn Buddhist, Yuki; but don't hint it 
 to mama." 
 
 Yuki had become a Christian. She believed her early 
 religious training to have passed forever. She was sincere 
 and earnest in the new faith. Her face turned, as by a gentle 
 instinct, to the Star of Bethlehem. All that she professed, 
 she believed truly and without question. Yet this life of 
 hers was, after all, but a flower sprung from an eternal stem, 
 whose roots were packed, burrowed, and buried deep in cen- 
 turies of Eastern mysticism. She had drawn her convictions 
 from her mother's breast, while, to belief of the tender 
 nurse, ancestral Spirits hovered and smiled above them both. 
 She had breathed it in each year at Bon Matsuri, the Festival 
 of the Dead, when little boats, laden with prayer and incense 
 and the warmth of human food, went forth to comfort the 
 souls of those who had died at sea, when each hillside 
 cemetery stirred with the soft clashing of ghostly lanterns, 
 luminous in a spectral ether, when little steaming cups of 
 tea, and flowers, and children's toys, were offered to the dead 
 ghost-people. Here were the meeting-places of the living 
 and the dead. Here the two worlds answered, face to face, 
 as reflections in still water. Yuki, in those childish days, no 
 more doubted that hordes of spirits moved about her, lifting 
 her hair, creeping into her sleeve, reaching even to the shelter 
 of her faithful heart, than, later, in America she had doubted 
 the presence of her human schoolmates, sitting in rows before 
 wooden desks. 
 
 And now, above the blood-wet battlefields, the spirits of 
 the great heroes of the past, worshipped by generations of 
 the Japanese faithful, were hovering, to test, by their su- 
 preme standards of valor and endurance, the gray hosts of 
 new aspirants for immortality. Yuki would feel that they 
 were her judges also. 
 
 And the gentle Gods would be near, Kwannon, Jizo, 
 Amida standing in great shining nebulae of faith on the 
 rim of night. 
 
 These sweeter visions passed, and the dark monitor in
 
 410 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Todd's brain set him the task of fathoming Pierre's deed. 
 The boy had stolen. Contempt swept from the thinker's 
 mind its late compassion. Illness alone might partially 
 excuse it; but in delirium, as in drunkenness, the latent im- 
 pulse often shows itself. And Pierre, a young French dandy, 
 a thief, expected to make, that night, such a woman as the 
 Princess Hagane utterly his own. Yuki had probably saved 
 his life at the expense of hers. His grateful reward would 
 be to defame her. Then why would Hagane not take her 
 back ? Was she unworthy, simply through the act of saving 
 Pierre, or was there a lower reason? No no no the 
 man cried out to himself. Yuki could not be evil. If Hagane 
 believed it of her, he could not have so smiled; he had the 
 look of a high-priest bent upon a beloved penitent. And that 
 Konsard should have believed, a man who could speak and 
 understand the Japanese language, who had lived among the 
 people for eleven years! Having faced another blank wall, 
 Todd turned. 
 
 He fell now to wondering in what way Yuki would choose 
 to die. The long strain began to tell on him. Morbid 
 thoughts and fancies assailed him. He almost gloated over 
 the anticipation of Pierre's agony when he should be paid his 
 price. But how would Yuki die ? Would she be alone, or 
 Hagane with her? Would her hand or his deal the final blow 
 give Death his first sweet sip of her ? The two would be 
 together; yes, it must be so; and the scene, unwitnessed 
 though it was, one of unrivalled heroism, the silent speech of 
 two Gods alone on a cloudy mountain-top. And what was he 
 to say to Gwendolen! 
 
 The treadmill creaked again, and registered the notch of an- 
 other empty revolution. Now Todd shook himself and raised 
 his eyes to see how far he had come. Not a hundred yards 
 ahead of him began the slope of Azabu. Blackening swiftly 
 against the copper sky loomed the great Japanese entrance to 
 his Legation. Evidently he must decide swiftly what to tell 
 or not to tell his daughter. He thought of Dodge. Dodge 
 knew the Japanese better than he; maybe he knew girls 
 better. In the breaking of the news to Gwendolen he might 
 be of great help. Then the tiny flicker of comfort died.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 411 
 
 Dodge and Gwendolen were playing at being enemies. They 
 scarcely spoke. It was a lover's quarrel, Todd supposed, for 
 Dodge certainly loved her; and the sudden friendship, on 
 the girl's part, of a successful rival betrayed clearly her sen- 
 timents. Lovers' quarrels were well enough in their way; 
 but why should this have come just now when Dodge could 
 be of use ? 
 
 He drew a sigh that racked the meagre frame, and started up 
 the slope. " Kuruma, Dan-na San ! Kick-shaw, Dan-na 
 San?" cried a group of coolies who had a little station at 
 the base of the hill. Their accents were persuasive, even 
 plaintive. They moved forward in a body, the empty black 
 vehicles (inseparable from them as shells from snails) rattling 
 behind them. They clamored like crows. 
 
 "No, I don't want you. No, I say, I-I-ye! Go back," 
 he cried, and waved them off, with some irritation at their 
 persistence. 
 
 The smooth gravelled driveway of the hill might have been 
 a trough of viscid red clay, to judge from the slow and drag- 
 ging steps of the one who now ascended it. The rejected 
 coolies, staring up from the street level, assured one another 
 that the tall foreigner was both sick and stingy. For the 
 latter fault they hoped he would fall down before reaching 
 the top of the hill. Then they would run to him, and charge 
 a yen apiece for picking him up. They began to ascend, 
 stealthily, like human vultures. 
 
 The dark spot of his ascending head could scarcely have 
 been seen through the opened gate, when, in a whirl of rus- 
 tling skirts, Gwendolen came down upon him. "I cannot tell 
 her," he muttered between clenched teeth, as she came. 
 " I shall die. She must not know what I believe ! " 
 
 Gwendolen did not reproach him for being late, though he 
 had thought her first words would be a playful chiding. She 
 did not speak at all, only took his arm, pressed it lovingly 
 with her own, and with cheek sometimes laid for an instant 
 against his shoulder made the rest of the ascent with him. 
 The tenderness, the consideration of her manner, touched 
 him profoundly. He looked down into her face, white and 
 fair even in the dying light. She smiled up at him. He
 
 412 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 saw a new beauty, a hint of new strength in her. For a 
 moment his harassed sense clutched the impossible. Maybe 
 good news of Yuki had come to her! 
 
 "What is it, child? You look different? What has 
 happened?" 
 
 She gave a low little laugh, and did not answer. They had 
 nearly reached the gate. In the great shadow a smaller 
 shadow stepped out to join them. Gwendolen put out a 
 white hand and drew it near. " This is what has happened, 
 father " she whispered. "We are friends again." 
 
 "Friends?" echoed Todd; "you and Mr. Dodge, thank 
 God!" 
 
 "Friends!" came Dodge's pleasant voice ; "well I rather 
 guess not ! " 
 
 "Gwendolen," said her father, drawing her close, "is this 
 true?" 
 
 She clung to him, crying just a little in her excitement. 
 "Yes, dad, if you are willing if it will not make you 
 unhappy. He has talked with me, of the other thing; 
 he has comforted me, though he believes it to be, oh, so 
 terrible ! Are you willing, dearest father? " 
 
 Todd put an arm around each, pressing the brown and the 
 golden heads close. "I wish it of all things," he said. 
 "Dodge is an American and a gentleman; nothing is better 
 than that. Just now this happiness of yours is a gift of 
 God, for I bring nothing joyous." 
 
 "Tell us everything," pleaded Gwendolen. "I can stand 
 anything now; my heart couldn't break with you one side of 
 it, and h-him the other." Dodge went around to his side. 
 
 "I I guess it would be safer to tell it in the private 
 office," said Todd, beginning to fumble for a handkerchief. 
 " To tell you the truth, Gwen, I'd really like if you 
 don't mind, my dears, to turn woman and have one good 
 cry." 
 
 "Come on," said Gwendolen; "I'll cry with you. I am 
 so mi-mi-miserable and hap-hap-happy, I just can't 
 She broke off in tears. 
 
 "I 'm in! " said Dodge, pulling out his handkerchief. 
 
 Laughing and crying together, with arms around one an-
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 413 
 
 other, they went in at the tall gate and to the ambassador's 
 little den. 
 
 In the big house, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Stunt and 
 Madame Todd exchanged mild confidences and cooking 
 recipes. The latter had refused for once to discuss the 
 affairs either of Pierre or Madame Hagane. 
 
 And so the night came in.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 NIGHT in Japan, when the day has been all or partly clear, 
 is a deepening mystery, a revelation of purple tones and 
 velvet shadows. In the French Legation garden (designed 
 originally for the delight of a feudal daimyo and afterward 
 given as part of the French concession for official buildings) 
 the soft blurred dusk concealed all but the vaguest sugges- 
 tions of copse and path and hillock. A wanderer on the dew- 
 drenched gravel might perceive about him, as by instinct, the 
 beauty of line and mass. The smell of daphne and azalea 
 flowers rose with pungent sweetness. Higher trees and 
 mounds, set with rolling shrubs, rose against the sky-line 
 and the stars like great crouching earth-clouds. 
 
 Pierre moved up and down the driveway just below the 
 steps that led down from a balcony on the quiet west side of 
 the house. Ignoring the doctor's orders, he had come a full 
 hour before the appointed time. Ronsard, seeing his inten- 
 tion, had expostulated vehemently, using both language and 
 gesticulation, but soon shrugged off the obligation with the 
 reviving thought, " Only an hour more, and it will be over ! " 
 
 So Pierre had walked at will. He drew in heavy breaths 
 of the scented, humid air. He believed himself impervious 
 now to further illness. He would not have listened or be- 
 lieved if one had told him that his present interlude of 
 fictitious strength was lik^ the shade of a upas-tree in a 
 scorching desert. One cigarette after another was smoked 
 and thrown at random among the shrubs, where each in turn 
 lay like a malicious glow-worm, hissing and winking away 
 an acrid spite. In the west a faint shining stirred the 
 advent of the moon. 
 
 At ten minutes to eight o'clock Mr. Todd arrived. He was 
 ushered at once, by order, into the small drawing-room where 
 Ronsard sat. His face had new lines of struggle, and was
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 415 
 
 very pale, but self-possession was evident in every gesture. 
 His first act on reaching Ronsard was to draw out the paper, 
 saying, " This, sir, has not left my body, or been touched by 
 any hand but mine, or been referred to by any speech, since 
 the moment, a few hours since, when I left you." 
 
 In his long, earnest explanation to Gwendolen and Dodge, 
 Todd had, indeed, carefully refrained from letting them know 
 that he was personal guardian of the document. It might 
 have opened for them another blind trail of argument. Dur- 
 ing that agonizing interview he had thanked fate a hundred 
 times for the part that Dodge had so opportunely been quali- 
 fied to play. The clear judgment, intense sympathy, and 
 clever resourcefulness of the young diplomat delighted him 
 even in the midst of tragic exercise. It had taken the utmost 
 skill of both men to overpower Gwendolen's first keen desire 
 to go to her friend, to make the girl see that interference on 
 her part had become impossible. He had left her half -faint- 
 ing, though still insistent in her belief that God could not 
 allow such a crime! 
 
 Ronsard rose as the guest entered. He, too, had gained a 
 certain fatalistic calm. In reply to Todd's elaborate explana- 
 tion, he had said simply, "Return the paper to its place, 
 your Excellency. The farce will soon be over. Shall we not 
 join our young imbecile in the garden?" 
 
 They paced together wide dimly lighted rooms, and emerged 
 upon the uncovered western balcony. Pierre looked up and, 
 wordless, continued his rapid, nervous strides. 
 
 " He '11 kill himself, the fool," muttered Todd. " The mist 
 piles in like thin cotton." 
 
 "It is too late even for his death to be of assistance," said 
 Ronsard, with bitter animosity. His small eyes darted loath- 
 ing after his young compatriot. He thrust pudgy hands 
 deep into pockets below the equator of his belt, and rocked 
 to and fro on his heels. Suddenly the pent-up discomfort, 
 the apprehension, the strain of the situation clutched him 
 anew. "God!" he cried aloud, and shook himself until the 
 fat trembled. " As you say, Monsieur, no man is worth all 
 this, nor woman either, least of all that puling hind yonder! 
 Only a great cause is worth it, the service for one's native
 
 416 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 land. I have tried to think of France of France only. 
 My country is to be cheated. I can do nothing; yet still I 
 wallow in this tepid slime! How has it come about? You 
 will give Hagane the paper, if he brings the woman with 
 him ! " He broke off, and after a keen look into Todd's un- 
 responsive face began to walk in short, broken steps up and 
 down the stone flooring. 
 
 His words had rung out clearly. Pierre must have heard 
 each one ; but if so, he made no sign. Pierre had now but 
 one thing to think of, his price, the woman that would 
 soon be here. 
 
 Todd leaned against a corner pedestal, and Ronsard, after a 
 moment, paused in his meaningless exercise, and stood again 
 before his colleague. The two pairs of eyes met and fenced. 
 Todd might have been made of wood. After a long glance 
 Ronsard freed his right hand from its pocket and began pull- 
 ing at the moist, red underlip. " You will of course, in any 
 case, give up the paper at first appearance of Hagane and 
 Madame?" His voice slid querulously upward with interro- 
 gation in the pause. 
 
 "Yes," said Todd, distinctly. "I conceive it to be my part 
 to return the paper at that moment." 
 
 "Er had we not better pause to see whether Madame 
 tends to prove after all recalcitrant ? " 
 
 " The bargain said nothing of that. Pierre gets his price, 
 the person of Yuki, so they always worded it; Hagane 
 gets the paper. It is simple enough. We don't need a light- 
 ning-calculator." 
 
 "Hark! " said Pierre, pausing, stricken, just beneath them. 
 "Is it not the sound of wheels?" 
 
 All became silent, alert, intent. The faint, low crackle 
 and clatter of a kuruma on gravel, a vehicle slowly drawn, 
 came apparently from the far end of the garden, just under 
 the spot where the moon rose. 
 
 From the battlements of the white house beside them, the 
 great pale house standing upright like an opened volume in 
 the night, a queer flutter came, swart wings went beating 
 against the stars, and a crow laughed aloud with raucous
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 417 
 
 "A crow at night! It means, among these people, death! " 
 said Ronsard. 
 
 Pierre started violently, and dropped his last cigarette. 
 "Damn the flying fiend!" he cursed aloud. 
 
 The crunching of wheels drew near. They moved with in- 
 creasing sluggishness. Each click had a sound of protest. 
 To Pierre's tortured hearing, all noises crawled backward. 
 
 By this the moon was in the tops of enoki, camphor, and 
 tall camellia trees. Where its light touched curves of shelled 
 and smoothly gravelled paths, the spaces were of snow. 
 
 Out from the great red pagoda of Shiba temple, not half a 
 mile away, came the first stir, the throb, the murmur of a 
 great bell struck tentatively by its swinging cedar beam, 
 before receiving in full strength the initial stroke of eight. 
 "One!" the great bronze pendant boomed. "Two!" came 
 more slowly and on a higher note, sending swifter ripples 
 to overtake the first scurrying elves of sound. "Three!" 
 "Four!" It swung majestically until the last stroke, piling 
 echoes deep, filled the whole shell of night with discontent, 
 and sank, a dew of sound, on listening leaves. 
 
 With the first tone, the jinrikisha wheels had stopped. 
 The great crow, shaken from his height, had fled. Pursued 
 far off by melodious echoes, he flapped his wings and screamed. 
 A cricket near the steps awoke, jarred from his winter sleep 
 by vibrant summons. The needle of his shrill, incongruous 
 song pierced to the listeners' hearts. 
 
 "Mother of God! " cried Pierre, smiting his clammy fore- 
 head, " how is it that I live at all? " 
 
 Around a curved hillock directly bordering a path, straight 
 into unhindered light, came the white hat and stooping 
 shoulders of a coolie. Behind him dragged the dark bulk 
 of a covered vehicle. Pierre half fainted against the steps. 
 " She has come alone alone " he cried in exultation. Re- 
 gaining his feet he wheeled to the two men watching from 
 the balcony. " Gentlemen," he cried with a gesture, " may I 
 entreat you to leave, for these first moments? " 
 The coolie came on like a heavy machine. 
 Ronsard, at Pierre's question, transferred his weight from 
 one foot to the other, and then looked at Todd. The latter 
 
 27
 
 418 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 deliberately walked down the shallow steps and stood on the 
 gravel beside Pierre. The white hat of the coolie fronted 
 them like a silver shield. Pierre scowled upon the American, 
 and gave a sound of anger. 
 
 "I 'm sorry," said Todd, calmly. "But I promised to be 
 present during just these first moments. Prince Hagane has 
 my word." 
 
 " Prince Hagane ! " echoed Pierre, with a hoarse laugh that 
 was kin to the crow's. "Where is Prince Hagane? Backed 
 out at the last, as I thought he would like the coward and 
 bully that he is! There has no Hagane come, don't you see? 
 Only Yuki my darling my poor little love. I see her 
 white dress yonder! " 
 
 The coolie straightened himself, flung the wide hat side- 
 ways with a single fierce sweep of arm, and turned to the 
 wondering observers the set, livid face and burning eyes of 
 Hagane. 
 
 "Prince Hagane is here," he said quietly, and tried to 
 smile. 
 
 His peasant hat, skimming along the gravel, touched now 
 and again with a hissing sound the surface of small stones. 
 At length in a small patch of moonlight it came to rest, and 
 lay rocking slightly, and gaping upward like a mendicant's 
 bowl. 
 
 Pierre cowered. Ronsard nearly fell. "Prince Hagane 
 in coolie's garb! What new horror is this?" 
 
 "Suppose we call it delicacy." suggested Hagane. 
 "Could any secrecy be too great for such a meeting?" 
 
 Todd narrowed his lids. Hagane kept a hand close upon 
 one shaft of the little vehicle, conserving the upright posture. 
 The black hood, bent far over to the front, completely con- 
 cealed the occupant ; but the dazzling white of a gown with 
 pale embroideries, and the faint odor of flowers and of sandal- 
 wood now stealing upon the night air, should, in any case, 
 have betrayed her sex. 
 
 " Yuki Yuki, you have really come ! " cried Pierre, and 
 would have rushed to her but for the obstruction of Hagane 's 
 arm. 
 
 "First, the paper," said Hagane.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 419 
 
 Todd jerked out the document. Konsard held him. 
 
 "Wait; there is something damnable in that still white 
 thing there in the rickshaw. Wait and see whether it is 
 really Madame la Princesse, or a substitute." 
 
 Hagane stared one moment upon the speaker with lips that 
 writhed backward, showing teeth like a baited boar. "His 
 Excellency is always prudent. See, gentlemen, for your- 
 selves, that I have brought my wife. Mr. Todd, have the 
 document ready ! " 
 
 With an almost imperceptible motion Hagane slipped from 
 its nail the black, taut twine that held the lowered hood. It 
 rattled back with the noise of the spokes of a giant fan. 
 Yuki sat upright, the full moon just behind her, smiling. 
 The little hands were clasped tightly in her lap. The coils 
 of her orchid hair had the glint and sheen of the crow's 
 wing. 
 
 " It is Yuki, certainement ! " screamed Pierre, in ecstasy. 
 
 " Hold back that paper ! " roared Ronsard. 
 
 Todd stood on tiptoe. One long thin arm went up like 
 the derrick of a dredging-machine. His hand held some- 
 thing square and white "with a black blotch on it. The arm 
 lowered. Hagane reached up, took the paper, and thrust it 
 deep into the breast of his coolie robe. 
 
 "The paper " groaned Ronsard; "it is gone forever! " 
 
 "But Yuki," cried Pierre, "has come to be mine forever!" 
 
 "One moment, gentlemen," said Hagane, again restraining 
 Pierre. "You were all present at the agreement between 
 Monsieur Le Beau and me. The paper is now regained, and 
 here is its price ; here is Onda Yuki-ko." He placed the shafts 
 of the little vehicle on the lowest stair, and stepped out 
 sheer upon the walk. Pierre, like an animal released, sprang 
 to Yuki, knelt by her, caught her hands, and began whisper- 
 ing words of love. 
 
 Now for the first time Todd groaned aloud, and walked to 
 a little distance. Ronsard followed him. But the Japanese 
 stood immovable, his eyes on Yuki's face. 
 
 " My beloved, my beloved, I know now that I have not 
 believed in this ecstasy ! But you are here ! Come, dear 
 one, you must be chilled in the night air. How quiet you
 
 420 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 are and pale! It must be the moonlight. And your little 
 hands are cold! Why do you not speak, love! Are you 
 trying to frighten me? This is not the time for dainty 
 trickery! Speak, for God's sake! I have been so long on 
 the rack my very soul is sore ! Why do you smile so, and 
 never change? Your cheek is colder than your hands. O 
 God, a thought is coming that will turn me, too, into ice! 
 Yuki, Yuki, what strange thing is this rooted in your heart, 
 what grim hilt with twisted dragons? I see the crest of 
 the Haganfc clan ! Yuki Yuki " 
 
 "She wishes the dagger not removed, Monsieur. It keeps 
 her sacrificial robes immaculate." Hagane spoke like a 
 machine. 
 
 Pierre, the other side of Yuki, rose to his feet. His 
 eyeballs swelled and rolled in the moonlight, giving him a 
 look of frenzy. " Who is that that speaks to me ? Has 
 night a voice? What spirit hides behind that mask ? " 
 
 "Death," said Hagane, calmly. 
 
 Pierre writhed beside the vehicle, and then became very 
 still. The other listeners turned, expecting an outburst of 
 maniacal grief, perhaps a murderous assault on Hagane. 
 Pierre's composure was more terrible than any speech. He 
 smoothed one of Yuki's hands, and, after a pause, began 
 speaking directly to her. 
 
 "So this has been his plan, dear ? I might have guessed. 
 He knew he was to kill you. Oh, the deed suited him ! He 
 called me a thief; but what has he not stolen? Wait for 
 me somewhere, darling, I cannot say just where it will be; 
 but after I will meet you. If sickness does not free me, 
 I myself will loose this tortured soul and find you." 
 
 " She died by her own hand. That dagger was already in 
 her heart as you, with the stolen paper, left my room." 
 
 " Oh, he is trying to hide, to shield himself behind you, 
 poor little one ! " said Pierre to the dead woman. 
 
 A shadow on the nearest hillock moved. Todd went nearer 
 to examine it, but could see no living thing. 
 
 "Time presses," said Hagane, speaking always in the same 
 dull, hopeless way. "Our bargain was clearly stated. Shall 
 I now leave with you the body, Monsieur Le Beau, or shall I
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 421 
 
 retrace my steps as I came, giving honorable burial to the 
 Princess Hagane? " 
 
 "Le Beau, you cannot hesitate at such a question," cried 
 Todd. 
 
 "Pierre, Pierre, in the name of France, compromise us 
 no further! You have done harm enough. Let the poor sac- 
 rifice go in peace ! " 
 
 Pierre caught Yuki to him, his arm about her shoulder, 
 her glossy hair, with the white flowers, strained against his 
 heart. Like a trapped beast he defied them all. 
 
 "No, I '11 not give her up. You are all false, all have 
 betrayed me. If I am to have nothing else, I keep at least 
 the frail shell of what she was ! Oh, I shall kiss kiss 
 kiss her into life, or myself into her cold, white death. 
 Yes, go, you toad of Hell ! " he screamed toward Hagane. 
 "Leave my price with me." 
 
 "Though dead, she still has reputation family honor," 
 Hagane said. 
 
 Pierre threw back his head for a derisive laugh. Just then 
 a strange thing happened. From the hillock near by a 
 crouching shrub seemed to detach itself and spring. It was 
 a man, the old samurai Onda. Hagane had told him to be 
 there. Before interposition could be made, he had thrown 
 himself on Pierre, taken Yuki from his arms, thrown her 
 back in the kuruma, and stood in an attitude of menace 
 between them. " Keep your hands from my daughter ! Keep 
 your devil's hands from the Princess Hagane! " 
 
 " Shall we interfere ? " whispered Todd to Hagane. 
 
 "No, I can do all," he said. Then to Onda, "Keep 
 back, old friend. It is his right, the price that we have 
 paid." 
 
 "Master, Master," cried the kerai, almost sobbing in his 
 excitement, "let me slay him let me slay all three! I 
 will die the self-death, or be hanged, with equal satisfaction. 
 Only let me slay ! " 
 
 "These others are just men, and my friends," said Hagane 
 gravely. "The young madman yonder is protected by my 
 word. We must think, too, of Nippon." 
 
 Old Onda's breathing rasped the silence.
 
 422 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 "Monsieur Le Beau," said Hagane again, "you are fully 
 determined to retain the body and give her name to public 
 defamation ? " 
 
 "What else is there for me, devil ?" 
 
 " That you have been her lover, that you have so deeply 
 injured me, is that not enough to gloat over ? " 
 
 For an instant Pierre stared. The meaning of the words 
 came to him with a relish. Hagane really believed this 
 thing; then of course he suffered! Very good! A look of 
 malignant triumph grew in Pierre's face. Hagane drank the 
 bitterness with his eyes. Here, at last, thought Pierre, was 
 the undipped heel, the pervious crown. Yuki's body sagged 
 an inch. Pierre stooped to it. Again she was in his arms, 
 and he devoured, with despairing looks, the small, dead 
 face. 
 
 Hagane, by a fierce gesture, commanded Onda to be still. 
 Todd felt his heart stop, then rise slowly to his throat, and 
 Ronsard, shivering, gripped the American's arm. The moon 
 sailed full into a cloudless sky. Beneath it the great tragedy 
 lay bare. 
 
 The trend of Pierre's thoughts at this moment he could 
 never afterward recall. His flesh felt as though it melted 
 from him. His brain stirred and pulled at possibilities before 
 unfelt. Voices not of earth said strange things which he 
 almost understood. Yuki's dead smile changed. He saw 
 her lips quiver. Her white face grew to one still prayer. 
 Something like a cooling fluid went into his hot and empty 
 veins. He felt strong again and noble. He regarded Yuki's 
 accuser with a new look. 
 
 " You lie in saying that thing, Hagane. Is it not enough 
 that you have used, and then slain her, that you now traduce 
 her name? No, you dare not resent my words, coward, 
 liar, slanderer! What is the theft of a paper compared to 
 this? For Yuki's sake, I tell you that no flower hidden in 
 green leaves, no girl-child at its mother's breast, no flake of 
 snow, new-fallen, is purer than this woman. Yes, grin now 
 and tremble ! " 
 
 He went swiftly to the stricken man, and dealt him a blow 
 upon the lips.
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 423 
 
 With gasps of horror the others rushed in. Hagane caught 
 Pierre to his side, and fought off the frenzied Onda. " Back, 
 all of you, stand off, I say ! " he thundered. " The man gives 
 me life. Let him strike. Yes, yes," he cried to Pierre, all 
 the hauteur and the terrible bronze composure melted in this 
 new fierce joy; "tear my eyes from their sockets, my tongue 
 from its base, only repeat that she is pure ! How could I 
 know? She let me think it, your boasts, the broken hair- 
 pin! Did she not give you the pledge of the hairpin?" 
 
 "I took it myself," said Pierre, "and would not give it 
 back, though she pleaded. How could I guess the gross sen- 
 timent that is attached to the silly business by such minds as 
 yours? She was pure, I say; give me her body and let me 
 go!" 
 
 Hagane followed him to the kuruma. He stretched out 
 both hands, now as one entreating mercy. "Poor boy, bound 
 with me on the wheel of fate, listen just a little, if you can 
 command your strength. She shielded you. Then, with her 
 life, she rebought the paper. When you had offered to give 
 it back, if I would consent to the restitution of her wifehood, 
 I asked her if she was worthy to return, and in her conscious 
 innocence, she gave the answer, 'No.' She thought only of 
 the unworthiness of weakness she whose soul, diluted into 
 eternity, might stock a Christian heaven. In her self-death, 
 she deliberately let me believe her evil, that her atonement 
 might have this added bitterness. Also she may have feared 
 that, being undeceived, I might falter in my promise not to 
 restrain her from expiation. She knew of my love, and we 
 have pledged ourselves to reunion and joint service after 
 death. You cannot understand these things, Monsieur." 
 
 "No!" said Pierre, in bewilderment, putting his hand to 
 his forehead, "I cannot understand, of course; she was 
 always saying that. I cannot understand, but something 
 whispers " 
 
 "Monsieur," cried Hagane, "I am an older, graver man. 
 I have suffered as I think you cannot suffer. Give me back 
 the boon of her body ! " 
 
 Pierre blinked and wavered in the path. These sudden 
 shifting currents of purpose dazed him. The strain was
 
 424 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 tightening again, and he felt the premonitory breath of fever. 
 He grasped outward into the air. He looked at Yuki, as if 
 for the first time, and moved dumb lips. 
 
 "You believed this of your wife, yet forgave helped 
 loved her You look forward to having her as your wife in 
 a coming re-birth?" asked Todd, wondering. 
 
 "Had it been true, it was but sin of the flesh. By death 
 and expiation, she would have cleansed it. The soul would 
 have risen, free." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, what people ! " gasped Eonsard. " There 
 stands the man Onda, scowling at us all, and not even re- 
 senting, from Hagane, his only daughter's death." 
 
 "Onda will sacrifice to the Gods in gratitude when he 
 knows the whole," said Hagane. 
 
 Pierre was trying to speak. He vacillated, soul and body, 
 between the dead woman and her husband. " Do not refuse 
 me," murmured Hagane, stepping nearer. 
 
 Pierre did not shrink. Instead, he, too, went near, as if 
 fascinated. He cleared his throat, pushed back the damp 
 hair from his girlish forehead, and smiled up at the dark, 
 eager face. "Hagane is a great man," he said, tapping the 
 other's arm. "Oh, he is a terrible man! I can refuse him 
 nothing. Yuki says that the Gods of this land speak with 
 him. I believe it. One is standing just behind him now; 
 that is a terrible God, too. He looks like Hagane. He sits 
 like a white flint in a ball of fire. On his arms are the coils 
 of rope that bind the passions; in his right hand is the 
 wheel of fate. No, I will not refuse. Old God must have 
 flowers on his altar. Take white flower, old War God. 
 There she is, my love my darling. If only she would 
 not smile! " 
 
 Hagane caught the boy as he fell, transferring the burden 
 quickly to Ronsard's outstretched arms. He gazed then anew 
 at the face of his wife. 
 
 "Yuki," he said, as if to her listening spirit, "you are soul 
 of my soul through ten thousand lives. I let yon die. It was 
 karma. A flower ! A flower ! Alas, that a flower should be 
 stung by immortality ! " 
 
 " Get her away, your Highness, before we call the servants
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 425 
 
 and a doctor for Le Beau," whispered Todd, after an agonizing 
 interval. Hagane rose from his knees. 
 
 " Yes, little Yuki must go with me," he muttered ; " I will 
 take her at once, your Excellency." He went toward the 
 coolie hat and stooped. Onda was before him. 
 
 " It is not seemly, Lord, for you to bear so foul a burden. 
 I will wear the hat, and I pray you take these shoes of mine, 
 giving me the straw sandals." 
 
 Hagane obeyed passively, his eyes fixed always on Yuki's 
 moonlit face. Now and again he felt in the bosom of his 
 robe for the paper. 
 
 " Loosen the robe from your girdle, Master," pleaded the 
 kerai. 
 
 Hagane did so, releasing the caught-up ends. The long, 
 dark garment, though of cotton, restored to him the height 
 and dignity of his usual presence. 
 
 " Shall I draw the hood of the kuruma ? " asked Onda. 
 
 " Yes, cover her face, her small white face ; the very 
 night may weep and falter at that smile." 
 
 Onda tucked up his robe, put on the wide hat and the straw 
 sandals, placed himself between the shafts, and started along 
 the driveway. 
 
 Hagane, moving always slowly, abstractedly, folded his 
 arms, bowed his head, and followed in the attitude of a 
 mourner immediately behind the covered vehicle. 
 
 " Take my burden for a moment," pleaded Ronsard, when 
 the sound of wheels had quite died away. " I can support 
 no longer. Let me summon aid. Mon Dieu! this night has 
 made of me an old man." 
 
 " It has made of me a prophet," said Todd, " for I have met 
 Immortals face to face."
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 
 
 THE sumptuous obsequies of the young Princess Hagane, 
 become so suddenly and so securely a leading figure in Tokio's 
 official life ; her mysterious death (heart failure, the obliging 
 papers called it); Hagane's immediate departure for the seat 
 of war; Pierre Le Beau's re-capture and long, desperate ill- 
 ness (with relapses brought on by further crafty flights, ter- 
 minating always in a certain hillside grave), these events 
 co-existent, co-related, formed, inevitably, dazzling bits of 
 speculation pieceable together into various strange patterns. 
 
 Outwardly the tragedy was as free from suspicion as any 
 such shocking occurrence well could be. The funeral, in 
 deference to Yuki's Christian conversion, was held in the 
 little American Episcopal chapel in Tsukijii, Tokio; the 
 American Bishop, assisted by members of the native clergy, 
 conducting the ceremony in Japanese. Hagane, ponderous, 
 brooding, and self-contained, had walked immediately behind 
 the flower-laden burden. The scowling Tetsujo, with Iriya, 
 followed him. Suzume was there, alone, for she had refused 
 the petition of Maru San. Next to the family came Gwen- 
 dolen, shivering, slender, wound in crepe, on the arm of Mr. 
 Dodge. Behind her walked Cyrus Todd and Mrs. Todd, both 
 in mourning. 
 
 The strained decorum of the crowded congregation was 
 threatened twice ; first, when old Suzume, bearing a sprig of 
 the mystic mochi tree, tottered up the aisle, and began praying 
 aloud to the black thing into which her nursling had been 
 nailed; and later, just after the words of the Bishop, "I am 
 the Resurrection and the Life," when Gwendolen fainted 
 quietly away. 
 
 After the prescribed nine days of gossip and conjecture, ill-, 
 natured ones turned their eyes to the Todds, and chiefly to 
 Gwendolen. The deep withdrawal of the two ladies from the
 
 427 
 
 social world of Tokio, the mourning garments worn by them, 
 were interpreted by some observers as mere stinginess, an 
 excuse to abstain from lavish Legation hospitality; but by 
 a larger number as " bids " for Japanese popularity. Also 
 many of the fair sex among European Legations declared 
 (Mon Dieu ! it was obvious !) that Gwendolen had seized upon 
 this dank method for the securing of Dodge, the young 
 American attache known to be so madly in love with Carmen 
 Gil y Niestra. Gwendolen's ever-growing intimacy with Iriya 
 Onda, and the, pathetic content shown by the elder woman in 
 the company cf her dead child's closest friend, were charged 
 to the columns of the former category. " The Hawk's Eye" 
 expatiated upon these congenial themes. The Misses Stunt 
 gave an afternoon tea with all of the catering done in 
 Yokohama. 
 
 Later on, when cherry-blossoms covered the whole land 
 in a perfumed glory, Mrs. Todd answered timidly by a 
 bunch of artificial violets on her spring bonnet. Gwendolen 
 still kept to simple black, and it was averred that she did 
 so knowing how marvellously it contrasted with the pearly 
 tints of her flesh and the nervous gold tendrils of her hair. 
 Never had Gwendolen been more beautiful nor, in a strange, 
 deep, half-comprehending way, more tranquilly happy. The 
 light of heroism had come too near ever quite to fade. 
 Love, also, had come, and on the 'very wings of despair. 
 Yet, behind these facts, was a something unspeakable, pre- 
 cious, vague, a something apprehended by Dodge also. 
 Even as the two happy ones stood together with eyes look- 
 ing level toward vistas of almost certain human joy, each 
 felt that compared with the passion of the two immortals, 
 now gone from their lives, this rapture was like the glad 
 hearts of children. Often they spoke of Yuki and her hus- 
 band. "Oh, but they knew that they were to meet," Gwen- 
 dolen had cried again and again. "Yuki is with him now, 
 and after this war, after his last duty to his country and 
 to his Emperor, they will find each other! " 
 
 Of poor Pierre, after his departure for France accompanied 
 by Count Eonsard, none of the Todd household ever spoke.
 
 428 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 Once, some months after the return of the latter to Tokio, 
 Mrs. Todd, in a hushed whisper, as if she were guilty of an 
 indiscretion, asked a single question. The answer was as 
 brief and furtive. In a certain sense it relieved the con- 
 science of the interlocutrix, while it shadowed her compla- 
 cency. Neither question nor answer was ever retailed to 
 Gwendolen. 
 
 But all this came much later. The spring immediately 
 following Yuki's death went by in a shimmer of winds, 
 scurrying clouds, and whirling petals. Summer smiled her 
 deeper green in rice-fields under the glint and blur of rain. 
 Then, like a stately deity for whose feet the shining carpet 
 had been spread, a golden autumn came. 
 
 On the hills vermilion maples burned, each leaf so deeply 
 dyed that its shadow on the sand was red. Hedges of dodan 
 ruled fiery angles over the green lines that summer had drawn. 
 Small carts, man-pulled, with pots of sunny, stiff chrysanthe- 
 mums, crawled in by dewy morning lanes toward the focus 
 of the capital. Harvesting of grain began, and, presiding 
 over it, the deity of a large, slow moon. In suburban dis- 
 tricts the people held festivals and made offerings of tea, 
 vegetables, and money to Inari Sama and her two lean fox- 
 spirits, for the slaying of rice-insects, demanded by the 
 summer's agricultural toil. 
 
 Meantime war had raged on land and sea. The slopes of 
 Port Arthur had been drenched already in insufficient blood. 
 Great battles on the Yalu, epoch-making in enormity and 
 heroism, had been not quite great enough. The Russians, 
 always strongly fortified, numbering always more than the 
 army of their opponents, were able to keep decisive ruin 
 for themselves at bay. The Japanese people did not know 
 a wavering strand of faith. They believed always in their 
 ultimate victory. Each hero, checked in his duty by Russian 
 steel, became on the instant a flaming spirit of war. The 
 mangled body might be tucked away in Manchurian clay, or 
 sent, as a sacred relic, to the beloved homeland ; but the freed 
 spirit hung about its brethren, and fought with invincible 
 weapons for the common cause. The women of Japan worked
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 429 
 
 indefatigably. Few lamentations rose from them. They 
 would have considered tears disloyal. The Emperor, behind 
 his gray moat-walls, half man, half God to them, sent 
 down his heart among the people. His was the suffering 
 and the loss, and victory, when it came, was to be his. 
 
 Late in October, at the American Legation, the doors once 
 more stood wide. Pots of chrysanthemums in full bloom 
 crowded near the entrance, and climbed, in groups of two 
 and three, the edges of the stone steps, as if leading a golden 
 invitation. Gwendolen, that morning, standing among them, 
 had dwelt in thought upon another time, scarcely a year past, 
 when she and Yuki had laughed together among such shaggy 
 blooms, when their hands had been tinctured by the stems 
 of them and the air of long reception-rooms flooded with the 
 medicinal fragrance. She did not weep, only stretched her 
 arms outward, whispering, " Yuki, Yuki, I know you are 
 with him ; but just this one day, my wedding-day, come 
 back to me ! " 
 
 The marriage ceremony was to take place in the drawing- 
 room. After a luncheon to a score or more of intimate 
 friends, the young couple were to go for a quiet sojourn to 
 Nara. This was the first occasion since Yuki's death that 
 the American girl had worn a color. At the appointed hour 
 she stood within the green-hung window recess like an Easter 
 lily, all white and gold, a broad white cloth hat, touched 
 with knots of amber. The silent little wedding company 
 drew close. The Bishop cleared his throat professionally. 
 One heard the words, "Dearly Beloved" before he uttered 
 them. At that moment, a bird, attracted maybe by the tall 
 white flower within, flew straight against the pane, and beat 
 against it with fluttering wings. Gwendolen looked up 
 quickly. Her lips moved. "Yuki! Yuki! is it you?" she 
 was saying. Dodge pressed tightly the arm within his own. 
 
 In spite of strong efforts on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Todd 
 to be at ease, a vague mist of sadness floated in the wide 
 rooms. 
 
 " There 's something awfully doleful about things here," 
 confided a guest to the ubiquitous Mrs. Stunt.
 
 430 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 
 
 " Oh, it 's that Hagane woman who died or was murdered 
 In her bed last spring. The Legation has been about as 
 cheerful as a morgue ever since. Very inconsiderate to us 
 Americans, I take it! " 
 
 Mr. Todd saw the faces of the whisperers, and could guess 
 the trend of their words. He shook himself together, and 
 swore that in some way he would manage to dispel the 
 gathering gloom. Now he rushed from one guest to another, 
 his dry wit and quaint remarks soon attracting general atten- 
 tion. Dodge understood, and seconded him with zest. Mrs. 
 Todd stopped the sniffling she had just begun, and produced 
 a diluted smile; the company, catching the infection, tumbled, 
 one over the heels of another, in the race for a precarious 
 joy. The rooms began to echo laughter, servants smiled 
 as they stole about. A twig of mistletoe, sent all the way 
 from North Carolina, was discovered hanging from the tongue 
 of the floral bell. Kissing of the bride was attempted, and 
 the time-worn jests, pertinent to the occasion, indulged in up 
 to the point of friction. 
 
 It was at last a company of real wedding guests that 
 took places at the table. Japanese flower symbols of wedded 
 bliss touched elbows with still American vases jammed thick 
 with stemless flowers. The favors were chrysanthemums in 
 enamel, gold, and topaz. Todd saw that the champagne was 
 not delayed. He knew the potency to scatter thought sent 
 up by those springing globules of mirth. "Fill, all! " he 
 cried, standing, " a toast, a toast to the bride ! " 
 
 Laughing faces turned as one toward Gwendolen, enthroned 
 in a great teakwood chair. She flushed to a rose, under the 
 big hat, but murmured, so that her words could be heard, 
 " I accept, and drink with you, against precedent ! " 
 
 As the others lifted brittle stems, she, emptying swiftly 
 the sunny fluid, poured a little water into her glass. The 
 drinking of water as a pledge is used between Japanese as 
 a token of death, of love, in death and beyond it. Dodge, 
 his bright eyes swimming in tenderness, did as she had done. 
 While the company drained the conventional felicity, this 
 young couple, in silence, unnoticed by those who crowded 
 most closely, drank the pledge of love and loyalty to Yuki's
 
 THE BREATH OF THE GODS 431 
 
 freed spirit. Had it been possible for any face to be more 
 beautiful than Gwendolen's, she on catching sight of her 
 husband as the water touched his lips now outrivalled 
 herself. 
 
 Todd had seen but could not join them. He was self-con- 
 stituted master of ceremonies. "Next, my new son, Mr. 
 Dodge ! " he cried aloud. 
 
 "Hear! hear! " clamored the company. 
 
 "And next," said Todd, "to that great man, the Japanese 
 Emperor ! " 
 
 " The Emperor, the Emperor ! " ejaculated Dodge, with 
 such vehemence that the assembly had to join or be deafened. 
 "Banzai Nippon!" roared Dodge. "Banzai Nippon!" 
 vociferated Todd. 
 
 "Banzai Nippon!" the servants echoed in excited under- 
 breaths as they hurried back to pantry and kitchen. 
 
 " Banzai Nippon ! " cried the waiting betto and the kuruma 
 men outside, at first hint of the call. 
 
 "Banthai Nip-pon! " lisped the the cook's baby, who sat 
 well under the kitchen-table to escape being trod upon, and 
 scraped out a foreign cake-bowl with a single chopstick. 
 
 But Yuki a snowflake fallen on the windy slope of 
 Aoyama slept on, smiling, with Hagane's dagger in her 
 heart; and on a rocky promontory across from the impregna- 
 ble fortress of Liau Tung, a grim, quiet warrior sat alone, with 
 field-glasses dangling limply from his hands, and eyes that 
 saw only a white, white face upturned to his, and lips that 
 murmured, "I know you now, my husband, and shall wait! 
 Banzai Nippon ! " while the cold steel crept nearer to a warm 
 and shrinking heart. 
 
 Banzai Nippon !
 
 The Most Lovable Heroine in Modern Fiction 
 
 TRUTH DEXTER 
 
 By SIDNEY McCALL 
 Author of " The Breath of the Gods " 
 
 12mo. 375 pages. $1.50 
 
 A novel of united North and South of rare power and 
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 Exceptionally clever and brilliant, it has what are rarely 
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 A fine, sweet and strong American romance. New York 
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 I don't know how to praise it enough. I can't recall any 
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 It is a matchless book ! Louise Chandler Moulton. 
 
 The author at once takes place among the foremost 
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 A story that compels attention from start to finish. 
 Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
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 Hugh Armstrong, the hero, is one of the pronouncedly high 
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 It is a book which does one good to read and which is not 
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 A few books are published every year that really minister 
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 A Masterpiece of Native Humor 
 
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 FRIEND MRS. LATHROP 
 
 67 ANNE WARNER 
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 With Frontispiece. 227 pages. 12mo. $1.00. 
 
 IT is seldom a book so full of delightful humor comes 
 before the reader. Anne Warner takes her place in the 
 circle of American woman humorists, who have achieved 
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 Nothing better in the new homely philosophy style of 
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 Anne Warner has given us the rare delight of a book 
 that is extremely funny. Hearty laughter is in store for 
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 Susan is a positive contribution to the American char- 
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 Susan Clegg is a living creature, quite as amusing and 
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 Mr. Oppenheim's most Romantic Novel 
 
 THE 
 MASTER MUMMER 
 
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 Illustrated by F. H. Townsend. 12mo. $1.50 
 
 The dexterous craftsmanship in the manipulation of an 
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