CHAPTER XXXIII
THE FLIGHT
For all save one, sleep came early that evening to the house in theStreet-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods. In her little room Haru lay as stirless asa sleeping flower. There was no sound save the hushed accents of theouter night that penetrated the wooden _amado_.
At length she rose, noiselessly slid the paper _shoji_, and withinfinite care, inch by inch, pushed back the shutters. The moon hadrisen and a flood of moonlight came into the room. Stealthily she openeda wall-closet and selected her best and gayest robe--a holiday _kimono_of dim green, with lotos flowers, and an _obi_ of cloth-of-gold, withchrysanthemums peeping from the weave. By the round mirror on her lowdressing-cabinet, she redressed the coiled ebony butterfly of her hair,and set a red flower in it. She touched her face with the softrice-powder, and added a tint of carmine to the set paleness of hercheeks. She wrapped in a _furoshiki_ some soberer street clothing,toilet articles, and a mauve _kimono_ woven with silver camelias, setthe bundle by the opened _amado_ and noiselessly passed into the nextroom.
It was the larger living-apartment. The tiny lamp which burned beforethe golden shrine of Kwan-on on the Buddha-shelf cast a wan glimmer overthe spotless alcove, and threw a ghostly light on her finery. Throughthe thin paper _shikiri_ she could hear her father's deep breathing, andin the room in which he slept a little clock chimed eleven. She openedthe door of the shrine and stood looking at the tablet it held--the_ihai_ of her mother. The _kaimyo_, or soul name, it bore signified"Moon-Dawn-of-the-Mountain-of-Light-Dwelling-in-the-Mansion-of-Luminous-Perfume." She rubbed her palms softly together before it and her lipsmoved silently. From the golden shadows she seemed suddenly to feel hermother's hand guiding her childish steps to that place of morningworship, to see that loving face, as she remembered it, looking down onher across the rim of years. She bent and passed her hand along the twoswords, one long, one short, that rested on their lacquered rack beneaththe shelf--it was her farewell to her father.
She had left no message. She could tell no one. If she succeeded, shewould have done her part. If she failed--there was only a blank darknessin that thought. But she had no agitation now--only a dull ache.
In her own room she took a book from a drawer and slipped it into hersleeve, caught up the _furoshiki_, stepped noiselessly to the outerporch and carefully closed the _amado_ behind her.
She walked swiftly back to the empty Chapel. The great glass window thathad seemed so beautiful with the light behind it, was now dark andopaque and dead. Only the cross above the roof in the moonlight lookedas white as snow. She drew the book from her sleeve. It was her Bible,with her name on the fly-leaf. She unhooked the gold chain about herneck and slipped off the little enamel cross. She put this between theleaves of the Bible and laid it on the doorstep.
A half-hour later she stood before a wistaria-roofed gate in_Kasumiga-tani Cho_--the "Street-of-the-Misty-Valley"--near Aoyamaparade-ground. The glass lantern above it threw a dim light on a gravelpath twisting through low shrubbery. Down the street she could hear adozen students chanting the marching song of Hirose Chusa, the young warhero:
"Though the body die, the spirit dies not. He who wished to be reborn Seven times into this world, For the sake of serving his country, For the sake of requiting the Imperial Favor-- Has he really died?"
Haru opened the gate. Cherry-petals were sifting down like rosysnowflakes over the scarlet trembling of _nanten_ bushes. A little wayinside was a graceful house entrance half-shaded by a trailing vine. The_amado_ were not closed, the _shoji_ were brilliantly lighted.
With a little sob she unfastened the golden _obi_, rewound and tied itwith the knot in front.
The Kingdom of Slender Swords Page 35
