one to disgrace the dead who cannot help themselves. But when
we knew that he was alive, we knew also that, by coming to Japan, we had
harmed him. Then we meant to die without him knowing, keeping always the
thin wall between us. Where no one could find us after. But I could not
without one word of farewell to his shadow--only his shadow! And one
word from him--if there was one. That would not harm him. Oh, yes, I
knew that I must not touch his body in Japan! But his shadow! Was that
harm? And one word? Would not you have touched his shadow? And he _did_
wish me--he _did_! And then--I woke in his arms!

"But the clock had struck while I slept. Eight. And that was the signal
for Isonna to take a stone in her arms and walk into the moat. And
Isonna was faithful. For there he found her afterward, asleep, with the
gods, the great stone in her arms. And that one I was to take is still
there, on the edge of the moat, waiting. But now I cannot die. He has
made my life sweet again. Would you die with life all sweet again, as
the morning glories in the morning? So the stone must wait there.
Perhaps he and I shall carry it together. For, so he says, we shall die,
together, rather than part again."

"You shall not part. Would you like to go to America?" asked the
officer.

"No. Nowhere but here."

For America to her was the country of the barbarians--a horrid waste,
where no flowers grew.

"But if your husband should go there?"

"Yes!"

It did not matter then.

The colonel rose.

"Tell him to come to see me again."

"And you will be as kind to him as you have been to me?"

"No," smiled the colonel. "He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve
you." But, then, seeing that she did not quite understand his
pleasantry, he added: "I shall be as kind to him as I can be, as I am
permitted to be, for your sake. And you are to tell him that!"

"Shaka, and all the augustnesses bless you!"

He held the tiny hands a moment at parting.

"Once I knew a little lady like you. It was long ago, and there is a
tomb for her in Asakusa. Perhaps she was _not_ like you, not as lovely.
But so it seems now--after the years. If she had not died, I would not
have been a soldier."

And no one had ever heard the grizzled colonel's voice so soft.

She sent Arisuga back. But she did not tell him that.

THE PITY OF THE GODS

XXIII

THE PITY OF THE GODS

There seemed little kindness in Colonel Zanzi's greeting when Arisuga