al. As the
days went by they became less frequent, and, by a strange law of
contrasts, with diminution exacted a heavier toll. The strain of
antagonisms within the little home became almost unbearable. Neither
Kano nor Tatsu would yield an inch, and between them, like a white
flower between stones, little Ume-ko was crushed. A new and
threatening trouble was that of poverty. Tatsu would not paint; Kano,
in his wretchedness could not.

The young wife went often now to the temple on the hill. Tatsu
generally went with her, remaining outside in the courtyard or at the
edge of the cliff, under the camphor tree, while she was praying
within. Her entreaties were all for divine guidance. She implored of
the gods a deeper insight into the cause of this strange trouble now
upon them, and besought, too, that in her husband, Tatsu, should be
awakened a recognition of his duties, and of the household needs. Kano
visited the temple, also, and spent long hours in conference with his
personal friend, the abbot. Even old Mata, abandoning for the moment
her Protestantism and reverting to the yearning (never entirely
stifled) for mystic practises, went to an old charlatan of a
fortune-teller, and purchased various charms and powders for driving
the demons from the unconscious Tatsu. Ume-ko soon discovered this,
and the fear that Tatsu would be poisoned added to a load of anxiety
already formidable.

By the end of October, Yeddo's most golden and most perfect month, no
hours brought happiness to the little bride but those stolen ones in
which she and her husband were wont to take long walks together,
sometimes into the country, again through the mazes of the great
capital. Even at these times of respite she was only too well aware
how Kano and the old nurse sat together at home, lamenting the gross
selfishness of the young,--deciding, perhaps, upon the next loved
painting or household treasure to be sold for buying rice. Tatsu, now
as unreasonable and obstinate as Kano himself, still refused to admit
unhappiness or threatened destitution. He and Ume-ko could go to the
mountains, he said. "The mountains were, after all, their true home.
Once there the Sennin and the deities of cloud would see that they did
not suffer."

On an afternoon very near the end of the month the young couple took
such a walk together. Their course lay eastward, crossing at right
angles the main streets of the great city, until they reached the