he said. "I shall not trust you, even an inch from me."

The river current in the tree roots laughed aloud.

Across and beyond the road of glass, the sky grew cold now and blue,
like the side of a dead fish. A glow subtle and unmistakable as
perfume tingled up through the dusk.

"The Lady Moon," whispered Ume, softly. Freeing her little hands she
joined them, bent her head, and gave the prayer of welcome to O Tsuki
Sama.

Tatsu watched her gloomily. "I pray to no moon," he said. "I pray to
nothing in this place."

A huge coal barge on its way to the Yokohama harbor glided close to
them along the dark surface of the tide. At the far end of the barge a
fire was burning, and above it, from a round black cauldron, boiling
rice sent up puffs of white, fragrant steam. The red light fell upon a
ring of faces, evidently a mother and her children; and on the broad,
naked back of the father who leaned far outward on his guiding pole.
Ume turned her eyes away. "I think I can walk now," she said.

Tatsu rose instantly, and drew her upward by the hands. A shudder of
remembered horror caught him. He pressed her once more tightly to his
heart. "Ume-ko, Ume-ko, my wife,--my Dragon Wife!" he cried aloud in a
voice of love and anguish. "I have sought you through the torments of
a thousand lives. Shall anything have power to separate us now?"

"Nothing can part us now, but--death," said Ume-ko, and glanced, for an
instant, backward to the river.

Tatsu winced. "Use not the word! It attracts evil."

"It is a word that all must some day use," persisted the young wife,
gently. "Tell me, beloved, if death indeed should come--?"

"It would be for both. It could not be for one alone."

"No, no!" she cried aloud, lifting her white face as if in appeal to
heaven. "Do not say that, lord! Do not think it! If I, the lesser
one, should be chosen of death, surely you would live for our
father,--for the sake of art!"

"I would kill myself just as quickly as I could!" said Tatsu, doggedly.
"What comfort would painting be? I painted because I had you not."

"Because--you--had--me--not," mused little Ume-ko, her eyes fixed
strangely upon the river.

"Come," said Tatsu, rudely, "did I not forbid you to speak of death?
Too much has been said. Besides, the fate of ordinary mortals should
have no potency for such as we. When our time comes for pause before
rebirth we shall climb together some high mountain peak, liftin