er by the great plum
tree that I, Kano Indara, command her to appear. The costume must be
worn; and let her enter, singing. These are my instructions. Assist
the maiden to obey them. Go!"

His piercing look froze the questions on her tongue. "And Mata," he
called again, stopping her at the threshold, "bring at once some heated
sake,--the best,--and follow it closely with the evening meal."

"Kashikomarimashita," murmured the servant, dutifully. But within the
safety of her kitchen she exploded into execrations, muttering
prophecies of evil, with lamentations that a Mad Thing from the
mountains had broken into the serenity of their lives.

Tatsu, who had listened eagerly to the commands, now flung back his
head and drew a long breath. "My life being spent among wild
creatures," he murmured as if to himself, "little skill have I in
judging the ways of men. How shall I believe that in this desert of
houses a true Dragon Maiden can be found?" Again he turned flashing
eyes upon his host. "I mistrust you, Kano Indara! Your thin face
peers like a fox from its hole. If you deceive me,--yet must I
remain,--for should she come----"

"You shall soon perceive for yourself, dear Dragon Youth."

Mata entered with hot sake. "Go! We shall serve ourselves," said
Kano, much to her relief.

"I seldom drink," observed Tatsu, as the old man filled his cup. "Once
it made of me a fool. But I will take a little now, for I am very
weary with the long day."

"Indeed, it must be so; but good wine refreshes the body and the mind
alike," replied the other. It was hard to pour the sake with such
shaking hands, harder still to keep his eyes from the beautiful sullen
face so near him, and yet he forced the wrinkled eyelids to conceal his
dawning joy. In Tatsu's strange submission, the artist felt that the
new glory of the Kano name was being born.

III

For a long interval the two men sat in silence. Kano leaned forward
from time to time, filling the small cup which Tatsu--half in revery it
seemed--had once more drained. The old servant now and again crept in
on soundless feet to replace with a freshly heated bottle of sake the
one grown cold. So still was the place that the caged cricket hanging
from the eaves of Ume's distant room beat time like an elfin metronome.

Two of the four walls of the guest-room were of shoji, a lattice
covered with translucent rice-paper. These opened directly upon the
garden. The