e Flowing Fount manner
and the Woodpecker manner, and that, especially on nights when the moon
was full, this aged man made such music as transported the soul. This
music His Majesty desired very greatly to hear.

Never had Semimaru left his hut save to gather wood or seek food until
the Divine Emperor commanded his attendance that he might soothe his
august heart with music.

Now on this night of nights the moon was full and the snow heavy on the
pines, and the earth was white also, and when the moon shone through the
boughs it made a cold light like dawn, and the shadows of the trees were
black upon it.

The attendants of His Majesty long since slept for sheer weariness, for
the night was far spent, but the Emperor and the Dainagon still sat
with their eyes fixed on the venerable Semimaru. For many hours he had
played, drawing strange music from his biwa. Sometimes it had been like
rain blowing over the plains of Adzuma, sometimes like the winds roaring
down the passes of the Yoshino Mountains, and yet again like the voice
of far cities. For many hours they listened without weariness, and
thought that all the stories of the ancients might flow past them in the
weird music that seemed to have neither beginning nor end.

"It is as the river that changes and changes not, and is ever and ever
the same," said the Emperor in his own soul.

And certainly had a voice announced to His Augustness that centuries
were drifting by as he listened, he could have felt no surprise.

Before them, as they sat upon the silken floor cushions, was a small
shrine with a Buddha shelf, and a hanging picture of the Amida Buddha
within it--the expression one of rapt peace. Figures of Fugen and
Fudo were placed before the curtain doors of the shrine, looking up in
adoration to the Blessed One. A small and aged pine tree was in a pot of
grey porcelain from Chosen--the only ornament in the chamber.

Suddenly His Majesty became aware that the Dainagon also had fallen
asleep from weariness, and that the recluse was no longer playing, but
was speaking in a still voice like a deeply flowing stream. The Emperor
had observed no change from music to speech, nor could he recall when
the music had ceased, so that it altogether resembled a dream.

"When I first came here"--the Venerable one continued--"it was not my
intention to stay long in the forest. As each day dawned, I said; 'In
seven days I go.' And again--'In seven.' Yet have I not gone. The