expect to obtain this sanction before his
mission had been accomplished. He had reason, under such circumstances,
to fear that the beauty of Aoyagi might attract dangerous attention,
and that means might be devised of taking her away from him. In Kyoto
he therefore tried to keep her hidden from curious eyes. But a retainer
of Lord Hosokawa one day caught sight of Aoyagi, discovered her
relation to Tomotada, and reported the matter to the daimyo. Thereupon
the daimyo--a young prince, and fond of pretty faces--gave orders that
the girl should be brought to the place; and she was taken thither at
once, without ceremony.

Tomotada sorrowed unspeakably; but he knew himself powerless. He was
only an humble messenger in the service of a far-off daimyo; and for
the time being he was at the mercy of a much more powerful daimyo,
whose wishes were not to be questioned. Moreover Tomotada knew that he
had acted foolishly,--that he had brought about his own misfortune, by
entering into a clandestine relation which the code of the military
class condemned. There was now but one hope for him,--a desperate hope:
that Aoyagi might be able and willing to escape and to flee with him.
After long reflection, he resolved to try to send her a letter. The
attempt would be dangerous, of course: any writing sent to her might
find its way to the hands of the daimyo; and to send a love-letter to
any inmate of the place was an unpardonable offense. But he resolved to
dare the risk; and, in the form of a Chinese poem, he composed a letter
which he endeavored to have conveyed to her. The poem was written with
only twenty-eight characters. But with those twenty-eight characters he
was about to express all the depth of his passion, and to suggest all
the pain of his loss:--[4]

Koshi o-son gojin wo ou;
Ryokuju namida wo tarete rakin wo hitataru;
Komon hitotabi irite fukaki koto umi no gotoshi;
Kore yori shoro kore rojin

[Closely, closely the youthful prince now follows after the gem-bright
maid;--

The tears of the fair one, falling, have moistened all her robes.

But the august lord, having one become enamored of her--the depth of
his longing is like the depth of the sea.

Therefore it is only I that am left forlorn,--only I that am left to
wander along.]

On the evening of the day after this poem had been sent, Tomotada was
summoned to appear before the Lord Hosokawa. The youth at once
suspected that his confidence had been bet