ody,--the text of the holy sutra
called Hannya-Shin-Kyo. [7] When this had been done, the priest
instructed Hoichi, saying:--

"To-night, as soon as I go away, you must seat yourself on the
verandah, and wait. You will be called. But, whatever may happen, do
not answer, and do not move. Say nothing and sit still--as if
meditating. If you stir, or make any noise, you will be torn asunder.
Do not get frightened; and do not think of calling for help--because no
help could save you. If you do exactly as I tell you, the danger will
pass, and you will have nothing more to fear."

After dark the priest and the acolyte went away; and Hoichi seated
himself on the verandah, according to the instructions given him. He
laid his biwa on the planking beside him, and, assuming the attitude of
meditation, remained quite still,--taking care not to cough, or to
breathe audibly. For hours he stayed thus.

Then, from the roadway, he heard the steps coming. They passed the
gate, crossed the garden, approached the verandah, stopped--directly in
front of him.

"Hoichi!" the deep voice called. But the blind man held his breath, and
sat motionless.

"Hoichi!" grimly called the voice a second time. Then a third
time--savagely:--

"Hoichi!"

Hoichi remained as still as a stone,--and the voice grumbled:--

"No answer!--that won't do!... Must see where the fellow is."...

There was a noise of heavy feet mounting upon the verandah. The feet
approached deliberately,--halted beside him. Then, for long
minutes,--during which Hoichi felt his whole body shake to the beating
of his heart,--there was dead silence.

At last the gruff voice muttered close to him:--

"Here is the biwa; but of the biwa-player I see--only two ears!... So
that explains why he did not answer: he had no mouth to answer
with--there is nothing left of him but his ears... Now to my lord those
ears I will take--in proof that the august commands have been obeyed,
so far as was possible"...

At that instant Hoichi felt his ears gripped by fingers of iron, and
torn off! Great as the pain was, he gave no cry. The heavy footfalls
receded along the verandah,--descended into the garden,--passed out to
the roadway,--ceased. From either side of his head, the blind man felt
a thick warm trickling; but he dared not lift his hands...

Before sunrise the priest came back. He hastened at once to the
verandah in the rear, stepped and slipped upon something clammy, and
uttered a