CHAPTER XI
ISHIKICHI
Under the frail moon that touched the Embassy garden to such beauty,Haru walked home to the house "so-o-o small, an' garden 'bout such big"in the Street-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods.
On Reinanzaka Hill the shadows were iris-hearted. From its high-walledgardens of the great came no glimpses of phantom-lighted _shoji_, nosound of vibrant strings from tea-houses nor gleams of painted lips andfingers of _geisha_.
Haru carried a paper-lantern tied to the end of a short wand, but it wasnot dark enough to need its light, and as she walked, she swung it ingraceful circles. She heard a dove sobbing its low _owas! owas!_ andonce a crow flapped its sleepy way above her, uttering its harsh note,which, from some subtlety of suggestion hidden from the western mind,the Japanese liken to the accents of love. It startled her for a second;then she began to sing, under her breath, to the tune of her clacking_geta_, a ditty of her childhood:
"_Karasu, Karasu!_ "Crow, crow, _Kanzaburo!_ Kanzaburo! _Oya no on wo--_ Forget not the virtue _Wasurena yo!_" Of your honorable parents."
On the crest of the hill, by the Street-of-Hollyhocks, a wall opened ina huge gate of heavy burnished beams studded with great ironrivet-heads. Here resided no less a personage than an Imperial Princess.Beside the gate stood a conical sentry-box, in which all day, while thegate was open, stood a soldier of the Household Guards. The box wasempty now.
Opposite the gate, a hedged lane opened, into which she turned, andpresently the song ceased. She had come to the newly built Chapel. Herfather's name was on the household list of the temple across the way,but she herself walked each Sunday to Ts'kiji, to attend the bishop'sJapanese service in the Cathedral. When, influenced by a school-mate,she had wished to become a Christian, the old _samurai_ had interposedno objection. With the broad tolerance of the esoteric Buddhist, to whomall pure faiths are good, he had allowed her to choose for herself. Shehad grown to love the strangely new and beautiful worship with itssinging, its service in a tongue that she could understand, its Biblefilled with marvelous stories of old heroes, and with vivid imagery likethat of the _Kojiki_, the "Record of Ancient Matters" or the_Man-yoshu_, the "Collection of a Myriad Leaves," over whose archaiccharacters her father was always poring. She had ceased to visit thetemple, but otherwise the change had made little difference in herplacid life. With the simplicity with which the Japanese of to-daykneels with equal faith before a plain _Shinto_ shrine and a goldenaltar of Buddha, she had continued the daily home observances. Eachmorning she cleaned the _butsu-dan_--refilled its tiny lamp withvegetable oil, freshened its incense-cup and water bowl, and dusted itsgolden shrine of Kwan-on which held the scroll inscribed with the spiritnames of a hundred ancestors, and the _ihai_, or mortuary tablet, of herdead mother. Though she no longer prayed before it, it still signifiedto her the invisible haunting of the dead--the continuing lovingpresence of that mother who waited for her in the _Meidoland_.
For many days Haru had watched the progress of the Chapel building. TheCathedral was a good two miles distant, but this was near her home; hereshe would be able to attend more than the weekly Sunday service.To-night, as she looked at the cross shining in the moonlight, shethought it very beautiful. A tiny symbol like it, made of white enamel,was hung on a little chain about her neck. It had been given her by thebishop the day of her confirmation. She drew this out and swung it abouther finger as she walked on.
In the Street-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods were no huge and gloomy compounds.It was a roadway of humbler shops and homes, bordered with mazes oflantern fire, and lively with pedestrians. At a meager shop, pitifullysmall, whose _shoji_ were wide open, Haru paused. A smoky oil lamp swungfrom the ceiling, and under its glow, a woman knelt on the worn_tatame_. Beside her, on a pillow, lay a newborn baby, and she wassoothing its slumber by softly beating a tiny drum close to its ear. Shenodded and smiled to Haru's salutation.
"_Hai! Ojo-San_," she said. "_Go kigen yo!_ Deign augustly to enter."
"Honorable thanks," responded Haru, "but my father awaits my unworthyreturn. _Domo! Aka-San des'ka?_ So this is Miss Baby! Ishikichi willhave a new comrade in this little sister."
"Poison not your serene mind with contemplation of my uncomely last-sentone!" said the woman, pridefully tilting the pillow so as to show thetiny, vacuous face. "Are not its hands degradedly well-formed?"
"Wonderfully beyond saying! The father is still exaltedly ill?"
"It is indeed so! I have not failed to sprinkle the holy water overJizo, nor to present the straw sandals to the Guardians-of-the-Gate.Also I have rubbed each day the breast of the health-god; yet O-Binzurudoes not harken. Doubtless it is because of some sin committed by myhusband in a previous existence! I have not knowledge of your ChristianGod, or I would make my worthless sacrifices also to Him."
"He heals the sick," said Haru, "but He augustly loves not sacrifice--asHe exaltedly did in olden time," she hastily supplemented, recallingcertain readings from the Old Testament.
"The gods of Nippon divinely change not their habit," returned thewoman. "Also my vile intellect can not comprehend why the foreigners'God should illustriously concern Himself with the things of anotherland."
"The Christian Divinity," said Haru, "is a God of all lands and allpeoples."
The other mused. "It passes in my degraded mind that He, then, wouldlack a sublime all-sympathy for our Kingdom-of-Slender-Swords. You aretranscendently young, _Ojo-San_, but I am thirty-two, and I hold by thegods of my ancestors."
"Honorably present my greetings to your husband," Haru said, as shebowed her adieu. "May his exalted person soon attain divine health!To-morrow I will send another book for him to read."
The woman watched her go, with a smile on her tired face--the Japanesesmile that covers so many things. She looked at the baby's face on thepillow. "Praise _Shaka_," she said aloud, "there is millet yet foranother week. Then we must give up the shop. Well--I can play the_samisen_, and the gods are not dead!"
Behind her a diminutive figure had lifted himself upright from a_f'ton_. He came forward from the gloom, his single sleeping-robetrailing comically and his great black eyes round and serious. "Why mustwe give up the shop, honorable mother?"
"Go to sleep, Ishikichi," said his mother. "Trouble me not so late withyour rude prattle."
"But why, _Okka-San_?"
"Because rent-money exists not, small pigeon," she answered gently. "Solong as we have ignobly lived here, we have paid the _banto_ who bringshis joy-giving presence on the first of each month. Now we have no moremoney and can not pay."
"Why have we no more money?"
"Because the honorable father is sick and you are too small to earn. Butlet it not trouble your heart, for the gods are good. See--we havealmost waked the _Aka-San_!"
She bent over the pillow and began again the elfin drumming at theinfant's ear. But Ishikichi lay open-eyed on his _f'ton_, his baby mindgrappling with a new and painful wonder.
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