RECITATIVE. He hangs the pouch around his neck, and pushes and kicks the body into the valley below. The mud on the corpse splashes upon himself; but all unwitting, he stands up, and sees behind him a wounded wild boar rush headlong towards him. In haste he steps aside. The wild boar runs straight on, snorting, kicking roots of trees and corners of rocks, and leaping through mud and shrubbery. And as Sadakuro comes forward and looks after it, a gun-report is heard, and two bullets pierce his spine and [Illustration: Kanpei leaning over supine Sadakuro] penetrate to his ribs. Without a cry or groan, he falls on his back and dies; It does one’s heart good to see him die. Thinking that he has killed the wild boar, Kanpei comes out with his gun in his hand and gropes here and there for the game. When he touches and raises the body, he finds that it is not the wild boar. KANPEI. What, this is a man! Great Heavens, I have missed it! RECITATIVE. As it is pitch-dark, he cannot in his fear ask who his victim is. As he raises him in his arms to see if he still breathes, his hands touch the pouch; and grasping it, he perceives it holds forty or fifty _ryo_. He raises it again and again to his head to thank Heaven for what, doubtless, is its gift; and then he rushes away as if on wings, even more swiftly than the wild boar. [Illustration: drum] [1] About two miles and a half. [2] Buddhist prayers. ACT VI. ACT VI. RECITATIVE. “The country dance is over; Come out, old man, come with your dame, Come, old man, come with your dame.” So sing the country folk as they pound their barley. Here stands the weather-beaten cottage of Yoichibei, a peasant in the noted village of Yamazaki; and here now passes Hayano Kanpei a _ronin_’s life. His wife Okaru has risen and, while waiting for her husband who is not yet home this morning, brings out her toilet-case to smooth her dishevelled hair. With her thoughts bent upon her fate which she still keeps a secret, she combs her hair with a comb of boxwood and dresses it with neatness and elegance; her beauty is too fair for a country-place. Her aged mother, hanging to her staff, comes tottering home from the fields. MOTHER. Oh, you have done up your hair, daughter! And it is well done. Everywhere in the country they are now busy harvesting barley; and just now, near the bamboo jungle, I heard young men sing the barley-pounders’ song, “Come out, old man, come with your dame.” That made me very anxious as my old man is late coming home, and I went to the end of the village; but not a shadow of him could I espy. OKARU. Yes, mother, I wonder what makes him so late. I will just run and see. [Illustration: Two women]