It was O Hana San who brought the answer. O Hana came in, very proud and pleased to tell all the last news about her eldest and his regiment. “They say these Russians are seven feet high,” she said, as they sat opposite one another on the kneeling cushions sipping tea, “and that they never wash. And, just think, over there in _Chō-sen_ (Korea) everything is still frozen.” O Mmé San listened. “A warrior is always warm enough when he fights,” she said, looking at the long curved swords which lay on the _tokonoma_. O Hana San followed her glance. There were no swords at home on her _tokonoma_. “Oh! fighting’s very different nowadays,” she said. “My boy hasn’t got a sword at all. They only carry guns now.” For O Hana was not above a certain feeling of pleasure at getting even with a _samurai_. O Mmé San bowed, and gently offered more tea. “That is the Emperor’s will,” she said, in her soft, low voice. “My son will also carry a gun.” “But your son isn’t going,” cried O Hana San. “Didn’t you know? The Prefect said yesterday something about the law of the Emperor forbidding it. I forget why.” And she gave a little giggle of pride at the idea of her son going to the war when the son of a _samurai_ must stay at home. O Mmé San’s hands trembled as she poured more tea into the tiny bowls, but her voice was as low and as gentle as ever, and she did not abate one bow or one word of politeness; but how glad she was when O Hana was gone! She sat back on her heels after her last bow, her face flushed with anger. The Emperor would not take her son! O Hana must be mistaken. It could not be true. But “the Prefect said.” Then she would go and ask the Prefect. And O Mmé San got up resolute. The Prefect was very busy, and refused at first to see her, but, with the softest and gentlest politeness, O Mmé San still persisted, and at last she was admitted into the ugly “foreign” room where the Prefect, in a frock-coat and tweed trousers, sat on a “foreign” chair. O Mmé San sat on the edge of hers and held her _kimono_ tightly with both hands. She was not used to chairs. “You wish to know when Suzuki Tetsutarō leaves for the front. Honourably please to wait a moment.” O Mmé San waited. The Prefect, deep in his work, almost forgot her. Something in the tremulous way in which she had spoken made him think she was afraid for her boy; and he was a stern man, with the sternest ideas of duty to the Emperor. So when the answer came back to him, he turned to her somewhat coldly. “Suzuki Tetsutarō is exempt from service. It is the will of the Emperor that the only son of a widow shall stay and take care of his mother.” A great light sprang into O Mmé San’s eyes. “Honourably please to say is that the reason?” she asked, bowing low. The Prefect looked at her, at the strange light shining in her eyes; and in his heart he regretted the old stern times when _samurai_ mothers sent out their sons to fight to victory or to death.