The landscape was alive with lights, lights dim, lights bright, lights stationary, lights in swaying movement round each centre of population. It looked as if the stars had fallen from heaven, and were being shifted and sorted by careful gleaners. As each nebula of white illumination assembled itself, it began to move across the vast plain, drawn inwards towards Ikégami from every point of the compass as though by a magnetic force. These were the lantern processions of pilgrims. They looked like the souls of the righteous rising from earth to heaven in a canto from Dante. The clusters of lights started, moved onwards, paused, re-grouped themselves, and struggled forward, until in the narrow street of the village under the hill Asako could distinguish the shapes of the lantern-bearers and their strange antics, and the sacred palanquin, a kind of enormous wooden bee-hive, which was the centre of each procession, borne on the sturdy shoulders of a swarm of young men to the beat of drums and the inevitable chant. _Namu my[=o]h[=o] renge ky[=o]_. Slowly the procession jolted up the steep stairway, and came to rest with their heavy burdens in front of the temple of Nichiren. "It is very silly," said cousin Sadako, "to be so superstitious, I think." "Then why are we here?" asked Asako. "My grandfather is very superstitious; and my father is afraid to say 'No' to him. My father does not believe in any gods or Buddhas; but he says it does no harm, and it may do good. All our family is _gohei-katsugi_ (brandishers of sacred symbols). We think that with all this prayer we can turn away the trouble of Takeshi." "Why, what is the matter with Mr. Takeshi? Why is he not here? and Matsuko San and the children?" "It is a great secret," said the Fujinami cousin, "you will tell no one. You will pretend also even with me that you do not know. Takeshi San is very sick. The doctor says that he is a leper." Asako stared, uncomprehending. Sadako went on,-- "You saw this morning those ugly beggars. They were all so terrible to see, and their bodies were so rotten. My brother is becoming like that. It is a sickness. It cannot be cured. It will kill him very slowly. Perhaps his wife Matsu and his children also have the sickness. Perhaps we too are sick. No one can tell, not for many years." Ugly wings seemed to cover the night. The world beneath the hill had become the Pit of Hell, and the points of light were devils' spears. Asako trembled. "What does it mean?" she asked. "How did Takeshi San become sick?" "It was a _tenbatsu_ (judgment of heaven)," answered her cousin. "Takeshi San was a bad man. He was rude to his father, and he was cruel to his wife. He thought only of _geisha_ and bad women. No doubt, he became sick from touching a woman who was sick. Besides, it is the bad _ingé_ of the Fujinami family. Did not the old woman of Akabo say so? It is the curse of the Yoshiwara women. It will be our turn next, yours and mine."