The following morning brought me a letter from Sir Harry Parkes, giving me the details of the Sakai tragedy, in consequence of which the ministers had left Ōsaka, and ordering me to return at once, inasmuch as if the French demands were not complied with hostilities would break out immediately. The Japanese officials also came to me with an account tallying in all particulars with my Minister’s letter; but they added that as every reparation was to be made and M. Roches’ demands were to be complied with, there need be no alarm of war. As for my position, the consternation in the Tosa Yashiki may be imagined. Prince Yōdo sent me a message begging me to stay until the next day, and as I thought that I might effect some good by doing so, that my leaving might be attributed to fear, and that to remain certainly would tell well amongst the members of the new Government, I determined to disobey my orders and comply with the Prince’s request. The Japanese Government greatly appreciated the confidence to which I thus gave expression. Almost the whole of that day was passed in conference with high officials, and it was not until late in the afternoon that I was able to sally forth into a driving storm of rain for more sightseeing. I was rewarded by seeing one _grande dame_ with her eyebrows shaven off and artificial ones painted in high up on the forehead, as one sees the fashions of the Mikado’s Court represented in old pictures. It was my one and only experience of the mode so far as ladies were concerned. In the case of the Mikado I was to see it afterwards on a more memorable occasion. I was roused the next morning by a message from Prince Yōdo begging me to go and see him. I found him evidently already much the better for Willis’ ministrations, in spite of the terrible shock of the Sakai massacre. I remained with him for two hours, discussing politics and especially the affair about which he spoke with deep feeling and unfeigned emotion. Had the murdered Frenchmen been his own countrymen he could not have shown greater sympathy, nor could any man have expressed it with greater dignity. I am bound to say that he inspired me with the utmost admiration. He declared that the act of the murderers was one which he, in common with every true Samurai—every man animated by the true _Yamato Damashii_, the spirit of Old Japan, must look upon with detestation and horror. He said that this deed, far from representing the feeling of the Samurai, was a disgrace to Japan, and the ruffians who perpetrated it should be rooted out from the country. He then begged me to be the bearer of the following message to the French Minister and to the other representatives. I took it down from his own lips, and repeat it here as a noble and patriotic utterance.