She trembled violently, and her eyes stared wildly as they came in contact with the child. Until Nehachibana spoke, Kinsan had not recognised them, nor would she then have done so had not Shibusawa sprung forward to save Nehachibana from falling as she reeled and lost her balance. Shibusawa had recognised Kinsan the moment Nehachibana spoke, and it was a hard struggle for him to refrain from speaking to her. His whole being bade him respond to an overpowering impulse, but sober thought checked him, and he grasped at an opportunity to turn his back by leading Nehachibana away. This movement, however, did not serve to shield him, for before he had entirely turned about Kinsan saw his face and knew him, and sprang to her feet, while the child fell to the floor. Though her very being flamed she did not follow, but stood speechless and helpless; there was no force to move her. She waited, and presently he returned. Shibusawa led his sister back to her apartment and left her under promise that she would try to regain her composure and remain there until he came for her. He told her that he desired to meet the child's mother privately, but would return to her in a short time. Nehachibana said nothing to relieve her brother's mind. She knew in her own heart that Kinsan was not the mother of the child, yet she did not speak. He, of course, took it for granted that the child was hers. He got only a glance, but saw in its eyes a familiar image; also in that he was misinformed. Had it been a woman who saw, she would not have made so grave a mistake; reason is sometimes the victim of deception; intuition, never. As he returned, he judged. Every step deadened his feelings and each thought blinded his reason. He conjured her false, and made himself the victim. He re-entered the room, sternly and deliberately; she stood there, hopeful and expectant. As he stepped inside she came forward, but before reaching him stopped and bowed in silence; she had divined his heart and read correctly the message. The child cried playfully, and she blushed deeply and confusedly. She realised fully the possible consequences of its being there, and would have hastened to explain had he given her the opportunity; on the contrary he approached and said calmly, but coldly: "Kinsan, I would like a word with you, if you will so permit me." She raised her hands and looked at him with pleading, earnest eyes, but he made no offer to meet her. His arms hung limp, and his look fell to the floor. She waited for him to recover, to deign some word or act of encouragement. Perhaps he battled for power; perhaps he accused her. He made no sign, and she recovered herself and calmly asked him: "Will you please be seated?