It was an awful catastrophe, and its victims were legion. Still Takara had escaped; at the first warning of the earthquake her keeper had flown--there was no prisoner penned in Ikamon's dungeon on the morrow, nor any report made of the attempt. After the first shock had passed, Hontone sprang from his hiding-place and seizing Takara, with his strong arms threw her upon his back and ran back into the bushes, where they all clung fast to the roots and lay prone for their lives. Takara knew her men, and happily resigned herself to their protection. Nor did she surrender amiss, for they not only saved her from the fury of the elements, but on the morrow carried her forth from the city unmolested and unnoticed. Several days had passed before they again reached Kyoto, where Takara rewarded her faithful men, and sought retirement and that rest which soon restored her peace of mind, though the great sorrow continued to weigh heavily upon her heart. While Takara had failed of her purpose she felt that she had done some good, since she had brought at death some peace to the one who--more than any other, not excepting her own husband--had in some measure come to understand her. She knew that she had done in the past what she believed to be her part, and now that a new purpose and a larger life had dawned she resolved to make herself worthy the trial. Holding her counsel, thenceforth she began the work with an earnestness and faithfulness that bespoke her true character. CHAPTER XXXI THE CHILD'S FATE Though the earthquake had spared no part of the capital, and devastated equally among the high and the lowly, the tidal wave did not rise to the top of the numerous hills spreading over the city. Thus many were saved, and by some unknown freak of fate Ikamon remained among them. Nor did he suffer much regret; for it had been the certain means of destroying the unsightly evidence of his dastardly act, as well as an occasion for the distraction of the public mind. He had been anxious enough to get rid of his accounted enemies, but did not much relish the talk about it; and now that the nation had been inflicted with a great calamity that would distract their minds, he appeared really glad at heart. The dead daimyos' succession engaged his attention first, and hastening to bury the official notification beneath the excitement of the moment he began on the very next day to forward letters of advice and condolence. The prime minister's expressions of sorrow, especially to Shibusawa, were more than profuse; they were prodigal, and ended by admonishing this young daimyo to repose in him that implicit confidence which "it had been the good fortune of his happy father before him to possess." He cautioned him to look well to the shogun's procedures, and speed the day of his coming to Tokyo to prostrate his person at the feet of his august highness.