Tetsutaisho, not at all pleased with the result of the conference nor convinced of the wisdom of Daikomitsu's diplomacy, had been persuaded quietly to acquiesce, at least for the time being; and going home settled down, probably for the first time in his life, to a calm and deliberate consideration for the future. Presently he became uneasy and, with unsettled thoughts, said to himself: "Pshaw! Why this worry? Let others stew and fuss: I am a soldier, and have a better business at hand. I shall seek Kinsan and let her sing to me--it is soothing, and more to the purpose of a gentleman." He did so, and she impressed him more than ever with the melody of her song. Probably it was because of the clear, crisp air of a winter's night's inspiration; more likely it had been a consciousness of her master's growing gentleness, or the hope within that some day her heart would soften and her mind cease its vigil. Whatever it may have been, she poured out that lofty sentiment that ever eases a lonely, earnest soul. She sang sweetly, and the rising notes wafted out upon the still air, reaching and piercing another who had grown to hate with the vengeance and covet with the fury of a maddened fiend. Nehachibana listened. She could bear it no longer, and with bated breath and snapping fingers stole upon them. There in the bright light she saw them, and stopped as if drunk with envy. He sat with his face upturned; Kinsan stood at one side, looking far, far away, and her voice trembled with a pathos that stayed even her destroyer. Nehachibana crouched, then sprang at her, shrieking: "Geisha! Adulteress! Murderer!" The sudden fright overcame Kinsan; she ceased singing, then choked for breath and stood trembling, with her head drooping; she coloured, then turned ashen. Tetsutaisho arose and advancing toward his wife said in a calm voice: "What do you mean, Nehachibana?" "That joro is the murderer of your child, Sodachinojoi! I saw it with my own eyes." Turning upon Kinsan, but without advancing, Tetsutaisho said harshly: "Is this true?" Kinsan made no answer, nor did she raise her eyes, but stood nervously toying with the folds of her obie. Perhaps she did not hear him, heeded only his neglect. Why did he not turn to her as he had so often done, and soothe her with his kind words and shield her from her accuser? The question burned at her already aching heart, and no one answered. Tetsutaisho, turning around politely, said to Nehachibana: "Please retire to your own apartment and there wait my coming. I shall want further to converse with you this evening. Obey me and go now, will you?" Nehachibana made no protest, but departed as bidden, glancing sidewise at Kinsan; her eyes sparkled, her lip curled, and she smiled the secret of her heart. Kinsan neither spoke to her nor pleaded with her, but looked at Nehachibana with softened eyes, and a great pity welled up from the bottom of her heart.