Kinsan recovered rapidly; thus Tetsutaisho became relieved, and devoted himself more than ever to the strengthening of his defences and the preparations for a final combat. In his mind there was only one course to pursue, and that the heroic. It mattered not that a city be destroyed, that countless lives be sacrificed. He was as bold and intrepid as he was loyal and courageous; knowing neither the power of deception, nor the force of heartless mechanism. He marshalled not their cowardly virtues, but called to hand an humbler host, the glorious heroics of a dying age. He proposed to make a last triumphant stand, and dazzle mankind with the splendour of his achievement; but in this, too, he was doomed to disappointment. Both Daikomitsu and Okotsuba reasoned patiently against the dangers of his policy. They knew too well the futility of matching valour against cunning, the human against the inhuman. They argued well that they had best make good their escape, holding the enemy in check and preserving their own forces until, in time, they could substitute a more effective warfare. But Tetsutaisho remained resolute and when the final day came, faced a hopeless attempt, realising only at the last moment the inevitable consequence of his folly. It was a dark, gloomy, and hopeless day. All the morning the rain had poured, and the thatched roofs and wooden structures were soaked with water. The time was July--the fourth day--and after the long rain a rising vapour enveloped the city with a low, hazy fog. The clouds overhead ran low, and Shibusawa ordered the advance. Twice before he had planned to move upon them, but each time refrained from doing so at the earnest appeal of Daikomitsu, who had sent messengers protesting against the destruction of the city. This time there must be no halting; the heavens had cleared the way. Column after column of the mikado's splendid army, with fixed bayonet and steady march, advanced from the south upon the walled enclosure at the palace grounds. Hardly had they sounded the approach, the moats were destroyed and the big cannon hurled their easy missiles against the yielding gates and weakening walls. The waters emptied, and the stones loosened and fell; they pressed on, some levelling, others scaling, until the last obstruction had fallen--thus thrice proving the certainty of the new and the futility of the old, as time and progress ever repeat. As the last wall fell Shibusawa brandished high his sword and commanded the charge. Quickly they ran, and the hillside swarmed with oncoming hordes of sturdy, determined men. Reaching the summit the broad expanse of the shogun's gardens spread out before them, and they ranked in double line, listening, with breathless expectation. And as they waited the clouds parted, revealing a scattering enemy in the background; only a small formation stood aligned in front of the palace buildings. Like a flash came the order: "Fire!"