"How will your thoughts be this gray morning, my dear?" she wrote to him. "Last night you were as one stung by happy madness. You would not see nor hear my warnings. Now you will be realizing why I wished to make warnings. Lord Hagané is with my father against us. They wish me not to marry with a foreigner. That terrible painting was a test, and I have betrayed us by my woman's soft heart. Now they are sure that the one I love is in Tokio they will take stronger care against me. Dear Pierre, I do not think there is any hope! We can wait,--or we can die!--just now I believe nothing else is possible. O Pierre! If my weakness offend you, and if already it seem to you far beyond any help,--if you, being the impatience, have not heart to so long wait,--let me go! Forget poor Yuki! Indeed, I should not have promised at all. I belong to my country, as in previous time I said. I must not make sad your bright life. Rather would I be forgotten than bring you to grief. Your Yuki-ko." This letter she addressed to Pierre at the French Legation, stamped, sealed it, and slipped it into the long, hanging sleeve of her kimono, intending, at the first opportunity, to get it into the hands of a postman. After this she arranged her hair and obi quickly and went out into the kitchen where already she heard old Suzumé and Maru San at work. Hardly had she entered when the front gate opened and the newspaper-boy ran in, his small copper bell clamoring on his hip. His bovine face was crimson with suppressed joy. Beside the usual morning sheet he held out a printed extra, shaking it toward her. "Look at this! Honorably read these headlines, o jo san! Banzai Nippon!" he cried. Yuki reached forward for the hand-bill. "It is war! War! Togo has fired!" she read, in a low, tense voice. "War with that great brutal nation, and we have fired! O Nippon! O my Emperor! The ancient gods be with you!" "Three ships already sunk! Three!" screamed the boy, wildly, and tossed up his foreign jockey-cap. "Kwannon preserve us! What has happened--an earthquake?" cried old Suzumé, hastening from the well-curb, and wiping red hands on her apron as she came. "War! War, nurse! Our country is at war this minute, and three Russian battle-ships are already sunk!" "We'll teach the bears that we are not to be trampled--Banzai Nippon!" boasted the paper-boy, as he hurried back to the street. Iriya, not quite dressed, thrust her head from the parted fusuma. "War, Mistress! War, Master! The honorable Mr. Togo has sunk all the Russian battle-ships and beheaded all the generals with his own hand!" shrieked Suzumé. Maru began to cry. "War!" faltered Iriya, and shrank back into the dim room. "Banzai! May our Emperor live a thousand years!" roared Tetsujo. Those outside could hear him hurtling about the narrow room. "Tell them to hang the flags above the gate, woman! Quick! Every moment wasted is a sacrilege! Gods of my Ancestors, at last we fight! Would that I were with Togo!"