"Every samurai will give his life. Every child and woman of his race will lie, self-slain, in blood, before the yielding. And yet defeat may be decreed. To be blind is to be weak. We must face unflinchingly the ultimate horror." "The old gods must protect us!" cried the girl. "You are a Christian. The Christian gods will be invoked to aid our enemies." "Oh, father, you hurt me! When I wished to become a Christian, like the other girls, I wrote you many letters,--you did not oppose it then." "Neither do I oppose it now," said Tetsujo. "In things of religious faith each soul should seek an individual path. Because of your intelligence I allowed you to decide. But in patriotism,--in loyalty to your native land,--I still have responsibility. Ah, you are my one child, and most dearly beloved; but if ever I should see in you one taint of selfish swerving,--if I should suspect that through the foreign education the sinews of your love were weak--" Yuki stopped him by a gesture. Her head was proudly lifted. Her eyes gleamed, and her thin nostrils shook,--"Such thoughts as these are not to be spoken between a samurai and his child. My very heart is knit of the fibres of that word 'Nippon.'" "You are certain, Yuki?" Tetsujo's question and his eyes dug deep. Yuki hesitated less than a fraction of thought. "I am certain," she said. A silence rose between them. Yuki's bright joyousness felt a drifting cloud. What did her father mean? Had Prince Hagané spoken ill of her? The promise to Pierre gnawed like a hungry worm. She fought anew the phantoms of love and approaching war. The two laden jinrikisha coolies tugged on with ostentatious groans. The hand towels now came into requisition for the mopping of streaming brows. The road began to curve into a level space, from which hedge-bordered lanes radiated. Again Tetsujo spoke. "That new American envoy,--he with the nose of a sick vulture and the fine yellow eye,--is he favorable to us? Is he one that at all understands us?" "Indeed, my father, he is of wonderful understanding. He and Baron Kanrio are as brothers in thought. Did not Prince Hagané speak of him?" Ignoring the question, Tetsujo went on. "The younger of the two women,--that straw-colored maiden who seems standing on the edge of a small typhoon,--she, I suppose, is the school friend, the Miss Todd, you referred to." "Yes," answered Yuki, a little resentfully. "And she is considered beautiful. I think her augustly beautiful, even as Amaterasu, our Sun Goddess." "Not ours. It may be that other nations have also sun goddesses," said Tetsujo, significantly. "To me all foreign females are of hideous aspect. They look and strut like fowls. And the two young males,--sons of Mr. Todd, I take it,--they are as the painted toys sold in temple booths. Yet, if the foreigners have been kind, it is well to express gratitude, and to send gifts as costly as my purse will allow."