Masago therefore, as she walked, summoned to her side the devoted elders who were so soon to embrace the priesthood, and cross-questioned them narrowly. They had observed, had they, in my lord's visage, how desperately he had become enamoured? They were certain that his sudden passion would insist on being gratified? But what if the travelling geisha were a light-o'-love to be picked up too easily to-day and cast forth to-morrow? Rokubei shook his head. The astute Masago--all-wise counsellor--would never venture so futile a suggestion had she once scanned the lady with her searching scrutiny. Oh, a cunning and fascinating lady! A petulant and wilful lady, and an obstinate! Ay, and a circumspect. What object could she have had in insisting on the bodies being given up, except to ingratiate herself with the lower lieges? What cared she, a stranger from afar, for a farmer of Tsu or his family? And then, that way she had of sending gleams out of her dark velvet eyes from under the deep fringes. Even he, Rokubei, who spoke, and who shortly on the holy hill was to have his pate shaven, was fain to admit, under the seal of secrecy, that his own, for the future ascetic, bosom had been pervaded by inconvenient warmth under the glamour of those lightning shafts, and all the while he knew that they were intended for another. And my lord, so inflammable, so given to indulgence, who knew so little of the curb! Masago might believe, or not, the speaker, but it was clear to him that in a few days--nay, hours--the too fascinating geisha O'Kikú would rule the Daimio and his vassals, whether for good or evil was as yet in the womb of time. Masago listened, and became more and more uneasy. Could it be possible that she, who had that day only appeared upon the scene, was the chosen instrument--selected beforehand and arrived exactly in time--for the fulfilment of the prophecy? Was she to undermine with her pink little fingers the great dynasty of Hojo? and, if so, how? For the advantage of the dynasty she, the discarded second wife, would gladly sacrifice herself and wear her fingers to the bone; would even surrender the life of her dearly-beloved son Sampei for its advantage. Fool! unreasoning woman, and incorrigible fool! Who was she to presume to combat Destiny?--to raise her weak hand in feeble protest against the finger of Buddha, the all-seeing? Although the blasphemous suggestion had unbidden entered her brain, vigils and much praying would be needed to atone for its presence. She would kneel on the stones throughout the ensuing darkness, praying for pardon and for light. How may we, however watchful, guard against presumption--against pitting our puny sagacity against the Infinite?