The samurai were in high spirits, and noisy withal, and the Daimio observed with displeasing the effect of discipline relaxed. So soon as he returned home he would set his castle in order, he resolved,--suppress undue lawlessness,--check familiarity. When he returned? Would the nightmare crush him again--numbing his limbs, breaking his spirit? Surely not. Why should he ever return? Was he not lord of other castles? Could he not appropriate at will, with the strong hand of might, any stronghold that should take his fancy? Tsu could be left to O'Tei and to the goblins. Henceforth it was a hateful spot, recalling humiliation and pain. And then he mused about O'Kikú--entrancing little fairy! A pity she was unreasonably jealous, for all those stories about his wife and his brother were too absurd to be believed. Yet were they? What, after all, if the concubine were right, and Sampei's air of offended dignity a piece of clever masquerading? Had he, the chief, not seemed to detect something like commiseration on the bronzed features of his warriors? Why should they pity him? Perhaps they knew too well that, behind his back, his wife and brother held clandestine meetings. Of course, this must be it. Scales fell from his eyes, and he trembled with passion. His first wife was deceiving him, and with his brother! Hence their waning respect and covert pity. And, fool that he was, he had left the two together. Grinding his teeth, he twitched the rein so sharply that Typhoon, beflecked with foam, fell back upon his haunches. And then, in fitful mood, he laughed again. To Ki[^y]oto first to tie up loosened strands, then back to Tsu with furtive speed! He would swoop upon both the guilty ones, catch them off their guard, and make of them an example for all time. The peasants, scared out of their wits by the truculent bearing of the soldiery, betook them to the woods, and lurked in hiding till the enemy had passed. At the top of the mountain, just where the way is level, before dipping down through a thicket of wind-tossed pines, there stood a modest tea-house where my lord was wont to sleep on his journeys between his castle and the capital. Here he resolved to stop as usual, and, after bathing, enjoy his dinner. The landlord and his daughters came smiling forth, and, clapping palms upon their thighs, knelt down and rapped foreheads on the floor. My lord was paler than his wont, observed mine host, with profuse sighing; and thin, which tore in twain the hearts of his loyal vassals; indeed they had heard that he was grievously sick--almost unto death. Had not my lord of Nara gone by recently and brought the evil tidings! One and all had wept, and offered prayers for his recovery. But my lord was young, and would speedily recover, thanks to the elasticity of youth. And so on, with many genuflections and drawings in of the breath; sibillations, and head-rappings; while No-Kami's face grew purple, and he growled a string of curses.