Dread in his shaking hand indeed! Oh, Nara! Nara! Peeping nervously between his fan-sticks, as the commanding figure that he knew too well darkened the doorway, the Fountain of Honour perceived a threatening outline in which there was no sign of decadence. As with hand lightly poised on hip, and proud head raised, the Hojo strode into the Presence, the Mikado marked that he was pale and thin, but his eye, if bloodshot, was piercing as ever--fierce as the untamed eagle's. That Nara, who boasted of experience and acumen, should be so grievously taken in. Well, well! it was all the fault of that old fool. The embroglio was of his making; it must be for him to get them out of the hobble. But Nara, save for a deepening line between the brows, and teeth that bit the lip, seemed unaware of the apparition. Red and wrinkled lids blinked over glazed eyes which stared stonily into space from under a white and shaggy penthouse. The Daimio of Tsu, erect and menacing, glanced slowly down at the assembled lords, who, with bent backs, were contemplating the floor--then at the fan and bundle of silks which concealed the Fountain of Honour--then at the crowd without, who stood with craned necks on the verandahs, or grouped about the garden. From between his fan-sticks the Mikado followed the motions of the despot with increasing trepidation. If only he dared to command the closing of the doors--but his tongue refused its office. Instinct told him that the cup of disgrace was again to be presented to his lips, and that it would be more bitter than ever to the taste. How hard was fate! Every one of the court circle--hatamotos, lords, knights, dependants--was to witness the unpleasing ceremony. As the Daimio stood quietly glancing round without a word, the silence became each second less endurable. By bearing and power of eye, combined with an eloquent past, the tyrant held them cowed. Insolent! He had presumed to appear in the presence in ordinary garb,--had not deigned to don the _Uye-no-Bakama_; or the regulation white silk shirt, or _[=O] Katabira_. And the attitude of the courtiers, too! A pack of grovelling cowards! fine weather friends. A minute since they were gabbling, one against another, of future deeds of prowess--of dazzling achievements; now not one among the startled herd had courage to sacrifice himself--to save his lord from the dilemma. Piteously the Mikado looked at Nara, who made no response; then--since it was absolutely essential that some one should break the silence--he closed his fan and whispered meekly,-- "Lord Hojo, you are welcome." No-Kami smiled, and remarked shortly,-- "Very welcome, doubtless. As I came hither I heard a sound of mirth--now all sit mumchance. Had I not received a special summons, I should have deemed I had intruded."