Condemned to inaction, deprived of amusement and male companionship, relegated to the uninteresting society of tire-women, the unhappy geisha pined as well as fretted. If they would only let her out,--set the caged bird free! Dreams of ambition faded, she now desired no more than liberty. Several times each day she climbed to the top of the central tower, just under the fish of gold, and gazed--oh, with what longing--at the cohorts of the invading host. The strictest guard was kept at the openings in the palisading, but soldiers off duty were free to amuse themselves. She could see bands of them engaged in military sports. Some went a-hunting, and returned laden. Oh, if she were only with them, outside these horrid walls, beyond which lay tantalising freedom! And what was to be the end? There was only one end possible. All could see that now. Scanty stores, hastily collected, were waning. What then? Gaunt famine stalked already. Would those without linger inactive till the besieged were dead to a man, then march in over the corpses? or would they in a more martial spirit wait only till the braves were weak, and then take the place by escalade? It was too revolting to die thus by inches. The idea suddenly flashed upon the wretched woman, whose moral sense, never acute, was blunting hourly, that the key of the situation was in her own little hand. Why should she not open the postern, let in the foe, who in gratitude would spare her life--maybe applaud and treat her with homage as a heroine? What to her were the Hojos; their illustrious name which was hers--that name about which the silly Masago had preached so loftily--now that they were on the brink of ruin? She had good cause to hate the Hojos. Many a lady in the annals of Japan has bared her breast to her husband's dirk in just such an emergency as this. When the famed Shibata knew all was lost, he gave a final banquet, at the conclusion of which he said to his wife, "You women must go, for it is time for us men to die." And what answer made she? With tears she thanked her lord, she, the sister of Nobunago the Great, composed a farewell verse of poetry, and received his sword into her bosom.