The man looked at her with feelings of self-reproach. Yes, he had fancied her once, more fickle apparently than she; and as she stood before him now, so small and dark, with eyes of mouse-like brightness, and ravishing dimples playing at hide-and-seek, he liked her yet again. But she fluttered like a bird in his embrace. "No, no," she whispered, as she passed over his rough face caressing fingers. "Remember duty, and the plight we are in. Folly is over, and stern reality is here. You wronged me in your thoughts, deeming I had forgotten you. Admit you did. Fie, fie--for shame! There, you are forgiven! Drink!" She held forth the saké pot, kept warm with a woollen covering. He took a long draught, his gaze on her the while, and she shook her shapely head in arch reproach. And then, with set teeth and no dimples showing now, she caught the saké-pot as it escaped from his hand, and he fell insensible upon his back. "Idiot!" she said, with a curl of her full lip, "lie there undisturbed until your foolish throat is cut," and peering cautiously around, descended quickly to the postern. It will be remembered that the outer gate stood at right angles to the road, for the better purpose of defence, but that there was a small postern in the angle facing it. In her outgoings and incomings she had always, as a matter of convenience, used this postern, and had kept the key of it. How provoking were these plaguy clouds over the moon. At one moment it was dark--at another as light as day--dazzling, puzzling. She stood in the open doorway peeping forth, when a mailed man in ambush seized her by the arm, and pinched it so suddenly that she had much ado to suppress a scream. "I have you!" he said; "you are our hostage. We got your billet, and are ready." "You hurt me, sir," she answered, struggling. "Brute! let me go. The door is open as I promised. Here is the key of the inner gate." She endeavoured to shake off the iron grip and flee in the direction of liberty, but the man held her as in a vice. "Softly, softly!" he chuckled, "or this tender flesh will suffer. She who can wantonly betray her people may not be trusted. You shall go before and lead us to the inner gate. When once we are within the citadel you shall receive reward, I promise." A cry of vexation and abortive spite rose in the geisha's throat, and choked her. What hardened brutal wretches soldiers are! She who expected effusive gratitude for a signal favour was to be treated like a common spy. The biter was bit. The man--an officer of rank, as was evident by the glittering badge upon his casque--took no pains to conceal his lack of consideration for the agent whom he stooped to employ. He looked on her, it was but too evident, as on some reptile--of service for the moment, which was to be used, then crushed under the heel. Careless of her pain, he held her soft arm as tightly in his armoured hand as if he meant to snap the bone. "Lead on," he threatened, "or--"