The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old JapanWingfield, Lewis
History
The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Hojo family -- Fiction; Japan -- History -- Kamakura period, 1185-1333 -- Fiction
What was she to do? What could she do? If madness might be wooed, it
would bring oblivion and relief. Who would have thought that a
delicate and tender girl, so little used to suffering, could bear such
pain and live? As she lay upon the mat, she revolved that unanswerable
question which worries a good many of us. What could she have done in
a previous phase of existence to make the present one so exceedingly
painful? To lie thus in dumb pain was intolerable: action of some kind
was imperative. She would go to the temple and pray, and ask the
advice of Masago.
Turning towards the other hill, she was astonished to see on the
top of the long flight of steps a man--by his dress apparently a
noble--who slowly descended, and mounting a horse, trotted in the
direction of the summer-house. Her heart gave a great bound, then
seemed to stand still. Could it be? Yes! it was Sampei--returned home
at last--and he was coming here!
Yes, it was the victorious Sampei, who, having duly visited his
mother, was coming to see his sister. For she was really his sister
now; and he had heard from the Abbess an account of the condition of
things, which, though guarded, pleased him little. When far away, he
had received the news of the marriage, he had been amazed, and
laughed; annoyed somewhat, he scarcely knew why. To think that the
destined husband should be his own brother! And then he had felt grave
doubts as to the success of the union; and then, light and
_débonnaire_, and occupied with much cheerful splitting of skulls, he
had put the subject from him. He was no marrying man--not he. His
sword was his true love; to others he had not the smallest intention
of being true. To cull the most fragrant flowers while the sun was
shining--as many and as various as possible--and get others when they
were faded, was his soldierly but scarcely moral code of ethics. And
yet, while gaily slaughtering the Coreans, he had time now and then to
hope that all was right at home, and that his white fawn was happy;
and it was gruesome now on his return to discover that she was
wretched instead of happy,--his half-suspected previsions justified.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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