Sinking into a condition of dull lethargy, she went forth no more, but brooded in the quiet of her chamber, from which she could see the hill crowned by the temple groves. Dim and distant, like the roar in a sea-shell, she heard the noise of arrival, the neighing of steeds, and clank of iron, the braying of hoarse throats, the shouts and laughter at carousal. With sick apprehension she awaited the dreaded footsteps which soon must cross the threshold. But time went on and it came not, and she thanked the gods for that. He had inquired for her, the maidens said, and they had replied that their lady was ill. He had said no more, and had seemed satisfied. Truth to tell, he was as much relieved as she at the postponement of a meeting. For, worried and annoyed by the abominable behaviour of the scum, he was in no mood for whining, and instinct whispered that on such an occasion as the forthcoming festival the degenerate O'Tei would whine. When it was past and over, she would know better than to whimper, since what is done is done; and once resolved, no whining of silly women-folk should turn him from his purpose. Whilst dreading the creak of one footfall, she listened wistfully for another. Where was Sampei, her childhood's friend? Sure, he would sympathise, for his kind heart would tell him of the direful condition of his sister. Had he, disgusted with his brother, deserted him? It was likely; and yet not so, for Sampei--who should know better than she?--was loyal and true. He had arrived with my lord; the maidens had seen and admired him, and had grieved to perceive that he was dejected, the noble young hero. How strange then that he should not visit his old playmate.