Twisting his body towards my lord so far as his bonds permitted, he slowly wagged his head and laughed low and long. "Could I live here five hundred lives in pomp like thee," he said, "I would not, knowing that which will come after. Oh, cruel one! oh, pitiless!--steeped to the lips in crime. Fence thee with walls, and moats, and barriers of stone, my spirit shall burst them all to avenge thy deed this day! Hearken to my voice. Mark my red eyes. Waking and sleeping--in the din of battle--in thy secret chamber--they shall be with thee. When they fade, know that thy end is nigh. Thy time is brief. All-patient Buddha sickens at thee. Last of thy race. Thou and thine--all, all--shall perish miserably--thy name a horror for all time." The voice of the martyr choked. The sable phalanx of grim warriors quaked and rustled in their armour like leaves before the coming storm. The Eta, scarce knowing what he did, beside himself with fear, plunged the lance into his side. The head of the farmer drooped; his eyes filmed, then opened wide lurid, reflecting the crimson sunset. "See yonder river," he gasped, "and take a sign. 'Tis tinged with blood already, sucked from thy fortress stones. See how red it flows! A day shall come when it will lap those stones no more. Then shall thy house fall, a shapeless ruin. Cursed, thrice cursed, be the long line of Hojo! In cycles yet to come may they stumble and wander, led astray, hopeless, and blind, and never attain oblivion!" The Daimio, with lightning in his glance, and terror in his heart, rose up, and, speechless with passion, stretched forth his hand. The trembling Eta again thrust in his weapon, and the voice of menace was hushed. But the sightless eyes still gazed at him, who was accursed as from out of the infinite, and the reflection from the river shone forth, cast back ensanguined, from them. A panic fell on the spectators. The men, fearing they knew not what, grew pale; the women shrieked, and stuffed fingers into ears, or clung wildly one to another. The samurai, grouped behind their lord, placed hands on swords, irresolute; for there was no foe worthy of their steel. A regrettable _dénouement_. 'Twas the Eta's fault--the tardy caitiff! His life should pay the penalty. Then of a sudden there was a diversion. The lady O'Tei, who, statue-like and numb, had witnessed the scene as one who saw not, willowed forward with a moan, and fell on her face unconscious.