"He surely won't come to the Regent's levee," said one lord; "he would run the risk of falling asleep on the shoulder of Hieyas." "Nagato never comes to pay his respects to Hieyas; he detests him profoundly; he is his avowed enemy." "Such an enemy is not much to be feared," said the Prince of Tosa. "On his return from these nightly escapades he is only fit for sleeping." "I don't know whether that is the Regent's opinion." "If he thought otherwise, would he endure from him insults serious enough to condemn him to hara-kiri? If the Prince still lives, he owes it to the clemency of Hieyas." "Or to the loving protection of Fide-Yori." "Doubtless Hieyas is only generous through regard for the master; but if all his enemies were of Nagato's mind, he might esteem himself happy." While the courtiers thus chatted away the time of waiting for his waking, Hieyas, who had risen long before, paced his chamber, anxious, uneasy, bearing on his care-worn face the marks of sleeplessness. A man stood near the Regent, leaning against the wall; he watched him stride up and down; this man was a former groom, named Faxibo. Hostlers had enjoyed considerable favor since the accession to power of Taiko-Sama, who was originally an hostler. Faxibo was deeper than any other person in the confidence of the Regent, who hid nothing from him, and even thought aloud in his presence. Hieyas constantly raised the blind from the window and looked out. "Nothing," he said impatiently; "no news. It is incomprehensible." "Be patient for a few moments more," said Faxibo; "those whom you sent out upon the Kioto road cannot have returned yet." "But the others! There were forty of them, and not one has returned! If he has escaped me again, it is maddening." "Perhaps you exaggerate the man's importance," said Faxibo. "It is a love-affair that attracts him to Kioto; his head is full of follies."