"I may die, my son," he said when he was alone with Fide-Tadda; "that is why I sent for you. I wish to give you my last instructions,--to trace out the line of conduct which you are to follow when I am no more." On hearing his father speak in this way, Fide-Tadda could not repress his tears. "Stop, stop!" cried Hieyas, smiling; "do not weep for me yet, I am not dead; and you shall see that my mind, is not impaired, as that old Mayada would have people think. Listen to me, and treasure my words in your memory." "Every word that falls from your mouth is to me what a fine pearl would be to a miser." "I will be brief," said Hieyas; "talking tires me. Know first, my son, that the predecessor of Go-Mitzou-No, the present Mikado, once honored me with the title of Shogun. It was after the death of Taiko. I made no parade of the title, not wishing to offend the friends of Fide-Yori. I allowed the princes and the people to fall into the habit of calling me the Regent. What mattered the name by which the power was known, so long as the power rested in my hands? But now the title of Shogun is of the utmost importance to me, for it is hereditary, and I can abdicate in your favor. You spoke just now of the Shogun. I am the Shogun. Fide-Yori did indeed receive the same title, and I never reminded his insolent councillors that it was really mine. I acted prudently. I was in their hands; they might have slain me. But now I undertake this war,--be well assured of it,--as sole representative of the legal power. I have had embroidered off my banners the three chrysanthemum leaves, the insignia given me by the former Mikado; and it is in the name of his heir that I lead my armies on to battle. I act without his authority, true; but as soon as I gain the victory he will approve my acts." Hieyas paused for an instant, and drank a little tea.