Ieyasu knew only too well that he had been tricked by Hideyoshi; that his recent bravado and promised alliance had been feigned for immediate effect; that his troops were at that very moment scouring the country, he himself fully believed without even a suggestion from Katsutoya or anyone else; that his own neck were in danger he was wholly aware--from political motives, however, and not as a result of any clashing of love interests; in his dull mind, Hideyoshi had no more thought of taking a defeated daimyo's daughter to himself than Katsutoya had of befriending a successful rival. His household seemed already full enough. "Hideyoshi in love, and a wife and some three hundred, now? Bosh!" muttered he, to himself, though donning the disguise and preparing for flight. "Thanks, however, to Hideyoshi's cleverness, we shall see no more of Katsutoya, vain wretch--Yodogima is still alive; he just as well as said so, and the gods shall see that Ieyasu gets his due. I can wait, yet go I must." Ieyasu set out unattended and forlorn; while the bettos were landing Yodogima, hopeful if not happy, at an appointed tea-house in the rugged mountains capping an upper arm of the valley through which they had climbed. Here, Katsutoya had directed her to remain; it was secluded, and not far distant from the main highway over which her lover must make his exit, through the otherwise almost impassable range. It had grown warmer with the rising sun and a sheltered environment, yet Yodogima waxed the more eager and became less tolerant. She knew the locality well enough, but somehow could not bring herself to believe Katsutoya bent upon anything but downright betrayal. They were sitting in the open, at the rear of a large room, on the second floor, overlooking a deep gorge below and the broad valley farther on in the distance. Jokoin chafed under the restraint, and Esyo scolded. "I can see no harm in going below, and into a public room--we are daughters of Shibata, and there is a man down there; I hear his voice." "Jokoin! What is to be done with you? We are alone, and outcasts--" began Esyo, half intended for Yodogima. "The more the need of cultivating someone's friendship," retorted Jokoin. "But we have no means of an introduction, and do not know that it is a gentleman." "Let us forget form: I hear a sword rattling." Yodogima made neither protest nor comment; she was content to let Esyo wrestle it out with Jokoin, whose good sense she believed quite the better of her indiscretion. Therefore, when Jokoin finally led down the stairs, with Esyo close after, their eldest sister, sitting back upon the soft-matted floor, turned her thoughts far away, and to things beyond the staid comprehension of the one or above the emotional reach of the other.