"Beautiful beyond comparison," appeared to be the verdict of every man or woman within sight of her, and the suspense but quickened their judgment. Hideyoshi gorged satisfied. He had provided every conceivable device, no expense had been spared; for he proved a lavish lover, and Oyea, from motive or pride, had neglected neither art nor attention to relieve and heighten either charm, or form; silks embroidered and blended to a thread, laces representing the patience and the labor of an exquisite design or appreciative hand, pearls priceless in cost and emblematic of a disposition which at least the donor had fathomed, all these worn with grace, softened in modesty, and inspired of eyes as keen as confiding, Ieyasu well might suffer the torments of a troubled conscience--may have asked himself earnestly and regretfully if he had not wronged her. In her mind no such thought had entered; she believed herself in some way responsible for his apparent neglect. Had she waned in his estimation? Were Saji really more beautiful, still worthier of his admiration, less exacting in her appeal? The blood rushed to Yodogima's face, momentarily tingeing the hitherto untroubled countenance that made her queen. Hideyoshi as quickly came to her relief; he should not see her overtried. Proud, and observant, he would stake his life, make some sort of effort to hew the way that she might reign, resolve her proper place and prove the man whose worth alone might justify his claim. "A toast, Yodogima--I am sure that Ieyasu shall appreciate it--Saji might the better serve Hideyoshi's dull wit," suggested he, by way of relief. Yodogima raised the cup. She would not disobey, nor would she neglect an opportunity. She believed Ieyasu true, and held him ready as well. Hideyoshi had granted her the privilege, and made it possible for Ieyasu to place beyond all doubt the inviolability of their love. Would he do it? Such a question never entered her mind. Could he? She deemed him incapable of failure. Hideyoshi was as good as his word, had to her proven himself beyond peradventure: perhaps it was something of triumph which prompted the words, it might have been a dawning bit of jealousy inspiring the thought, more likely it were a prospect of truth's obtaining that urged the will to claim its mastery, but whatever the cause, the motive proved none the less discernible. Yodogima faced her lover, not exultantly, yet assuringly, saying: "While climbing the hill of prosperity, I hope never to meet you."