Ieyasu's eyes for the first time rose to hers, fairly and unflinchingly. The old love once again possessed him, for the moment flared every torch, forced recognition, and the soul revealed its innermost secret--Hideyoshi waited: possibly the mind waxed hot, but not a hand trembled. Then the message itself began to claim attention, and directly the puzzling significance of those words dulled and gathered against a waning, startled consciousness till vanity bade Ieyasu conjure no shameless thought: "What does she mean?" queried he, of himself, looking from one to another, the while his eyes falling bewildered and helpless before the alternating gaze of Hideyoshi. Yodogima changed to scarlet, then whitened; she had surrendered life itself to recall the words, perhaps too thoughtlessly spoken. Was it charity, or revenge, that prompted Hideyoshi? "Coming down," suggested he, to Ieyasu, no doubt triumphantly, but none the less mercifully--putting into his mouth the words that he had floundered so bitterly to command or riddle. Shame overcame any better impulse, and turning upon his adversary, Ieyasu half whined, half scowled: "Perhaps you yourself had best drink the toast." "To-morrow, I may; or, perchance, it shall not be until the next day; thank you," replied Hideyoshi, not the least perturbed. CHAPTER XIII All the powers of earth could not have tried the princess more; she realized now that she had, out of zeal, overtaxed Ieyasu, and in that opened the way for Hideyoshi perhaps successfully to pit a wit against her lover's returning steadfastness. "Oh, it isn't much, after all, and--I can propose another," stammered she, though composedly, in some vain way to stem the tide and save still the man she adored; just why, she could not tell nor would others surmise. The suggestion fell cold upon Ieyasu's now troubled conviction; he had been outdone by a rival: there was not the slightest doubt about that in his mind; Ieyasu respected aptness, even though himself slow to act. Nor was he longer in doubt as to Yodogima's constancy or love; one glance had convinced him beyond recalling, and he could not have envied, for he had often said that the secret of happiness lies in kindly feeling. Then what was it that prompted him quickly to answer: "Not to-day, but to-morrow?" "As the princess likes," retorted Hideyoshi, his admiration growing with quest and confidence. "More--it is a guest's pleasure," commanded she, replacing the cup and glancing at Hideyoshi, without so much as disturbing a visitor or confusing their host.