"There is a lesson that we should heed in this accusation by Nagamasa; who loves you as he does his life; the barons have been, as you well know, subjected by force, and with the master gone out of the country they should be ill content to wear the yoke: Ieyasu is not the man to do Hideyoshi's work," argued Ieyasu, to Hideyoshi, discreetly: with a purpose and an estimation not wholly made known. "What you say is true, but I shall go; I have better counsel," retorted Hideyoshi, not the least bit perturbed at heart or altered in purpose by his antagonist's insinuations. "Yes; at Ozaka. As you have, also, the prospect of an heir," ventured Ieyasu, conserving well an only opportunity. "What?" "It is as I say." "Then you are a better man than I; I did not know as much." "Thank you," replied Ieyasu, not any the more disconcerted by the master's thrust. Hideyoshi for once looked Ieyasu squarely in the eyes. "Well?" inquired the underling, boldly. "If you have spoken truly--your fortune is made; if not--I shall send you to Korea," replied Hideyoshi, composedly. "Then--I am a made man," retorted Ieyasu, seemingly settled upon some sort of true conviction. Interpreting Ieyasu's last remark in the most favorable light, as always done, when possible, Hideyoshi's enthusiasm waxed significantly, if unexpectedly afresh. At last Ieyasu, by a ruse, had done something more than wait; the Chinese fantasy had been brought suddenly to a halt, and Japan saved probable humiliation, to say nothing of absolute defeat; Hidaye had already been all but crushed, and that, too, without getting beyond the confines of weak, unprepared, and unwarlike Korea. Had Hideyoshi himself left Japanese soil, with his contemplated reserve force, the trap laid by the wily Chin Ikei, China's over-matching envoy, might have defeated more potent, if less fantastic, ambitions even than Hideyoshi's. None, but one, knew better than Ieyasu the futility of the taiko's foreign project, nor was he any the less positive whom that might be, or of her desperate struggle against almost certain disaster: yet he believed Hideyoshi the father of her child, and bided thence patiently the further exactions of an inner conscience. "She is both worthy and capable," reasoned he, to himself, contentedly, "and I shall henceforth follow in the wake of an ambition higher than mine, more tolerable than Hideyoshi's." Maeda Toshiye left in charge, the taiko forthwith abandoned forever the camp at Nagoya, and hastening to Ozaka found Yodogima ill prepared to receive him. He had come unbidden, and demanding entrance to her boudoir, was denied: Hideyoshi fumed and stormed. Ishida, however, calmed him; he, too, had found it convenient or desirable to court favor and spy out an advantage there, and Kyogoku alone had been the means of his coming; Jokoin had also denied him, her husband, any sort of entrance--thus Ishida had been privileged happily to win as well as serve the good will also of Yodogima.