Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan | Page 3

up without any particular

attention.
It was the golden hairpin; but of course, though KÅnojÅ's father had
told him of the pin, KÅnojÅ had no idea that this was it, and therefore
he thought nothing more than that it must be O Kei San's. He went back
to his little house, closed it for the night, and was about to retire when
he heard a knock at the door. 'Who is there?' he shouted. 'What do you
want?' There came no answer, and KÅnojÅ lay down on his bed,
thinking himself to have been mistaken. But there came another knock,
louder than the first; and KÅnojÅ jumped out of bed, and lit the
ando. 1 'If not a fox or a badger,' thought he, 'it must be some evil
spirit come to disturb me.'
On opening the door, with the ando in one hand, and a stick in the other,
KÅnojÅ looked out into the dark, and there, to his astonishment, he
beheld a vision of female beauty the like of which he had never seen
before. 'Who are you, and what do you want?' quoth he.
'I am O Kei San, O Ko's younger sister,' answered the vision. 'Though
you have not seen me, I have several times seen you, and I have fallen
so madly in love with you that I can think of nothing else but you.
When you picked up my golden pin to-night on our return, I had
dropped it to serve as an excuse to come to you and knock. You must
love me in return; for otherwise I must die!'
This heated and outrageous declaration scandalised poor KÅnojÅ.
Moreover, he felt that it would be doing his kind host Hasunuma a
great injustice to be receiving his younger daughter at this hour of the
night and make love to her. He expressed himself forcibly in these
terms.
'If you will not love me as I love you, then I shall take my revenge,'
said O Kei, 'by telling my father that you got me to come here by
making love to me, and that you then insulted me.'
Poor KÅnojÅ! He was in a nice mess. What he feared most of all was
that the girl would do as she said, that the samurai would believe her,
and that he would be a disgraced and villainous person. He gave way,

therefore, to the girl's request. Night after night she visited him, until
nearly a month had passed. During this time KÅnojÅ had learned to
love dearly the beautiful O Kei. Talking to her one evening, he said:
'My dearest O Kei, I do not like this secret love of ours. Is it not better
that we go away? If I asked your father to give you to me in marriage
he would refuse, because I was betrothed to your sister.'
'Yes,' answered O Kei: 'that is what, I also have been wishing. Let us
leave this very night, and go to Ishinomaki, the place where (you have
told me) lives a faithful servant of your late father's, called Kinzo.'
'Yes: Kinzo is his name, and Ishinomaki is the place. Let us start as
soon as possible.'
Having thrust a few clothes into a bag, they started secretly and late
that night, and duly arrived at their destination. Kinzo was delighted to
receive them, and pleased to show how hospitable he could be to his
late master's son and the beautiful lady.
They lived very happily for a year. Then one day O Kei said:
'I think we ought to return, to my parents now. If they were angry with
us at first they will have got over the worst of it. We have never written.
They must be getting anxious as to my fate as they grow older. Yes: we
ought to go.'
KÅnojÅ agreed. Long had he felt the injustice he was doing
Hasunuma.
Next day they found themselves back in Sendai, and KÅnojÅ could not
help feeling a little nervous as he approached the samurai's house. They
stopped at the outer gate, and O Kei said to KÅnojÅ, 'I think it will be
better for you to go in and see my father and mother first. If they get
very angry show them this golden pin.
KÅnojÅ stepped boldly up to the door, and asked for an interview with
the samurai.

Before the servant had time to return, KÅnojÅ heard the old man shout,
'KÅnojÅ San! Why, of course! Bring the boy in at once,' and he
himself came out to welcome him.
'My dear boy,' said the samurai, 'right glad am I to see you back again. I
am sorry you did not find your life with us good enough. You might
have said you were going. But there--I suppose you take after