CHAPTER IV
Matsuda Isami was a small, sharp-eyed man of possibly forty. He was rich and powerful, the landlord of many of the families in Sanyo. The people feared him, while they respected his employment of hundreds of coolies, and it was said his parsimony had made him rich and kept the whole community poor. In some way, direct or indirect, nearly everyone in the community was in his service or debt. He was the magnate of the town, and accordingly hated, feared, dreaded. He had come on foot to the humble home of Madame Yamada, he, the taciturn, cold-hearted headman of the town, and all because Azalea, walking in the sun, in a kimona, patched, faded, but pretty, had turned her head toward him quite recently and smiled with childish impudence. Few people smiled upon Matsuda. This shabby daughter of a samurai who in the early days had made no secret of his lordly contempt for the rich tradesman had captivated Matsuda by one fleeting, innocent smile. Matsuda desired her now above all things, and swore by all the gods that he would have her.
Wealth and power, after all, were not sufficient to gratify the insatiable greed of his nature. He was desirous of something more priceless, and for which he wouldhave given up all his possessions—this beautiful young girl, Azalea.
With impatience he listened to Madame Yamada’s servile words of compliment and welcome. Hardly had he seated himself and with a gesture refused the proffered pipe, when he spoke of the object of his visit.
In accordance with her suggestion conveyed to him through the Nakoda, he had come in person to make his suit to her daughter. He desired to see her at once.
The prevaricating words of temporizing that came to Madame Yamada’s lips were not even listened to by him.
Her daughter not at home? Very well,he would go, then, at once. Thereupon he arose. Madame Yamada bit her lip until the blood came. Then she clapped her hands and bade the maid who answered tell the eldest daughter of the house to hasten at once to assist the most exalted Matsuda with his clogs. The latter, however, kicked his feet into his own sandals. When the maiden appeared, he went shuffling in them toward the door, returning only a curt nod to her deep and graceful obeisance. Madame Yamada, clasping her hands in despair, followed him to the door.
Would not His Excellency wait a little while?
No, His Excellency would not—that is tosay—yes, His Excellency would; for just at that moment His Excellency, casting a keen glance about him, saw a little figure sitting on the doorstep in the garden to the rear of the house.
“Your daughter, I perceive,” he said, indicating Azalea, “has returned.”
The angry blood buzzed in Madame Yamada’s ears, but she answered calmly enough:
“Why, yes, it is true, Excellency.” Then raising her voice, she called to the girl: “Azalea!”
Matsuda, returning to the interior of the house, seated himself in the guest room, lighted his pipe and drew a long whiff.Then he looked at Azalea sitting before him pensively. His little keen eyes going from her to her step-mother and catching the glance of baffled fury bestowed by Madame Yamada upon her daughter Yuri, he allowed a sound which was oddly like a chuckle to escape him. Then he put the pipe down and again regarded the maiden Azalea. He said:
“It is the wish of your step-mother that I address you personally.”
She looked at him with eyes of inquiry. What had Matsuda Isami to say to her? She did not dream that a man as old as her father, and one who was so exalted in public opinion, would deign to proposemarriage with her, so insignificant and humble.
“I wish to marry you,” said Matsuda bluntly.
Her lips parted and her eyes enlarged.
“Me?” she said faintly, and repeated the little word. “Me?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “Marry you, Azalea.”
The color came in a frightened ebb to her face. She looked at her mother and sister fearfully. Their faces were absolutely cold and impassive. In a flash she understood her step-mother’s attitude of a moment since. It was all clearer than daylight. Azalea arose and bowed extravagantlydown to the very mats. Then, with her head almost at Matsuda’s feet, she said:
“The humblest one is altogether too insignificant and small to become the wife of so exalted a personage.”
The words pleased Matsuda. Plainly this girl would make a most excellent and humble wife. He bent graciously and touched her head, patting it. She slipped under his hand to her knees, and then to a sitting position. But her head was still bent far over, and if the suitor could have seen that dimpling face, its expression would have perplexed him.
He seated himself opposite to her.
“The marriage,” he said, “can be speedilyarranged. I do not like delays in any of my affairs.”
Madame Yamada interposed, desperately:
“Time will be needed to make her marriage garments, to call together her august relatives, for maidenly meditation, and for preparation for the marriage feast.”
“We can dispense with all these things,” said Matsuda suavely.
“Too early a marriage would be unseemly,” said Madame Yamada.
“Madame Yamada exaggerates public opinion,” was Matsuda’s response.
The woman’s voice was barely controlled in its harshness.
“You, Azalea, what have you to say?”
Azalea opened her fan and looked at it thoughtfully, almost as though in the painted pictures upon it she found an answer. Suddenly she raised her head.
“I do not wish to marry,” she said, and added as an afterword: “—yet.”
At that moment her step-mother could have embraced her.
Matsuda cleared his throat.
“When, then, will it suit you?” he asked respectfully.
The girl’s eyes were still upon her fan, and without raising them she replied with a slight shrug of her small, bewitching shoulders:
“I do not know when. Maybe in oneyear; maybe in ten. I do not wish to marry—yet.”
Matsuda arose.
“For one year,” he said, “or for ten years, or as long as your caprice may make it, I will wait for you.”
Azalea’s fan fluttered closed. She bowed her head upon it.
“Excellency is very faithful.”
“Once,” said Matsuda, looking at her with half closed eyes, “your august samurai father deigned to call me ‘Dog.’ You will learn, maiden, that I shall prove my title to ‘Dog’ by my watchfulness and faithfulness. I have sworn to possess you, and possess you I will.”
The moment he was gone Azalea turned toward her step-mother, upon whose countenance a look of sweetest benevolence toward her step-daughter was slowly appearing.
“Mother-in-law,” said the girl, “you need not fear that I will marry him. No, my father spoke true words. He is a dog. He has only the instincts of a tradesman, and as such he comes here to buy the daughter of a samurai.”
“Your words are wise, Azalea,” said the step-mother, “and you win my maternal affection. Matsuda is not the fit husband for a warrior’s daughter. Yet, Azalea, bear in mind that Yuri, your sister, had forfather one less elevated than a samurai—one, indeed, who was a mere tradesman. She is well fitted to be the wife of Matsuda Isami. Therefore, you can help or hinder this our ambition.”
“I will neither help nor hinder,” said Azalea, crossing the room, and looking through the shoji. “Mother-in-law, I have no interest in the matter,” she added.
Madame Yamada was behind her and had touched her arm, the arm she had lately pinched so viciously.
“Promise to be steadfast in your refusal of Matsuda. Promise that, Azalea, and you will find that harshness is an unknown quality in this household.”
“Oh, I will promise that, easily,” said Azalea. “I will not even look at or speak to the man. Other things now occupy my insignificant head.”