CHAPTER VII
Azalea had been married during a brief absence of Matsuda Isami in Tokyo. He had gone there especially at Madame Yamada’s suggestion, to purchase city gifts with which to help him in his suit. The townspeople had never been on sufficiently familiar terms with Matsuda to talk with him even upon his return from an absence. Hence he learned nothing of the marriage until Madame Yamada herself broke the news to him. She appeared to be suffering from intense mortification and anguish of mind because of what she termed the unnatural defiance of her step-daughter, whohad married a barbarian beast against all the wishes of her people. As if this shame were not sufficient, she had turned Kirishitan and destroyed the tablets of her ancestors. Madame Yamada declared vehemently that though she, from motives of pity, must sometimes see the abandoned girl, yet she never would allow her pure and virtuous daughters to be contaminated with her society.
The woman had not foreseen the real effects of such news upon Matsuda. For a moment he stood as if turned to stone. Then his long white teeth gleamed out between his thick, coarse lips like the tusks of a savage animal. In his eyes there wasunchained rage. Suddenly he laughed hideously. That laughter alone would have unstrung the nerves of one less cowardly than Madame Yamada. She prostrated herself to the very ground and touched his feet with her head.
“Most Exalted,” she said, “the humble one craves your august pardon and abjectly beseeches you to perceive her distress. That this wretched girl has abandoned you for a vile and horrible barbarian is not the fault of the humblest one, who sought with all her power to bring about her union with you.”
There was an odd quality in the responding voice of Matsuda.
“Who spoke of fault?” said he. “Has my mouth uttered blame upon you, Madame Yamada?”
Her courage returned and she arose.
“I should have known,” she said, “that Your Excellency is too noble to have blamed the unfortunate. And now that you have deigned to pardon me, will you not permit my daughters to wait upon you?”
The gray face of Matsuda had resumed its impassive expression, but his eyes were almost closed. He refused Madame Yamada’s invitation with a gesture and without words. When she did not attempt to press him, he moved toward the door.
“What was the effect of this marriage upon the community?” he asked, turning to the woman.
“They were righteously insulted, and pity me.”
“Was there any demonstration when she threw away the tablets?”
“Yes. Her friends and neighbors turned from her as if she were evil, as she has truly become.”
“She is, then, forsaken?”
“Punished, Excellency. She believes herself happy at present, but who envies the lot of an outcast? She is entirely friendless.”
Matsuda’s eyes turned inward, as for a space he meditated.
“Not friendless entirely,” he said, finally, tapping his own chest significantly. “She still has Matsuda Isami for friend.”
“You!” repeated Madame Yamada faintly.
“I.”
“But,” she gasped, “she has deceived you more than anyone else. Exalted Matsuda, she has forced you to break the oath you made to possess her. She is married forever to the foreign devil.”
“It is news,” said Matsuda coldly, “that the foreign devils marry Japanese girls forever.” He went a step nearer to thewoman and brought his eyes on a level with hers. “She is not married to him, Madame Yamada. He will leave her soon—remember my words. After that—there is time then for the fulfilment of my oath.”
Madame Yamada, left alone, grew repulsive in aspect. Her powdered face was white and long drawn. She had thrust her hands mechanically through her hair and it stood up from her head in stiff disorder. In the hope of securing Matsuda for her own daughter she had herself assisted in putting the girl she hated beyond her reach. Now she realized how utterly vain was this last hope. Her very action but brought upon her head the implacable enmity ofthe man himself, who she knew was not deceived in her. The gods alone knew to what extent he would carry his malicious vengeance upon her.