Part 5

Just before the wedding day, Osuzu rejoiced at the arrival of rare gifts from her beloved Tschiotaro. An _obi_ of dewdrops, which held in them the secrets of the sun; a head-dress, fashioned of the slender petals of a mountain flower; and tiny moss sandals, so soft and exquisite that she donned them at once for very love and pride; these and many other gifts did Tschiotaro bestow. Nor were Osuzu's parents unmindful of their duties. A grand robe of ceremony, woven of the pinky blossom of the peach, as well as _saké_ and luscious fruit, were sent to Tschiotaro.

The morning of the marriage dawned. By the time the sun touched with glory the peak of Fusi-yama, the sparrow families were busy preparing for the day's festivities. Long ere the purple shadows had lifted from the valleys, the wedding procession had assembled from copse, and hedgerow, and woodland. Never before had such a concourse of sparrows been seen. Tschiotaro was widely beloved, and the beauty of Osuzu had become noised abroad.

On arrival at their new home, the bride and bridegroom sipped thrice of the three cups of rice wine which consecrated their union, and afterwards the whole company drank freely to the health and well-being of the newly wedded pair. Sounds of revelry and rejoicing lasted until the late evening; and long after the sun had bade his daily farewell to the cherry grove the sparrows still chattered and twittered.

As the moon, with her attendant maidens, rose slowly in the heavens, the festal sounds died away and silence reigned.

Tschiotaro and Osuzu spent many happy years of wedded sparrowhood. They had children fair and graceful as themselves, and never had cause to regret their loving union.

The Love of the Snow-White Fox

In Idzumo, the Province of the Gods, are many foxes. There the wicked Ninko, in league with the _oni_, prowls about at nightfall and carries away the souls of little children, he robs the poor man of his rice and millet, and bewitches the maidens who cross his path. There, too, is his enemy the Inari fox, who is kind of heart. The Inari loves the children, and warns the anxious mothers when Ninko is near; he guards the store of the peasant, and comes to the aid of maidens in distress.

Many centuries ago, there lived a young Inari fox. She was snow-white, and her eyes were keen and intelligent. She was beloved by all the good people for miles around. They were glad if, in the evening, she knocked softly with her tail against the window of their hut; when she entered she would play with the children, eat of their humble fare, and then trot away. The god Inari protected those who were kind to her. The Ninko foxes hated her.

There were hunters in the country of Idzumo who thirsted for the blood of the beautiful white fox. Once or twice she nearly lost her life at the hands of these cruel men.

One summer afternoon, she was frisking about in the woods with some young fox friends, when two men caught sight of her. They were fleet of foot and had dogs by their side. Off ran the white fox. The men uttered an excited cry and gave chase. Instead of going towards the open plain, she made for the Temple of Inari Daim-yojin. "There surely I will find a safe refuge from my pursuers," she thought.

Now Yaschima, a young prince of the noble house of Abe, was in the temple, deep in meditation. The white fox, whose strength was almost spent, ran fearlessly up to him and took refuge beneath the thick folds of his robe. Yaschima was moved with pity, and did all in his power to soothe the poor frightened creature. He said, "I will protect you, little one; you have nothing to fear." The fox looked up at him, and seemed to understand. She ceased to tremble. Then the Prince went to the door of the great temple. Two men hastened up to him and asked if he had seen a pure white fox. "It must have run into the Temple of Inari. We would have its blood to cure the sickness of one of our family." But Yaschima, faithful to his promise, answered: "I have been in the temple praying to the good god, but I can tell you nothing of the fox." The men were about to leave him, when, behind his robe, they spied a white bushy tail. Fiercely they demanded that he should stand aside. The Prince firmly refused. But, intent on their prey, the men attacked him, and he was obliged to draw his sword in self-defence. At this moment Yaschima's father, a brave old man, came up; he rushed upon the enemies of his son, but a deadly blow, which Yaschima could not avert, struck him down. Then the young Prince was very wroth, and, with two mighty strokes, he felled his adversaries to the ground.

The loss of his beloved father filled Yaschima with grief. He did not break out into loud lamentation, for the sorrow lay too near his heart.

Then a sweet song fell on his ear. It came from the temple. As he re-entered the sacred building, a beautiful maiden stood before him. She turned, and saw that he was in deep trouble. The Prince told her of the snow-white fox, and the cruel hunters, and the death of his father whom he loved. The maiden spoke tender words of sympathy; her voice was so soft and sweet that the sound brought comfort to him. When Yaschima learned that the maiden was true, that her heart was as pure and beautiful as her face, he loved her, and asked her to be his bride. She replied, very gently, "I already love you. I know that you are good and brave, and I would solace you for the loss of your father."

They were wed. Yaschima did not forget the death of his father, but he remembered that his beautiful wife had then been given to him. For some time they lived happily together. The days passed swiftly. Yaschima ruled his people wisely, and his fair Princess was ever by his side. Each morning they went to the temple, and thanked the good god Inari for the joy that had come to them.

Now a son was born to the Prince and Princess. They gave him the name of Seimei. Thereafter the Princess became sorely troubled. She sat alone for hours, and tears sprang to her eyes when Yaschima asked her the cause of her sorrow. One day she took his hand and said, "Our life here has been very beautiful. I have given you a son to be with you always. The god Inari now tells me that I must leave you. He will guard you as you guarded me from the hunters at the door of the great temple. I am none other than the snow-white fox whose life you saved." Once more she looked into his eyes, and then, without a word, she was gone.

Yaschima and Seimei lived long in the Province of the Gods. They were greatly beloved, but the snow-white fox was seen no more.

Nedzumi

In the Central Land of Reed-Plains dwelt two rats. Their home was in a lonely farmstead surrounded by rice fields. Here they lived happily for so many years that the other rats in the district, who had constantly to change their quarters, believed that their neighbours were under the special protection of Fukoruku Jin, one of the Seven Gods of Happiness, and the Patron of Long Life.

These rats had a large family of children. Every summer day they led the little ones into the rice fields, where, under shelter of the waving stalks, the young rats learned the history and cunning of their people. When work was done, they would scamper away and play with their friends until it was time to return home.

The most beautiful of these children was Nedzumi, the pride of her parents' heart. She was truly a lovely little creature, with sleek silvery skin, bright intelligent eyes, tiny upstanding ears, and pearly white teeth. It seemed to the fond father and mother that no one was great enough to marry their daughter, but, after much pondering, they decided that the most powerful being in the whole universe should be their son-in-law.

The parents discussed the weighty question with a trusted neighbour, who said, "If you would wed your daughter to the most powerful being in the universe, you must ask the sun to marry her, for his empire knows no bounds."

How they mounted through the skies, no rat can tell. The sun gave them audience and listened graciously as they said, "We would give you our daughter to wife." He smiled and rejoined, "Your daughter is indeed beautiful, and I thank you for coming so far to offer her to me. But, tell me, why have you chosen me out of all the world?" The rats made answer, "We would marry our Nedzumi to the mightiest being, and you alone wield world-wide sway." Then the sun replied, "Truly my kingdom is vast, but oftentimes, when I would illumine the world, a cloud floats by and covers me. I cannot pierce the cloud; therefore you must go to him if your wish is to be attained."

In no way discouraged, the rats left the sun and came to a cloud as he rested after a flight through the air. The cloud received them less cordially than the sun, and replied to their offer, with a look of mischief in his dusky eyes, "You are mistaken if you think that I am the most powerful being. It is true that I sometimes hide the sun, but I cannot withstand the force of the wind. When he begins to blow I am driven away, and torn in pieces. My strength is not equal to the power of the wind."

A little saddened, the rats, intent on their daughter's future prosperity, waylaid the wind as he swept through a pine forest. He was about to awaken the plain beyond, to stir the grass and the flowers into motion. The two anxious parents made known their mission. This was the whispered reply of the wind: "It is true that I have strength to drive away the clouds, but I am powerless against the wall which men build to keep me back. You must go to him if you would have the mightiest being in the world for your son-in-law. Indeed I am not so mighty as the wall."

The rats, still persistent in their quest, came to the wall and told their story. The wall answered, "True, I can withstand the wind, but the rat undermines me and makes holes through my very heart. To him you must go if you would wed your daughter to the most powerful being in the world. I cannot overcome the rat."

And now the parent rats returned to their home in the farmstead. Nedzumi, their beautiful daughter with the silken coat and sparkling eyes, rejoiced when she heard that she was to marry one of her own people, for her heart had already been given to a playfellow of the rice fields. They were married, and lived for many years as king and queen of the rat world.

Koma and Gon

Many moons ago, a teacher of music lived not far from Kyōto. A faithful serving-woman and a beautiful cat were his sole companions. Gon was a handsome fellow, with sleek coat, bushy tail, and grass-green eyes that glowed in the darkness. His master loved him, and would say as the cat purred by his side in the evening, "Nothing shall part us, old friend."

O-Ume was a happy maiden whose home lay in the midst of the plum groves. Her chief pet was a little cat. Koma had very winning ways; her mistress delighted to watch her. She blinked so prettily, she ate so daintily, she licked her rose-red nose so carefully with her tiny tongue, that O-Ume would catch her up, and say fondly, "Koma, Koma, you are a good cat. I am sure your ancestors shed tears when our Lord Buddha died. You shall never leave me."

It happened that Gon and Koma met, and fell deeply in love with one another. Gon was so handsome that any of the cats in the district would gladly have been his mate, but he did not deign to notice one of them. When he saw the little maid Koma, his heart beat quickly.

The cats were in great distress, for neither the music-master nor O-Ume would hear of parting with their pet. Gon's master would willingly have taken Koma to live with him, but O-Ume would not hear of this; nor were Koma's entreaties more successful.

It was the seventh night of the seventh moon, the night sacred to lovers in the Land of Great Peace, when Kingen crosses the Silver River of Heaven and Shakujo joyfully embraces him. Gon and Koma left their homes and fled together. It was a moonbright night, and the cats were light of heart as they scampered through the fields of rice and across the great open plains. When day broke, they were near a palace which stood in a large park, full of stately old trees and ponds covered with sweet lotus-blooms. Koma said, "If only we could live in that palace, how glorious it would be!" As she spoke, a fierce dog caught sight of the cats, and bounded towards them angrily. Koma gave a cry of terror, and sprang up a cherry tree. Gon did not stir. "Dear Koma shall see that I am a hero, and would rather lose my life than run away." But the dog was powerful, and would have killed Gon. He was almost upon the brave cat, when a serving-man drove him off, and carried Gon into the palace. Poor little Koma was left alone to lament her loss.

The Princess who lived in the palace was overjoyed when Gon was brought to her. Many days passed before he was allowed out of her sight. Then he hunted far and near for his fair lover, but all in vain. "My Koma is lost to me for ever," he sighed.

Now the Princess lived in splendour and happiness. She had but one trouble; a great snake loved her. At all hours of the day and night the animal would creep up and try to come near her. A constant guard was kept, but still the serpent, at times, succeeded in gaining the door of her chamber. One afternoon, the Princess was playing softly to herself on the _koto_, when the snake crept unobserved past the guards and entered her room. In a moment, Gon sprang upon its neck and bit it so furiously that the hideous creature soon lay dead. The Princess heard the noise and looked round. When she saw that Gon had risked his life for her, she was deeply moved; she stroked him and whispered kind words into his ear. He was praised by the whole household, and fed upon the daintiest morsels in the palace. But there was a cloud upon his happiness: the loss of Koma.

On a summer day he lay sunning himself before the door of the palace. Half asleep, he looked out upon the world and dreamed of the moonlight night when he and Koma escaped from their former homes. In the park a big cat was ill-treating a little one, too fragile to take care of herself. Gon jumped up and flew to her aid. He soon drove the cruel cat away; then he turned towards the little one to ask if she were hurt. Koma, his long-lost love, stood before him! Not the sleek, beautiful Koma of other days, for she was thin and sad, but her eyes sparkled when she saw that Gon was her deliverer.

The two cats went to the Princess. They told her the story of their love, their flight, their separation, and their reunion. She entered whole-heartedly into their new-found joy.

On the seventh night of the seventh moon Gon and Koma were married. The Princess watched over them, and they were happy. Many years passed. One day she found them curled up together. The two faithful hearts had ceased to beat.

_Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co._

_Edinburgh and London_

Transcriber's Note

Variant spelling is preserved as printed.

Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.

Hyphenation and accent usage have been made consistent.

Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph.