in person, and he arranged with the brothers to meet him at their mother’s house. Tayū was a man of about thirty, tall and solidly built. He was far from ill-looking; but he had the power (which he frequently exercised) of assuming the most repulsively ferocious expression. This, however, was reserved for his followers and opponents. When in a good temper and engaged upon errands of love he adopted an entirely different voice and manner. You would have thought indeed that some little bird was chirruping, so dexterously did he reduce his rough bass to a small silvery fluting: ‘As a lover, I ought to have come after dark, ought I not? Isn’t that what courting means—coming at night? So I was always told. What extraordinary weather for a spring evening! In autumn of course one expects it….’
Upon a strict undertaking that she would not provoke Tayū in any way, the old lady’s sons had allowed her to see him. He now turned to her saying: ‘Madam, though I never had the pleasure of meeting your late husband, I knew him to be a kind-hearted and upright gentleman. I always hoped that I might one day have an opportunity of showing him how much I appreciated his excellent qualities, and it was with deep regret that I heard of his untimely decease. But though I can no longer do him any service, I hope that you will allow me to show my regard for him in some practical way. There is, I think, a young lady here, (I am right, am I not?) a ward of yours, or relative of some sort? If I venture to speak of her, it is with the greatest deference and respect; for I understand that she is of extremely high birth. I assure you that, were I ever privileged to make the acquaintance of such a person, I should kneel before her like a slave, dedicate my life to her service, humbly petition her…. But I see that you are looking at me somewhat askance. You have
