fering and many wrongs in the world, and wherever I can, I help sufferers and avenge wrongs like a man. I see also much good and kindness, and with each little bit my hatred grows smaller. I think that it is almost worn out; but there are still moments when suddenly it swells within me and shrieks . . .«
The old man could no longer restrain himself. »Honorable sir . . . would you care to acquire merit by a noble deed?« he interrupted the ronin, so excited that he stuttered.« Yes, a noble deed. A road shorter than this one leads, look, yonder over the hill that we see above us . . . that is, a road to our village. They are grateful folks, my villagers. That is, my unworthiness happens to be the muraosa, the headman. Oh, forgive me for mentioning such an insignificant detail. But it occured to me . . . Yes, when I was telling you about the Phantom Washerwoman it occured to me that I might also call your honorable attention to the Goblin Spider. It is an awful specter. But the path that leads past the temple saves much time. Over yonder it branches off. We do not have to cross the river. We shall come down directly into the village. Nobody uses the path, the people are afraid. But it is not necessary to go close to the temple. That is, your honor can go, if it pleases you . . .«
The ronin smiled almost imperceptibly at the old man’s excitement and his transparent devise. »As for your Goblin Spider, I have never heard of it. A Buddhistic temple is haunted . . . you say? Deign to stoop to my ignorance and enlighten it. How long has the Goblin haunted the temple?«
The lame old man stopped questioningly at the parting of the ways, and when the ronin nodded silently, set out upon the path contentedly. »Twenty years ago a new abbot came to the monastery, but with him also misfortune. Bonze after bonze left the temple, many of them ran away on dark nights, and in the end the abbot alone remained. Nobody in all the country around went any more to pray in the church; for whenever anyone prayed for anything in this temple, the opposite was sure to happen. But the abbot was a hard man; he stayed that he might combat the specter that was ruining the reputation of the temple. In the end he was overcome; they found him entangled like a fly in an awful cobweb . . . and without a drop of blood. He was dead and sucked dry by the Goblin Spider. Thus it was and not otherwise. We thought that after the abbot’s death the specter would desert the temple; but it stayed on, and its hatred was shifted on to us, to our village . . . Great is the harm it does us, and many the ways in which we have tried to get rid of it . . . All in vain. Our youths have gone against it, and more than one ronin. But nobody who dares to pass the
