over her sufferings and of her longing for Asojirō. She had now spent the last penny of the money that Chisato had given her to speed her flight. Nothing remained for her but the wretched resource of begging for alms from door to door with staff in hand and to the music of a samisen, well-nigh worn-out, singing the "Morning-glory Song."
One afternoon, in her usual routine, she walked about asking alms, with samisen on shoulder, in the neighbourhood of Hamamatsu. A mob of urchins collected about her and with the cry of, "Hey, Morning-glory Beggar! Blind Stroller!" pelted her with stones and struck at her with bamboo staves. Only a world of entreaties reinforced with tears, induced the little fiends to give up their cruel sport.
As Miyuki sat by her hut, brooding over the bitterness of her fate, she heard in the distance the mournful sound of a Buddhist chant. Nearer and nearer it came, and presently a woman of middle-age, garbed in the dress of a Buddhist pilgrim, approached Miyuki.
"I have a question," said she, "that I should like to ask of you."
