Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/352

348 Thence the lovers went to a place called Kayabara, where lived an aunt of Mōemon’s whom he had not heard from for many years—who might be dead for all he knew. Calling on her, Mōemon spoke of their family past, and she welcomed him as one of her own. The rest of the evening, with chin in hand and tears in her eyes, the old woman talked of nothing but his father Mosuke; but when day broke she became suddenly aware of Osan, whose beauty and refinement aroused her suspicions. “Who is that?” the aunt asked. Mōemon had not prepared himself for all the questions she might ask, and found himself in an awkward spot. “My younger sister,” he replied. “For many years she has served in the home of a court official, but it was a strict family and she disliked the fretful life of the capital. She thought there might be an opportunity to join a quiet, leisurely household—something like this—in the mountains. So she terminated her service and came along with me in hopes of finding housework and gardening to do in the village. Her expenses need be no concern; she has about two hundred pieces of gold in savings.”

Thus he blithely concocted a story to satisfy the old woman. But it is a greedy world wherever one goes, and Mōemon’s aunt thought there might be something in this for her. “Now,” she exclaimed, “that is really most fortunate. My son has no wife yet and your sister is a relative, so why not have her marry him?”

It was a distressing proposal. Osan sobbed quietly, cursing the fate which had led her to such a dismal prospect. Then as evening fell the son came home. He was frightful to behold, taller than anyone she had ever seen, and with his head set like a Chinese lion gargoyle on his squat neck. A fierce light gleamed in his big, bloodshot eyes. His beard was like a bear’s, his arms and legs were as thick as pine trees, and a wistaria vine held together the rag-woven clothes he wore. In one hand he carried an old matchlock, in the other a tinder-rope. His hunting basket was full of rabbits and badgers, as much as to say: “This is how I make a living.” He was called Zetarō the Rock-jumper.

In the village it was no secret that he was a mean man. But when