Page:Four Japanese Tales.pdf/24

 thought he had the features of her face within his mental grasp, and finally, towards morning, he fell asleep, worn out by the vain effort but none the less happy.

Next morning, however he learned a terrible piece of news. The Hall of Clouds had been set on fire intentionally, and the incendiary–a woman–had been caught. The Painter of Camellias hurried out to see the wretched creature, who acordingaccording [sic] to law doubtlessly would be condemned to the stake and then burned in public: and his foreboding proved correct. The incendiary was his charming Tsubaki-San, without whom he could imagine neither life nor further artistic activity; his lover and his inspiration She was smiling with fathomless sadness, surrounded by armed guards who were protecting her against the rage of the populace; she sank to the earth at his feet and hiding her flaming cheeks behind the sleeve of her magnificent gown, she awaited his words. The mob, the courtiers, all who had hastened in their wake, waited likewise; and with the exception of Tsubaki-San, all were amazed that he did not allow himself to be carried away by anger, but that his voice was gentle, even loving, when at last he overcame his emotion and spoke. Thereupon a surprised murmur arose from the palace court-yard: The Painter of Camellias thanked the woman for having forgiven him his perfidy and for saving him from shame Tsubaki-San uncovered her face, and her smile was no longer sad but happy. She begged him to forgive her if she had disgraced his name by her crime; but the Painter of Camellias shook his head, »I am the one who, brought disgrace on my name,« he replied so that all could hear, »and I am the one who committed a crime. For there is no shame more criminal and no crime more shameful than when an artist is untrue to himself and is led astray by the lure of fame.«

Only out of respect for the high rank of the famous painter and upon his declaration that the incendiary was his wife did the Emperor augustly consent to Tsubaki-San’s being spared the shame of the stake and to her being executed by the sword; but the Painter of Camellias was ordered to carry out the sentence himself before the eyes of the court. With smiles upon their faces the lovers met on a raised platform and to the strains of music they sat opposite each other for a long time before the signal was given for the execution; they were not capable of uttering a single word, but their eyes spoke for them, and in hers he read that she did not wish him to follow her, but to live on for her memory. He promised her all she requested; and when she extended her delicate neck and he raised his arm with the sword, there was not a heart in the court-yard that was not touched to its depths. The sword whizzed through the