University of Virginia Library

I.

Great confusion reigned in the house of the Chinese consul at Yokohama. Servants hurried hither and thither, moving and packing furniture and personal effects, while men and women, both Chinese and Japanese, crowded about the place. The Japs watched curiously, with a touch of satisfaction, the bustle and stir going on in the house, and gossiped and commented as to how its inmates felt over their forced departure. But the Chinese watched wistfully, painfully, the preparations, and as each load moved away a heavier load seemed to sink on their hearts—a burden of fear and dread of what was to come.

The imperial declaration of war against China had been published on blood-red paper, and the Chinese consul at Yokohama was about to leave for China.

A young man with dark, piercing eyes, and proud, erect form, clad in a brilliant uniform, came rapidly down the street. He appeared excited and nervous, his eyes roved restlessly over the crowd, which made way respectfully for him; the Japanese in their white uniforms apparently recognizing his high rank from his dress, saluted with uncovered head and prostrations.

He asked questions of some of the officers in a low voice, then approached the house as if to enter. Suddenly he appeared to have changed his mind, turned, and walked rapidly away, as swiftly and proudly as he came.

A little farther down the street a Chinaman accosted him. He listened coldly at first, but after a while grew impatient, and from his attitude and gestures showed his dislike and contempt for his companion. Still the Chinaman pleaded on, and, as his eloquence grew with the knowledge of the urgency of his mission, Prince Sagaritsu wavered and faltered.

There were but two courses open to him, and they were opposed to each other. Both had their bitternesses, their sorrow and pain. If he joined in the conflict, truly all honor might await him, who, as a descendant of the immortal house of S———, would be among the leaders. But what were honor, greatness, fame, or glory, if by them he lost those that were dearest to him on earth? And yet it was not fame nor glory he sought, it was not that which impelled him to long to be one of those that were to do something for Japan. Ah! Japan! His eyes gleamed softly as he thought of Japan; for with all the yearning patriotism remarkable in a Japanese he loved his home. Could he choose those who had for many years been as father, brother, and sister—nay, sweetheart—to him, who belonged, after all, to that hated race, rather than Japan? No! He would become an object of contempt, not only to others but to himself, were he to abandon his work—his duty—for the sake of sentiment. He, too, would join in the conflict. Nay, he must lead. Was he not born a leader of his fellow-men? Why did he linger? Why hesitate?

"Thy master, give him regretful farewells from me, who will ever love and cherish his memory."

The Chinaman attempted to stay him with further pleading, but in vain, and the two parted—Prince Sagaritsu with firm, proud tread and eyes that glowed with zeal and enthusiasm, the Chinese secretary with weary, lagging steps.

When a student in China, Prince Sagaritsu had dearly loved Ching Li, the old Chinese mandarin, under whom he had studied and with whose family he had made his home for six years, it being customary in Japan, some years ago, for the higher classes to send their sons to China to be educated. Then it was through Prince Sagaritsu's influence, on his return to Japan, that Ching received the consulship at Yokohama. He came, bringing with him his family, which consisted of a son and daughter. The latter, having remarkable beauty and being of a sweet and modest disposition, was loved by every one. Prince Sagaritsu had played with her when she was a tiny little girl, and now in her womanhood he loved her.