through my heart like a knife. It seemed to me that the drivers took the waggons as close as they could to where we had spread our mats. While they were passing us, not only the servants who were at the back of the coaches but even the drivers and grooms behaved disgracefully, making such remarks as I had never heard before. My ladies showed great spirit, hastily moving our belongings as far from the roadside as they could and calling out: "This is a public highway, isn't it? We have just as good a right to be here as you!" What an odious scene to be mixed up with! As soon as they were well out of sight we pressed on again, and were soon passing through the Ōsaka gate. I reached the quay at Uchide[1] more dead than alive. My people whom I had sent on ahead had gathered long bulrushes and built for me a kind of shelter or cabin on the deck. I crept on board and lay down, scarcely noticing whether we had the boat to ourselves or not. Soon we were far out upon the lake. During the voyage, as we drew further and further from the City, I felt a loneliness, an anguish, an utter helplessness impossible to describe. It was well after the Hour of the Monkey (i.e. about 5 p.m.) that we reached the temple.
'As soon as I had taken a bath, I went and lay down. Again I began trying to make up my mind what I should do, and for several hours I lay tossing from side to side, unable to get any rest. At dusk I washed again and went into the Chapel.
'I began trying to make my confession to Buddha; but tears choked me and my voice fell to a whisper. It was now quite dark. I went to the window and looked out. The Chapel stood high, and below it was what seemed like a precipitous ravine; it lay in a cup or hollow and the
- ↑ The modern Ōtsu, now reached from Kyoto (her starting-point) by tramway in half an hour.
