her to delay her journey to Yedo. And the natural end of the matter was
that Yuki never went to Yedo at all. She remained in the house, as an

"honorable daughter-in-law."
O-Yuki proved a very good daughter-in-law. When Minokichi's mother came to

die,-- some five years later,-- her last words were words of affection and
praise for the wife of her son. And O-Yuki bore Minokichi ten children,

boys and girls,-- handsome children all of them, and very fair of skin.
The country-folk thought O-Yuki a wonderful person, by nature different

from themselves. Most of the peasant-women age early; but O-Yuki, even
after having become the mother of ten children, looked as young and fresh

as on the day when she had first come to the village.
One night, after the children had gone to sleep, O-Yuki was sewing by the

light of a paper lamp; and Minokichi, watching her, said:--
"To see you sewing there, with the light on your face, makes me think of a

strange thing that happened when I was a lad of eighteen. I then saw
somebody as beautiful and white as you are now -- indeed, she was very like

you."...
Without lifting her eyes from her work, O-Yuki responded:--

"Tell me about her... Where did you see her?
Then Minokichi told her about the terrible night in the ferryman's hut,--

and about the White Woman that had stooped above him, smiling and
whispering,-- and about the silent death of old Mosaku. And he said:--

"Asleep or awake, that was the only time that I saw a being as beautiful
as you. Of course, she was not a human being; and I was afraid of her,--

very much afraid,-- but she was so white!... Indeed, I have never been sure
whether it was a dream that I saw, or the Woman of theSnow."...

O-Yuki flung down her sewing, and arose, and bowed above Minokichi where
he sat, and shrieked into his face:--

"It was I -- I -- I! Yuki it was! And I told you then that I would kill
you if you ever said one work about it!... But for those children asleep

there, I would kill you this moment! And now you had better take very, very
good care of them; for if ever they have reason to complain of you, I will

treat you as you deserve!"...
Even as she screamed, her voice became thin, like a crying of wind;-- then

she melted into a bright white mist that spired to the roof-beams, and
shuddered away through the smoke-hold... Never again was she seen.

THE STORY OF AOYAGI
In the era of Bummei [1469-1486] there was a young samurai called Tomotada

in the service of Hatakeyama Yoshimune, the Lord of Noto (1). Tomotada was
a native of Echizen (2); but at an early age he had been taken, as page,

into the palace of the daimyo of Noto, and had been educated, under the
supervision of that prince, for the profession of arms. As he grew up, he

proved himself both a good scholar and a good soldier, and continued to
enjoy the favor of his prince. Being gifted with an amiablecharacter, a

winning address, and a very handsome person, he was admired and much liked
by his samurai-comrades.

When Tomotada was about twenty years old, he was sent upon a private
mission to Hosokawa Masamoto, the great daimyo of Kyoto, a kinsman of

Hatakeyama Yoshimune. Having been ordered to journey through Echizen, the
youth requested and obtained permission to pay a visit, on the way, to his

widowed mother.
It was the coldest period of the year when he started; and, though mounted

upon a powerful horse, he found himself obliged to proceed slowly. The road
which he followed passed through a mountain-district where the settlements

were few and far between; and on the second day of his journey, after a
weary ride of hours, he was dismayed to find that he could not reached his

intended halting-place until late in the night. He had reason to be
anxious;-- for a heavy snowstorm came on, with an intensely cold wind; and

the horse showed signs of exhaustion. But in that trying moment, Tomotada
unexpectedly perceived the thatched room of a cottage on the summit of a

near hill, where willow-trees were growing. With difficulty he urged his
tired animal to the dwelling; and he loudly knocked upon the storm-doors,

which had been closed against the wind. An old woman opened them, and cried
out compassionately at the sight of the handsome stranger: "Ah, how

pitiful! -- a young gentleman traveling alone in such weather!... Deign,
young master, to enter."

Tomotada dismounted, and after leading his horse to a shed in the rear,
entered the cottage, where he saw an old man and a girl warming themselves

by a fire of bamboo splints. They respectfully invited him to approach the
fire; and the old folks then proceeded to warm some rice-wine, and to

prepare food for the traveler, whom they ventured to question in regard to
his journey. Meanwhile the young girl disappeared behind a screen. Tomotada

had observed, with astonishment, that she was extremely beautiful,-- though
her attire was of the most wretched kind, and her long, loose hair in

disorder. He wondered that so handsome a girl should be living in such a
miserable and lonesome place.

The old man said to him:--
"Honored Sir, the next village is far; and the snow is falling thickly.

The wind is piercing; and the road is very bad. Therefore, to proceed
further this night would probably be dangerous. Although this hovel is

unworthy of your presence, and although we have not any comfort to offer,
perhaps it were safer to remain to-night under this miserable roof... We

would take good care of your horse."
Tomotada accepted this humble proposal, -- secretly glad of the chance

thus afforded him to see more of the young girl. Presently a coarse but
ample meal was set before him; and the girl came from behind the screen, to

serve the wine. She was now reclad, in a rough but cleanly robe of
homespun; and her long, loose hair had been neatly combed and smoothed. As

she bent forward to fill his cup, Tomotada was amazed to perceive that she
was incomparably more beautiful than any woman whom he had ever before

seen; and there was a grace about her every motion that astonished him. But
the elders began to apologize for her, saying: "Sir, our daughter, Aoyagi,

[1] has been brought up here in the mountains, almost alone; and she knows
nothing of gentle service. We pray that you will pardon her stupidity and

her ignorance." Tomotada protested that he deemed himself lucky to be
waited upon by so comely a maiden. He could not turn his eyes away from her

-- though he saw that his admiring gaze made her blush;-- and he left the
wine and food untasted before him. The mother said: "Kind Sir, we very much

hope that you will try to eat and to drink a little,-- though our
peasant-fare is of the worst,-- as you must have been chilled by that

piercing wind." Then, to please the old folks, Tomotada ate and drank as he
could; but the charm of the blushing girl still grew upon him. He talked

with her, and found that her speech was sweet as her face. Brought up in
the mountains as she might have been;-- but, in that case, her parents must

at some time been persons of high degree; for she spoke and moved like a
damsel of rank. Suddenly he addressed her with a poem -- which was also a

question -- inspired by the delight in his heart:--
"Tadzunetsuru,

Hana ka tote koso,
Hi wo kurase,

Akenu ni otoru
Akane sasuran?"

["Being on my way to pay a visit, I found that which I took to be a
flower: therefore" target="_blank" title="ad.&conj.因此；所以">therefore here I spend the day... Why, in the time before dawn, the

dawn-blush tint should glow -- that, indeed, I know not."] [2]
Without a moment's hesitation, she answered him in these verses:--

"Izuru hi no
Honomeku iro wo

Waga sode ni
Tsutsumaba asu mo

Kimiya tomaran."
[If with my sleeve I hid the faint fair color of the dawning sun,-- then,

perhaps, in the morning my lord will remain."] [3]
Then Tomotada knew that she accepted his admiration; and he was scarcely

less surprised by the art with which she had uttered her feelings in verse,
than delighted by the assurance which the verses conveyed. He was now

certain that in all this world he could not hope to meet, much less to win,
a girl more beautiful and witty than this rustic maid before him; and a

voice in his heart seemed to cry out urgently, "Take the luck that the gods
have put in your way!" In short he was bewitched -- bewitched to such a