The Usurper

CHAPTER XXIII.

FATKOURA

The captive of the lord of Tosa found her days long and monotonous. She waited for her avenger, sure of his coming, but impatient at the delay. She was tormented by the love, steadily gaining strength, with which Tosa pursued her. After the execution of the man whom he supposed to be Nagato, he had abstained from visiting her; then, seeing that Fatkoura's grief was not violent, and that she seemed resigned, he took courage and renewed his importunities. Sometimes he was humble, submissive, suppliant; sometimes he raged and stormed; and again, he would try to melt her by his tears. But she was still implacable.

"Your tears," said she, "are like the tiger's, when he fears his victim will escape him."

"You shall never escape me," shouted Tosa.

Fatkoura was severe with Tika; she saw that the maid favored the Prince's love. Tika schemed to make her mistress Princess of Tosa. "The Prince of Nagato is dead!" thought she. "Besides, Fatkoura was quickly consoled for his loss."

"You are free now," she said to her mistress one day; "you can love the Prince of Tosa."

"I shall never love any one but Iwakura," was the young woman's answer.

"Love a dead man! That won't last," thought Tika.

But from that day forth Fatkoura ceased to talk to her; she did not even permit the girl to remain in her presence. Tika wept outside the door; her mistress pretended not to hear her. Yet she missed her maid more than she was willing to confess. This companion of her misfortunes, this confidant of her griefs and her sorrows, was a necessity of her life. Captivity seemed harder to her since she had exiled her from her side; she especially missed the girl's conversation. Finally, she resolved to forgive her, and to confess to her that the Prince still lived. She accordingly summoned her.

The repentant Tika knelt in the centre of the room, hid her face behind her flowing sleeves, and her tears fell fast.

"You will never mention the Prince of Tosa to me again," said Fatkoura.

"Never, mistress," sobbed Tika; "except to curse him."

"Well, I forgive you. Talk to me of my beloved as you used to do."

"Alack! he is dead," said Tika; "I can only mourn with you."

"Don't you think I was speedily consoled?"

Tika, in surprise, looked up at her mistress, who smiled.

"Why, I thought – " she stammered, "I thought he was wrong to submit to defeat in your presence."

"What if I were to tell you that he was never defeated, that he is alive – ."

"He triumphs over your heart; he lives in your imagination: that is what you mean."

"No; he still breathes the breath of life."

"Alas, that is impossible! Before our eyes – I shudder to think of it still – his ghastly head fell to the ground."

"That man, whose death we witnessed, was not Iwakura."

"Has grief affected her reason?" thought Tika, scrutinizing her mistress in some alarm.

"You think me mad?" said Fatkoura, "You shall see, when he comes to open the doors of our prison, whether I speak the truth.".

Tika dared not contradict her mistress; she pretended to believe that Nagato lived. "Better this strange hallucination than her former blank despair!" she thought.

They then began to talk of the absent one as had been their wont in the Dairi. They recalled the words that he had spoken, the anecdotes he had told. They tried to imitate the tones of his voice. They reconstructed his every dress, rehearsed, his features, his smile, his attitude. Often they would hold a long discussion over some detail or date, or a simple phrase which he had uttered. In this fashion the hours glided rapidly by.

Every day the Prince of Tosa sent presents to Fatkoura, – flowers, rare birds, marvellous fabrics. Every day Fatkoura let the birds fly, threw the silks and flowers from the window. The Prince never wearied. At noon he would pay a visit to the prisoner, and discourse of his love.

One day, however, he entered Fatkoura's room with a strange expression on his face.

He dismissed Tika with a gesture that suffered no reply; then he stepped towards Fatkoura, and gazed at her fixedly.

"You are firmly resolved to resist me still?" said he, after a pause.

"Now and always; and to hate as much as I despise you."

"That is your final answer? Think again."

"I do not need to think. I hated you from the first moment I saw you; I shall hate you to my death."

"Very well!" cried the Prince, in a terrible voice; "I can force you to become my wife."

"I defy you to do so," said Fatkoura, who never quailed before the Prince's gaze.

"I will conquer you, I swear, as I conquered your lover."

Fatkoura smiled scornfully.

"Yes," resumed the Prince, "you have exhausted my patience. My love made me merciful, timid, – even shy. I implored, I wept, I waited! I left your grief time to heal. Your repeated refusals inflamed my passion; I was enraged; then I humbled myself. But I am tired of this prolonged torture; my prayers are over. No more gentleness, no more tears; you must henceforth be the one to weep and entreat. For the last time, will you love me?"

"Truly you have a singular nature," said Fatkoura. "The vulture does not seek gratitude from the bird he strangles in his clutch; and you insist on love from a woman whose husband you have killed!"

"I know that you can never love me," said Tosa. "Still, you shall say that you do; you shall strive to make me think you do."

"I am curious to learn what means you will employ to make me say such things."

"You will know them soon enough," said the Prince, withdrawing.

From that day a series of sufferings for the prisoner began. At first they separated her from Tika, and locked her into her room; then they stopped up the windows, only letting a few rays of light enter from above. In this way Fatkoura was deprived of seeing the gardens, and of the cool evening air. She was served with food she did not like. Gradually, all utensils for her personal use disappeared. Each day made her situation worse. At last none of the servants would wait on her. She was put into a prison cell, and finally removed to a dungeon, where she had to wait all day for a bowl of cold rice.

"These are the means he takes to win my love!" said Fatkoura, sustained by a hope of rescue.

But one day, abruptly, these stern measures ceased. The young woman was brought back to the rooms which she had at first occupied. Tika was restored to her, and seemed very happy.

"The province of Tosa is invaded," she exclaimed. "An army is at hand; we shall be set free."

"I told you he would come, my lord, my beloved spouse!" said Fatkoura. "He comes to deliver us from our troubles, and to avenge the man who died so bravely in his place."

"I heard no mention of any one but General Signenari, sent by the Shogun."

"Be assured that Iwakura is with him."

"It may be so," said the girl.

"It is so! I shall see him again at last! After so many trials, happiness will return! Is anything known of the fight?"

"The Prince of Tosa set off hurriedly. His soldiers, who did not expect this attack, and were resting on their laurels, were completely beaten. The Shogun's army is but a few leagues away."

"It will soon be beneath these walls," said Fatkoura, "and we shall have to undergo a second siege. But while at Hagui we longed for victory, we now tremble with desire to be vanquished."

Several days passed in feverish expectation. Suddenly, the Prince of Tosa's army, put to rout, returned to the fortress in confusion. The gates were closed, and the siege began. The assailants, leaving the besieged no time for reflection, stormed the place.

A terrible uproar filled the castle. Within, were dismay, continual coming and going, shouts and cries; without, uninterrupted blows. Tika ran in search of news; returned; then started out again. On the third day, the soldiers suddenly rushed to one point: a breach was effected. Cries of discouragement rose on all sides.

"Better surrender."

"We can't hold out long."

"We are lost."

Towards noon the Prince of Tosa entered Fatkoura's room abruptly. She was standing by the window, looking out; her face was radiant with joy. She turned, and saw her enemy gazing at her with folded arms. A sort of instinctive terror took possession of her as she beheld him. He was pale, with a sinister expression. In his right hand he grasped a bloody sword, which dripped upon the floor. He quietly returned it to his belt.

"The battle is lost," he said, with a scowl; "I am conquered."

"The man whom you thought to dishonor is at your gates, and comes to chastise your crimes," said Fatkoura.

"Ah! You know that Nagato is not dead," cried the Prince. "But what does it matter? He is there, it is true; he comes to deliver you: but before he takes you back," he added, in tones of thunder, "before he crosses the crumbling walls of my castle, – mark me well! – you shall be mine."

Fatkoura sprang back, and darted to the farthest corner of the room.

"You may fancy," continued Tosa, "that I did not abandon the field for nothing. The victors are at my heels; there is no time to be lost in idle entreaties." As he said this he sprang towards her.

"Help!" she shrieked in an agonized voice; "Tika, help! Nagato, come to my rescue!"

Tosa laid his hand upon her mouth. "What's the use of shrieking?" said he; "nobody will come. Submit! for you are mine at last; you shall not escape me now."

He encircled her with his arms; but all at once he saw something gleam above him. Fatkoura had snatched a dagger from the Prince's belt.

"You are wrong; I shall escape you yet once again," said she. "My last thought is for you, Iwakura!"

Tosa uttered a loud cry. He saw the dagger buried to the hilt in the young woman's breast; then she drew it out and threw it to the ground.

At that instant the panel which closed the entrance flew in splinters. The Prince of Nagato, sword in hand, rushed into the room and leaped upon the Prince of Tosa.

"Ah, wretch!" he shouted; "you insult your captive and my betrothed! You add this unparalleled crime to all your former misdeeds! But the hour of vengeance is at hand; the earth shall be rid of you!"

Tosa had drawn his sword; he struck it against Nagato's blade. But he shuddered; a superstitious fear froze his blood; he felt that he was about to die.

Iwakura, with irresistible force, drove him back to the other side of the room, and brought him to a stand against the wall. Tosa, with bloodshot eyes, glared wildly at his foe; he could but ill defend himself. Nagato dashed the sword from his hand.

"Now you shall die!" he cried; "I will kill you, – not as a man frees himself of a loyal enemy, but as he would crush a scorpion." And with one fearful blow, he nailed him to the wall by the throat.

Fatkoura had not fallen. She stood leaning against the wall, her hand pressed to her wound. The blood gushed between her fingers. The Prince of Nagato left his enemy writhing in awful agony, and ran to her; he saw the blood flowing in rivers.

"What is it?" he cried.

"I am dying," said Fatkoura.

She sank to the ground. The Prince knelt beside her, and supported her on his knees.

"Is there no one here?" he cried. "Let some one bring a doctor."

"I implore you," said Fatkoura, "do not call; nothing can heal my wound. It was to prevent a stain upon your name that I struck home; I cannot be saved. Let no one enter; let me die by your side, as I could not live there."

"Unfortunate girl! and I have brought you to this!" cried the Prince. "You die for me after a life of suffering, – you, so fair, so young, and so formed for happiness? Ah! why was I placed upon your path?"

"I was happy for a time," said Fatkoura, "very happy; for you seemed to love me. But I have dearly paid for those days of joy. What did I do to you, cruel one, that you should desert me as you did?"

"You guessed the reason, sweet Princess. An all-powerful, invincible love turned me from you; my will refused to obey my reason any longer."

"Yes! how can we struggle against love? I know the power it gains, I, who vainly strove to hate you. Yes! you have felt those sharp pangs, that aimless expectation, those fevered dreams, those hopes that would not die; you have known those sobs which would not be stifled, those tears that burned like drops of fire. A prey to hopeless love, you suffered as I did. Is it not frightful, and can you not pity me?"

"I would give my life to repair the harm I have done you."

"There is no rest by night or day, is there? It seems as if you were at the foot of a precipice lined with steep rocks, which you fain would climb, yet fall back again and again. But I am mad," added Fatkoura; "your suffering was nothing as compared to mine, for you were loved."

The Prince started.

"Yes, she loved you; I know it," resumed Fatkoura, with a faint sigh. "Do you think that the jealous eye of the woman you scorned could fail to read her face I – how its pride died away when she looked at you; how her voice, against her will, would soften when she spoke to you; what happy tremors when you came, what sadness when you went! I watched and noted all; each discovery was like a sword thrust into my heart; rage, hate, and love devoured my soul. No, you never suffered as I did."

"Do not overwhelm me, Fatkoura!" said the Prince. "I did not deserve such love; see how I have rewarded it! You are dying for my sake, and I cannot save you. The horrible grief that rends me at this moment avenges you for much of the suffering that I have caused you."