Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/310

wind blowing from its direction should strike you, it will mean instant death. Be on your guard.

Tarō: Yes, Master.

Jirō: Excuse me, Master, but I would like to ask you something.

Master: What is it?

Jirō: Why do you keep such a dreadful poison in the house?

Master: The busu loves its master, and as long as it is the master who handles it, there is not the slightest danger. But if either of you so much as approach it, you will suffer instant death. Beware even of being touched by the wind from its direction.

Jirō: Yes, Master.

Master: Now I shall be leaving.

Tarō: May you have a pleasant journey.

Togther: And come back soon.

Master: Thank you.

(The Master goes to the Bridge, where he seats himself at the First Pine, indicating that he has disappeared. Tarō and Jirō see him off, then seat themselves at the back of the stage.)

Tarō: He always takes one of us with him. I wonder why today he left both of us to look after the house.

Jirō: I wonder why.

Tarō: At any rate, it’s always lonesome being left here by oneself, but since we are both here today, we can have a pleasant talk.—Oh!

Jirō: What is the matter?

Tarō: There was a gust of wind from the busu!

Jirō: How frightening!

Tarō: Let’s move a little farther away.

Jirō: A good idea.

(They hastily move toward Bridge, then sit.)

Tarō: Just as you said before, why should the master keep in the house a thing so deadly that even a breath of wind from it will cause instant death?

Jirō: However much it may love its master, I still don’t understand why he keeps it.