8 THE CALL OF THE RED GODS 



of hills, well wooded and riven by deep gullies and 

 ravines, tore indigo masses of scattered cloud. It 

 was raining too when we reached the old capital, 

 but cleared later as we saw the great temples, and 

 gardens, a mass of irises. In the evening we dined 

 on the lantern-lit terrace of the Miyako, the best 

 hotel in the East. From below came the clicking 

 of geta on the cobble-stones and the thrumming of 

 a samisen. The western hills glowed purple in the 

 distance. In and out the shadows flickered the 

 fireflies, for ever setting their sparks aglow at the 

 wrong moment, seeking, yet never finding in the 

 darkness, the thing for which they search. Soon, 

 all too soon, we reached our ship, yet it was not to 

 China, whither we were bound, that my thoughts 

 turned, but to the land which lay behind us in the 

 night ; to the grey curved lines of its temple's roofs ; 

 to the mellow booming of great bells about its 

 wooded groves ; to the musical rush of the Kamo- 

 gawa laughing beneath grey stone bridges ; and to 

 the linking of that wonderful chain which had 

 brought me once again within sound of its waters. 



