Explore "The Shogun's Daughter" by Robert Ames Bennet on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Noon found us ready for the start, our swords girt on under the flowing priest robes, and hats drawn low to shade our faces. Upon our feet iron-shod sandals were bound firmly over the white silk foot mittens, in keeping with our role of monks of noble blood, vowed to a pilgrimage to Zozoji and just in off the road. But the hilts of our swords were within convenient reach inside the edge of our robes, and, despite Yoritomo's warning, my revolvers were no less ready. I assured him, however, that they would not be used unless the occasion justified.
When it came to the parting, I looked to see Kohana protest or at least shed a tear over this short ending of her lover's visit. After three weary years of absence he had come back to her for a single night, and was now going from her again, it might be to his death. Yet she neither wept nor betrayed any other sign of grief. Smilingly she conducted us from her house and down the path to the gateway, where he signed her to stop.