“Come, now, it’s win or lose!  My parents’ signing the paper shall be the sign for me to kick open the door and jump into the middle of them.”

So, getting ready for a good kick, he held his breath and looked on.

What terrible perversion man can allow his heart to come to!  Moshi has said that man by nature is good; but although not a particle of fault can be found with what he has said, when the evil we have learned becomes a second nature, men reach this fearful degree of wickedness.  When men come to this pass, Koshi[93] and Moshi themselves might preach to them for a thousand days, and they would not have strength to reform.  Such hardened sinners deserve to be roasted in iron pots in the nethermost hell.  Now, I am going to tell you how it came about that the vagabond son turned over a new leaf and became dutiful, and finally entered paradise.  The poet says, “Although the hearts of parents are not surrounded by dark night, how often they stray from the right road in their affection for their children!”

[Footnote 93:  Koshi is the Japanese pronunciation of the name of the Chinese philosopher Kung Ts[=u], or Kung Fu Ts[=u], whom we call Confucius.]

When the petition of disinheritance came round to the place where the two parents were sitting, the mother lifted up her voice and wept aloud; and the father, clenching his toothless gums to conceal his emotion, remained with his head bent down:  presently, in a husky voice, he said, “Wife, give me the seal!”

But she returned no answer, and with tears in her eyes took a leather purse, containing the seal, out of a drawer of the cupboard and placed it before her husband.  All this time the vagabond son, holding his breath, was peeping in from outside the shutters.  In the meanwhile, the old man slowly untied the strings of the purse, and took out the seal, and smeared on the colouring matter.  Just as he was about to seal the document, his wife clutched at his hand and said, “Oh, pray wait a little.”

The father replied, “Now that all our relations are looking on, you must not speak in this weak manner.”

But she would not listen to what he said, but went on—­

“Pray listen to what I have to say.  It is true that if we were to give over our house to our undutiful son, in less than three years the grass would be growing in its place, for he would be ruined.  Still, if we disinherit our child—­the only child that we have, either in heaven or upon earth—­we shall have to adopt another in his place.  Although, if the adopted son turned out honest and dutiful, and inherited our property, all would be well; still, what certainty is there of his doing so?  If, on the other hand, the adopted son turned out to be a prodigal, and laid waste our house, what unlucky parents we should be!  And who can say that this would not be the case?  If we are to be ruined for the sake of an equally wicked adopted son, I had rather lose our home for the sake of our own son, and, leaving out old familiar village as beggars, seek for our lost boy on foot.  This is my fervent wish.  During fifty years that we have lived together, this has been the only favour that I have ever asked of you.  Pray listen to my prayer, and put a stop to this act of disinheritance.  Even though I should become a beggar for my son’s sake, I could feel no resentment against him.”