Nevertheless, Kiku took out her metal mirror while the maid made the tea, smoothed a pretended stray hair, powdered her neck slightly, drew her robe more tightly around her waist, adjusted her girdle, which did not need any adjusting, and then, taking up the tray, containing a tiny tea-pot, a half dozen upturned cups, and as many brass sockets for them, hastened into the front room, bowed with her face on her hands to the floor, and then handed cups of tea to her parent and his guest.  This done, she returned to her mother.  Whether Taro looked at Kiku’s cheeks or into her glittering black eyes we leave even a foreign reader to judge.

Let it not be thought, however, that a single word relating to marriage in the concrete passed between the two men:  no such breach of etiquette was committed.  The visit over, the two friends parted as friends, and nothing more, either in fact or in visible prospect.

But, to be brief, not long afterward, Taro, having selected a trusty friend, sent him as a go-between to ask of Nakayama the hand of his daughter in marriage.  The proposal was accepted, and when the go-between came the second time to Kiku’s home it was in company with two servants bearing bundles.  These, being opened, were found to contain a splendidly embroidered girdle, such as Japanese ladies wear, about twelve feet long and a foot wide when doubled; a robe of the finest white silk from the famous looms of Kanazawa; five or six pieces of silk not made up; several kegs of sake or rice-beer; dried fish, soy, etc.  These were for the bride-elect.  For her father was a sword with a richly mounted hilt and lacquered scabbard, hung with silken cords.  The blade alone of the sword was worth (it isn’t polite to speak of the cost of presents, but we will let you into the secret, good reader) one hundred dollars, and had been made in Sagami from the finest native steel.  Kiku’s mother was presented with a rich robe, which she recognized at once as being woven of the famous Derva silk.  The ceremonious reception of these presents by the parents signified that the betrothal was solemnly ratified, and that the engagement could not be broken.  Nakayama, the intended father-in-law, afterward sent to Taro a present of a jar of the finest tea from his own plantation in Shimosa, a pair of swords, and a piece of satin, such as that of which the hakama or trousers which indicate the rank of the samurai are made.

The betrothal was now published in both families, and in both houses there were festivities, rejoicing and congratulation.  The marriage-day, a fortunate or good-omened one, was fixed upon as the twenty-seventh from the day of betrothal.