I think you can see the whole picture at once.

It is a Japanese colour-print,--some ancient interior, lighted by the sun of a great summer day; and a woman looking through a bamboo blind toward the seashore, where she sees a warrior approaching.

He divines that he is seen; but if he smiles, it is only because the smile is hidden by his iron mask.

The only sign of any sentiment on his part is that he walks a little quicker.

Still more amazing is a companion picture, containing only a solitary figure: LE DAIMIO (Matin de bataille) Sous le noir fouet de guerre a quadruple pompon, L'etalon belliqueux en hennissant se cabre, Et fait bruire, avec de cliquetis de sabre, La cuirasse de bronze aux lames du jupon.
Le Chef vetu d'airain, de laque et de crepon, Otant le masque a poils de son visage glabre, Regarde le volcan sur un ciel de cinabre Dresser la neige ou rit l'aurore du Nippon.
Mais il a vu, vers l'Est eclabousse d'or, l'astre, Glorieux d'eclairer ce matin de desastre, Poindre, orbe eblouissant, au-dessus de la mer; Et pour couvrir ses yeux dont pas un cil ne bouge, Il ouvre d'un seul coup son eventail de fer, Ou dans le satin blanc se leve un Soleil rouge.
"Under the black war whip with its quadruple pompon the fierce stallion, whinnying, curvets, and makes the rider's bronze cuirass ring against the plates of his shirt of mail, with a sound like the clashing of sword blades.
"The Chief, clad in bronze and lacquer and silken crape, removing the bearded masque from his beardless face, turns his gaze to the great volcano, lifting its snows into the cinnabar sky where the dawn of Nippon begins to smile.
"Nay! he has already seen the gold-spattered day star, gloriously illuminating the morning of disaster, rise, a blinding disk, above the seas.