They give another terrible yell and rush forward.

You clutch my hand and say, "Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keep
away from them."

I say, "Mother, just you watch me."

Then I spur my horse for a wild gallop, and my sword and buckler
clash against each other.

The fight becomes so fearful, mother, that it would give you a
cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin.

Many of them fly, and a great number are cut to pieces.

I know you are thinking, sitting all by yourself, that your boy
must be dead by this time.

But I come to you all stained with blood, and say, "Mother, the
fight is over now."

You come out and kiss me, pressing me to your heart, and you say
to yourself,

"I don't know what I should do if I hadn't my boy to escort me."

A thousand useless things happen day after day, and why couldn't
such a thing come true by chance?

It would be like a story in a book.