The wizard flew into a rage, and said, ‘Chop her hands off, otherwise I cannot touch her.’ The miller was terrified, and exclaimed, ‘How can I cut off the hands of my own child?’
The old man could not sit still. He sprang into the midst of the group and began to dance. He seemed to be dancing like the trees and flowers. Like a willow by the river he bent and swayed and bowed.
At last, as they were returning to the temple by way of the shore, the men-servants were startled by the sound of a biwa, furiously played, in the cemetery of the Amidaji.