Part 10

“If her Royal Highness were not so augustly eccentric, she might set the example,” said the Countess Matsuka, thoughtfully.

“Which Highness, countess?”

“There is only one Royal Highness in the palace now,” said Lady Fuji, smiling up from her frame,—“the Princess Sado-ko.”

Aoi tossed her head angrily. Her mother had been a concubine of one of the Imperial princes, and she was of the blood. Yet she was maid of honor to the Princess Sado-ko, for whom she had no love.

“And what example might she set?” Aoi inquired with evident disdain.

“That of sitting for her portrait to be painted,” explained the Countess Matsuka.

All of the ladies now showed extreme interest in the subject, and several began to speak at once.

“Oh, but she would never countenance it!”

“She fairly despises the ways of us moderns.”

“Just to think, it is in her power to keep our charming artist at court indefinitely.”

“But how lovely to have all our pictures painted. We, of course, would all follow suit.”

“—if she would only set the fashion.”

“Well, ladies,” said the Lady Fuji, “the princess is not our fashion-plate, surely. We do not follow her, it would seem. If we did—”

“We should live like cloistered priestesses,” said the one in the hammock.

“Yes, seclude ourselves from the sight of the whole court,” said she of the Paris gown.

“Then why need we await her august example?” asked the Lady Fuji.

“Because we are cowards—all,” said the Countess Matsuka. “To sit for our pictures just like any of the barbarians is too much of an innovation for any of the humble ones to start at court.”

“Well, then,” said Fuji, “who is brave enough to suggest it to the princess? She is both conservative and unconventional, and who knows she might take a fancy to the idea and consent?”

“Well, suppose you suggest it to her.”

“I? Oh, indeed, I am too honorably insignificant.”

“Then you, countess.”

“Oh no, indeed; I am still smarting under the sting of her little royal tongue.”

“Ah, you are too fulsome in your flattery to her, countess,” said Lady Fuji-no. “Diplomacy and tact with her Highness should take the form of frankness, even brusqueness.”

“Yes,” said the one in the hammock, sarcastically, “I noted the effect of your diplomacy the other morning.”

Lady Fuji-no colored, and bent her head above her work.

“Oh, these days, these days!” groaned the elderly lady, who was both chaperon and mentor to the others. “Now, in my insignificant youth it would have been a crime of treason to speak with disrespect of a royal princess.”

“But you see,” was the quick retort, “what happened to your august days, Madame Bara. They are quite, quite snuffed out. To-day is—to-day! We are modern—Western—if it please you!”

“Yes,” assented the Paris gown, “that is it exactly.”