Part 26

“The night is chill, Sir Cousin, and the grove is damp,” she said.

“Why, no—” he began again in protest, when the maid behind interrupted. She wrapped a cape about the shoulders of her mistress, and spoke in soothing tones:—

“Noble princess, the humble one was witness of your shivering just now. Permit me then to serve you.”

Still the Prince Komatzu hesitated. Suddenly Sado-ko thrust into his her own small hands.

“Cousin, feel how cold my hands are. Will you not warm them with yours?” she said.

He held them doubtfully a moment, then chafed them with his own, while she moved onward.

Once outside the grove, a great breath, a sigh, escaped the agitated Sado-ko. Then suddenly she began to laugh in a strange, mirthless fashion, as one who laughs through tears. Her cousin stood in silence, sombrely regarding her. When she had ceased, he asked:—

“Why did you laugh so suddenly just now, princess?”

“A thought came to my honorable little brain, Komatzu. I fancied that you had learned that I would keep a tryst to-night.”

He did not move, and she continued with hysterical rapidity.

“And by your face I know my thought was true. Did not the Duchess Aoi bring you to my gate for the purpose of—a spy?”

“We came by chance,” he answered gravely.

“Yes, chance dictated by your beguiling guide, good cousin. Is it not so?”

“The Duchess Aoi spoke with indignation of the tales of others, Sado-ko.”

Again the princess laughed in that weird way.

“It is a habit of my sex, Komatzu, to slander one in just that wise, veiling beneath choice, soft, indignant words against others their own subtle design of defamation.”

“Cousin, who would dare defame your name to me?”

“Oh, any fair and clever lady of the court, Komatzu. Come, cousin, were you not informed that I would keep a tryst to-night?”

“With whom could Princess Sado-ko keep tryst?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders recklessly.

“With whom, Komatzu? The stars, the moon, the night,—perchance, a lover.”

“You laugh at me, fair cousin.”

“Permit me, then, to weep.” She clasped her face with both her hands, but she did not feign tears: they came too readily.

“Cousin,” said Komatzu, solemnly, “will you make an exchange gift with me for my august statue?”

She raised her face defiantly.

“And why should you and I make exchange gifts, Komatzu? We are not affianced.”

“Are we not?” he asked sternly.

“No, save for the gossip of the court and popular fancy. Yet his Majesty has not betrothed us, and I am both his niece and ward.”