Part 33

DAUGHTERS OF NIJO

MASAGO spoke, her words strangely enunciated.

“Lady—you—you desired to speak with me?”

Her voice broke the spell of silence. The visitor bowed her head simply but eloquently. Masago went a nervous step toward her. There was fear in both her face and voice as she began deprecatingly:—

“It was an honorable mistake, lady, that you were not shown within the ozashishi (guest room). I beg you, lady, will you not speak?”

Her fears overcame her politeness. There was something unreal, strange, almost spiritual, in this woman who looked at her with her own eyes. For Masago almost thought she dreamed, and that she stood before a magic mirror wherein she saw reflected her own beauteous image, clad as only in dreams. But the vision spoke, and Masago’s fright vanished.

“It was my wish,” she said in a low voice, “to see you in your chamber. I begged this privilege, Masago.”

“Then, pray you, please be seated,” urged the girl. She brought a mat and set it for the guest.

The visitor stooped, but not to the mat. She lifted up an andon, and carrying it in her hand went closer to Masago.

“A moment and I will be seated, but first I wish to see your face—quite close.”

She held the light near to the countenance of Masago and scanned her startled features. Then, swinging it before her own, she said:

“Look you at mine also.”

Masago started, with a thrill of wondering amaze.

“Now,” said the other, “I will be seated, and pray you also, sit by me, Masago.”

“I do not know you, lady,” said Masago, with sudden brusqueness. “I pray you, speak your mission in my father’s house.”

The other smiled.

“Your father’s house!” she repeated.

“Why do you repeat my words?” said Masago.

“I was told the Prince of Nijo—”

Masago started toward her with a little cry, and that same savage movement with which she had sprung upon the servant. Though inwardly she cherished thought of Nijo, she could not bear that others should speak of it.

“You come here to insult me!” she cried, her bosom heaving with suppressed excitement.

“Be not angry,” said the other, softly. “I came but to speak the truth, and—and to gaze upon—my sister!”

“Sister!” The word escaped the lips of Masago like a cry of pain. “You—you are—”

“Sado-ko,” she answered, smiling still, yet sadly.

A moment Masago stared at her dumbly, then with an indescribable movement she knelt down at the princess’s feet and put her head upon the mats. Sado-ko bent over her, stooped, touching her head.

“I pray you, kneel not thus to me,” she said.

Slowly Masago arose, the color flowing back into her pale face in a flood. Her eyes were bright and wide and feverish. That moment’s servile impulse, when she had fallen down upon her knees, was past. She looked the Princess Sado-ko in the eyes, with conscious equality.

“Now,” said the princess, simply, “will you not be seated?”