Part 43

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CHAPTER XVII

THE NEW MASAGO

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CHAPTER XVII

THE NEW MASAGO

THE following morning dawned clear and bright, not a remnant of mist or fog remaining to recall the previous night. A bright yellow sun arose from behind the hills and beat away every vista of gloom from the skies. It poised above the river Hayama, as though to look upon its own reflected light; then swept along its early course, flooding the land with new light, and piercing the shoji walls of the chamber of the maid Masago.

The Princess Sado-ko opened her eyes, looked half dazedly, half wonderingly, a moment at the unfamiliar ceiling overhead, then sat up on the mattress. Her eyes wandered about the room in a helpless, bewildered fashion for a moment, then suddenly a little flickering smile of recollection came. She slipped from the mosquito netting.

She was in pale blue linen. Below her gown her little bare feet twinkled over the matting as she hastily crossed the room, pushed the casement a small way open, and peeped without. A breath of delight escaped her, for from Masago’s chamber her eyes looked out upon the old delightful scenes of her childhood, the far-reaching meadows, sloping hills, and Fuji-Yama smiling in the morning light.

For some time she remained by the casement, enjoying simply the morning and its gentle breezes. Almost unconsciously she found herself waiting for the attendance of her maiden, Natsu-no. Then recalling Masago’s words that henceforth she must robe herself, she laughed.

She had no difficulty in dressing. Masago’s wardrobe was of the simplest, Yamada Kwacho limiting her in dress expenditure. Sado-ko donned a pretty plum-colored crêpe kimono and a dark, gold-figured obi. Her hands fluttered delightedly over Masago’s clothes; they were so simple and comfortable, she thought.

When she was quite dressed, she forgot to put away the bed,—a duty Masago always performed,—but stepping out upon the balcony loitered for a moment in the sun. Then the garden’s fragrance captivating her, she ran down the little flight of stairs into the garden.

Flowers grew abundantly there,—simple and common flowers they were, but preferred by Kwacho because of their very lack of cultivation, and hence their naturalness.

Almost recklessly Sado-ko plucked them, filling her arms with blossoms. She had an inclination to sing and laugh and pick flowers all the day, she felt so strangely free and happy.

When a servant came and watched her from the kitchen door, the girl smiled toward her. The woman appeared taken aback at the good will in the girl’s face. Masago had been over-bearing toward her father’s servants, which had made her generally unpopular among them. The servant’s voice was not so sharp as she had intended it to be. Would Masago have her morning meal?

The young girl in the sunny garden nodded cheerfully, then hastened toward the house, her flowers in her arms. She drank her morning tea in happy silence, but smiled so often at the waiting maid, that the latter marvelled at her amiability of mood. When Sado-ko had finished, the woman said, almost in a deprecating tone:—

“I did not mean to give offence last night, Masago.”

“Offence?” repeated Sado-ko. “Did you give offence—to me?”

“Why, yes. Do you not recall my looking at the picture in your hands?”

“What picture? Oh, yes, yes. Did you do so? Now I do recall it.”

She moved toward the door to cover her confusion, then turned her head backward, smiling sweetly at the servant.

“Do not worry, maid. I am not offended.”

A moment the woman stared at her in bewilderment. Then she said with some hesitancy:

“Before you went to Kyoto, Masago, I always took the liberties with you, which since your late return you appeared not to desire. I, being long in your family service, as you know, was hurt.”

Sado-ko paused in the doorway.

“When—when did I return?” she asked, in a curious tone, as though she could not recall the exact date. “I have been away it seems—yes—I have been away; but when did I return?”

“Why, only two days since,” declared the maid, in astonishment.

“How absent is my little mind,” she laughed. “Two days ago. Why, yes, of course—and let me see, I have been gone—” She appeared to calculate the time.