Part 71

She tried to meet his eyes, but could not. Then she sought to draw her hands from his, while she averted her face.

“I would not speak of sad matters on my wedding-day. There is naught to tell.” She added the last sentence with swift vehemence.

“There is much to tell,” he said gravely. “I am your lover—soon your husband. Before that time, tell me the secret which rests between us now. If there is no truth in that woman, reassure my doubts.”

“Can love and doubt exist together?”

“If you loved me, you would trust me,” he replied gravely, ignoring her question.

She threw her head back with a swift, brave motion.

“Do you truly love me?”

“With all my heart.”

“You love Sado-ko?”

He did not answer.

“Ah, how blind you have been,” she said, “that Sado-ko could make you think she were other than herself. It was a strange test of your love, Junzo.”

“Then it is true!” he said, making a movement of recoil from her.

“It is true that I am Sado-ko,” she said.

He stared at her blankly. Then suddenly he covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“The gods have pity on us both!” he said.

“Why should the gods have pity?” asked the Princess Sado-ko. “They have already blessed us. We are happy, Junzo.”

“Happy!” he repeated. “Guileless one, do you not see our happiness is so slight and dangerous a thing we cannot hold it?”

“But why may we not?”

“You are the Princess Sado-ko, and I—an artist-man.”

“You are my Junzo,” she replied, “and I am your Sado-ko. This we know, but it is a secret. The world will call me Masago, and once I am your wife—”

“Our union is impossible.”

Pressing her hand to her breast, she gazed imploringly at him.

“It is not impossible,” she said steadily. “You cannot now refuse to marry me. The gods have given us to each other. They did so from the first. We will be happy.”

“There are others of whom we both must think,” he cried.

“No, no,” she said. “Upon this day we will not think of others.”

“This is folly that we have been dreaming, O princess!”

He moved away from her for a time, pacing up and down with moody, bent head. He came back to her impetuously, and spoke accusingly, yet mournfully:—

“You did a cruel act last night. That poor girl came to her true home. You denied her, Sado-ko!”