Konojo undid the latch and slid back the door of the garden house to find a slender and drooping lady upon the threshold. He could not see her face, for she held her long sleeve so as to hide it from him; but she swayed and trembled, and her frail shoulders shook with sobbing.
“Let me in,” she moaned, and forthwith entered the garden house.
Half smiling and much perplexed, Konojo asked her:
“Are you Aiyamé, whom they call the Lady of the South Wind?”
“I am she.”
“Lady, you do me much honour.”
“The comb!” she said, “the golden comb!”
As she said this, she threw the veil from her face, and taking the robe of Konojo in both her little hands, she looked into his eyes as though she would draw forth his very soul. The lady was brown and quick and light. Her eyes and her lips were made for laughing, and passing strange she looked in the guise that she wore then.
“The comb!” she said, “the golden comb!”
“I have it here,” said Konojo; “only let go my robe, and I will fetch it you.”