Then the Lady Beaming Bright sighed and great tears stood in her eyes, and she hid her face with her sleeve.
“Lord, I cannot,” she said.
“Cannot?” said the Mikado; “and why not, O dear Lady Beaming Bright?”
“Wait and see, lord,” she said.
Now about the seventh month she grew very sorrowful, and would go abroad no more, but was for long upon the garden gallery of Také Tori’s house. There she sat in the daytime and brooded. There she sat at night and gazed upon the moon and the stars. There she was one fine night when the moon was at its full. Her maidens were with her, and Také Tori and the good wife, and the Mikado, her brave lover.
“How bright the moon shines!” said Také Tori.
“Truly,” said the good wife, “it is like a brass saucepan well scoured.”
“See how pale and wan it is,” said the Mikado; “it is like a sad despairing lover.”
“How long and bright a beam!” quoth Také Tori. “It is like a highway from the moon reaching to this garden gallery.”
“O dear foster-father,” cried the Lady Beaming Bright. “You speak truth, it is a highway indeed. And along the highway come countless heavenly beings swiftly, swiftly, to bear me home. My father is the King of the Moon. I disobeyed his behest. He sent me to earth three years to dwell in exile. The three years are past and I go to mine own country. Ah, I am sad at parting.”