But, now, Hoshiko at last did. And she laughed.
"Excuse my levity," she said. "I am not dead, and you are not. I am not an angel, and this is not a heaven!"
"Oh!" said Arisuga; and then, "All right," as if it were a thing to be endured. He ended by also laughing. "But you must excuse the mistake. It seems a good deal like a heaven, and you more like an angel."
Still, as he looked about, and at the girl, he was not sure. That is what they were likely to tell a sick man.
"Might I touch you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!" cried the girl, with a pleasure which challenged his attention. She put herself within his reach.
"It is not a heaven," he agreed, when he had passed his hand along an exquisite arm.
"I am honorably glad that you are not dead," breathed the girl, bravely. "Are not you?"
And every little atom of her showed that she was glad and begged that he might be. Though the mists were still in the brain of Shijiro Arisuga, he could not help knowing both of these things: her innocence had uncovered them so completely. For a moment he studied her. Then he answered a tardy yes to her question.
"For such as you it is good to live—yes—and—" The soldier stopped to sigh. "Good for others to live near you for the little while."