"Indeed," said Iza-Farou, "butterflies are always grouped in that way: two flutter about together, and a third follows them at a distance."
"I have noticed that peculiarity too, without knowing the reason for it," said the Kisaki. "The story is pretty; I never heard it before."
"The Prince of Satsuma must tell us something," said Flower-of-the-Reed.
"I!" exclaimed the old man in some alarm; "but I don't know any stories."
"Yes! yes! you know plenty," exclaimed the women; "you must tell us one."
"Then I will relate an adventure which happened not long since to the Prince of Figo's cook."
This announcement provoked a general outburst of merriment.
"You will see," said Satsuma, "you will see that this cook had a good deal of wit. In the first place, he is very skilful at his trade, which is not a thing to be despised; and moreover he pays extreme attention to the minutest details of his work. A few days ago, however, at a feast to which I went, the servants brought in a bowl full of rice and uncovered it before the Lord of Figo. What was the latter's surprise to see in the middle of the snowy rice a black insect, quite motionless, because it was cooked! The Prince turned white with rage. He summoned the cook; and seizing the ignoble insect with the tips of his ivory chopsticks, he presented it to the fellow with a terrible look. There was nothing left for the unfortunate servant but to rip himself up as speedily as possible. But it seemed that that operation was not at all to his liking; for, approaching his master with every sign of the most lively joy, he took the insect and ate it, pretending to think that the Prince did him the honor to offer him a taste of the repast. The guests began to laugh at this display of quick wits. The Prince of Figo himself could not help smiling, and the cook was rescued from death."
"Good! good!" cried all the listeners; "there's a story which cannot offend any one."
"It is Nagato's turn," said Tsusima, "he must know delightful stories."