"He is good and brave and generous," returned the girl, with burning face, "my lord Sampei!"
Miné cooed out the name that was on every one's lips, with such an exceeding abandonment of tenderness as startled her father into attention.
"More words less sense!" he remarked testily. "My lord Sampei! what hast thou to do with him or his? My lord Sampei forsooth! Wouldst be a Hojo's concubine? Never! I'd see thee dead first."
"The maid speaks not untruly," nodded Rokubei. "Sampei is in all things, save his name, unlike his brother. Through his mother Masago, the holy Abbess, he has peasant blood in his veins."
"And she," chimed in the girl, "the late lord's concubine, although of peasant stock, is worthy to be noble. As good as her son is the Abbess Masago. Cold and severe, no doubt, but just and lovable."
"How the child prates!" cried Madam Koshiu. "The lord Sampei has been absent these five years, skull-cracking, and is but just returned. What canst thou know of him? When he sailed, thou wert a little maid, and even than now more foolish."
"From his mother I have heard of him," admitted the blushing girl.
"So this was thy religious fervour, praying so often at the temple!" exclaimed the angry farmer. "Take heed, thou silly wench, or I will punish thee, and grievously. What! A cur can bark loudly before its own gate, and I can defend my own. Once for all, no more of the lord Sampei, or it will go ill with thee. Banish from thy feather-pate idle worship of thy betters."
The mien of Koshiu was so stern and threatening, that though words of indignant protest rose to her lips, the girl was silent.
"What if he were prevailed upon to intercede for us?" mused Rokubei. "He is as generous as brave--no doubt of that. My lord, after his brother's career of victory, could scarce refuse him a favour."