When he began dancing around again I caught him by the leg and held him still.
“Explain yourself,” I commanded.
“Put me astride your collar, and I will tell you.”
“All right; now talk.”
“Do you remember I told you Prince Funato died an old man? And every year at the anniversary of the battle where I had protected him by my branches”—(here Fiam gave two of those sighs of his that sounded like whistles, and observed sadly, “What a beautiful willow I was then!”) “he came to find me?”
“Indeed, I remember perfectly.”
“Very well; his spirit has entered into one of his descendants.”
“That is only a Japanese superstition.”
“So you foreigners say; you also think that the Haji is an old Japanese superstition. You have told me so, and yet you see that I really exist.”
“That is true. I beg your pardon.”