Her husband was startled at her outbreak. He was astonished at her knowledge of existing conditions in her country. But she did not pursue the subject, saying she disliked it.

And the ball? What about that?

Well, she would not go with him. He must go to that all alone, for the million big reasons she had given him. Moreover, all the ladies would wear Parisian toilettes. It would be a disgrace for his wife to go in a kimono.

Again he was astonished at her. How did she know that on such occasions the ladies, Japanese included, dressed in European gowns?

Apparently she knew more concerning such matters than he had imagined. It was becoming plainer to him every day that his wife was of no ordinary family. And then the memory of the old rambling palace, doubtless her home, in the exquisite, aristocratic little town where he had followed her, supported this idea. Who was his wife, after all? Who were her people, and why had none of them come near her during all these months? What was the meaning of the mystery in which she had surrounded herself ever since he had known her. And now, when there was scarcely a doubt left in his mind of her love for him, why had he failed to win her confidence?

“I want to know just who you are, my little wife,” he suddenly said. “I do not believe that tale about your people. I know you are not a geisha girl. You are not, are you?”

“No,” she said, very softly.

“Then tell me. Who are your people? It is only right I should know this.”

She looked up at him with intense seriousness. Then her eyes fluttered, and she went rambling into one of her fairy tales of nonsense.

“My people? Who they are? My august ancestors came from the moon. My one hundled grade-grandfathers fight and fight and fight like the lion, and conquer one-half of all Japan—fight the shogun, fight the kazoku, fight each other. They were great Samourai, cutting off the haeds of aevery humble mans they don’ like. So much bloodshed displeased the gods. They punishing all my ancestors, bringin’ them down to thad same poverty of those honorable peebles killed by them. Then much distress an’ sadness come forever ad our house. All pride, all haughty boasting daed forever. Aeverybody goin’ ‘bout weepin’ like ad a funeral. Nobody habby. What they goin’ do git bag thad power an’ reeches ag’in? Also one ancestor have grade big family to keep from starving, an’ one daughter beautiful as the moon of her ancestors. He weep more than all the rest of those ancestors, weep an’ weep till he go blind like an owl ad day-time. Then the gods begin feel sawry. One of them mos’ sawry of all. He also is descendant of the Sun. Well, thad sun-god he comin’ down ad Japan, make big raddle an’ noise, an’ marrying with thad same beautifullest daughter of thad ole blind ancestor. Thad sun-god my fadder. Me? I am the half-moon-half-sun offspring.”