“Yes. It is so.”
“Oh, joyful! Such beautiful and gorgeous gowns as I shall wear. I will send at once to all the most famous foreign cities. Let me see,—to Holland, and to—”
“The Princess Sado-ko never liked the foreign gown,” interrupted the other, shaking her head a trifle sadly.
“But you spoke just now of the caprices of that same Princess Sado-ko. She has already another one.”
Then up and down the room, in the long, trailing robe of Princess Sado-ko, walked, peacock-like, the maiden Masago; while close at hand, with dreamy face and dewy eyes, clad in a simple crêpe kimono, and with flowers—no longer jewels—in her hair, stood Sado-ko.
“Tell me,” said the vain and eager Masago, “when the noble Prince Komatzu shall greet me so,”—she bowed with assumed gallantry—“will I bow thus?” Down to the mat she bent her head.
“Why, no; but thus.” Gracefully, simply she illustrated. “A low, but not too low, obeisance. You are of equal rank, Masa—princess!”
“So—like this?”
“No; this way.”
“Well, it will take me twenty hours to practise thus. I will not sleep till I accomplish it.”