“But I will change all that,” said Masago.
“That is true.” She sighed. “Well, then, there is nothing else to say. But stay! My maiden, Natsu-no. Oh, pray you, dear Masago, treat her with the greatest kindness, will you not?”
“I will.”
“She is even now without this room, waiting for me, with that dear patience with which she watches and guards me at all times. You know, Masago, she has been with me since I was but a baby. Alas, I shall suffer for her loss!”
Tears for a moment dimmed the eyes of Sado-ko.
“What more?” asked Masago, surveying with delight the width and beauty of her obi.
“What else? Well, Masago, there is one other matter. In the garden of the Palace Nijo there hangs an open cage, just without my chamber. It is the home of my dear nightingale.”
“A bird?”
“A little bird. Listen, there is a pretty story you would like to hear. Once in the spring, while I was yet a little girl, and grieving for my most beloved grandmother, his Majesty, the Emperor, sent me as a gift of consolation a nightingale within a golden cage. It sang so sweetly to me that I was entranced with delight, and when the days were warm would hang the cage upon my balcony. The garden close at hand was fragrant with the odor of the cherry and the plum, and allured many other nightingales to make their home there. The little birds noticed their play-mate in the cage, and when, at evening, they saw no one in sight—for I was hidden behind my shoji screen—they would approach the cage, and sing all merrily together. These honorably sweet serenades gave me double joy, as you may imagine, and I soon learned to distinguish the voices without and that one within the cage. At first I thought the song of my own bird within the cage sounded sweeter even than those without. Then in a little while it became hard to distinguish them, and at last I could not hear the voice of my small nightingale at all.”
She paused a moment, as though in thought, then resumed, her eyes sweet with moisture.