“What, dear Duchess Aoi, you deign to touch—to hold the sleeve of the honorable artist!” exclaimed the Lady Fuji-no.
Aoi’s brown eyes flashed angrily.
“It was an honorable accident,” she said haughtily. “I sought to save the artist from an error which would prove most humiliating to him. He is a stranger and does not know the rules as yet; but simply cast your eyes upon his dress, my lady, and you will see why I restrained him.”
Fuji smiled in a superior, veiled way.
“Artist,” she said, “Aoi is always thoughtful. She speaks the truth to-night. Pray heed her. If you step within the august hall, and even gaze at a great distance upon her Highness, you will lose your honorable head.”
Junzo walked away from them and went upon the veranda of the palace. But Lady Fuji followed him. She pointed toward the long glass windows of the ball-room.
“Artist, the Duchess Aoi would prevent your seeing Sado-ko in her new garb. She clings to the despairing fancy that when her Highness sees you again, her feelings and also her dress will undergo a change, and that the old Sado-ko will once again bewitch the artist, and perchance save Komatzu for the Duchess Aoi.”
“The duchess would prevent the marriage?” asked the artist, quietly.
“She is fairly mad to do so, artist, while I am equally determined to have it so. Now to which of us do you choose to lend yourself as a weapon?”
“Lady,” said Junzo, gravely, “there is a Western proverb: ‘Between two evils, choose the lesser.’ Tell me, which of you is the lesser evil?”