“In dress—in garb, that is all.”
“You did not see her face when she had deigned to turn it to the Prince Komatzu?”
“Beauty like hers will shine from very graciousness, my lady.”
“Artist, as you are aware, the Princess Sado-ko is unconventional. To-night when the first ceremonies are past, she will leave this ballroom. She may not dance, being a princess royal. So she will retire to her private gardens, and there, I doubt not, will linger for a little while. Come with me there, and if she chance to see you, perhaps she will condescend to speak to you to-night. The princess but attends the ceremonials on these occasions. Hence we will not have to wait for long.”
“A happy thought,” he said eagerly, as he followed Fuji-no with willing feet.
It was dark without. The gardens in their modern dress lacked the charm of those of the palace Komatzu, yet Junzo trusted it would be different when they should come to Sado-ko’s own private place. But here a disagreeable surprise awaited him. The place was in a state of great disorder, and the long reflection of the palace lights showed that the gardens were being changed in form and style.
“Follow me with care,” said Fuji-no, “for as you see, the gardens of her Highness are undergoing change. Those who work by day are not so careful to render the place safe for evening loitering.”
They came now to a new wing of the palace, which, too, appeared to be in process of alteration. The artist and the lady now paused to look about them. They heard a sound of fluttering movement close at hand. Junzo looked toward the balcony of the wing, from whence the odd movement proceeded.
“It is the royal nightingale,” said Fuji, carelessly. “The foolish bird is beating out its life.”
“The nightingale, my lady!”