“I am quite satisfied,” he said. “Truth itself shines in your face, my Sado-ko. And now, sweet cousin, we will say good night, for it is late, and I would not have your beauteous eyes lose one small atom of their lustre. And so for the night, sayonara!”
Softly and lingeringly she repeated the word. She watched him as he walked along the path, until he had quite disappeared. Then slowly, dreamily she ascended the little steps. She stopped in sudden irritation at the sound of the restless bird within the cage. Moving toward it, she shook the cage with some nervous violence.
“Be still!” she said. “You break my thoughts, you foolish bird! Be still, I say!”
The Lady Fuji touched the artist’s arm. He did not stir. Peering up into his face, she started back at sight of the dull, frozen look. A glimmer of compassion crossed her breast. She whispered:—
“Artist, come away.”
He did not move.
“Pray come!” urged Fuji.
Masago, standing by the bird-cage on the balcony, thought she heard some whispering voices close at hand. She leaned over the railing and called, in fearful voice:—
“Who are the honorable ones below?”
As Fuji sought to draw the artist away, the movement of her effort reached the ears of her mistress. The latter crossed the veranda with quick steps, and, leaning down close to the sound, saw those two figures in the shadow. A moment later the Lady Fuji-no, drawing her cape before her face, fled along the path, and disappeared.