Pressing her hand to her breast, she gazed imploringly at him.
“It is not impossible,” she said steadily. “You cannot now refuse to marry me. The gods have given us to each other. They did so from the first. We will be happy.”
“There are others of whom we both must think,” he cried.
“No, no,” she said. “Upon this day we will not think of others.”
“This is folly that we have been dreaming, O princess!”
He moved away from her for a time, pacing up and down with moody, bent head. He came back to her impetuously, and spoke accusingly, yet mournfully:—
“You did a cruel act last night. That poor girl came to her true home. You denied her, Sado-ko!”
“You reproach me for that!” she cried, her eyes flashing resentfully. “How can you say that to me, since it was for your sake I did deny her, and for hers too, though she had been most eager and well content to change her lot with mine at first. Yet last night I thought upon the consequences of her act and mine. I did not think of myself at all.”
He did not interrupt her, and she continued in defence with impetuous swiftness.
“Think on the matter but a little while, Junzo. Would you have loved this other one? No, in your face I read the answer. Do not speak it. Could I give her to you, then, in place of me? I am but a woman and cannot reason harshly, and so I thought last night with pity and tenderness of you.”