“My Sado-ko!” he said.
“A little while ago,” she said, “you called me Masago. How easily you change the name. First it was Sado-ko,—the sweetest, most peerless name on earth. Then it was Masago,—the purest, simplest name for maiden; and now—”
“I never loved you for your name,” he said.
She laughed for the first time, and caught at his hand, pressing it against her face.
“Now you are my Junzo once again. We will not speak of these sad things.”
“Sado-ko, we cannot but do so. Try and see the matter as it is. You are—”
“Masago—your betrothed. A little while and I will be—your wife!”
“It cannot be,” he said sadly, “for you are not Masago. We must think of her besides ourselves. We cannot rob her of her rights.”
“But it is to protect her that I must still be Masago. Why, think what would be the fate of a common citizen if she confessed that she had practised deceit upon the royal court! True, I was jointly guilty, but princesses do not have the punishment bestowed upon a simple citizen. Why, there is no doubt, if this were told, the maid Masago would be punished by the government so cruelly she would not have the strength to live. Is it not a crime of treason—”
Junzo held up a hand, for some one was coming toward them.