The Duchess Aoi sat up aggressively.
“You appear to have the confidence of the diplomats, O Lady Fuji-no,” said she.
Fuji tossed her head in malicious silence.
“Noble ladies!” came the warning voice of the elderly mentor-chaperon. “It is too warm to engage the august voice in argument. Let us have music.”
The Duchess Aoi shrugged her shapely shoulders.
“The court geishas are busy in the male quarters,” she said, “and the foreign band has broken our ear-drums.”
One of the ladies laughed.
“Besides,” she added to Aoi’s speech, “we don’t want the foreign music in our private halls. It is enough for state occasions.”
“I enjoy it augustly well,” said a stiff little lady sitting uncomfortably in her Paris gown on an English chair, who bore the euphonious name of Yu-giri (Evening Mist). She was the only one of the company who wore European costume. The others were glad enough to revel in the comfortable enjoyment of the kimono.
“If her Royal Highness were not so augustly eccentric, she might set the example,” said the Countess Matsuka, thoughtfully.