The artist stooped to the covering on the floor. He stood holding it in his hand, as though he knew not what to do.
“Oh, pray do not cover up the august likeness, artist,” pleaded the Lady Fuji-no, with affected solicitude.
The Countess Matsuka raised her voice almost shrilly:—
“Ladies, do let us take a vote as to the decency of the barbarian gown.”
But her suggestion was drowned in the hub-bub of gossip. The countess was met only with this reply:—
“Countess, upon what work was this artist-man engaged when he was closeted with Princess Sado-ko?”
The group about the picture grew closer still together. The question grew in size, and found a hundred answers.
“It is one that only the artist himself can solve,” said Aoi, looking toward him obliquely.
“Oh, oh, was only the artist present?” protested Lady Fuji.
“And her Highness,” said the Duchess Aoi, and bowed in mocking reverence at the name. “Do you not recall she said she would not have her ladies present at the sittings? When we dared to protest, in most humble wise, she frowned and commanded us to go, which we were forced to do.”