She passed her fan over her shoulder to the maid Natsu-no, who, whirling it open, fanned her gently. Sado-ko smiled reproachfully at Junzo, as she sat by a golden screen, near to a shoji through which the sinking sun pierced and slanted just above her head.
Junzo knelt on one knee a short distance from her. His face was sad and serious.
“Princess Sado-ko,” he said, “you have not heard of a most lamentable happening.”
“If,” said she, still smiling, “you allude to the noisy chatter of my ladies, you are mistaken. I have heard.”
He looked half unconsciously toward the now covered canvas. She followed his glance, and still she smiled.
“I have seen, too,” she said.
He regarded her dumbly, marvelling at the trembling happiness which seemed to lurk within her eyes and about her small red lips.
“Come a pace nearer to me, if you please,” she urged. His obedience brought him so close that he could have touched her. She put out a little hand toward him, and spoke his name.
“Junzo!” she said.
He scarcely dared to look at her. She said:—