“The sun, O princess, is within,” he cried, “and, O sweet Sado-ko, it is too dazzling bright for such as I to gaze upon.”
When he would have dropped her hand, she held it within his own. Her face filled him with a vague longing. He trembled at her touch. He felt the wavering of her head toward him, then its touch against his arm, where now it rested. A remnant of reason remaining within him, he sought to draw apart from her.
“Do not—do not so,” she cried, clinging to him.
“My touch profanes you, Sado-ko,” he whispered hoarsely.
“It does not,” she denied, with tears in her appealing voice. “Pray you, do not draw your arm away.”
“Princess!”
“I do command again,” she said. After that he did not speak.
Suddenly the silent, immovable figure of the maid seemed to take upon itself the first signs of life. She arose and moved toward her mistress. At a respectful distance she spoke.
“Noble princess!” she said.
Sado-ko, still holding the arm of her lover close about her, turned toward the maid.