“The musicians and the geishas in the booths,” he said, “would dishonor you with their rude glances.”
Without replying she clapped, her hands. A page came at the signal.
“A wrap, if you please,” she ordered.
Junzo, now at the foot of the steps, stirred uneasily. The moon was in full view. The sight for which he had watched so anxiously filled him now only with agitation and despair. He thought of one waiting in the darkness of the private gardens beyond. Anxiety rendered him reckless. He bowed deeply to the Lady Fuji-no.
“Lady, I implore your august pardon, but the night has claims upon my desires. I wish to wander with it alone.”
She stooped down toward him. Her words, though whispered, were perfectly clear.
“You have a moon tryst, Sir Artist. Oh, beware!”
He turned about sharply and faced her.
“The Moon,” she said,—“you will become her plaything, artist. Be cautioned!”
Uncertain and irresolute he stood a moment, then turned upon his heel and swiftly strode down along the path, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.