Sado-ko wandered through the dewy gardens, beneath the drooping bamboos and the towering pines. Her little feet were swift and willing, as she hastened along with beating heart; but when she approached the end of the grove, though there was light beyond, she could not see even the shadow of that one who was to have kept the tryst with her. Her steps faltered; she went less swiftly.
“The moon is late,” she said. And then, “It was the light of the stars I saw.”
She walked so slowly now, that her little feet became entangled in her flowing gown, which she had absently let fall to the ground. The end of the grove was now reached. She could see the bright silver light without.
In the shadow of the last bamboo the princess stood and trembled. She did not need to peer into the distance, for all was clear outside the bamboo grove, as far off as the dividing line of the boxwood shrub and the small white gate. How long she stood in silent waiting she could not have told. Every passing summer breeze made her shiver. Once she raised her hand to her face, and something wet was wiped away.
“’Tis but the dew upon my face,” she said, but her own trembling voice broke the spell of anguished waiting. At the foot of the drooping bamboo she slipped to the earth, and crouched beneath the shadow, deaf now to all sounds, save her own inward heart cries and the tears which even she could not command to cease.
Yet after only a little while, one appeared at the bamboo gate, vaulted quickly over it, and came with running feet on toward the grove. A moment later, Sado-ko was in the arms of her lover.
“Oh, is it you—you!” she said through her sighs, “at last. Oh, at last you have come!”
“It is I, sweet Sado-ko.”
“So late!” she said, her breath caught by her sobs.