“Yes. I bade him ask you to accompany us, so you might have the honorable commission to paint the pictures of the ladies of the court.”
“Paint the pictures—” repeated Junzo, stupidly.
“Yes, that will be the good excuse. Yet you must not do so. No, I would not have you work upon another’s beauty.”
“I cannot go,” he said, raising his voice. “It is impossible. I must return.”
She started back, her hands above her heart.
“I understand,” she said. “You will return to—”
He seized her hands with impulsive passion.
“My father bids me return. Can I refuse?” he cried.
“Oh, go not back!” she said, with tears in her pleading voice.
“I must return. I am but a son. Does not a son owe his first obedience in life to his father?”