The strangers lingered a moment, watching the two figures at the gate, now courtesying very deeply. Then they turned slowly and resumed their walk.
Hyacinth turned to Aoi in great excitement.
“I am going to follow them also, mother. I wish to hear them speak again. What strange, deep voices! It was enough to make a maiden jump ten feet with fright. And how the gods have blasted their countenances! Did you notice, mother, how their skins were bleached like white linen?”
She shuddered.
Aoi smiled indulgently.
“When one becomes accustomed to the white skin, little one, it appears very beautiful.”
“Ah, not on a man!” said the girl, with immeasurable disgust. “But perhaps it is a custom of their country. Who knows! They are barbarians, are they not? Perhaps these men whiten or chalk their skins like the priestesses at the temple.”
“Nay, it is all natural.”
But Hyacinth shook her head, still uncertain. Such beings were unnatural, more so even than the Reverend Blount or the mission men. Curiosity stirred within her. She must know if the strangers acted as the human beings she knew. Quickly she formed a plan. She would follow them at a distance and slip in at the back entrance of the Snowdrop Hostelry. Then surely her friend, Miss Perfume, the daughter of the proprietor of the tavern, would permit her to listen behind the shoji, and to watch these curious strangers, unperceived, through peep-holes in the wall.