“No, I do not. I am in darkness as to how your lover comes to be here, wounded and ill; but I surmise that he was captured while on his way to Choshui and prevented from warning his prince.”
“You do not know,” cried Wistaria, looking up into his face with startled eyes, “that he is the prince himself?”
“The prince! Who is the prince? What prince?”
“The young Prince of Mori. He”—she indicated Keiki—“he is the same person.”
It was Genji’s turn to start. He made a movement towards the Prince, but Wistaria grasped his arm and stayed him.
“Nay, do not go to him. He is so tired, Gen. He has been awake, though unconscious, all night long, and he needs the honorable rest the gods have denied him so long.”
“But you do not mean to tell me that your lover is the young Mori prince?”
“Yes, even so, Gen, though I knew it not until—until they brought him here.”
“Brought him here! Why—but this man—the Prince Mori is condemned to death! He was found guilty of treason—he—oh, it is quite impossible!”
“Alas! but it is true.”