He indicated the screens, only partially opened, which half discovered, half concealed, a sloping balcony.
Very deep and respectful was Genji’s bow.
“It is my distasteful duty to be forced to disagree with your excellency,” he said. “Your highness’s august health is such that your chamber must be sheltered even from the summer breezes.”
The Prince stopped sharply in his walk.
“Spare yourself such imaginative effort, Sir Genji,” he said. “That, you are well aware, is not the true reason why I am deprived of sufficient air, and am forced to remain in a room with my shutters closed so that not even the breath of summer may enter.”
At Genji’s second obeisance, the Prince, with an impatient motion, commanded him to cease, and to give his undivided attention to his remarks.
“Now will you do me the kindness to inform me what all these mysterious precautions mean? Wait a moment. Do not speak, for I perceive you are about to utter some further prevarication. Think before you speak, and try to see that it is useless to attempt to deceive me.”
“Well, my lord,” said Genji, “knowing as you do the peril in which your life will be placed if—”
“Oh yes, I perceive all you would say. I have recently been rescued from a blood-thirsty executioner; I must remain in hiding for some time, and so on; but what I wish to understand is why is it necessary for me to continue imprisoned?”
“Well, my lord, you would not wish a Shogun spy to catch a glimpse of you by chance?”