A light tap on the door, and the next moment Wistaria had entered the room. Her arms were full of flowers, flaming red and yellow blossoms that grew wild on the hills, while about her garments clung the odors of the fields and the mountain. She was damp and sweet with the morning dew shining on her hair, clinging even to her face and arms.
“What!” cried Gen. “You have been out already?”
She nodded, smiling wistfully over the flowers, which the Prince silently took from her arms and set upon the floor. His eyes never relaxed their gaze from her sweet face.
“My lord’s chamber,” she said, as she shook the dew and a few clinging leaves from her kimono, “is so barren of the beauty of summer that I thought the fields might spare something of their wealth.”
Keiki turned an imploring glance to Genji. The samurai turned hastily to the door.
“Well, then,” said Genji, “I shall go and bring you some honorable water for the flowers.”
The moment Genji had left the room the Prince seized Wistaria’s hands impulsively.
“Wistaria,” he cried, “now I have some questions to put to you.”
One startled, upward glance at him she gave. He took her face in his hands, compelling her eyes to meet his own.
“Why are your eyes so dark?” he asked.