“Brother, whatever truth or falsity may lie in this epistle is of the past, and concerns me alone. It cannot affect the future. Speak to me no more of the leaves of last autumn.”
“But—” began the brother, timidly.
Keiki sprang to his feet. There was a cloud upon his brow, dark and threatening. His sword showed half its bare length.
“Not a word,” he said, “or, dearly as I love you, this blade shall give you explanation.”
Komozawa bowed submissively and retired.
In the thoughts that the words of his brother had called into being Keiki was led to remember the imprisoned Toro, whose existence he had forgotten. Immediately he ordered the youth before him.
To his surprise he found that Toro, instead of appearing sullen or dejected, was quite cheerful and optimistic. He greeted the Prince with so much bonhomie and frankness that Keiki was puzzled at first to know how to treat him.
“Toro,” he said, “I have come to a decision regarding you.”
“That is good,” said Toro, at once, “for I really am becoming interested in my prospects.”
“And what are your prospects?” said Keiki.