Toro fingered his sash buoyantly, and assumed the attitude of a gay spark.
“Well, if it please you, my lord, I should wish to remain in Choshui, but at peace and liberty, pray understand.”
Keiki frowned impatiently, but Toro remained apparently unconcerned.
“In fact,” he added, ingenuously, “I would very much like to remain in Choshui as a guest—such as your excellency was in my own province. I do assure you, my lord, that I have not been treated with the equal hospitality and courtesy offered to your highness in Catzu.”
“It is impossible for you to remain here,” said Keiki; “matters have changed.”
“Then let me recall a certain promise made to me by your excellency. For my services in your behalf with my lady cousin in Catzu, you in return—”
He stopped abruptly, held by the expression on the other’s face. For the first time he perceived that the Prince was in an unnatural state of mind.
“Wistaria, my lord—what of her? You do not mean to tell me that you failed in your suit!”
With a sob in which no tears intermingled, Keiki raised his sword, only to drop it, groaning inwardly.
“Return to your father, Toro. Be warned by me that this is best.”