“Who taught you these counsels?”
“My own conscience, my lord.”
Keiki smiled.
“Are you quite certain, Toro, you did not read your new principles in a lady’s eyes?” he asked, dryly.
Toro blushed.
“The Princess Hollyhock appears to have been a teacher of some weight,” said Keiki.
Toro cried, warmly:
“My lord, you do me injustice. I love the Princess Hollyhock, it is true—I confess it. But what my honor dictates, what my conscience has seen, has naught to do with the Princess.” Ingenuously: “’Tis, my lord, I do protest, but a happy coincidence that her views are mine. Were it otherwise, though tears did blind my eyes, I should perceive the right way; though sorrow choked my voice, I still would cry, ‘Daigi Meibunor!’”
Toro dropped to his knees, his extravagance of expression seeming not to have affected his sincerity. Keiki put out a quick hand to raise him. In a voice of deep emotion he cried, impulsively:
“Toro, my brother, I wronged you. Now I make amend and receive you into our service. My heart was bitter because of my own sorrow, but it still has generosity left for you, friend of my hopes. You are of the days of flowers. Now, after the flowers have withered, I still receive you.”