Wistaria averted her face for a moment. Then seating herself on the floor, comfortably against his knee, she raised to him innocent eyes.
“Punish him? Why, how can that be, honorable uncle?”
“He is encamped near by with a rebel army,” said Catzu, lowering his voice confidentially; “the day after to-morrow we send an army of chastisement against him under the valiant Prince of Mito.”
“The Prince of Mito,” repeated Wistaria, half aloud.
“Yes, a brave nobleman I desire to become your husband in time. You will be free ere long, I do assure you.” Catzu chuckled confidently.
“What is the offence of—of—this rebel?”
“Your husband dog? He conspires against the Mikado. Oh, we shall drive him out.”
An attendant, interrupting them, ushered in Aidzu. Wistaria slipped to the door. Catzu recalled her.
“Thou mayest remain, niece. Hear our plans. They closely concern thee.”
“I will return in a moment; but Genji has my perfume sack, which I desire.”