“While I?”
“—You are more beautiful than the sun-god.”
“But you have not answered me. Suppose it were—Prince Keiki, the heir of Mori, who wooed you?”
“I cannot, my lord. Oh, the Prince is otherwise occupied than in wandering with love,” replied Wistaria, smiling at the thought. “Why, he is the head of a wicked party of Imperialists, I have ofttimes heard my uncle declare, and is the most cunning and base fermenter of intrigue against our august Shogun in the whole empire. Indeed, he has no time or inclination for dallying with love.”
“But—if I were indeed he, what then?”
“Why, then—then,” said the girl, slowly rising, and regarding him with shining eyes, “then still I would say, ‘Take me.’ What have we to do with the quarrels of our ancestors, the wrongs or the rights of our honorable parents? You and I are under the sheltering wings of the god of love. We recognize no law of country, lord, or kindred. Let us go into the mountains together and find refuge in a cottage where we can live and love in peace.”
“Oh, thou dear one!” he cried.
“But why suggest such a horrible possibility?” she continued, tremulously. “Thou art not that base and traitorous Prince? Thou art—”
“Thy love! That is all,” he said.