“Should Woroto Sama attempt to pass out alone, he would be slain!”
“Grant permission for me to lead him across into the palace,” said O Setsu San.
“Would your presence serve to shield the august lord from the hatamotos?” replied the Princess. “I myself will conduct him.”
“Impossible!” gasped Setsu, in open dismay. “Even for the daughter of the Shogun to have come between the angry hatamotos and the tojin sama is unbelievable!”
“O Setsu San will be so kind as to bring my clogs,” murmured the Princess with gentle courtesy.
For the first time I noticed that the little silk-clad foot peeping from under the edge of her kimono was without clog or sandal. When Setsu ran in to tell of the chase of the tojin, her mistress had darted out and up the bridge to my rescue without stopping for footwear.
“Princess,” I said, “O Setsu San is right. I cannot accept the offer.”
“My lord will not refuse me the favor,” she murmured, with a smile irresistibly sweet and naive. “The kind O Setsu San hastens to fetch my clogs.”
Perceiving the inflexible will beneath the soft accents of her mistress, the samurai lady turned to patter down the bridge. I was alone with the Princess,—probably the first man to be alone with an unwedded daughter of the Shogun for more than two centuries! I dropped on one knee to look into her modestly lowered eyes. Through the gathering darkness I saw a deep blush mantle her pale cheeks as with girlish bashfulness she raised one of her sleeves to hide her face.
“Azai!” I murmured. “Is the tojin so frightful an object to you?”