“Say the word, girl!” I repeated.
“Wait! wait, my lord!” cried Azai, and she knelt beside me. “First free me, that I may go with you.”
“You will follow when your time comes,” I said. “A tojin may kill the woman he loves only to save her from a fate worse than death.”
“Life without you, my lord!—what harsher fate?”
A steel blade flashed in her upraising hand. I caught her wrist, as she drew back and stabbed the point at her throat.
“Take her away, Setsu!” I begged. “She must live and be happy. She is very young.”
“The men of Nippon do not love as my lord loves!” murmured the samurai girl. “We will go before with the light. Let him follow at a little distance. The darkness deepens. He will not be seen until we come to the gate.”
Azai rose and slipped on the tiny high clogs of gold lacquer that were held for her by the kneeling girl. She bowed to me from the miniature height with entrancing grace.
“I beg my lord to rise and sheathe his dirk until it is needed. We now go to my father.”
She turned and pattered quickly down the bridge to the pond bank, while Setsu, following half a step behind, held the lantern in such a manner as to shed no light to the rear. I slipped my dirk into its sheath and descended after them, my thoughts in a whirl of conflicting emotions.