She looked at me in a puzzled manner, and I explained with utmost gravity: “You will bow—no, not to the floor, only a little more than I. In this fashion—so! that is better. Now place the fingers of one hand upon my arm.”
The tips of her fingers touched the silk sleeve of my proffered arm with the lightness of a perching butterfly. I escorted her to the nearest chest, bowed, and turned back for a cushion. Placing it upon the chest, I took her hand and assisted her to seat herself, facing the garden. But when I drew the other chest nearer and was about to sit, she stopped me with a quick little cry, and fluttered back to fetch me my cushion from before the tokonoma. As she knelt to place it on my chest I looked down at her with well-feigned severity.
“The august lady forgets that she is receiving a lesson.”
“Pardon, my lord! But could I permit my august teacher to seat himself without his cushion?”
“The august lady will remember that she is receiving a lesson in tojin etiquette. Among my people the gentleman always attends upon the lady.”
So preposterous a reversal of all the rules of propriety compelled the bevy of ladies across the room from us to murmur in astonishment. But Azai meekly permitted me to assist her again to her seat. Before seating myself I assumed my austere manner and sought to forestall criticism by another explanation: “The august lady is now to converse freely, as to an equal, on music and art and flower arrangements and the amusements permitted young ladies.”
I glanced across at the ladies-in-waiting. Quickly as they lowered their eyes, I caught their stare of mingled curiosity, wonder, and merriment. Only Setsu was regarding me with a frown. She was not pleased with the game I was playing in the face of all present and perhaps of some not present. It is easy to make a peep-hole through a paper screen.
But I had gone too far to withdraw. I seated myself, and, with a wave of my hand towards the garden, murmured ardently: “Azai! we must make gestures and pretend to be talking of flowers and art, but you know what my heart burns to say to you!”
“My lord! Love is surely a gift of the gods! All these days I have been wrapped about as it were in a dream of wonder and delight! How is it possible that so low and mean a creature as I can be loved by my lord?”
“Is an angel a low or mean creature? Little Princess, because you are in the world, the sun is bright, the moon silvery. The stars twinkle with joy when you smile up into the gloomy sky. I have no need to see the cherry blossoms of Nippon—I have seen you! When you speak I fancy the nightingale is singing!”