"Is it you, Pierre, or is it indeed your newly fled spirit come to reproach me?"
Pierre ran his hands through his short, dry hair, then dropped them, as if the effort had been too great. He took a step forward. "Why, yes, it is Pierre, after all. I thought I was dead, but I am not. Yes, sweetheart, you may come to me. It is your Pierre."
Yuki ran to him and caught one dangling hand. It burned her like hot metal. "You escaped, in spite of your two nurses?" she cried.
Pierre began to whimper. "Yes, yes, Yuki, I got away at last. I had things to do. Don't send me back there, Yuki! My room has bars, like a cage."
"How did you get away?"
"Little Jap nurse couldn't resist me. Told me of a back entry. Nice little nurse in white cap. Jap—cap; cap—Jap. Ha—ha!"
"Come, dear," said Yuki, pulling him gently. "I will not send you back. You shall go with me to the little Cha no yu rooms at the far end of this garden. There you can lie down until you feel better. Will you follow me quickly and in silence along this little path?" She pointed.
"Indeed I will—no need to ask twice," cried the sick man, and began to giggle like an excited child. "I'd follow you anywhere, Yuki. Are we running away to be married?"
"Hush, Pierre; if you laugh and speak so loud others will hear you and send you back to prison. We must be very, very quiet."
"Very quiet," echoed Pierre, solemnly. "Never do for old prince to hear us, oh, no!" He began to mince along on the tips of his toes, giggling every now and then at the thought of the trick they were playing.