"I'm sorry," said Todd, calmly. "But I promised to be present during just these first moments. Prince Haganè has my word."
"Prince Haganè!" echoed Pierre, with a hoarse laugh that was kin to the crow's. "Where is Prince Haganè? Backed out at the last, as I thought he would—like the coward and bully that he is! There has no Haganè come, don't you see? Only Yuki—my darling—my poor little love. I see her white dress yonder!"
The coolie straightened himself, flung the wide hat sideways with a single fierce sweep of arm, and turned to the wondering observers the set, livid face and burning eyes of Haganè.
"Prince Haganè is here," he said quietly, and tried to smile.
His peasant hat, skimming along the gravel, touched now and again with a hissing sound the surface of small stones. At length in a small patch of moonlight it came to rest, and lay rocking slightly, and gaping upward like a mendicant's bowl.
Pierre cowered. Ronsard nearly fell. "Prince Haganè in coolie's garb! What new horror is this?"
"Suppose we call it—delicacy," suggested Haganè. "Could any secrecy be too great for such a meeting?"
Todd narrowed his lids. Haganè kept a hand close upon one shaft of the little vehicle, conserving the upright posture. The black hood, bent far over to the front, completely concealed the occupant; but the dazzling white of a gown with pale embroideries, and the faint odor of flowers and of sandalwood now stealing upon the night air, should, in any case, have betrayed her sex.
"Yuki—Yuki, you have really come!" cried Pierre, and would have rushed to her but for the obstruction of Haganè's arm.
"First, the paper," said Haganè.