In the chambers adjoining the one in which he slept servants came and went silently, preparing their master's toilette. They walked cautiously, that the floor might not creak, and talked together in low tones.
"Our poor master knows no moderation," said an old woman, scattering drops of perfume over a court cloak. "Continual feasting and nightly revels—never any rest; he will kill himself."
"Oh, no! pleasure does not kill," said an impudent-looking boy, dressed in gay colors.
"What do you know about it, imp?" replied the woman. "Wouldn't you think the brat spent his life in enjoyment like a lord? Don't talk so boldly about things you know nothing of!"
"Perhaps I know more about them than you do," said the child, making a wry face; "you haven't got married yet, for all your great age and your great beauty."
The woman threw the contents of her flask in the boy's face; but he hid behind the silver disk of a mirror which he was polishing, and the perfume fell to the ground. When the danger was over, out popped his head.
"Will you have me for a husband?" he cried; "you can spare me a few of your years, and between us we'll make but a young couple."
The woman, in her rage, gave a sharp scream.
"Will you be quiet?" said another servant, threatening her with his fist.
"But who could listen to that young scamp without blushing and losing her temper?"
"Blush as much as you like," said the child; "that won't make any noise."
"Come, Loo, be quiet!" said the servant.
Loo shrugged his shoulders and made a face, then went on listlessly rubbing his mirror.
At this instant a man entered the room.
"I must speak to Iwakura, Prince of Nagato," he cried aloud.
All the servants made violent signs to impose silence on the new-comer. Loo rushed towards him and stopped his mouth with the rag with which he was polishing the mirror; but the man pushed him roughly away.
"What does all this mean?" he said. "Are you crazy? I want to speak to the lord whom you serve, the very illustrious daimio who rules over the province of Nagato. Go and tell him, and stop your monkey tricks."
"He is asleep," whispered a servant.
"We cannot wake him," said another.
"He is frightfully tired," said Loo, with his finger on his lip.
"Tired or not, he will rejoice at my coming," said the stranger.
"We were ordered not to wake him until a few moments before the hour for the council," said the old woman.
"I sha'n't take the risk of rousing him," said Loo, drawing his mouth to one side.—
"Nor I," said the old woman.
"I will go myself, if you like," said the messenger; "moreover, the hour of the council is close at hand. I just saw the Prince of Arima on his way to the Hall of a Thousand Mats."
"The Prince of Arima!" cried Loo; "and he is always late!"
"Alas!" said the old woman; "shall we have time to dress our master?"
Loo pushed aside a sliding partition and opened a narrow passage; he then softly entered Nagato's bedroom. It was cool within, and a delicate odor of camphor filled the air.
"Master! master!" said Loo in a loud voice, "the hour has come; and besides there is a messenger here."
"A messenger!" cried Nagato, raising himself on one elbow; "what does he look like?"
"He is dressed like a samurai:[1] he has two-swords in his sash."
"Let him come in at once," said the Prince, in a tone of agitation.
Loo beckoned to the messenger, who prostrated himself on the threshold of the room.
"Approach!" said Nagato.
But the messenger being unable to see in the dark hall, Loo folded back one leaf of a screen which intercepted the light. A broad band of sunshine entered; it lighted up the delicate texture of the matting which covered the wall and glistened on a silver stork with sinuous neck and spread wings, hanging against it.
The messenger approached the Prince and offered him a slender roll of paper wrapped in silk; then he left the room backwards.
Nagato hastily unrolled the paper, and read as follows:
"You have been here, illustrious one, I know it! But why this madness, and why this mystery? I cannot understand your actions. I have received severe reprimands from my sovereign on your account. As you know, I was passing through the gardens, escorting her to her palace, when all at once I saw you leaning against a tree. I could not repress an exclamation, and at my cry she turned towards me and followed the direction of my eyes. 'Ah!' she said, 'it is the sight of Nagato that draws such cries from you. Could you not stifle them, and at least spare me the sight of your immodest conduct?' Then she turned and looked at you several times. The anger in her eyes alarmed me. I dare not appear before her to-morrow, and I send you this message to beg you not to repeat these strange visits, which have such fatal consequences to me. Alas! do you not know that I love you, and need I repeat it? I will be your wife whenever you wish. … But it pleases you to adore me as if I were an idol in the pagoda of the Thirty-three thousand three hundred and thirty-three.[2] If you had not risked your life repeatedly to see me, I should think you were mocking me. I entreat you, expose me to no more such reproofs, and do not forget that I am ready to recognize you as my lord and master, and that to live by your side is my dearest desire."
Nagato smiled and slowly closed the roll; he fixed his eyes upon the streak of light cast on the floor from the window, and seemed lost in deep revery.
Little Loo was greatly disappointed. He had tried to read over his master's shoulder; but the roll was written in Chinese characters, and his knowledge fell short of that. He was quite familiar with the Kata-Kana, and even knew something of Hira-Kana; but unfortunately was entirely ignorant of Chinese writing. To hide his vexation, he went to the window and lifting one corner of the blind, looked out.
"Ah!" he said, "the Prince of Satsuma and the Prince of Aki arrive together, and their followers look askance atone another. Ah! Satsuma takes precedence. Oh! oh! there goes the Regent down the avenue. He glances this way, and laughs when he sees the Prince of Nagato's suite still standing at the door. He would laugh far louder if he knew how little progress my master had made in his toilet."
"Let him laugh, Loo! and come here," said the Prince, who had taken a pencil and roll of paper from his girdle and hastily written a few words. "Run to the palace and give this to the King."
Loo set off as fast as his legs could carry him, pushing and jostling those who came in his way to his utmost.
"And now," said Iwakura, "dress me quickly."
His servants clustered about him, and the Prince was soon arrayed in the broad trailing trousers which make the wearer look as if he were walking on his knees, and the stiff ceremonial mantle, made still more heavy by the crest embroidered on its sleeves. The arms of Nagato consisted of a black bolt surmounting three balls in the form of a pyramid.
The young man, usually so careful of his dress, paid no attention to the work of his servants; he did not even glance at the mirror so well polished by Loo, when the high pointed cap, tied by golden ribbons, was placed on his head.
As soon as his toilette was complete he left the palace; but so great was his abstraction that, instead of getting into the norimono awaiting him in the midst of his escort, he set off on foot, dragging his huge pantaloons in the sand, and exposing himself to the rays of the sun. His suite, terrified at this breach of etiquette, followed