30

The end of the month approached. The house to which Niou proposed moving her was to be vacated on the twenty-eighth.

“I will send for you that night, I promise you,” wrote Niou. “Do not let your women know what is happening. I will not breathe a word of it myself.”

If he were to come in the usual incognito, she would have to turn him away, and be resigned to not seeing him again. She could not invite him into the house, even to rest a moment for the return journey. His image (so tenacious, that image), defeated and going off angry, came before her again and would not leave. She pressed his letter to her forehead, trying to control herself; but soon she was weeping bitterly.

“Please, my lady, please,” said Ukon. “These people will guess what has happened. I'm afraid that some of them are suspicious already. You must make up your mind. Tell him you will go to him, if that is what you want. I will not leave you. I am ready for anything, even if he carries you off through the skies, tiny little thing that you are.”

The girl managed to control her sobs for a time. “I'm sure you want to help, but you don't understand. It would be so easy if that seemed the right thing to do. He makes it seem that I am begging him to come for me. What will he do next? It is all too awful.”

She did not answer the letter.