Hagané had already fixed keen eyes upon the girl. His hands fell to his sides. A faint smile, merely a gleam on metal, hurried across his face. Pierre saw his lips move. Yuki went closer, hesitated, gained courage, and looked up into the broad face. Pierre saw Mrs. Todd and Gwendolen exchange smiling glances. Todd threw back his head to laugh. The smile returned to Hagané, unexpected, intensified, brilliant, as if a new day had broken. Pierre winced. He saw Yuki sway again,--put forth two white hands, falter, then sink suddenly prone, her palms outspread, her white forehead on the floor, her whole slim, crouching body topped by the great black burden of the sash, instinct with reverence not far from adoration. Hagané lifted her immediately, his smile deepening. Mrs. Todd turned away, embarrassed. The small ripple of excitement in the onlookers died; but Pierre, with angry eyes, sought Yuki, and drew her slightly to one side. "When you are my wife there will be no such ridiculous kow-towing," he said. "Who is your friend, Yuki?" asked the great man, stepping condescendingly near. She performed the introduction well, speaking in English without a tremor of the low voice. "Ah," said Hagané, speaking also in English, "I am recently from the country of Monsieur, which, I do not mistake in conjecturing, is France? Perhaps you are a visitor here, like myself." He put out the great hand, and after an imperceptible hesitation Pierre thrust his own within it. The grasp turned him pale. "Your Highness is correct in both surmises," he answered stiffly; "I am of France, and I am a visitor. At an early date I anticipate the pleasure of being in your Highness's country." "Indeed? Pray remind me of this meeting when you arrive, Monsieur. Shall you sail soon?" "Not for many months, I fear," said the Frenchman. "But I shall certainly avail myself of your kind suggestion." Yuki's eyes were urging him to go. The girl herself could not have told why she felt apprehension in the proximity of these two men. Hagané had never been antagonistic to foreigners, and she knew that, in Japan, she and Pierre could not have another friend so powerful. Yet she was uneasy. Pierre, with a last bow, went. The little episode stirred him. The thought rushed through him, too, that here was possibly an invincible friend. He would make the most of it. Even Yuki's abject obeisance, which before had stung him, shone now in the light of desirable dependence on the great man's word. Let him, Pierre, secure his appointment, and, with Hagané his friend, the old gods might shake their heads and growl in vain. He went into the street. The long rooms had suddenly grown too small for his aspirations. One friendly cigarette was smoked, and then another. Life seemed a jolly thing, that hour, to Pierre. CHAPTER TWO