'And what are these disorders?' you will say. 'Doors broken open, blows, tumults, scandals.' 'Are the authors of these misdeeds known?' 'The leader of the riot is the true criminal, and I know him well.' 'Who is he?' 'Who should it be but the man who takes a share in every adventure, every nocturnal brawl; who, but the Prince of Nagato, the terror of honest families, the dread of peaceful men?' And then you will pardon me, O too merciful man! Hieyas will reproach you with your weakness, dwelling upon it, that this weakness may redound to the injury of the Shogun and the profit of the Regent." "What if I lose patience at last, Nagato," said the Shogun; "what if I exile you to your own province for a year?" "I should go, master, without a murmur." "Yes; and who would be left to love me?" said Fide-Yori, sadly. "I am surrounded by devotion, not by affection like yours. But perhaps I am unjust," he added; "you are the only one I love, and doubtless that is why I think no one loves me but you." Nagato raised his eyes gratefully to the Prince. "You feel that you are forgiven, don't you?" said Fide-Yori, smiling. "But try to spare me the Regent's reproaches; you know how painful they are to me. Go and salute him; the hour of his levee is at hand; we will meet again in the council." "Must I smile upon that ugly creature?" grumbled Nagato. But he had his dismissal; he saluted the Shogun, and moved away with a sulky air. Fide-Yori continued his walk along the avenue, but soon returned to the lemon grove. He paused to admire it once more, and plucked a slender twig loaded with flowers. But just then the foliage rustled as if blown by a strong breeze; an abrupt movement stirred the branches, and a young girl appeared among the blossoms. The Shogun started violently, and almost uttered a cry; he fancied himself the prey to some hallucination. "Who are you?" he exclaimed; "perhaps the guardian spirit of this grove?" "Oh, no," said the girl in a trembling voice; "but I am a very bold woman." She issued from the grove amidst a shower of snowy petals, and knelt on the grass, stretching out her hands to the King. Fide-Yori bent his head toward her, and gazed curiously at her. She was of exquisite beauty,--small, graceful, apparently weighed down by the amplitude of her robes. It seemed as if their silken weight bore her to her knees. Her large innocent eyes, like the eyes of a child, were timid and full of entreaty; her cheeks, velvety as a butterfly's wings, were tinged with a slight blush, and her small mouth, half open in admiration, revealed teeth white as drops of milk. "Forgive me," she exclaimed, "forgive me for appearing before you without your express command." "I forgive you, poor trembling bird," said Fide-Yori, "for had I known you and known your desire, my wish would have been to see you. What can I do for you? Is it in my power to make you happy?"