"You will see," said Satsuma, "you will see that this cook had a good deal of wit. In the first place, he is very skilful at his trade, which is not a thing to be despised; and moreover he pays extreme attention to the minutest details of his work. A few days ago, however, at a feast to which I went, the servants brought in a bowl full of rice and uncovered it before the Lord of Figo. What was the latter's surprise to see in the middle of the snowy rice a black insect, quite motionless, because it was cooked! The Prince turned white with rage. He summoned the cook; and seizing the ignoble insect with the tips of his ivory chopsticks, he presented it to the fellow with a terrible look. There was nothing left for the unfortunate servant but to rip himself up as speedily as possible. But it seemed that that operation was not at all to his liking; for, approaching his master with every sign of the most lively joy, he took the insect and ate it, pretending to think that the Prince did him the honor to offer him a taste of the repast. The guests began to laugh at this display of quick wits. The Prince of Figo himself could not help smiling, and the cook was rescued from death." "Good! good!" cried all the listeners; "there's a story which cannot offend any one." "It is Nagato's turn," said Tsusima, "he must know delightful stories." Nagato started as if aroused from a dream; he had heard nothing, noticed nothing, absorbed as he was in the ecstatic contemplation of the goddess whom he adored. "You want a story?" he asked, looking at the company as if he saw them for the first time. He reflected for a few seconds. "Very well; you shall have one," he said.