"Draw nearer," he said with a smile. "It is a day for a chat between old friends. No, be not so humble--nearer yet--I insist. Now--that is better and more companionable. Pour yourself some tea."
"Honors are heaped upon your unworthy servant," rejoined Onda, pouring tea, first for the prince, then for himself. "I have just come from the official residence of your Highness. How cold and un-homelike appear all foreign houses; while this--" he paused to look slowly around--"this warms a man's heart to see."
"Though insignificant, it has a certain restfulness," admitted the host. "Lacking a mistress, it cannot seem in reality a home."
Tetsujo's face clouded. "Speak not to me of mistresses, Lord," he mumbled sourly.
Hagané gave him a queer glance, but said nothing. He understood well the nature of his own kerai. So angular a thought as now distressed him must soon work its way to the surface of speech. "To-day I am in mind of the Chinese sage who taught us that all women are mere manifestations of demoniac force. They are sent here to tempt us--to test--to torment. Would that I could reach a heaven of warriors, untainted by their sex--!"
"Surely, my Tetsujo," interrupted Hagané, gravely, "those of your household bring no torment. I have never known a better wife than Iriya."
"I complain not of Iriya," said the other, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice; "but, Lord, had you seen that ingrate that I must call my daughter! Had you seen Yuki an hour since, you would have perceived what the Chinese mean by she-demons."
"Yuki!" echoed Hagané, this time in genuine surprise. "Is there not some mistake? Yuki is spirited; but I cannot picture her as a--demon!"
"I will honorably relate the event. My heart, with the memory, seethes and bubbles as a small cauldron." In a voice often shaken from control by passion, with a dark countenance slowly deepening into a bronze red of agitation, Tetsujo imparted the story of his child's defiance. Not once did Prince Hagané lift his head, not even when Tetsujo, beating the matted floor in his rage, roared out, "Her eyes flashed, my Lord, like those of a dragon-maid in battle! They scorched me like sparks! They would not fall though I sent out the whole volume of my will to quench them. It was defiance--defiance--naked and unashamed! The very air around me turned to flame. Murder dried my tongue. Had I worn my short swords as of old,--"