They drifted about the bay in this silent, thrilling fashion for some time; then she suddenly spoke. Koma dropped the oar and sat forward.
“Do you know what the days seem like to me now?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his eyes wandering inconstantly over her face.
“They are like a lotus bloom,” she said, “always pink and gold, and so beautiful that they are sure to fade.”
For a moment he did not reply, then, leaning on his oar, he said:
“And if the day must fade, will not the morrow be as beautiful?”
“Ah, no,” she said, sadly; “besides, we are not acquainted with the morrow. We only know the to-day, and so the heart breaks at the thought of parting from what is with us now.”
“You are sad to-day. Yesterday you were merry.”
“I was not merry at heart,” she said, plaintively. “You are very clever, Koma, but, ah, you do not know everything.”
“You think because I laugh and say gay things that my heart, too, is light.”
“No, I do not think that,” he said, earnestly; “but why should you not be happy and gay? You are only a maiden. You cannot know tears yet—little one.” He added the old, familiar term “little one” so softly that she strained her ears to hear it.
She held a lotos blossom close to her face, and looked down into its heart.
“See,” she said, holding it towards him, “there is one drop of dew in the heart of the lotos. It is like a tear. It, too, poor flower, must fade away with the summer.”
“Like me,” she said; “I will not be here when the summer has passed.” Her voice broke. “You said I should not go. Yet—yet the days pass so swiftly. Only one week more—and—after that—? Ah, I cannot bear to think of it.”
“Do you, then, love this Japan of ours so dearly?”
She looked about her, her eyes filled with tears. She clasped her little hands together.
“And you would not even be content to go to the home of your ancestors for—for a little while?”
“I am afraid,” she said, simply—“afraid to leave the land of gods and go out into the unknown. It is the unknown that has such horror for me. And the great seas are flat and bottomless. I could not have courage to cross them unless I were forced to do so.”
“But you would not be afraid to cross them with me, would you, little one?”
“No—not with you, Koma,” she said, looking into his eyes.