"You say that as though there were something in the manner
of his life of which you disapproved."
"We are sons of different countries, Miss Penelope," the Prince
said. "We look out upon life differently, and the things which
seem good to him may well seem idle to me. Before I go," he added
a little hesitatingly, "we may speak of this again. But not now."
"I shall remind you of that promise, Prince," she declared.
"I will not fail to keep it," he replied. "You have, at least,"
he added after a moment's pause, "one great claim upon happiness.
You are the son and the daughter of kindred races."
She looked at him as though not quite understanding.
"I was thinking," he continued simply, "of my own father and
mother. My father was a Japanese nobleman, with the home call of
all the centuries strong in his blood. He was an enlightened man,
but he saw nothing in the manner of living or the ideals of other
countries to compare with those of the country of his own birth.
I sometimes think that my mother and father might have been
happier had one of them been a little more disposed to yield to
the other I think, perhaps, that their union would have been a
more successful one. They were married, and they lived together,
but they lived apart."
"It was not well for you, this," she remarked.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Do not mistake me," he begged. "So far as I am concerned, I am
content. I am Japanese. The English blood that is in my veins is
but as a drop of water compared to the call of my own country.
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