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Ah, if it were only true, thought Azalea. If this new God would only be kinder than those she had known, then she might even close the eyes of her heart to the words of the priests of Kwannon, and forget they had told her the God of the barbarians was an evil spirit. She would prove Him. If He proved unkind to her she would believe it, but if it were otherwise, why how could the evil one be kind? It was not possible.

“Answer when you are spoken to,” broke in her step-mother’s sharp voice.

Azalea started.

“I did not hear you speak, honorable step-mother.”

“Your ears are accommodatingly dull. You did not care to hear.”

Azalea sighed, then pressed her lips together, as if to prevent the retort that might have escaped them.

Madame Yamada bent toward her.

“Do you wish to marry?”

Azalea reflected.

“No-o,” she said softly, and then, “perhaps, yes. It would be a solution of my troubles, step-mother, would it not?”

“Would you marry any one who asked you, then? You appear to lack the common qualities of maiden modesty.”