Читать книгу The Love of Azalea онлайн

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The choir boys had already shuffled a portion of the way down the hill slope, when she sprang to her feet and ran after them.

“Gonji!” she called one of them by name. “Wait just a moment.”

They stopped and she overtook them. She was breathless when she reached them.

“Is it because you are beggars,” she said, “that this priest favors you?”

Gonji nodded.

“I,” said Azalea, spreading out her little hands, “am also a beggar.”

They laughed at her. Only the homeless were beggars in their eyes. In addition, members of her sex were received among them only when they had reached the old witch age. The country knew many old women beggars, who drifted, whining, upon their staffs from town to town. Often they were blind and clung to the rope about the neck of a tailless cat, which led them. Who ever heard of a maiden beggar? So Azalea’s statement was received in laughter.

“How much did the minister give?” she demanded, ignoring their jeers.

“Five—ten—maybe one hundred sen,” glibly lied Gonji.

Her eyes widened and shone.