Early in the morning, as the sun had begun to rise over the mountain, the Princess rose from her futon. “I think we should have one last bath,” she suggested. “But I am afraid you must go out ahead of me. I have some matters to attend to first,” she said, averting her eyes as she had begun to do with me so often.


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    I had learned to watch for such subtle signs of duplicity. They were always significant. But by now we were both following a script in our life-sized theater.


    And yet, all the while I waited within the outer pool, the water lapping my navel where I sat next to the falling spring water, I still believed the Princess was coming to join me.