Peony would answer, “I’ll never dance for you or anyone else again.” Then she would throw the money in Minami’s face and walk right out the door.

She imagined buying a house and hiring a maid; riding through the merchant district in a palanquin, shopping.

“I’ll have this, and this, and this,” she would say to the clerks as she selected the finest hair ornaments, clothes and food, household furnishings. Spending money would give her the power she’d once derived from stealing. But Peony knew that wealth alone wasn’t enough. She also needed the kind of companionship she’d enjoyed with Spaen-san.

Her new bedchamber would be furnished with lacquer chests and tables, gilt murals, painted screens. Upon silk cushions she would recline, dressed in a lavish red satin kimono, watching a shy young man enter the room.

“Welcome,” she would murmur.

The youth, chosen not only for his handsomeness but for his poverty and compliant nature, would gaze in awe at the luxurious surroundings. “I’m honored, my lady,” he would say, kneeling and bowing as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

And she would bring out the ropes, the chains, the knives, the whip, the gun. “Don’t be afraid,” she would say as she initiated him into the way of love that she’d learned from her Dutch barbarian.

In the corridor outside Peony’s room, the floor creaked under the pressure of footsteps that came from the stairs leading up from the reception room. Peony’s fantasy evaporated; she dropped the comb and mirror, dismayed.

Minami!

Peony had to hide. She couldn’t let him drag her back to the party, not now, when her visitor might still come. She leapt to her feet. In her awkward haste, she bumped the box on the table. Its loose lid popped off. Caught in a flurry of panic, Peony moaned. She must put out the lamp and get out, now. But she couldn’t let Minami find the box and punish her for stealing it. She couldn’t leave the treasure lying in plain sight. She couldn’t think what to do first.

Her indecision doomed her. The door slid open. Helplessly Peony watched, wringing her hands. Then, when she saw him, a huge wave of relief broke over her.

“Oh, it’s you!” she cried.

Her eagerly awaited visitor carried a cloth bundle under his arm. He entered the room and closed the door. Involuntarily she glanced at the open box on the table. His gaze followed hers; he saw. Quickly Peony stepped between him and his property.

“Give me the money, and you can have it back,” she blurted, uneasy because things weren’t going the way she’d planned. She’d wanted to tease him by withholding the property at first. She wanted to enjoy her power over him, but had lost the advantage.