Makibashira

‘I AM very much perturbed by what you have just told I me,’ said Genji to Prince Higekuro some months later. ‘It will very likely upset all my plans. I hope you are not telling every one about it....’ That is precisely what Higekuro was doing; the temptation to brag of such a success was one indeed which he could hardly be expected to resist. Some time had now elapsed since the episode to which Genji referred. Tamakatsura had then yielded less to his importunity than to a feeling that this man, from whose touch she still shrank with horror, was not so much a lover as an instrument of Fate, no more to be avoided than were those other strokes of destiny that had pursued her so relentlessly since her earliest years. He hoped at first that she would grow used to him, and pretended not to notice her depression. But as time went on matters only became worse, and Higekuro was already beginning to regard the situation as hopeless, when it became clear that she was with child. This gave him fresh courage; he felt that Heaven had set its seal upon their union, and determined to bear with patience her present wayward humour. For the mere sight of her beauty gave him an increasing pleasure, and the thought that he had still no hold upon her and might any day wake to find that she had fled from him to the Emperor’s Palace, perhaps even into his Majesty’s arms, was more than he could bear. He attributed his momentary success quite as much to the astuteness of Ben no Omoto⁵⁴⁹ as to the compassion of the Ishiyama Buddha, to whom his prayers had for long been addressed. But his human ally was now in deep disgrace for the part she had played in the affair and was at present a prisoner in the servants’ rooms. ‘Though all the blame falls upon me,’ thought this unfortunate creature, ‘it is clear that the Blessed Buddha is really responsible. For I have played the go-between without a grain of success for a score or so of my mistress’s lovers; and if I did better this time it was only because the Buddha of Ishiyama knows an honest gentleman when he sees one....’

‘I am very troubled by what you have just told me,’ Genji said to Prince Higekuro some months later. ‘It will very likely upset all my plans. I hope you are not telling everyone about it....’ That was exactly what Higekuro was doing. He could hardly be expected to resist the temptation to brag about such a success. Some time had passed since the episode Genji referred to. Tamakatsura had yielded then, less because of Higekuro’s persistence than because she felt he was an instrument of Fate, not a lover. She still shrank from his touch in horror. But she felt he was no more avoidable than the other blows of fate that had pursued her relentlessly since childhood. At first Higekuro hoped she would grow used to him, and he pretended not to notice her unhappiness. But as time passed, things only got worse. Higekuro was already beginning to see the situation as hopeless when it became clear that she was pregnant. This gave him fresh courage. He felt that Heaven had blessed their union, and he resolved to bear her present fickle mood patiently. The mere sight of her beauty gave him increasing pleasure. But he still had no hold on her. He could not bear the thought that she might flee to the Emperor’s Palace at any moment, perhaps even into his Majesty’s arms. He credited his momentary success as much to the cleverness of Ben no Omoto⁵⁴⁹ as to the compassion of the Ishiyama Buddha, to whom he had long prayed. But his human ally was now in deep disgrace for her part in the affair. She was being held prisoner in the servants’ rooms. ‘Though I get all the blame,’ the unfortunate woman thought, ‘it is clear that the Blessed Buddha is really responsible. I have acted as a go-between for twenty or so of my mistress’s lovers, without the slightest success. If I did better this time, it was only because the Buddha of Ishiyama knows an honest gentleman when he sees one....’

Genji would have given worlds that this thing should not have happened; but both he and Tō no Chūjō had encouraged Higekuro’s suit, and though they had every right to complain of the unfortunate manner in which he had urged it, it was now too late to scold him or send him about his business. Indeed, if the girl’s reputation were to be saved, the only possible course was to treat Higekuro as an approved and accepted lover; and henceforward on his visits to the New Palace he was openly received with every mark of consideration and respect. Higekuro for his part was anxious to go through the necessary formalities and establish the young bride in his own palace at the earliest possible moment. But Genji was determined that this should not take place if there was any chance that the girl’s reception there would in any quarter be an unfavourable one. Such at least was the pretext which he used for delaying Tamakatsura’s departure. ‘Do, I beg of you, make sure,’ he said to her father, ‘that she is not suddenly plunged into scenes of jealousy and intrigue. Anything in the shape of scandal or bickering would be extremely painful to her.’ ‘On the contrary,’ said Tō no Chūjō, ‘I should be much more uneasy if she were going to the Palace, which I imagine to be now out of the question. His Majesty has an undoubted partiality for her; and any one in that position, unless backed up by the most powerful family connections, is apt to have a very disagreeable time. I should certainly do all I could for her. But you see for yourself what difficulties I am having over Lady Chūjō’s Palace career....’ There was much truth in this. The Emperor had himself suggested her application for the vacant post. But his interest in her, if it existed at all, was based only on one brief glimpse, and so casual an approbation by no means implied that he would protect her with the full weight of Imperial authority against the contemptuous hostility of her rivals.

Genji would have given anything to prevent this from happening. But both he and Tō no Chūjō had encouraged Higekuro to pursue Tamakatsura. They had every right to complain about the unfortunate way he had pursued her. Even so, it was too late to scold him or send him away. If the girl’s reputation was to be saved, they had no choice but to accept Higekuro as her lover. From then on, he was openly received with every sign of respect and consideration when he visited the New Palace. Higekuro, for his part, was eager to complete the necessary formalities and bring his young bride to his own palace as soon as possible. But Genji was determined not to let her go if there was any chance she would be unwelcome there. At least, that was the reason he gave for delaying Tamakatsura’s departure. ‘Please make sure,’ he said to her father, ‘that she is not suddenly thrown into scenes of jealousy and intrigue. Any kind of scandal or bickering would be extremely painful to her.’ ‘On the contrary,’ said Tō no Chūjō, ‘I would be much more worried if she were going to the Palace. I imagine that is now out of the question. His Majesty is undoubtedly fond of her. But anyone in her position, without the support of the most powerful family connections, is likely to have a very unpleasant time. I would certainly do all I could for her. But you can see the difficulties I am having with Lady Chūjō’s career at the Palace....’ There was much truth in this. The Emperor himself had suggested that Lady Chūjō apply for the vacant post. But if he was interested in her at all, his interest was based on only one brief glimpse. Such casual approval did not mean he would use the full weight of Imperial authority to protect her from her rivals’ contempt and hostility.

In the formal letter of committal sent by Tō no Chūjō to the husband on the third day after the wedding, he purposely laid great stress on the part played by Genji in her upbringing, expressing in the warmest terms his gratitude for her foster-father’s unceasing care and kindness; for he was certain that the content of the letter would end by reaching Genji’s ears. The marriage was of course concluded with the utmost secrecy; but the news of it was too interesting a piece of gossip to remain long concealed. It was whispered, in strictest confidence, from ear to ear; before long it had reached the Palace, and was finally recounted to the Emperor himself.

On the third day after the wedding, Tō no Chūjō sent the husband a formal letter entrusting her to him. He made a point of emphasizing Genji’s role in her upbringing. He expressed his warmest gratitude for her foster-father’s constant care and kindness. He did this because he was sure the letter’s contents would eventually reach Genji. The marriage was, of course, kept as secret as possible. But the news was too interesting a piece of gossip to stay hidden for long. It was whispered from person to person in the strictest confidence. Before long, it reached the Palace and was finally told to the Emperor himself.

He was very nice about it. ‘I am extremely sorry that we are to lose her,’ he said. ‘But of course, if her thoughts have been occupied elsewhere, that quite explains her long hesitation.... I can easily understand that at such a moment as this she would not be willing to take up permanent duties at Court. But if she cares to assist us occasionally....’

He was very kind about it. ‘I’m very sorry we’re losing her,’ he said. ‘But of course, if she has had other things on her mind, that explains why she hesitated so long.... I can easily understand why she wouldn’t want to take on permanent duties at Court at a time like this. But if she would like to help us occasionally....’

It was now the eleventh month. Tamakatsura had agreed to discharge the functions of Lady-of-the-Bedchamber from her apartments in Genji’s palace. It was a time of year when a great many religious ceremonies take place at Court, and the new Lady-of-the-Bedchamber had not a moment’s leisure. Her subordinates were continually coming over from the Palace to ask her advice, and her rooms were full of bustle and youthful chatter. Much to her annoyance, Prince Higekuro was no longer content to pay long evening visits, but had now installed himself permanently in her quarters. Prince Sochi and the other suitors, who were still unaware that a secret wedding had taken place, were naturally indignant at the liberties which they saw accorded to their rival. One of them, indeed, had a double reason for annoyance. This was Sahyōye, the brother of Lady Makibashira. Not only was his own suit ignominiously unsuccessful, but his sister was being made publicly ridiculous by the continued presence of her husband in another woman’s house. The young man was furious, but at present saw no means of bringing his brother-in-law⁵⁵⁰ to book.

It was now the eleventh month. Tamakatsura had agreed to serve as Lady-of-the-Bedchamber from her rooms in Genji’s palace. Many religious ceremonies took place at Court at this time of year, and she had no free time. Her attendants kept coming from the Palace to ask her advice. Her rooms were full of activity and youthful chatter. Much to her annoyance, Prince Higekuro was no longer content with long evening visits. He had now moved into her rooms permanently. Prince Sochi and the other suitors still did not know that a secret wedding had taken place. They were naturally indignant at the liberties their rival was allowed. One of them had two reasons to be annoyed. This was Sahyōye, Lady Makibashira’s brother. Not only had his own pursuit of Tamakatsura ended in humiliating failure, but his sister was also being made a public laughingstock. Her husband was still living in another woman’s house. Sahyōye was furious, but for now he saw no way to hold his brother-in-law⁵⁵⁰ accountable.

The situation was really rather comic. Higekuro had for years past been held up as a model of regularity, industry, sobriety; and now his hectic courtship, with its secret journeyings at dead of night and break of dawn, was the talk of half the Court. Romantic touches were added to the story, and in the end it really seemed to Higekuro’s astonished friends that he must have undergone some mysterious transformation. Tamakatsura, too, was by nature sociable, good-humoured and full of high spirits; but in Higekuro’s presence her whole being underwent a profound change: she became gloomy, irritable, sharp-tempered, to a degree that must have made it sufficiently apparent to every one that she did not care in the least for him. But she constantly wondered whether Genji thought that she was really enjoying herself with this repulsive man, and blushed at the low opinion he must now have formed of her taste. She remembered too Prince Sochi’s attractive warmth and liveliness of disposition. What could have possessed her?... And she became more disagreeable to Higekuro than ever.

The situation was really rather funny. For years, Higekuro had been held up as a model of order, hard work, and sobriety. Now his hectic courtship was the talk of half the Court. He made secret journeys in the dead of night and at dawn. People added romantic details to the story. In the end, his astonished friends really thought he must have somehow been transformed. Tamakatsura, too, was naturally sociable, good-humored, and full of high spirits. But in Higekuro’s presence, she changed completely. She became gloomy, irritable, and sharp-tempered. It must have been clear enough to everyone that she did not care for him at all. But she kept wondering whether Genji thought she was enjoying herself with this repulsive man. She blushed at the poor opinion he must now have of her taste. She also remembered Prince Sochi’s appealing warmth and liveliness. What could have possessed her?... And she became more unpleasant to Higekuro than ever.

Genji was much relieved at having put an end once and for all to a situation which had involved him in much unpleasant suspicion. Feelings beyond his control might sometimes lead him into odd and equivocal positions, but (Genji assured himself) his natural tendency was to shrink from such entanglements. He was with Murasaki when these reflections passed through his mind, and said to her suddenly: ‘Do you remember how suspicious you were when Tamakatsura first came to us? You see now that there was no reason for your alarm....’ Yes, he could at last be certain that he was quite safe. Even if circumstances should bring them together again and some part of their former intimacy revive, there would never be the same danger as before.... And he began to recall the time when he was most in love with her, when he had even persuaded himself that he could find a way of keeping her for his own. But stay! Had things changed so much after all? Could the thought of parting with her ever have been more painful to him than at this very minute it was? Henceforward the image of Tamakatsura haunted his mind more constantly than ever.

Genji was greatly relieved to have put an end, once and for all, to a situation that had exposed him to much unpleasant suspicion. Feelings beyond his control might sometimes lead him into strange and ambiguous situations. But he assured himself that he was naturally inclined to avoid such entanglements. He was with Murasaki when these thoughts came to him, and he suddenly said to her: ‘Do you remember how suspicious you were when Tamakatsura first came to us? You can see now that you had no reason to be alarmed....’ Yes, he could at last be certain that he was quite safe. Even if circumstances brought him and Tamakatsura together again, some of their former intimacy might return. But there would never be the same danger as before.... He began to remember when he had been most in love with her. He had even persuaded himself then that he could find a way to keep her for himself. But wait! Had things changed so much after all? Could the thought of parting with her ever have been more painful than it was at this very moment? From then on, the image of Tamakatsura haunted his mind more constantly than ever.

One morning, hearing that Prince Higekuro had for a short while quitted her apartments, Genji once more paid her a visit. He found her looking extremely depressed and unwell. He was told that for some time past she had seemed incapable of making the slightest exertion. But his arrival seemed to give her a little strength, for she raised herself on her couch and had her screens drawn partly back. Genji was careful to behave with the utmost restraint, and for some while they conversed rather stiffly about the general news of the day. What a relief it was to be in the company of some one really good-looking, after such a long spell of Higekuro’s society! Her husband, it was true, had a straightforward, well-meaning sort of face, but how commonplace, how ordinary! She felt bitterly ashamed at the choice that Genji and the world at large must be thinking her to have made, and the tears welled into her eyes. Gradually their conversation became less strained, he moved to a low stool which he drew up quite close to her couch. She was much thinner in the face than when he last saw her, but this showed her features to even better advantage, and the prospect of losing her entirely was unendurably painful to him.

One morning, Genji heard that Prince Higekuro had left her rooms for a short while. He went to visit her again. He found her looking very depressed and unwell. He was told that for some time she had seemed unable to make even the slightest effort. But his arrival seemed to give her a little strength. She sat up on her couch and had her screens partly drawn back. Genji took care to behave with the utmost restraint. For a while, they talked rather stiffly about the news of the day. What a relief it was to be with someone truly handsome, after spending so long in Higekuro’s company! Her husband did have a straightforward, well-meaning face, but how plain, how ordinary it was! She felt bitterly ashamed of the choice Genji and everyone else must think she had made. Tears welled up in her eyes. Gradually, their conversation became less strained. Genji moved to a low stool and drew it close to her couch. Her face was much thinner than when he had last seen her. But this only made her features look more beautiful. The thought of losing her entirely was unbearably painful to him.

‘Though when I stooped I drew no draught, yet never thought I that at the Shallows of the Stream of Death another would stretch out his hand to claim what I had lost.’⁵⁵¹ He looked at her more tenderly than she could bear. She hid her face, murmuring as she did so the lines: ‘Long ere he guide me across the Shallows of Death’s Stream, may my life, a foam-fleck on the Waters of Trouble, have vanished quite away.’ ‘Come,’ he said smiling, ‘the River has got to be crossed; we cannot escape it by “vanishing.” However, I promise you I will be there too to hold your other hand. But let us be serious. You know, I am sure, how wretched I am at what has happened. Clearly, when I struggled as I did to overcome my feelings for you, it was not that you might be free to yield yourself in this rash way to one who, after all, cares far less for you than I did. It seems to me now incredible that I should ever have placed such confidence in his discretion; but who could foresee...?’

‘Though I bent down, I drew no water. Yet I never thought that at the Shallows of the Stream of Death, another would reach out to claim what I had lost.’⁵⁵¹ He looked at her more tenderly than she could bear. She hid her face and murmured the lines: ‘Long before he guides me across the Shallows of Death’s Stream, may my life vanish. May it disappear like a fleck of foam on the Waters of Trouble.’ ‘Come,’ he said, smiling, ‘we must cross the River. We cannot escape it by “vanishing.” But I promise I will be there too, to hold your other hand. Let us be serious. I am sure you know how miserable I am about what has happened. I struggled to overcome my feelings for you. I certainly did not do so to leave you free to give yourself so rashly to someone who cares far less for you than I did. Now I can hardly believe I ever placed such trust in his discretion. But who could have foreseen...?’

He saw that the whole matter was too painful for her to discuss; and to change the subject he continued hastily: ‘The Emperor is very much disappointed that you have not once been seen at Court. How would it be if you were to stay at the Palace for a little while after you leave us? It will not be so easy for you to get away, once you have settled in your new home. The Emperor will in any case think that I have behaved in a very inconsistent way. But I am glad to say your father is quite satisfied at what has happened....’ So he spoke, trying to distract her by such comfortable considerations as occurred to him. But it was all of no avail, and she was soon hopelessly involved in tears. He was aghast to discover into what depths of misery her own inexplicable act had plunged her; but it was clear that sympathy could not help her, and in as sensible and dispassionate a tone as he could muster he began to give her advice concerning her immediate future, insisting above all that, as things were,⁵⁵² there could be no question of her living at Higekuro’s house.

He saw that the whole matter was too painful for her to discuss, so he hurried to change the subject. ‘The Emperor is very disappointed that you have not appeared at Court even once. What if you stayed at the Palace for a little while after you leave us? Once you have settled in your new home, it will not be so easy to leave. In any case, the Emperor will think I have behaved very inconsistently. But I am glad to say your father is quite satisfied with what has happened....’ He tried to distract her with these and other comforting thoughts that came to him. But nothing helped, and she was soon overcome with tears. He was horrified to see how deeply her own inexplicable act had plunged her into misery. But it was clear that sympathy could not help her. So, as calmly and sensibly as he could, he began to advise her about her immediate future. Above all, he insisted that, as things stood,⁵⁵² she could not possibly live at Higekuro’s house.

Prince Higekuro himself was at first very adverse to the idea of her going to the Palace at all. But in the end he saw that it would be easier to move her thence to his own palace than to snatch her straight from Genji’s hands, and he at last consented to her spending a few weeks at Court.

At first, Prince Higekuro strongly opposed her going to the Palace at all. But he eventually saw that it would be easier to move her from there to his own palace than to snatch her straight from Genji’s hands. So he finally agreed to let her spend a few weeks at Court.

His present mode of existence, stowed away in a corner of Tamakatsura’s apartments, was very cramped and inconvenient; but even should he persuade her to return with him to his own palace, much required to be done before he could house her with even tolerable comfort. In the last year he had allowed everything to go to ruin, and there was hardly a corner in the whole building that did not urgently need repairs. For many months he had ceased to make any enquiry concerning his wife’s present condition of mind, and even his children, of whom he had always been particularly fond, seemed no longer to interest him. But he was at bottom a kind-hearted and even rather sentimental man; he realized in a vague and general way that this refurnishing of the house in honour of another woman’s arrival was probably rather painful to her, and he did his best to spare her any unnecessary inconvenience or humiliation. But his thoughts were all the time so entirely occupied with other things that his precautions were not in the least successful; indeed, everything seemed to happen in the way most calculated to wound her susceptibilities.

His life at present, tucked away in a corner of Tamakatsura’s apartments, was cramped and inconvenient. But even if he persuaded her to return with him to his palace, much work was needed before he could house her there with even reasonable comfort. Over the past year, he had let everything fall into ruin. There was hardly a corner of the building that did not urgently need repairs. For many months, he had stopped asking about his wife’s state of mind. Even his children, whom he had always been especially fond of, no longer seemed to interest him. But he was kind-hearted at bottom, and even rather sentimental. He vaguely understood that refurnishing the house for another woman’s arrival was probably painful for his wife. He did his best to spare her any unnecessary inconvenience or humiliation. But his thoughts were so completely occupied with other things that his efforts failed entirely. Indeed, everything seemed to happen in the way most likely to hurt her feelings.

Lady Makibashira had not been brought up in a way to prepare her for servility or self-effacement. The daughter of a Royal Prince, and herself not lacking (at least in girlhood) either charm or good looks, she had been universally flattered and applauded. But in recent years a change had come over her; she had been subject to some strange possession or spiritual disorder. Her behaviour became more and more peculiar, and at times she seemed barely conscious of what was going on around her. For these and other reasons there had for a long time past been no question of Higekuro living with her as a wife in the ordinary sense of the word. But he continued to treat her in the way that her rank demanded, and nothing had occurred till now which could suggest to the world at large that she did not occupy the foremost place in his affections.

Lady Makibashira had not been raised to be submissive or self-effacing. She was the daughter of a Royal Prince and, at least as a girl, had charm and good looks. Everyone had flattered and praised her. But in recent years she had changed. She had suffered from some strange possession or spiritual disorder. Her behavior grew more and more peculiar. At times she seemed barely aware of what was happening around her. For these and other reasons, Higekuro had long since stopped living with her as a wife in the usual sense. But he continued to treat her as her rank required. Until now, nothing had happened to suggest to the wider world that she did not hold first place in his affections.

News of these preparations for Tamakatsura’s arrival reached Prince Hyōbukyō’s ears: ‘So it has come to this!’ he said with a sigh. ‘I hear she is extremely handsome and intelligent. No doubt he will make arrangements to keep her out of sight; but once this girl gets a foothold in the house, my daughter’s position will become such as no woman of her quality should be called upon to endure. I shall at once take steps to protect her from this humiliation; if Higekuro cannot be brought to reason, she must leave his house immediately. After all, so long as I am alive, she will not lack a home ...’; and he began setting to rights an unoccupied wing in his own palace.

News of the preparations for Tamakatsura’s arrival reached Prince Hyōbukyō. ‘So it has come to this!’ he said with a sigh. ‘I hear she is extremely beautiful and intelligent. No doubt Higekuro will arrange to keep her out of sight. But once this girl gains a place in his house, my daughter’s position will be unbearable for a woman of her standing. I will act at once to protect her from this humiliation. If Higekuro cannot be brought to reason, she must leave his house immediately. After all, as long as I am alive, she will have a home ...’ He began putting an empty wing of his own palace in order.

But Lady Makibashira had been a married woman for many years. Though Prince Hyōbukyō was her father, she had long since ceased to think of his palace as her ‘home,’ and so far from reassuring her, the news that he intended her to come back to him completely overwhelmed her already distracted brain. She became first desperately violent and irrational, and then for days on end lay stretched out motionless upon her bed in a state of complete exhaustion.

But Lady Makibashira had been married for many years. Though Prince Hyōbukyō was her father, she had long since stopped thinking of his palace as her ‘home.’ The news that he wanted her to return to him did not reassure her. Instead, it completely overwhelmed her already troubled mind. At first, she became desperately violent and irrational. Then, for days on end, she lay motionless on her bed, completely exhausted.

She was by nature very quiet and even-tempered, seeming at times more like a child on its best behaviour than a full-grown woman. But for some while past she had suffered from sudden attacks, during which she played upon those about her the most unaccountable and repulsive tricks. Lately she had allowed no one to come near her, and her room had fallen into an indescribable state of filth and disorder. Such a scene would have at any time disgusted Prince Higekuro, to whom the least sign of slovenliness was an unforgivable offence. But coming as he now did straight from Tamakatsura’s scrupulously clean and well-ordered apartments, he was appalled at the slatternly scene that lay before him.

She was naturally quiet and even-tempered. At times she seemed more like a child on its best behavior than a grown woman. But for some time she had suffered sudden attacks, during which she played strange and repulsive tricks on those around her. Lately she had let no one come near her, and her room had fallen into a state of indescribable filth and disorder. Such a scene would have disgusted Prince Higekuro at any time. To him, the slightest sign of untidiness was unforgivable. But he had come straight from Tamakatsura’s spotless, well-ordered rooms, and he was appalled by the mess before him.

But he had shared his life with her for year upon year, and even now pity soon prevailed over disgust. She seemed to know him and be quite capable of carrying on a conversation. After a while he said: ‘It is obvious, is it not, that the relation between two people cannot go on being always exactly the same. But it is only among savages or quite uneducated persons that this leads to wranglings and altercations. People of our sort know how to control themselves, show a reasonable amount of forbearance so long as they choose to put up with the situation; and when there is obviously nothing to be gained by holding out any longer, they part good-humouredly. You, on the contrary, have worked yourself up into such a state over this business that you are quite ill, and though I have wanted to talk things over with you, I did not know whether you were in a fit state to take part in such a conversation. Not that there is anything new to say. We agreed about all this some time ago. For a long while after you first began to suffer from these attacks I waited patiently and was careful to do nothing that might distress you. But you always admitted that I could not be expected to wait for ever; sooner or later some one fresh would have to be called in to manage the household. Well, that’s what is now going to happen; you must try not to be cross with me about it. Quite apart from my affection for you, if it were only for our little people’s sake, you may be quite sure I should never ill-treat or neglect you. This continual state of grievance and jealousy in which you now live is simply due to your abandoning yourself unresistingly, morbidly to wild dreams and imaginings. I can quite understand that while all this was still undecided you passed through a very anxious and agitated time. But now everything is settled, and you must make up your mind to give the new arrangements a trial before you decide that you are being treated unkindly. I hear that your father is full of indignation at my alleged barbarity, and intends to remove you to his own house. Do you think he really means anything by it, or is it only a threat by which he hopes to bring me to my senses?’ He laughed as he said this, but in reply she only stared at him with an expression of reproach and anguish. Even Higekuro’s personal servants, the maids Moku no Kimi and Chūjō no Omoto, were against him in this matter, and expressed loud indignation at the prospect of Tamakatsura’s arrival.

But he had shared his life with her for years, and even now pity soon overcame his disgust. She seemed to recognize him and was quite capable of holding a conversation. After a while he said: ‘Surely it is obvious that a relationship between two people cannot always stay exactly the same. But only savages or completely uneducated people let this lead to quarrels and arguments. People like us know how to control themselves. We show reasonable patience for as long as we choose to put up with the situation. And when there is clearly nothing to gain by holding on any longer, we part on good terms. ‘You, on the other hand, have become so upset about this that you are quite ill. I wanted to talk things over with you, but I did not know whether you were well enough to do so. Not that there is anything new to say. We agreed about all this some time ago. For a long time after your attacks began, I waited patiently. I was careful not to do anything that might upset you. But you always admitted that I could not be expected to wait forever. Sooner or later, someone new would have to be brought in to manage the household. Well, that is what is going to happen now. You must try not to be angry with me about it. ‘Even apart from my affection for you, you can be sure I would never mistreat or neglect you. I would not do so, if only for our children's sake. You now live in a constant state of resentment and jealousy. That is simply because you give in without resistance to unhealthy, wild dreams and imaginings. I can understand that you were very anxious and upset while all this was still undecided. But now everything is settled. You must resolve to try the new arrangements before deciding that you are being treated unkindly. ‘I hear that your father is furious at my supposed cruelty and intends to take you to his own house. Do you think he really means it? Or is he only threatening it in the hope of bringing me to my senses?’ He laughed as he said this, but she only stared at him with reproach and anguish. Even Higekuro’s personal servants, the maids Moku no Kimi and Chūjō no Omoto, were against him in this matter. They loudly expressed their outrage at the prospect of Tamakatsura’s arrival.

One day when Makibashira, apparently better than she had been for some time, lay quietly weeping, she suddenly said to Chūjō no Omoto: ‘If he told me straight out that he is ashamed of me because I look so old and do odd things, I should not mind. But I cannot bear his dragging in my father’s name. He would not dare say such things to my father’s face, and if they were to get round.... What he says to me does not much matter. I have heard it all before, and it does me no harm to hear it again. But my father....’ At this moment Prince Higekuro entered. She quickly turned on the couch so that her face was hidden from him. She was very lightly built, and emaciated as she now was by months of constant illness, she presented as she lay there a spectacle of almost unconceivable fragility. Her hair was long and fine; but it had lately been falling out rapidly, and had in places become very thin. It was now in a hopeless tangle and pitiably dedraggled with tears. She could never have been very strikingly handsome, but there was enough of her father in her to give her face great distinction and charm, which, however, in her present uncared-for and haggard condition, had not much chance to take effect.

One day, Makibashira seemed better than she had been for some time. As she lay quietly weeping, she suddenly said to Chūjō no Omoto: ‘I would not mind if he told me plainly that he is ashamed of me. I know I look old and do odd things. But I cannot bear his bringing my father into it. He would not dare say such things to my father’s face, and if they were to get around.... What he says to me does not matter much. I have heard it all before, and it does me no harm to hear it again. But my father....’ At that moment Prince Higekuro entered. She quickly turned on the couch to hide her face from him. She was very slight, and months of constant illness had left her painfully thin. As she lay there, she looked almost unimaginably fragile. Her hair was long and fine, but lately it had been falling out rapidly. It had become very thin in places. Now it was hopelessly tangled and pitifully matted with tears. She could never have been strikingly beautiful, but she resembled her father enough to give her face great distinction and charm. In her present neglected and haggard state, however, there was little chance for those qualities to show.

‘What is this you are saying about your father?’ asked Higekuro as he entered. ‘You will make terrible mischief between us, if you put it about that I speak slightingly of him. Besides, it is quite untrue....’ Then more kindly: ‘I have never felt at my ease in that magnificent palace of Prince Genji’s, and should not care to stay there for long at a time. But I am determined to go on seeing the lady whom I have just been visiting, and as I am not suited either by age or temperament to these perpetual runnings to and fro, I have arranged for her to come and live with us here. This will certainly be much pleasanter for her and me; and, I think, for you too. The fact that she is at such a distance and in so closely scrutinized a place makes the whole affair far more conspicuous than it need be. Prince Genji, as you know well enough, is a very important person; he has made himself responsible for this lady’s happiness, and if he hears that you are being unkind to her, he will be very angry both with you and with me. So please be as nice to her as you can.... But of course if you feel you would rather go and live with Prince Hyōbukyō for a little while, by all means do so. I promise to come and see you frequently. But in either case you need not be afraid that I shall cease to care for you and look after you. I wish I could be as sure that you, on your side, will begin to take things a little more quietly and sensibly. You do not realize, I am sure, that all this outcry (which presumably you would not make unless you were fond of me) is doing me a great deal of harm. For years past I have done all that was in my power to make you happy, and you may rest assured that I shall continue to do so....’ He tried to soothe her, speaking somewhat as he would have spoken to a cross child. ‘There is no need for you to tell me about your love affairs,’ she answered. ‘I am not interested in them. You know quite well what is worrying me. My father has been terribly upset by my illness ever since it began. What the effect upon him would be if I were to go home in my present condition, I dread to think. It distresses him immeasurably to see me suffer.... I cannot do it.... My father says that, after all, Lady Murasaki is my own sister, and it is very wrong of her to spoil my happiness by introducing you to this girl. But I do not at all agree with him. Let her introduce you to any one she likes. It is no affair of mine....’

‘What are you saying about your father?’ Higekuro asked as he entered. ‘You will cause terrible trouble between us if you tell people I speak disrespectfully of him. Besides, it is quite untrue....’ Then he spoke more kindly: ‘I have never felt comfortable in Prince Genji’s magnificent palace. I would not want to stay there for long. But I am determined to keep seeing the lady I have just visited. Neither my age nor my temperament suits all this traveling back and forth. So I have arranged for her to come and live with us here. This will certainly be much pleasanter for her and me, and, I think, for you too. She lives so far away, in a place where everyone is closely watched. That makes the whole affair far more conspicuous than it needs to be. As you know very well, Prince Genji is a very important person. He has taken responsibility for this lady’s happiness. If he hears that you are being unkind to her, he will be very angry with both of us. So please be as nice to her as you can.... But of course, if you would rather go and live with Prince Hyōbukyō for a little while, please do. I promise to visit you often. Either way, you need not fear that I will stop caring for you and looking after you. I wish I could be as sure that you would start behaving a little more calmly and sensibly. All this outcry is doing me a great deal of harm. I am sure you do not realize that. I assume you would not make such an outcry unless you were fond of me. For years I have done everything in my power to make you happy. You can be sure that I will continue to do so....’ He tried to soothe her, speaking much as he might to an upset child. ‘There is no need to tell me about your love affairs,’ she answered. ‘I am not interested in them. You know quite well what is worrying me. My father has been terribly upset by my illness ever since it began. I dread to think how he would feel if I went home in my present condition. Seeing me suffer distresses him beyond measure.... I cannot do it.... My father says that Lady Murasaki is, after all, my own sister. He says she was very wrong to spoil my happiness by introducing you to this girl. But I do not agree with him at all. Let her introduce you to anyone she likes. It is no affair of mine....’

She spoke quite calmly and sensibly. But Higekuro had seen her in this mood before, and knew only too well that it might at any moment terminate in an outburst of the wildest irrationality. ‘You are quite mistaken about Lady Murasaki,’ he said. ‘She had no hand whatever in this. She lives locked away in her bower like an Enchanted Princess in a fairy-story, and would never dream of interfering in the affairs of persons such as you or me. She regards us all, I can assure you, with complete contempt. Certainly nothing would distress her more than that it should be thought she had tried to interest me in Lady Tamakatsura. Please do not spread such a report; it might do a great deal of harm.’

She spoke calmly and sensibly. But Higekuro had seen her in this mood before. He knew all too well that she might suddenly erupt into wild irrationality. ‘You are quite mistaken about Lady Murasaki,’ he said. ‘She had nothing to do with this. She lives shut away in her private rooms, like an enchanted princess in a fairy tale. She would never dream of interfering in the affairs of people like you or me. I assure you, she regards us all with complete contempt. Nothing would distress her more than people thinking she had tried to interest me in Lady Tamakatsura. Please do not spread that story. It could do a great deal of harm.’

He stayed chatting with her all the afternoon. By dusk his attention had already begun to wander, and he was conscious that his replies were often somewhat at random. For he was trying to decide whether he could contrive, without too much hurting her feelings, not to spend the whole of the evening in her society. Just as he was about to rise, a violent snowstorm began. To insist upon leaving at such a moment would have shown with too painful a clearness how anxious he was to escape from her company. Had she spoken one word of complaint or showed the slightest sign of ill-humour, it would have been easy enough for him to flare up on his side and so escape from his predicament. But she had, on the contrary, been a marvel of tolerance, reasonableness and amiability. It seemed too cruel to leave her, but he had not yet quite made up his mind, and stood with his hand on the door, staring out into the dusk. ‘I am afraid it is going to be a very heavy storm,’ she said, watching him. ‘You will never find your way. It has suddenly grown quite dark...’ Suddenly her expression changed. He knew exactly what was passing in her mind. ‘That is all over now,’ she was thinking. ‘If he does stay, what will be the use?...’ ‘I will wait till it clears a little,’ he said to her. And later: ‘Another time I shall be able to stay here as long as you like. But to-night there are reasons.... It might be misunderstood.... Both Genji and Tō no Chūjō particularly desired that I should not miss.... But there is no need to explain. You are so good and patient that I am sure you will forgive me. To-night will be the last time. When Lady Tamakatsura is living here everything will be easier.... But really, you are so much better to-night that there seems no reason to have any one else in the house at all.’ ‘I know you would not really like to stay here to-night,’ she said gently. ‘I shall be happier if you go. So long as I know you are thinking kindly of me I do not mind where you go. I promise not to cry any more. Look! My sleeve is almost dry....’

He spent the whole afternoon chatting with her. By dusk, his attention had begun to wander, and he knew his replies often missed the point. He was trying to decide whether he could avoid spending the whole evening with her without hurting her feelings too much. Just as he was about to get up, a violent snowstorm began. If he insisted on leaving now, it would be painfully clear how much he wanted to escape her company. If she had complained or shown the slightest sign of a bad mood, he could easily have lost his temper too and escaped his predicament. But instead, she had been wonderfully tolerant, reasonable, and pleasant. It seemed too cruel to leave her. Still undecided, he stood with his hand on the door, staring out into the dusk. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a very heavy storm,” she said, watching him. “You’ll never find your way. It’s suddenly grown quite dark...” Suddenly her expression changed. He knew exactly what she was thinking. “That’s all over now. Even if he stays, what good will it do?...” “I’ll wait until it clears a little,” he told her. Later, he said, “Another time, I’ll be able to stay here as long as you like. But tonight there are reasons.... It might be misunderstood.... Both Genji and Tō no Chūjō particularly wanted me not to miss.... But there’s no need to explain. You’re so good and patient that I’m sure you’ll forgive me. Tonight will be the last time. When Lady Tamakatsura is living here, everything will be easier.... But really, you’re so much better tonight that there seems to be no reason to have anyone else in the house at all.” “I know you wouldn’t really want to stay here tonight,” she said gently. “I’ll be happier if you go. As long as I know you’re thinking kindly of me, I don’t mind where you go. I promise not to cry anymore. Look! My sleeve is almost dry....”

Then she sent for her incense-burner, poured in fresh perfumes one upon another, and with her own hands scented his great riding-cloak from tip to toe. Her own dress was of a soft yielding stuff, and as she bent over her work, this dress fell in loose folds that gave her figure a homely, useful air. But how thin, how frail she had grown! She seemed like some pale phantom flickering across the winter night. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, yet her face, he thought, was beautiful. He felt a sudden tenderness towards her. She had never been to blame. Ought he not to have waited months, years if need be, before he inflicted this terrible suffering upon her? For he knew in that moment all that she had suffered since his dereliction of her began. But in the midst of his remorse the image of Tamakatsura rose up before him, and sighing deeply he began to put on his cloak, perfuming it once more with a miniature brazier that he held for a moment inside each sleeve. He was not as handsome as Genji, but he was magnificently built; and as he stood there handling his great riding-coat he looked a man not lightly to be trifled with. One of his retainers remarked loud enough to be heard, though not speaking directly to the Prince, that it had ‘almost stopped snowing and was getting very late.’ The maids Chūjō no Omoto and Moku no Kimi were lying on a couch in the corner telling one another dismal stories and sighing ‘What a sad world it is to be sure!’ at regular intervals. Makibashira herself was lying calm and still at Higekuro’s feet, her head resting on a low stool. Suddenly she leapt up, seized a large brazier that was used for drying damp clothes, and coming up from behind, emptied it over his head.

Then she sent for her incense burner and added fresh perfumes, one after another. With her own hands, she scented his great riding cloak from top to bottom. Her dress was made of soft, supple fabric. As she bent over her work, it fell in loose folds, giving her figure a homely, practical look. But how thin and frail she had become! She looked like a pale ghost flickering through the winter night. Her eyes were swollen from crying, yet he thought her face was beautiful. He felt a sudden tenderness toward her. She had never been at fault. Should he not have waited months, or years if necessary, before causing her this terrible suffering? At that moment, he understood all she had suffered since he began neglecting her. But in the midst of his remorse, Tamakatsura’s image rose before him. Sighing deeply, he began to put on his cloak. He scented it once more, holding a miniature brazier inside each sleeve for a moment. He was not as handsome as Genji, but he was magnificently built. As he stood there handling his great riding cloak, he looked like a man not to be trifled with. One of his retainers spoke loudly enough for the Prince to hear, though not directly to him. He said that it had ‘almost stopped snowing and was getting very late.’ The maids Chūjō no Omoto and Moku no Kimi lay on a couch in the corner, telling each other gloomy stories. At regular intervals, they sighed, ‘What a sad world it is, to be sure!’ Makibashira herself lay calm and still at Higekuro’s feet, her head resting on a low stool. Suddenly she jumped up and seized a large brazier used for drying damp clothes. She came up behind him and emptied it over his head.

The thing was done in a moment; so swiftly indeed that Higekuro had no idea what had happened. He only knew that suddenly his eyes and nostrils were full of fine, penetrating dust. Blind, choking, and still but dimly aware of what had happened to him, he found himself shaking ashes out of his coat, his breeches, his shirt, his hair. Her ladies stood by terror-stricken. Would he understand that this was one of her fits, one of those strange accesses of perversity in which her frenzy drove her to play the most revolting tricks precisely on those whom she most wished to please? If he thought that she had acted deliberately, was in possession of her senses when she played this odious prank, it was inconceivable that he would ever come near her again. They pressed round, dusting him, sponging him, offering him fresh clothes; but nothing took away this dry, gritty sensation that pervaded his whole person, so that he still felt as though he were smeared with ashes to the very roots of his thick, stubborn hair.

It happened in a moment, so quickly that Higekuro had no idea what had happened. He knew only that his eyes and nostrils were suddenly full of fine, penetrating dust. Blind and choking, he still barely understood what had happened to him. He found himself shaking ashes out of his coat, breeches, shirt, and hair. Her ladies stood by, terrified. Would he understand that this was one of her fits? During those strange fits of perversity, her frenzy drove her to play the most disgusting tricks. She played them on the very people she most wanted to please. If he thought she had played this horrible trick deliberately, in her right mind, he could never come near her again. The ladies crowded around him, brushing and sponging him off and offering him fresh clothes. But nothing removed the dry, gritty feeling that covered his whole body. He still felt as if he were smeared with ashes, down to the roots of his thick, stubborn hair.

He could not present himself at Tamakatsura’s immaculate apartments in this condition, and dismissing his followers, he prepared to settle in for the night.

He could not go to Tamakatsura’s spotless rooms in this condition. So he sent his followers away and prepared to settle in for the night.

Makibashira was now in her gentlewomen’s hands. He knew that it was impossible to hold her responsible for what she had done. Yet the look of complete unconcern with which she surveyed the havoc she had just created stung him to a sudden fury, and he felt that he would have shouted abuse at her, had he not been terrified of provoking on her part a fresh outburst of devilry. It was now midnight, but he sent for priests and exorcists, and soon a service of Intercession was in full swing. The mad woman was now cursing and raving in the most horrifying manner. All night long she was cudgelled and pulled about by the priests⁵⁵³; dawn found her still maundering and weeping, but after a little while she became somewhat quieter, and Higekuro took this opportunity of sending his apologies to the New Palace. ‘Some one here was suddenly taken ill last night,’ he wrote, ‘and it was impossible for me to get away. Besides, it looked as though we were in for a very heavy fall of snow, and it would have seemed to my friends very odd if I had insisted upon setting out. Time after time I was on the point of starting, and at this moment I am chilled to the bone with waiting about for a chance to escape.... I know well enough that you will not be heart-broken at my failure to appear; but I fear that others may have taken advantage of my discourtesy....’

Makibashira was now in the care of her gentlewomen. He knew she could not be held responsible for what she had done. Yet her complete lack of concern as she surveyed the havoc she had just caused made him suddenly furious. He felt he would have shouted abuse at her, had he not feared provoking another outburst of devilry. It was midnight, but he sent for priests and exorcists. Soon a service of intercession was underway. The mad woman was now cursing and raving in the most horrifying way. All night the priests beat her with clubs and pulled her about⁵⁵³. At dawn she was still rambling and weeping, but after a while she grew somewhat quieter. Higekuro took the opportunity to send his apologies to the New Palace. ‘Someone here suddenly fell ill last night,’ he wrote, ‘and I could not get away. Besides, it looked as though we were in for a very heavy snowfall. My friends would have thought it very odd if I had insisted on setting out. Time after time I was about to leave. Even now I am chilled to the bone from waiting for a chance to escape.... I know well enough that you will not be heartbroken because I failed to appear. But I fear that others may have taken advantage of my discourtesy....’

He was right. His absence had certainly not caused Tamakatsura the slightest concern, and the letter of apology, which he had penned with such agitation in the midst of a scene of utmost horror, she did not open or in any way acknowledge.

He was right. His absence had not troubled Tamakatsura in the least. He had written a letter of apology in great distress amid a scene of utter horror. She did not open it or acknowledge it in any way.

Next day Higekuro’s wife was still in a very distracted condition, and further incantations were performed. His own secret prayer was that she might at least recover her reason for a sufficient length of time to permit of his installing Tamakatsura in the house. For at present any such step was clearly impossible. He who knew her as she ought to be could realize that her present savagery and malice were merely the result of her illness; but a stranger would be terrified and disgusted.

The next day, Higekuro’s wife was still deeply distressed, and more incantations were performed. He secretly prayed that she would regain her reason long enough for him to bring Tamakatsura into the house. For now, that was clearly impossible. He knew his wife as she should be and understood that her present savagery and malice were caused by her illness. But a stranger would be terrified and disgusted.

At dusk he set out as usual for Tamakatsura’s rooms. Since his wife’s illness his wardrobe had been much neglected, and he was continually complaining that the garments put out for his use were so badly cut as to make him an object of ridicule as he drove through the streets. To-day a new cloak had been put out, which fitted him so ill that he refused to appear in it. The one he had worn on the night of the catastrophe was full of small holes made by fragments of red-hot charcoal, and though it had been carefully cleaned, there still clung to it a most unpleasant smell of burning. Yet in all his clothes the fragrance of the incense with which she had perfumed them that night was still distinctly perceptible. To arrive in this charred and smouldering condition at the New Palace was not to be thought of. He threw off all these garments, sent them to the washhouse, and once more had them thoroughly cleaned and set to rights. When they came back, Moku no Kimi was sent for to give them a good final perfuming. At last he was ready to start.

At dusk, he set out as usual for Tamakatsura’s rooms. Since his wife fell ill, his wardrobe had been badly neglected. He constantly complained that the clothes laid out for him were so poorly cut that people mocked him as he rode through the streets. That day, a new cloak had been laid out, but it fit so badly that he refused to be seen in it. The cloak he had worn on the night of the catastrophe was full of small holes from fragments of glowing charcoal. Although it had been carefully cleaned, it still smelled unpleasantly of burning. Yet all his clothes still carried the distinct fragrance of the incense she had used to perfume them that night. He could not possibly arrive at the New Palace looking charred and smoldering. He took off all these clothes and sent them to the washhouse to be thoroughly cleaned and put in order once more. When they came back, he sent for Moku no Kimi to give them a good final perfuming. At last, he was ready to leave.

Even this one night’s absence made her seem to him more marvellously lovely than ever. To be with her drove the thought of what was going on in his own house completely out of his head. And some such solace was needed, for the scene which he had just left had been agonizing in the extreme. He stayed at the New Palace till far into the next day. Spells and incantations seemed powerless against the spirit which had possessed the sick woman, and she continued to rave in an unabating frenzy. Terrified lest she should attempt to disfigure him, or, at the best, play upon him some other sinister prank, Higekuro for the next few days kept as far away from her rooms as possible. When from time to time business compelled him to spend an hour or two at his house, he established himself at the farthest possible end of the building, and it was here that with great precautions he sent for his children to come and see him. The eldest was a girl of twelve; the two boys were younger. They had grown gradually used to the fact that their father and mother did not often meet; but till now there had never been any question of their mother’s place being usurped by some one else, and primed by their nurses with the notion that Tamakatsura’s projected arrival was part of a dark and monstrous conspiracy, they obeyed his summonses very sullenly.

Even one night away from her made her seem more wonderfully beautiful to him than ever. Being with her drove all thoughts of what was happening in his own house from his mind. He needed such comfort, for the scene he had just left had been unbearably painful. He stayed at the New Palace until late the next day. Spells and incantations seemed powerless against the spirit possessing the sick woman. She continued to rave as wildly as ever. Higekuro feared that she might try to disfigure him or, at best, play some other sinister trick on him. For the next few days, he stayed as far from her rooms as possible. When business forced him to spend an hour or two at his house, he settled at the farthest end of the building. There he took great precautions before sending for his children to see him. The eldest was a girl of twelve, and the two boys were younger. They had gradually grown used to their father and mother seeing each other only rarely. But until now, there had never been any question of someone else taking their mother’s place. Their nurses had convinced them that Tamakatsura’s planned arrival was part of a dark and monstrous conspiracy. So they came when their father summoned them, but they were very sullen.

Hearing what had taken place, Prince Hyōbukyō’s first thought was to get his daughter as quickly as possible out of Higekuro’s house. ‘This is certain to lead to a definite and final breach,’ he said. ‘She cannot with any dignity remain a day longer under his roof. After all, so long as I am alive, she can have a very good time here.... There is no need to take this business too tragically....’ And without any warning he arrived at Higekuro’s to fetch her away. It so happened that she was on this occasion enjoying an interval of comparative quietness and lucidity; though on recovering her self-possession, and realizing to some extent what had been passing, she was seized with a terrible fit of melancholy.

When Prince Hyōbukyō heard what had happened, his first thought was to get his daughter out of Higekuro’s house as quickly as possible. ‘This is sure to cause a complete and final break,’ he said. ‘She cannot stay under his roof another day without losing her dignity. After all, as long as I am alive, she can live very well here.... There is no need to take this so tragically....’ Without warning, he went to Higekuro’s house to take her away. As it happened, she was enjoying a period of relative calm and clarity. But as she regained her composure and began to understand what had happened, she was overcome by terrible sadness.

When informed that her father was at the door she knew at once what this implied, and determined to offer no resistance. To stay meant only to witness the last remnants of her husband’s affection for her dwindle and disappear. In the end she would probably be forced out of the house, under circumstances of even greater humiliation. Thinking that it would give her a feeling of support, her father had brought with him all her brothers; both the elder ones, Sahyōye and the rest, all of whom were now great officers at Court, and had come uniformed and attended as though for a state ceremony; and also her younger brothers, who by now were making their way in the world, one of them being a Captain in the Bodyguard, another a Lieutenant; a third, Assistant in the National Board. The whole party filled no less than three coaches. That if her father ever came to fetch her, it would be in this cumbersome and ceremonious way, both she and her gentlewomen had long anticipated. But the sight of the formidable cortège which was to put an end for ever to her married life completely overwhelmed her. To make matters worse, it was announced that the part of his palace which Hyōbukyō could put at her disposal could not possibly house both her and all her gentlewomen. Hasty consultations followed. It was arranged that about half the maids should go back to their own homes. There was much weeping, whispered promises of reinstatement ‘when Madam recovers herself,’ and hasty sorting out of small personal belongings. Then there was the sick woman’s own baggage to be considered, and heated discussions as to what she would need in her new home. Amid this scene of tears and confusion the three children strayed about, apparently quite unmoved. Calling to them, their mother now said: ‘I have been in great trouble for a long time; but now everything is over, and I do not care what becomes of me. But you three still have all your lives before you, and I do not want you to be dragged down with me in my ruin. You, my little girl, I shall keep with me, come what may. But I shall let the boys go to their father as often as he wants them—indeed, I would leave them with him altogether if I thought he would go on taking any interest in them. Their grandfather will give them all the usual advantages and make them as happy as he can; but when they grow up they will find it a great handicap to have been connected with him; for nothing can nowadays be done except through Prince Genji, and your grandfather is on very bad terms with him. What I should really like would be to take you all to some forest far away in the mountains where no one could ever find us.... But I know that would be a crime ...’ and she burst into tears. The children had very little idea what all this was about, but they too began quietly weeping. ‘Poor little things,’ said the nurses. ‘One knows from old stories that the kindest father will turn against his children if his heart is set upon another woman; and a man so barbarous as our master, who puts his own wife out of his house when she is ailing, is not likely to show much pity towards these defenceless creatures....’ It was now getting late. It looked as if more snow were coming, and was indeed a most cheerless and uninviting evening. ‘Make haste,’ some one shouted from outside, ‘it’s blowing up for a storm.’ Wiping her eyes, Makibashira went to the window and looked out. She was ready for the journey; but the little girl, who had always been a great favourite with her father, could not believe that he would wish her to go away without even having said good-bye to him; and she now flung herself upon a couch and declared that the carriage must start without her. Her mother tried to coax her, saying that things were bad enough as it was, and it was very unkind of her to be disobedient at such a time. But the child was all the while hoping that her father would come back to say good-bye to her, and was determined not to start until she had seen him. But the storm had now commenced, and she at last saw for herself that there was not the remotest chance of his stirring on such a night.

When she heard that her father was at the door, she knew at once what it meant. She decided not to resist. If she stayed, she would only watch the last traces of her husband’s affection fade away. In the end, he would probably force her out of the house under even more humiliating circumstances. Her father had brought all her brothers, hoping their presence would make her feel supported. Her older brothers, Sahyōye and the others, were all now senior officers at Court. They had come in uniform, with attendants, as though for a state ceremony. Her younger brothers were also making their way in the world. One was a Captain in the Bodyguard, another a Lieutenant, and a third an Assistant in the National Board. The whole party filled no fewer than three coaches. She and her gentlewomen had long expected her father to come for her in just such a cumbersome, ceremonial way. But the sight of the imposing procession that would end her marriage forever completely overwhelmed her. To make matters worse, she was told that the rooms Hyōbukyō could offer her could not possibly hold all her gentlewomen too. After some hurried discussion, they decided that about half the maids would return to their own homes. There was much weeping, whispered promises that they would be taken back “when Madam recovers herself,” and hurried sorting of personal belongings. Then they had to deal with the sick woman’s own baggage. There were heated arguments over what she would need in her new home. Amid the tears and confusion, the three children wandered about, apparently untouched by it all. Their mother called them to her and said: “I have been in great trouble for a long time. But now everything is over, and I do not care what becomes of me. You three still have your whole lives ahead of you, though. I do not want you dragged down with me in my ruin. You, my little girl, I will keep with me, whatever happens. But I will let the boys go to their father as often as he wants them. I would even leave them with him altogether if I thought he would keep taking an interest in them. Their grandfather will give them all the usual advantages and make them as happy as he can. But when they grow up, they will find that their connection with him is a great disadvantage. These days nothing can be done except through Prince Genji, and your grandfather is on very bad terms with him. What I really want is to take you all to a forest far away in the mountains, where no one could ever find us.... But I know that would be a crime ...” And she burst into tears. The children had little idea what she meant, but they too began to weep quietly. “Poor little things,” said the nurses. “We know from old stories that even the kindest father will turn against his children if his heart is set on another woman. And a man as cruel as our master is not likely to show much pity for these helpless creatures. He puts his own wife out of his house when she is ill....” It was getting late. More snow seemed to be coming, and the evening was bleak and dreary. “Hurry,” someone shouted from outside, “a storm is coming.” Wiping her eyes, Makibashira went to the window and looked out. She was ready for the journey. But the little girl, who had always been a great favorite with her father, could not believe he wanted her to leave without saying goodbye. She flung herself onto a couch and declared that the carriage must leave without her. Her mother tried to persuade her. She said things were bad enough already, and it was very unkind of her to disobey at such a time. But the child kept hoping her father would return to say goodbye. She was determined not to leave until she had seen him. Then the storm began, and at last she could see for herself that there was not the slightest chance he would venture out on such a night.

There was a certain pillar on the right as you went into the women’s rooms. Here it was that the little girl generally had her seat; and now, hating to think that this favourite corner of hers might soon become some stranger’s sitting-place, she took a folded sheet of dark-brown paper, and hastily scribbling something upon it, she pushed it into a crack in the pillar with the point of her long hair-pin. What she wrote was: ‘Though I say good-bye to this house and shall never see it again, do not forget me, O pillar of the Steadfast Tree!’ As the carriage drove away the maids looked wistfully at the familiar haunts that they would in all likelihood never set eyes on again. At this last moment many a tree, never noticed before, seemed the one place where it would be pleasant to seek shade when the summer-time came round; and neither Lady Makibashira nor her ladies ceased to gaze behind them till the topmost bough of the last tree had faded out of sight. For this place had been their home for year upon year, and even though they had been leaving under very different circumstances, they must needs have forsaken it with many a bitter pang.

There was a pillar on the right as you entered the women’s rooms. The little girl usually sat there. She hated to think that a stranger might soon sit in her favorite corner. So she took a folded sheet of dark-brown paper and quickly scribbled something on it. Then she used the point of her long hairpin to push it into a crack in the pillar. She wrote: ‘Though I say goodbye to this house and will never see it again, do not forget me, O pillar of the Steadfast Tree!’ As the carriage drove away, the maids looked wistfully at the familiar places they would probably never see again. At this last moment, many a tree they had never noticed before seemed like the perfect place to find shade in summer. Lady Makibashira and her ladies kept looking back until the topmost branch of the last tree had faded from sight. For this place had been their home for many years. Even if they had been leaving under very different circumstances, they would have felt great sorrow at leaving it.

Meanwhile their arrival was awaited at Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace with great trepidation. His wife, sharp-tongued as ever,⁵⁵⁴ was bitterly reproaching him for having fallen out with Genji, whose hostility (she now made sure) was at the bottom of all their present trouble. ‘It all began with your miserable cowardice over that Suma affair. You did not write to him once all the time he was away from Court, and then were surprised that he would not help you to make an Empress of our younger daughter. You know quite well why it was that he would do nothing for you, as you confessed to me at the time and every one agreed. However, I did think that you had learnt your lesson and would take the first opportunity of re-establishing yourself in his good graces. But nothing of the kind. Prince Genji was completely under the sway of this bastard of yours, Lady Murasaki. Everything is easy for you. You had only to interest the girl in her sisters—people in her privileged position are expected to do something for their relations—and we could have got anything we liked to ask for. Instead of that, having got into a scrape with this supposed “daughter” of his, and being under the necessity of passing her off on any one who was fool enough to take her, he hit upon this simpleton Higekuro, whose wife, being your daughter, could easily be hustled out of the way. Upon my honour, I wonder you are willing to sit down under it all....’

Meanwhile, Prince Hyōbukyō’s household anxiously awaited their arrival at his palace. His wife, sharp-tongued as ever,⁵⁵⁴ bitterly scolded him for falling out with Genji. She was now sure that Genji’s hostility was the cause of all their troubles. ‘It all began with your miserable cowardice over that Suma affair. You didn’t write to him once while he was away from Court. Then you were surprised he wouldn’t help you make our younger daughter an Empress. You know perfectly well why he wouldn’t help you. You admitted it to me at the time, and everyone agreed. Still, I thought you had learned your lesson. I thought you would take the first chance to get back into his good graces. But nothing of the kind. ‘Prince Genji was completely under the sway of that bastard of yours, Lady Murasaki. Everything is easy for you. All you had to do was get the girl interested in her sisters. People in her privileged position are expected to do something for their relations. Then we could have had anything we wanted. ‘Instead, Genji got into trouble with his supposed “daughter” and had to pass her off on anyone foolish enough to take her. He settled on that simpleton Higekuro, whose wife, being your daughter, could easily be pushed aside. Upon my honour, I wonder you are willing to put up with it all....’

‘Silence, woman,’ he broke in. ‘Prince Genji is our lord and master, and must be spoken of in this house with proper respect. A man of his intelligence is not as easily wheedled into friendship by one whom he believes to have done him an injury. My blunder at the time of his exile has turned out to be a great misfortune for us all. But I was not the only person to make that mistake. Indeed, if you look round the Court and note who has gone under and who has kept afloat, you will see that in every case it depended on what line they took in those Suma and Akashi days. So meticulous a scheme of punishments and rewards has surely never before been put into practice. I certainly have not fared worse than the rest. On the contrary, when a year or two ago I celebrated my fiftieth birthday,⁵⁵⁵ Prince Genji’s interest in the affair gave it an importance far beyond what my rank and birth demanded; and this was solely due to his affection for my daughter Murasaki, a feeling which you accuse me of never having turned to proper account.’

‘Be quiet, woman,’ he interrupted. ‘Prince Genji is our lord and master, and we must speak of him respectfully in this house. A man as intelligent as he is cannot easily be talked into befriending someone he believes has wronged him. My mistake at the time of his exile has brought great misfortune on us all. But I was not the only one to make that mistake. Look around the Court and see who has fallen and who has stayed afloat. In every case, their fate depended on the position they took during those days in Suma and Akashi. Surely no such careful system of punishments and rewards has ever been put into practice before. I certainly have not fared worse than the others. On the contrary, a year or two ago, I celebrated my fiftieth birthday,⁵⁵⁵ and Prince Genji took an interest in it. His interest gave the occasion far more importance than my rank and birth deserved. This was solely because of his affection for my daughter Murasaki. You accuse me of never having made proper use of that affection.’

But his wife’s bitterness only became more intense than ever; moreover, she began to spread the most scandalous stories about Genji’s conduct in the affair. And it may be imagined that in these inventions he did not come off lightly; for hers was the most dangerous tongue in the whole Court. The removal of his wife and children came as a complete surprise to Higekuro. He assumed that Lady Makibashira had, in a sudden fit of childish spleen, implored her father to take this drastic step. But Prince Hyōbukyō must himself be held largely to blame, for Makibashira’s mind was in an entirely volatile condition, and if her father had exercised a little tact she would a few hours later have been begging him to leave her where she was. ‘This has come as rather a shock,’ he said to Tamakatsura when he heard the news. ‘Of course, in a way it makes it much easier for you to come and live with me. But in any case she is in a condition which would soon have made it absolutely necessary to shut her up in some outlying wing of the house; and then you could have lived with me quite comfortably. I resent her being carried off so suddenly. It implies that I am not looking after her properly. I shall go at once to her father and complain.’

But his wife grew more bitter than ever. She also began spreading scandalous stories about Genji’s conduct in the affair. One can imagine how badly she portrayed him in these fabrications, for she had the most dangerous tongue at Court. Higekuro was completely surprised when his wife and children were taken away. He assumed that Lady Makibashira had begged her father to take this drastic step in a sudden fit of childish anger. But Prince Hyōbukyō himself was largely to blame. Makibashira’s mood was very changeable. If her father had shown a little tact, she would have been begging him to leave her there a few hours later. “This has come as rather a shock,” he said to Tamakatsura when he heard the news. “Of course, in one way it makes it much easier for you to come and live with me. But in any case, her condition would soon have made it necessary to shut her away in a remote wing of the house. Then you could have lived with me quite comfortably. I resent her being taken away so suddenly. It suggests that I am not looking after her properly. I shall go to her father at once and complain.”

He was wearing a very handsome cloak lined with willow-green and blue-grey silken breeches. The costume became him particularly well, and the waiting-women who saw him pass out on the way to Hyōbukyō’s palace could not for the lives of them make out why their mistress was so down upon him.

He wore a handsome cloak lined with willow-green silk and blue-grey silk breeches. The outfit suited him especially well. The waiting women saw him leave for Hyōbukyō’s palace. They could not understand why their mistress disliked him so much.

The news that she had just heard convinced Tamakatsura more firmly than ever of the folly that she had committed in blindly yielding herself to such a man, and as he left the room she did not even raise her eyes to watch him go.

The news she had just heard made Tamakatsura even more certain that she had been foolish to give herself blindly to such a man. As he left the room, she did not even look up to watch him go.

On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s he called at his own house. He was met by Moku no Kimi, who being his personal servant had been left behind, and from her lips he heard the full story of his wife’s departure. His distress was obvious, and when she was telling him of the little girl’s reluctance to leave the house without saying good-bye to him Moku no Kimi feared that her master would altogether lose his self-possession. ‘Hyōbukyō,’ he said at last, ‘does not in the least realize all that I patiently endured during the earlier stages of my wife’s insanity. I do not think there are many men in the world who would have sacrificed themselves as I did. As regards her happiness, it is doubtful if this change of residence will make any difference at all, for her mind is now breaking down entirely. But in any case what sense can there be in letting her carry off those unfortunate children?...’ Just then his eye fell upon the little girl’s favourite pillar. He saw that something was poked into the crack, and grasping at once who had put it there, he rescued the folded note and put it in his sleeve. On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace he read it, obliged to wipe the tears from his eyes while he did so, for though the handwriting had as yet no beauty, the sentiment expressed in the child’s poem could not fail to move him.

On his way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s, he stopped at his own house. Moku no Kimi, his personal servant, had been left behind. She met him and told him the full story of his wife’s departure. His distress was obvious. Moku no Kimi told him how reluctant the little girl had been to leave without saying goodbye to him. As she spoke, she feared her master would lose control of himself altogether. ‘Hyōbukyō,’ he said at last, ‘has no idea how much I patiently endured during the earlier stages of my wife’s insanity. I do not think many men in the world would have sacrificed themselves as I did. As for her happiness, I doubt this move will make any difference. Her mind is now breaking down entirely. But in any case, what sense is there in letting her take those unfortunate children away?...’ Just then, he noticed the little girl’s favorite pillar. Something had been tucked into a crack in it. He knew at once who had put it there. He pulled out the folded note and put it in his sleeve. On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace, he read it, wiping tears from his eyes as he did so. The child’s handwriting was not yet beautiful, but the feelings expressed in her poem could not fail to move him.

On his arrival he found that there was no question of his wife or daughter being allowed to see him. From her parents he received this message: ‘If your neglect of our daughter were of recent origin, we might be willing to listen to your protestations, and if satisfactory assurance were forthcoming might consider the possibility of permitting her return. But we are fully aware that your affections have for a long time past been engaged in another quarter, and we see no reason to suppose that time would bring any amendment to your ways. We therefore decided to act without delay, and are persuaded that by so doing we have saved you from much annoyance and discomfort.’ He replied that they had taken advantage of him in an extremely unfair way. They knew how great was his affection for the children, and might have assumed that his feelings towards the mother were at least sufficiently humane to make it worthwhile discussing this matter with him (many times, if necessary) before taking so drastic a measure. As it was, the world at large, which knew nothing of the real facts, must inevitably be led to the most damaging and at the same time erroneous conclusions.

When he arrived, he found that he would not be allowed to see his wife or daughter. Her parents sent him this message: ‘If you had only recently begun to neglect our daughter, we might be willing to listen to your assurances. If those assurances satisfied us, we might consider allowing her to return. But we know that your affections have long been elsewhere. We see no reason to think that, given time, you would change your ways. So we decided to act at once. We are convinced that we have saved you much annoyance and discomfort by doing so.’ He replied that they had treated him extremely unfairly. They knew how much he loved the children. They might also have assumed he cared enough about their mother to make it worthwhile discussing the matter with him. They could have discussed it many times, if necessary, before taking such a drastic step. As things stood, the world at large knew nothing of the real facts. People would inevitably draw conclusions that were both deeply damaging and wrong.

So he justified himself, but with no effect; and Hyōbukyō would not even allow the little girl to come out and talk to him. The elder boy, now ten years old, had already become a page at Court. He was a fascinating child and much beloved; not exactly handsome, but very quick-witted and alert. The other, a boy of eight, was particularly good-looking and bore a strong resemblance to his sister. This child was now brought to Higekuro, and patting it on the head, he said sadly: ‘It is well that you are so like your sister, for you are all that I shall see to remind me of her in the years that are to come.’ He begged Prince Hyōbukyō to accord him even a few moments’ interview. But the prince excused himself on the ground that ‘he had caught cold and was at present avoiding all exertion.’ There was nothing for it but to drive away. His two sons had climbed into the carriage to talk to him. They now begged for a drive; but as he was going straight to Tamakatsura’s, this was rather embarrassing. ‘You had better stay here,’ he said. ‘I will come and see you again soon.’ They gazed after the carriage, and when they presently saw that instead of going in the direction of their father’s house it had turned towards the New Palace, they looked at one another in bewilderment. But once he was back again in Tamakatsura’s presence, the picture of these two children staring after him in consternation, the memory of his unhappy wife’s ravings and contortions, all vanished completely from his mind, and it was long before he again attempted to get news from his father-in-law’s house. He felt indeed that he could hardly be expected to risk the repetition of such a welcome as he had met with last time he called; but Hyōbukyō insisted upon regarding this abstention as a fresh offence, and made many caustic remarks concerning Higekuro’s callous indifference.

He tried to justify himself, but it did no good. Hyōbukyō would not even let the little girl come out to speak to him. The elder boy, now ten, had already become a page at Court. He was a fascinating child and much loved. He was not exactly handsome, but he was quick-witted and alert. The other boy, aged eight, was especially good-looking and strongly resembled his sister. He was now brought to Higekuro, who patted him on the head and said sadly: ‘It is good that you look so much like your sister. In the years to come, you will be all I have to remind me of her.’ Higekuro begged Prince Hyōbukyō to see him, even for a few moments. But the prince excused himself, saying that ‘he had caught a cold and was avoiding all exertion.’ Higekuro had no choice but to drive away. His two sons had climbed into the carriage to talk to him, and now they begged for a ride. But this was awkward, since he was going straight to Tamakatsura’s. ‘You had better stay here,’ he said. ‘I will come and see you again soon.’ They watched the carriage go. When they saw it turn toward the New Palace instead of their father’s house, they looked at each other in bewilderment. But once Higekuro was back with Tamakatsura, the picture of his two children staring after him in dismay vanished completely. So did the memory of his unhappy wife’s ravings and contortions. A long time passed before he tried again to get news from his father-in-law’s house. He felt he could hardly be expected to risk another welcome like the one he had received on his last visit. But Hyōbukyō insisted on treating his failure to make contact as a fresh offense. He made many cutting remarks about Higekuro’s callous indifference.

‘Even I have been getting into trouble over this business,’ said Murasaki to Genji one day. ‘My stepmother says I ought not to have let you upset her daughter’s domestic arrangements!’ ‘It has been very difficult to know what to do,’ he replied. ‘If it had rested with me only, I should never have encouraged her to marry Higekuro. But her father was bent upon it, and I fell in with his desire. The Emperor was not at all pleased, and one naturally hears it said that all the other suitors are in a rage with me; though I can hardly believe this of Prince Sochi, who is such a sensible fellow, that I am sure as soon as he sees that I have really given Tamakatsura up he will not, despite his disappointment, be so unreasonable as to pick a quarrel with me. I am very glad that the true nature of my relations with her is now known. For though I think that in general it is better for people to keep their private affairs to themselves, there are cases where, unless all be known, far worse things will be imagined than there is any warrant for assuming.’

‘Even I have been getting into trouble over this,’ Murasaki said to Genji one day. ‘My stepmother says I shouldn’t have let you upset her daughter’s domestic arrangements!’ ‘It has been very difficult to know what to do,’ he replied. ‘If it had been entirely up to me, I would never have encouraged her to marry Higekuro. But her father was determined, and I went along with his wishes. The Emperor was not at all pleased. And naturally, people say that all the other suitors are furious with me. But I can hardly believe that of Prince Sochi. He is such a sensible man that I’m sure he won’t be so unreasonable as to quarrel with me once he sees I’ve really given Tamakatsura up, despite his disappointment. I’m very glad that the true nature of my relationship with her is now known. In general, I think people should keep their private affairs to themselves. But sometimes, unless everything is known, people will imagine far worse things than there is any reason to suppose.’

Meanwhile Tamakatsura was taking less trouble than ever to pretend that Higekuro’s caresses were agreeable to her. But his efforts to overcome her distaste for him were untiring, and when the time came for her to spend a few days at the Palace in order to be presented to the Emperor, Higekuro did his best to prevent or at least postpone this separation. But it was evident that the Emperor would regard any further refusal as an act of discourtesy; Genji and Tō no Chūjō both strongly urged him to obey at once, and Higekuro himself discovered, on looking into the matter, that there were numberless precedents for the Emperor’s request. Accordingly he yielded, and in the spring of the next year she was brought to the Palace. There was a dancing festival going on at the time, and consequently the ceremonies connected with her Presentation attracted very little notice. But it was known that Genji, Tō no Chūjō and Higekuro, the three most powerful men in the country, were her sponsors; while she was actually attended at the time of her arrival by Yūgiri and several of her elder brothers, so that it was by no means likely that she would be overlooked. The room that was allotted to her was separated only by a covered gallery from the apartments of Lady Nishi no Miya, Prince Hyōbukyō’s eldest daughter; but though their habitations were divided by so small a space, their interests and sympathies could hardly have been farther apart, and no civilities were exchanged between them.

Meanwhile, Tamakatsura made less effort than ever to pretend that she welcomed Higekuro’s caresses. But he never stopped trying to overcome her dislike of him. The time came for her to spend a few days at the Palace and be presented to the Emperor. Higekuro did his best to prevent or at least postpone their separation. But it was clear that the Emperor would consider any further refusal discourteous. Genji and Tō no Chūjō both urged Higekuro to obey at once. When Higekuro looked into the matter himself, he found countless precedents for the Emperor’s request. So he gave in, and she was brought to the Palace the following spring. A dancing festival was taking place, so the ceremonies for her presentation attracted little notice. But people knew that her sponsors were Genji, Tō no Chūjō, and Higekuro, the three most powerful men in the country. Yūgiri and several of her older brothers also accompanied her when she arrived. So it was very unlikely that she would be overlooked. Her room was separated only by a covered gallery from the apartments of Lady Nishi no Miya, Prince Hyōbukyō’s eldest daughter. But though they lived so close together, their interests and sympathies could hardly have been farther apart. They exchanged no courtesies.

It happened to be a moment when the scene at Court was simplified by the absence of low-born favourites or clandestine mistresses. Four great ladies, Akikonomu, Lady Chūjō, Nishi no Miya (whom I have just mentioned), and finally a daughter of the Minister of the Left held absolute sway. Apart from them, two young girls, daughters of the Junior State Secretary and the Chancellor, enjoyed a certain prominence; but on the whole the field was remarkably clear.

At that moment, life at Court was simpler because there were no low-born favorites or secret mistresses. Four great ladies held absolute sway: Akikonomu, Lady Chūjō, Nishi no Miya, whom I just mentioned, and a daughter of the Minister of the Left. Two young girls, daughters of the Junior State Secretary and the Chancellor, also had some prominence. But overall, there was remarkably little competition.

This year the Mummers⁵⁵⁶ visited all the apartments at Court where they had kinswomen or connections of any kind, and the whole affair was far more animated and interesting than usual. The reception given to the dancers in the various quarters they visited was of the most magnificent kind, such a display of hangings and gay-coloured favours seldom having been witnessed. One of the most dazzling displays took place in the rooms of the Crown Prince’s mother, Lady Jōkyōden. The Prince was still a mere child,⁵⁵⁷ but his nursery had already become a centre of fashionable activities.

This year the Mummers⁵⁵⁶ visited all the court apartments where they had female relatives or other connections. The whole affair was much livelier and more interesting than usual. Everywhere they went, the dancers received a magnificent welcome. Such a display of hangings and brightly colored favors was rarely seen. One of the most dazzling displays was in the rooms of Lady Jōkyōden, the Crown Prince’s mother. The Prince was still only a child,⁵⁵⁷ but his nursery had already become a center of fashionable activity.

After performing before the Emperor, the Mummers visited the quarters of Lady Akikonomu, and finally finished their round very late in the day at the ex-Emperor Suzaku’s palace. There had been some talk of their going on to Genji’s; but it would have been inconvenient to receive them at such an hour, and he discouraged the visit. On their way back from Suzaku’s, already much enlivened by the hospitality which they had received during the course of the evening, they went the round of the Crown Prince’s apartments, singing the ‘Bamboo River’⁵⁵⁸ at the tops of their voices. Faint streaks of light were already appearing in the sky when they were joined by a band of young men, which included some of Tō no Chūjō’s sons and a number of courtiers famous for the beauty of their voices. The youngest among them all was Chūjō’s eighth son, who being the child of his legitimate wife, had been brought up to regard himself as a little person of considerable consequence. He was a good-looking child, about the same age as Higekuro’s eldest boy, with whom he was often favourably compared. Unlike many of the other children who saw the sights that day, he was not at all overawed by the first appearance at Court of this much-talked-about lady, but on the contrary stared at her to his fill.

After performing before the Emperor, the Mummers visited Lady Akikonomu’s quarters. They finally ended their rounds at the ex-Emperor Suzaku’s palace, very late in the day. There had been some talk of their going on to Genji’s. But it would have been inconvenient to receive them so late, and he discouraged the visit. On their way back from Suzaku’s, they went around the Crown Prince’s apartments, singing ‘Bamboo River’⁵⁵⁸ at the top of their voices. The hospitality they had received that evening had already made them quite lively. Faint streaks of light were already appearing in the sky when a group of young men joined them. The group included some of Tō no Chūjō’s sons and several courtiers famous for their beautiful voices. The youngest of them all was Chūjō’s eighth son. As the child of Chūjō’s lawful wife, he had been brought up to think himself a person of considerable importance. He was a handsome child, about the same age as Higekuro’s eldest boy, to whom he was often favorably compared. Many other children who saw the sights that day were awed by the much-talked-about lady’s first appearance at Court. He was not awed at all. Instead, he stared at her to his heart’s content.

Tamakatsura had not so much experience of Court festivities as was possessed by most of her rivals and neighbours. She wisely refrained from venturing upon any unusual or particularly ambitious combinations of colour. But upon the general lines laid down by the taste of her competitors, she often achieved a success considerably greater than theirs. Both she and her gentlewomen found this sojourn at the Palace a most welcome distraction, and only wished that it might be indefinitely prolonged.

Tamakatsura had less experience of Court festivities than most of her rivals and neighbors. She wisely avoided trying unusual or especially ambitious color combinations. Instead, she followed the general style favored by her competitors, but often with much greater success. She and her gentlewomen found their stay at the Palace a welcome distraction. They only wished it could last indefinitely.

Wherever they went the Mummers were received with presents of costly wadded cloaks and a profusion of good things both to eat and drink. Though it was not at Tamakatsura’s that they were to have their set banquet, the entertainment she gave them was, by Higekuro’s help, on so generous a scale that it was hard to recognize in it the mere ‘passing refreshments,’⁵⁵⁹ which it was supposed to represent. Higekuro was himself on duty at the Palace that day, and said to his wife more than once during the course of the festivities, ‘There is no need whatever for you to sleep here a second night; it would look as though you had changed your mind and meant to stay on in the Palace.’ She did not answer. But her gentlewomen protested that Genji had only allowed her to leave the New Palace on the express understanding that she should pay a leisurely visit to the Emperor, which, considering she had never once been to Court before and might not go again for a long time, was the least that ordinary good breeding demanded. To leave so soon as this would be far too precipitate....

Wherever they went, the Mummers received gifts of expensive padded cloaks and plenty of good food and drink. Their main banquet was not to be held at Tamakatsura’s. Still, with Higekuro’s help, she entertained them so generously that it was hard to see it as mere ‘refreshments along the way,’⁵⁵⁹ as it was supposed to be. Higekuro was on duty at the Palace that day. More than once during the festivities, he said to his wife, ‘There is no need for you to sleep here a second night. It would look as though you had changed your mind and intended to stay at the Palace.’ She did not answer. But her gentlewomen protested that Genji had allowed her to leave the New Palace only on one condition. She was to pay a leisurely visit to the Emperor. She had never been to Court before and might not go again for a long time. Under the circumstances, a leisurely visit was the least that good manners required. To leave so soon would be much too hasty....

He noted with pain her obvious reluctance to leave a place the chief charm of which, as he conjectured, lay in the fact that it afforded her a refuge from his embraces.

It pained him to see how reluctant she was to leave the place. He guessed that its main attraction was that it offered her refuge from his embraces.

Prince Sochi was present when the Mummers performed at the Palace, and his heart beat wildly as he pressed near the Lady-of-the-Bedchamber’s⁵⁶⁰ office. Knowing that if she recognized a note as coming from him she would not open it, he found an excuse for going to Higekuro’s official quarters and sent a messenger from there. Tamakatsura naturally thought that the note came from her husband, and reluctantly opened it: ‘Hatefullest of seasons for me has Spring become, who must stand by and watch the birds of the deep forest folded wing in wing.’ So ran his poem. She blushed crimson as she read it, and was just thinking how she could possibly reply, when the Emperor himself came that way. The moon had risen, and in its full light she scanned his countenance. He was, she at once noticed, extraordinarily like Genji, and it was a relief to her to discover that there were perhaps people in the world who possessed Genji’s beauty yet at the same time were not cut off from her by fictitious parental ties. But her guardian had been extremely fond of her, of that there could be no doubt; whereas this young man unfortunately showed no signs whatever of feeling for her one particle of the affection which Genji had attributed to him. His Majesty expressed in a very good-tempered and considerate way his regret that she had decided not to live permanently at the Palace. This made her feel extremely uncomfortable; she hid her face in her sleeve and did not reply. ‘I should like so much to know what is going on in your mind,’ he said at last. ‘I have a small piece of news for you which I flattered myself would not be unwelcome. But I now remember that not answering is a peculiarity of yours.’

Prince Sochi was present when the Mummers performed at the Palace. His heart beat wildly as he approached the Lady-of-the-Bedchamber’s⁵⁶⁰ office. He knew she would not open a note if she recognized it as his. So he found an excuse to visit Higekuro’s official quarters and sent a messenger from there. Tamakatsura naturally thought the note was from her husband and reluctantly opened it: ‘Spring has become the most hateful season for me. I must stand by and watch the birds of the deep forest nestled wing to wing.’ That was his poem. She blushed crimson as she read it. She was wondering how she could possibly reply when the Emperor himself came by. The moon had risen, and she studied his face in its full light. She immediately noticed that he looked remarkably like Genji. She was relieved to discover that others might have Genji’s beauty without being separated from her by an invented parental bond. But there was no doubt that her guardian had been extremely fond of her. This young man, unfortunately, showed no sign of feeling any of the affection Genji had attributed to him. His Majesty told her, very kindly and considerately, that he regretted her decision not to live permanently at the Palace. She felt extremely uncomfortable, hid her face in her sleeve, and said nothing. ‘I would so like to know what is on your mind,’ he said at last. ‘I have a little news for you that I thought you might welcome. But I remember now that you have a habit of not answering.’

He then handed her an acrostic poem in which he at the same time asked what previous affection on her side had for so long delayed their meeting, and also announced that she had been promoted to the Third Rank. ‘I had hoped that in time we might become very close friends,’ he added. ‘But I see that you hold a different view.’ There came into his voice as he said these few words a new tone, which proved to her in an instant that the Emperor’s feelings as well as his outward appearance were after all uncommonly like those of Genji. Her heart leapt, and she replied with the poem: ‘Of what former love you speak I know not; but henceforward him alone I serve who put the purple on my sleeve.’⁵⁶¹ ‘It is now my duty to earn what hitherto I have done so little to deserve,’ she said timidly. At this he laughed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you have got your reward, and you had better make the most of it. I did not mean it as a bribe. But I think that any reasonable person would admit I had come very badly out of the business....’ He spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was genuinely piqued. ‘This is dreadful,’ thought poor Tamakatsura. ‘Will a handsome man never fall in love with me without saying in the same breath that we must part for ever?’ Evidently he regarded her marriage as a fatal bar to friendship. She became very staid in her manner. Noting this, the Emperor feared that he had shocked her, and made up his mind (for he had by no means abandoned the idea of continuing the acquaintance) henceforth to advance more cautiously.

He then handed her an acrostic poem. In it, he asked what earlier love of hers had delayed their meeting for so long. He also announced that she had been promoted to the Third Rank. ‘I had hoped we might become very close friends in time,’ he added. ‘But I see you feel differently.’ As he said this, a new tone entered his voice. At once, she realized that the Emperor’s feelings, like his appearance, were remarkably similar to Genji’s. Her heart leapt, and she replied with a poem: ‘I do not know what former love you mean. But from now on, I serve only the man who put the purple on my sleeve.’⁵⁶¹ ‘It is now my duty to earn what I have done so little to deserve,’ she said timidly. He laughed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you have your reward, and you had better make the most of it. I did not mean it as a bribe. But I think any reasonable person would agree that I have come off very badly in all this....’ He spoke lightly, but he was clearly hurt. ‘This is dreadful,’ thought poor Tamakatsura. ‘Will a handsome man ever fall in love with me without saying at the same time that we must part forever?’ He clearly saw her marriage as an impossible barrier to friendship. She became very reserved. The Emperor noticed and feared he had shocked her. He had not given up the idea of continuing their acquaintance, so he resolved to proceed more cautiously from then on.

Meanwhile it reached Higekuro’s ears that the Emperor was with her, and falling into a panic he again began scheming to carry her home at the earliest possible moment. Nor did she attempt to dissuade him, for repeated disasters had at last destroyed in her all capacity for resistance. Higekuro invented one pretext after another for her instant removal, and when each in turn had been easily disposed of, he tried to enlist the help of Tō no Chūjō and others of the Court Council. At last the Imperial sanction was obtained. ‘I see that I had better let her go,’ said the young Emperor good-humouredly. ‘If I keep her now, Higekuro will not allow her to come here again; and I am hoping for frequent visits. I think I am right in saying that I first began to take interest in her long before Prince Higekuro set eyes upon her. But he got to work much more quickly than I, and fully deserves the advantage which he has gained.... I have an idea that there was a famous case⁵⁶² of this kind in years gone by, but cannot now recall the names.’ When he had seen her in the distance years ago his curiosity had been aroused, and he had felt that she might be worth getting to know. But at close quarters he found her far more attractive than he had imagined or been led by those who knew her to suppose. He could not now forgive himself for having handled the affair so incompetently. Having at one moment determined to give her confidence by slow stages, he felt at the next that he had not made his sentiments sufficiently plain, and plunged into the most impassioned and hectic avowals. She could not help thinking how well her own state of mind matched that of the lady to whose story the Emperor had already referred.

Meanwhile, Higekuro heard that the Emperor was with her. He panicked and began plotting again to take her home as soon as possible. She did not try to stop him. After so many disasters, she had finally lost all ability to resist. Higekuro came up with one excuse after another to take her away at once. When each was easily dismissed, he tried to win the support of Tō no Chūjō and other members of the Court Council. At last, the Emperor gave his permission. ‘I see I had better let her go,’ the young Emperor said good-humouredly. ‘If I keep her now, Higekuro will not let her come here again, and I hope she will visit often. I believe I first took an interest in her long before Prince Higekuro set eyes on her. But he acted much faster than I did, and he fully deserves the advantage he has gained.... I seem to remember a famous case⁵⁶² like this from years ago, but I cannot recall the names now.’ Years ago, when he had seen her from a distance, his curiosity had been stirred. He had felt she might be worth getting to know. But up close, he found her far more attractive than he had imagined. She was also far more attractive than those who knew her had led him to believe. He could not forgive himself now for handling the affair so badly. One moment he resolved to gain her confidence gradually. The next, he felt he had not made his feelings clear enough and plunged into the most passionate, frantic declarations. She could not help thinking how much her own feelings resembled those of the lady in the story the Emperor had mentioned.

Meanwhile the letters of several public men who were seeking audience with his Majesty had for some time been waiting in the corridor, and just outside the door Higekuro stood officiously mounting sentry over the apartment. ‘I know he is an officer in the Bodyguard,’ said the Emperor, annoyed by his persistency, ‘but I think that on this occasion he is performing his professional duties rather too thoroughly.’

Meanwhile, letters from several officials seeking an audience with the Emperor had been waiting in the corridor for some time. Just outside the door, Higekuro stood guard over the room with officious zeal. The Emperor was annoyed by his persistence. ‘I know he is an officer in the Bodyguard,’ he said, ‘but I think he is doing his job a little too thoroughly on this occasion.’

At parting he gave her the poem: ‘Because the Ninefold Hedge of royalty girds me about, not even the scent of the plum-blossom, nay, not even so much⁵⁶³ is carried to the steps of my Throne.’ Not a very remarkable poem, as on later reflection she would easily have perceived; but at the time it seemed to her a masterly performance. ‘Higekuro,’ the Emperor added, ‘is like the man who “went to gather violets”; I cannot expect that he should be willing even for the briefest space to “quit the fields of Spring.”⁵⁶⁴ Nor have I the heart to ask it of him. Henceforward I shall not attempt to approach you....’

As they parted, he gave her a poem: ‘Because the Ninefold Hedge of royalty surrounds me, not even the scent of plum blossoms, no, not even that much⁵⁶³ reaches the steps of my Throne.’ It was not a very remarkable poem, as she would easily have realized later. But at the time, it seemed to her a masterpiece. ‘Higekuro,’ the Emperor added, ‘is like the man who “went to gather violets.” I cannot expect him to be willing to “quit the fields of Spring,” even for the briefest time.⁵⁶⁴ Nor do I have the heart to ask him. From now on, I shall not try to approach you....’

She could not but admire his delicacy of feeling: ‘Though the scent of this blossom be not as that of others that grow upon the tree, yet even so much let the wind carry to and from your Throne.’⁵⁶⁵ It cost him much to part from her for the last time as he supposed, and it was with many backward glances that he now left her room.

She could not help admiring his sensitivity: ‘Though this blossom does not smell like the others on the tree, let the wind carry even its scent to and from your throne.’⁵⁶⁵ It was hard for him to leave her, as he believed it was for the last time. He glanced back many times as he left her room.

Higekuro was determined that she should not sleep another night at the Palace. He knew that if he broached the matter beforehand to his colleagues on the Council they would certainly refuse to countenance so precipitate a step. Accordingly, without mentioning the matter to anybody, he went straight to Tamakatsura and said: ‘I have suddenly caught a severe chill, and it is essential that I should go at once to some place where I can be properly looked after. There is nothing so awkward as being ill in other people’s houses.’ He spoke in such a weak, plaintive tone that she felt quite sorry for him. A few hours later she was already installed in Higekuro’s house.

Higekuro was determined that she would not spend another night at the Palace. He knew that if he raised the matter with his colleagues on the Council beforehand, they would certainly oppose such a hasty move. So he said nothing to anyone and went straight to Tamakatsura. He told her: ‘I have suddenly caught a severe chill. I must go at once to a place where I can be properly cared for. There is nothing so awkward as being ill in someone else’s house.’ He sounded so weak and miserable that she felt quite sorry for him. A few hours later, she was already settled in Higekuro’s house.

Her father Tō no Chūjō soon heard of this. He was not best pleased, for he feared that the Emperor would regard so sudden a flight as very discourteous. But on the whole he was glad he had not been consulted, for he had no desire to quarrel with Higekuro over so small a matter. In fact, as he usually did when things went wrong, he chose to regard it as Genji’s affair rather than his own; and Genji, although this sudden termination of his tutelage over the girl came as a great shock to him, naturally did not feel called upon to interfere.

Her father, Tō no Chūjō, soon heard about it. He was displeased, fearing that the Emperor would see such a sudden departure as very rude. But overall, he was glad no one had consulted him. He did not want to quarrel with Higekuro over such a small matter. In fact, as he usually did when things went wrong, he treated it as Genji’s concern rather than his own. Genji was shocked that his role as the girl’s guardian had ended so suddenly. Even so, he naturally did not feel obliged to interfere.

Higekuro, though in his heart of hearts he knew that Tamakatsura had no more chosen this destiny than the smoke from the salt-kilns chooses to be blown back across the hill, was so much elated by his success that for the moment her contempt for him did not in the least spoil his pleasure. His state of mind was indeed that of some brigand chief who has carried off an unwilling bride at his saddle-croup. He did indeed scold her for having remained closeted so long with the Emperor. This seemed to her insufferably petty and vindictive on Higekuro’s part. Henceforward she took less and less pains even to keep up in public the appearance of being on any kind of terms with him. He was also cut off from all intercourse with Prince Hyōbukyō’s family. He tried to give the impression that he regarded this as no great loss; but in reality he felt this isolation acutely. However, he did not attempt to communicate with the Prince, and henceforward spent the whole of his time in lavishing unwanted attentions upon his new-won prize.

Deep down, Higekuro knew that Tamakatsura had not chosen her fate. She had no more choice than smoke from the salt-kilns, blown back across the hill. Yet he was so delighted by his success that her contempt did not spoil his pleasure for the moment. He felt like a bandit chief who had carried off an unwilling bride behind him on his horse. He did scold her for spending so long alone with the Emperor. Tamakatsura found this unbearably petty and vindictive. From then on, she made less and less effort to appear on good terms with him, even in public. Higekuro was also cut off from all contact with Prince Hyōbukyō’s family. He tried to make it seem as though he thought this no great loss. In reality, he felt the isolation keenly. Still, he made no attempt to contact the Prince. From then on, he spent all his time lavishing unwanted attention on his newly won prize.

To Genji, who had for months past been preparing himself for Tamakatsura’s departure, her loss came as a far greater blow than he had ever anticipated. It was not indeed her departure (he explained to himself) that he found difficult to bear, but the suddenness and completeness with which Higekuro had taken possession. But be that as it may, he could not for an instant stop thinking about her, and soon fell into a condition of absent-mindedness and melancholy that was observed by all who met him. It is said that whatever happens to us is ruled by our conduct in previous existences, or, as others would express it, by Fate. But it seemed to Genji that for the miseries into which he constantly found himself plunged, no other person or power could possibly be held responsible. They sprang from his own excessive susceptibility, and from no other cause whatever. He longed to write to her; but it seemed impossible, now that she was in the hands of the grim, unbending Higekuro, to address to her the small humours and absurdities of which their correspondence was usually composed. In the second month a period of heavy rain set in; after the ceremonies of the New Year this season is apt to seem rather flat and stale, and, desperately in need of distraction, Genji broke all his resolutions and called at Prince Higekuro’s house. He knew, however, that there was no chance of his seeing her personally, and though it was painful to him, who had been used to spend hour after hour in her company, merely to send in a note, this was the most he dared to attempt. And even so, despite the fact that he was able to get hold of the old nurse Ukon and send the letter through her, he thought it unwise to send a closed note and was therefore obliged to express himself in the most guarded manner, trusting that she would be able to read between the lines. ‘In these dull days when hour on hour the spring rain spills upon the quiet earth, do you at times recall the people and the palace whence you came?’ So he wrote, adding: ‘This is a dreary season at best; and worse than ever for me, who am tormented by longings and recollections of which I cannot now speak.’ Ukon took the letter and succeeded in conveying it to Tamakatsura at one of the rare moments when Higekuro was absent from her side. The old woman, of course, knew nothing of Genji’s sentiments towards her mistress, who had never breathed to any one a word concerning his occasional indiscretions and excesses; but watching Tamakatsura’s face as she read the letter Ukon now guessed a good deal of the truth. But exactly how much had happened between them? That was a question about which Ukon henceforward frequently puzzled her head; but she was unable to reach any conclusion.

Genji had spent months preparing for Tamakatsura’s departure, yet losing her was a far greater blow than he had expected. He told himself that her departure was not what he found hard to bear. It was the sudden and complete way Higekuro had taken possession of her. Whatever the reason, he could not stop thinking about her for a moment. Soon everyone who met him noticed how distracted and melancholy he had become. People say that whatever happens to us is determined by our conduct in previous lives, or, as others put it, by Fate. But Genji felt that no other person or power could possibly be blamed for the miseries that constantly overtook him. They came from his own excessive sensitivity, and nothing else. He longed to write to Tamakatsura. But now that she was in the hands of the grim, unbending Higekuro, he could hardly write about the little jokes and absurdities that usually filled their letters. In the second month, a period of heavy rain began. After the New Year ceremonies, this season tends to feel rather dull and stale. Desperate for a distraction, Genji broke all his resolutions and called at Prince Higekuro’s house. He knew, however, that he had no chance of seeing Tamakatsura in person. He was used to spending hour after hour with her, and it pained him merely to send in a note. But that was the most he dared do. Even though he managed to find the old nurse Ukon and send the letter through her, he thought it unwise to seal it. He therefore had to write with great caution, trusting Tamakatsura to read between the lines. ‘In these dull days, when the spring rain falls hour after hour on the quiet earth, do you sometimes remember the people and the palace you left behind?’ he wrote. He added: ‘This is a dreary season at best. It is worse than ever for me, because I am tormented by longings and memories I cannot speak of now.’ Ukon took the letter and managed to give it to Tamakatsura during one of the rare moments when Higekuro was away from her side. The old woman, of course, knew nothing of Genji’s feelings for her mistress. Tamakatsura had never told anyone about his occasional indiscretions and excesses. But as Ukon watched her face while she read the letter, she guessed much of the truth. Still, how much exactly had happened between them? From then on, Ukon often puzzled over the question, but she could reach no conclusion.

Throughout this time Genji was constantly reminded of his separation from Oborozuki⁵⁶⁶ at the time when she became Consort of the Emperor Suzaku. She too was Lady-of-the-Bedchamber; she too was carried away and locked up in a place whither it was impossible for him to pursue her. He remembered having been very unhappy then, but nothing like so miserable as he was now. Was it that he was becoming more and more sentimental, he asked himself, or merely that the sufferings of the moment always seem more acute than those which we conjure up out of the past? But whether or no the miseries of to-day were really worse than those of yesterday, of this much he was sure, that from none of his divagations had anything but torment and agitation ever ensued. Well, it was all over now; henceforward his existence would be free from these devastating entanglements, and no doubt he would be a great deal happier than ever before. But for the moment it was not so very easy as he had imagined to begin this new life of resignation and tranquillity. He thought he would make use of the bad weather to practise a little on his zithern; but no sooner did he take it into his hands than he began to recall how Tamakatsura had played this and that phrase or run at the time when he was giving her a lesson every day. To break the spell of these recollections he tuned his instrument to the Eastern Mode and played the old song ‘Let the weeds grow.’⁵⁶⁷ Could she have seen him as he sat playing that lovely air, it would have been strange indeed if she had not wished herself back in her late home.

Throughout this time, Genji kept remembering his separation from Oborozuki⁵⁶⁶ when she became Emperor Suzaku’s consort. She too was a Lady-of-the-Bedchamber. She too had been taken away and shut up somewhere he could not follow. He remembered being very unhappy then, but nothing like as miserable as he was now. Was he growing more sentimental, he wondered? Or did present suffering always seem sharper than pain recalled from the past? Whether or not his misery today was worse than yesterday’s, he was sure of one thing. His affairs had brought him nothing but torment and distress. Well, it was all over now. From now on, his life would be free of these devastating entanglements. No doubt he would be much happier than ever before. But for the moment, it was harder than he had imagined to begin this new life of acceptance and peace. He thought he would use the bad weather as a chance to practice his zither. But as soon as he picked it up, he began remembering how Tamakatsura had played certain phrases and runs. He had given her lessons every day. To break the spell of these memories, he tuned his instrument to the Eastern Mode. Then he played the old song ‘Let the weeds grow.’⁵⁶⁷ If she could have seen him playing that lovely tune, it would have been strange indeed if she had not wished herself back in her former home.

The young Emperor too, though their acquaintance had been so brief, could not get Tamakatsura out of his head. ‘As she went by, trailing the skirts of her crimson gown....’⁵⁶⁸ For some reason these words haunted him, though the poem could scarcely be more ill-sounding and crude than it is; and he too began to contrive secret ways of communicating with her. But she had long ago made up her mind that happiness was not to be her fate, and could not bring herself to toy with it by the familiar interchange of pretty thoughts and images. Letter after letter arrived; but in her replies she never went beyond a formal acknowledgment. Often she remembered with gratitude Genji’s untiring devotion to her interests and comforts. What matter if he fell between the two extremes of parent and lover? No one, she felt sure, would ever look after her as he had done.

The young Emperor, too, could not get Tamakatsura out of his mind, though they had known each other only briefly. ‘As she went by, trailing the skirts of her crimson gown....’⁵⁶⁸ For some reason, these words haunted him, though the poem could hardly sound more awkward and crude. He, too, began to devise secret ways to communicate with her. But she had long ago decided that happiness was not meant for her. She could not bring herself to toy with happiness by exchanging the usual pretty thoughts and images. Letter after letter arrived, but she replied with only a formal acknowledgment. She often remembered with gratitude how tirelessly Genji had looked after her interests and comfort. What did it matter if he was neither quite a parent nor quite a lover? She felt sure that no one would ever care for her as he had.

It was now the third month. The wisteria and mountain-kerria in the gardens of the New Palace were in full bloom, loveliest of all at evening, when the light of the setting sun slanted through the hanging sprays of delicate blossom. This was a moment of the year that had always given him an intense delight; but now it hardly seemed to move him. He left Murasaki’s domain and made his way to the western garden.⁵⁶⁹ Here too the mountain-kerria was in magnificent bloom. In especial he noticed a great trail of it that hung across a clump of Chinese bamboos and recited to himself the poem: ‘O mountain flower that lovest to grow upon the rocks,⁵⁷⁰ thou shalt teach me to endure in silence,⁵⁷¹ the love that I must hide.’ Never before had he repented so bitterly of his determination to surrender the girl into other hands. It had seemed while she was with him so easy to be wise, to make self-sacrificing resolutions. But now that he had lost her it was incredible that he could ever have deliberately planned and executed so terrible a disaster. He happened to notice that there were a lot of eggs in the pigeon-house, and arranging them prettily in a basket along with oranges and lemons he sent it as a present to Tamakatsura, not with any very definite intention.⁵⁷² When Higekuro saw the basket with its accompanying note, he burst out laughing: ‘What an extraordinary man this Genji is!’ he said. ‘Why, even if he were your real father he could not now that you are married expect to meet you except on particular occasions. What does he want? He seems, in one way or another, to be always complaining that he does not see you.’ She did not seem to have any intention of acknowledging the gift, and as the messenger was still waiting, Higekuro said: ‘Let me answer it for you!’ ‘I am not minded that any should reclaim her, this fledgling that was not counted among the brood of either nest.’ Such was the poem he sent, and he added: ‘My wife was surprised at the nature of your gift, and was at a loss how to reply without seeming to attach an undue importance to it....’

It was now the third month. The wisteria and mountain-kerria in the New Palace gardens were in full bloom. They were loveliest at evening, when the setting sun shone through the hanging sprays of delicate blossoms. This time of year had always given him intense delight, but now it hardly seemed to move him. He left Murasaki’s domain and made his way to the western garden.⁵⁶⁹ Here too the mountain-kerria was in magnificent bloom. He especially noticed a long trail of it hanging across a clump of Chinese bamboo. He recited a poem to himself: ‘O mountain flower that loves to grow on the rocks,⁵⁷⁰ you shall teach me to endure in silence⁵⁷¹ the love I must hide.’ Never before had he regretted so bitterly his decision to give the girl to someone else. While she was with him, it had seemed so easy to be wise and make self-sacrificing resolutions. But now that he had lost her, he could hardly believe he had deliberately planned and carried out such a terrible disaster. He happened to notice many eggs in the pigeon-house. He arranged them prettily in a basket with oranges and lemons and sent it as a gift to Tamakatsura. He had no very definite intention in doing so.⁵⁷² When Higekuro saw the basket and the note that came with it, he burst out laughing. ‘What an extraordinary man Genji is!’ he said. ‘Why, even if he were your real father, he could only expect to see you on certain occasions now that you are married. What does he want? In one way or another, he always seems to be complaining that he does not see you.’ She did not seem inclined to acknowledge the gift. Since the messenger was still waiting, Higekuro said: ‘Let me answer it for you!’ ‘I will not let anyone claim her back, this fledgling who was not counted among the brood of either nest.’ That was the poem he sent, and he added: ‘My wife was surprised by your gift. She did not know how to reply without seeming to give it too much importance....’

Genji laughed when the note was brought to him. ‘I have never known Higekuro stoop to concern himself in such trifles as this,’ he said. ‘What is the world coming to?’ But in his heart he was deeply offended by the arrogantly possessive tone of Higekuro’s letter.

Genji laughed when the note was brought to him. ‘I’ve never known Higekuro to bother himself with such trivial matters,’ he said. ‘What is the world coming to?’ But he was deeply offended by the arrogant, possessive tone of Higekuro’s letter.

As the months went by Lady Makibashira became more and more deeply buried in her own dark and frightful thoughts. Soon she seemed to be gradually lapsing into complete helplessness and imbecility. Higekuro enquired after her constantly and did everything in his power to make her comfortable, incurring considerable outlay on her behalf, and indeed watching over her practical interests exactly as he would have done if she had still been at home. He continued to be devotedly attached to his children, but Prince Hyōbukyō would not allow him to see the little girl. The boys, however, were constantly at their father’s house, and came back chattering about ‘such a nice, new lady’ who had come to live there. ‘She knows all sorts of lovely games and plays with us all day,’ they said. The little girl stared at them open-eyed, having formed in her mind a very different picture of the woman whom her present guardians represented always as the unscrupulous monster who had ruined their father’s home. But in reality it was not surprising that Tamakatsura should have won the boys’ hearts, for she possessed an extraordinary faculty for making herself liked by people of all sorts and ages wherever she went.

As the months passed, Lady Makibashira sank deeper and deeper into dark and frightening thoughts. Soon she seemed to be slipping gradually into complete helplessness and mental incapacity. Higekuro constantly asked after her and did everything he could to make her comfortable. He spent a great deal on her and looked after her practical needs just as he would have if she were still at home. He remained devoted to his children, but Prince Hyōbukyō would not let him see the little girl. The boys, however, were often at their father’s house. They came back chattering about ‘such a nice, new lady’ who had come to live there. ‘She knows all sorts of lovely games and plays with us all day,’ they said. The little girl stared at them wide-eyed. She had imagined the woman very differently. Her current guardians always described her as the unscrupulous monster who had ruined their father’s home. But it was not surprising that Tamakatsura had won the boys’ hearts. Wherever she went, she had an extraordinary ability to make people of all kinds and ages like her.

In the eleventh month of that year she bore Higekuro a handsome boy. The father’s delight knew no bounds, and the solicitude with which he watched over both mother and child can easily be imagined. Tō no Chūjō too rejoiced that the match should be turning out so unqualified a success and felt that he had acted very wisely in recommending it. And certainly, he said to himself, she deserved a success, for she possessed quite as much charm as the sisters over whom he had taken a great deal more trouble. Kashiwagi too was glad that all seemed to be going well, for he had settled down into the position of an extremely helpful and admiring brother. Perhaps, however, he still cared for her with something more than brotherly affection; he had a feeling that he would have preferred the child to be some one else’s rather than Higekuro’s; for example, if only she had borne such a child (so he reflected as he gazed at the infant) to the Emperor Ryōzen, who constantly lamented that he had no children, what a future might have been in store for it!

In the eleventh month of that year, she bore Higekuro a handsome boy. His father’s delight knew no bounds. One can easily imagine the care he gave both mother and child. Tō no Chūjō also rejoiced that the match was turning out to be such an unqualified success. He felt he had been very wise to recommend it. And she certainly deserved success, he told himself. She was just as charming as the sisters for whom he had taken much more trouble. Kashiwagi, too, was glad that all seemed to be going well. He had settled into the role of a helpful and admiring brother. Perhaps, though, he still cared for her as more than a brother. He felt he would have preferred the child to be someone else’s rather than Higekuro’s. As he gazed at the infant, he thought of Emperor Ryōzen, who constantly lamented that he had no children. If only she had borne such a child to the Emperor, what a future the child might have had!

After her recovery Tamakatsura continued to administer the business of the Bedchamber from her husband’s house, and seemed to show no intention of ever again appearing at the Palace. There were precedents for such an arrangement as this, and no exception could well be taken to it.

After her recovery, Tamakatsura continued to manage the business of the Bedchamber from her husband’s house. She seemed to have no intention of ever returning to the Palace. There were precedents for this arrangement, so no one could reasonably object to it.

But to go back a little. In the autumn of this year Tō no Chūjō’s eccentric daughter, foiled in her ambition to become Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, added to the embarrassment of her relations by a series of the most flutter-brained flirtations. Her sister Lady Chūjō lived in a constant state of agitation, convinced that sooner or later this Lady of Ōmi would get into some scrape of a kind which might seriously compromise the whole family. She saw no reason why she should be saddled with so needless a responsibility and begged her father to intervene. Tō no Chūjō accordingly sent for her and warned her as impressively as he could that she must in future stay in her sister’s rooms and not wander all over the house, as she had lately developed the habit of doing. This remonstrance, however, had no effect, and she was soon causing as much anxiety as ever to her unwilling sponsors.

But to go back a little. In the autumn of that year, Tō no Chūjō’s eccentric daughter had failed in her ambition to become Lady-of-the-Bedchamber. She further embarrassed her relatives with a series of utterly silly flirtations. Her sister Lady Chūjō was constantly worried. She was convinced that sooner or later the Lady of Ōmi would get into trouble that might seriously damage the whole family’s reputation. Lady Chūjō saw no reason to be burdened with such an unnecessary responsibility and begged her father to intervene. Tō no Chūjō therefore sent for the Lady of Ōmi. He warned her as sternly as he could to stay in her sister’s rooms from then on. She was not to wander all over the house, as she had lately taken to doing. But his warning had no effect, and she was soon causing her unwilling caretakers as much anxiety as ever.

It happened one day that a number of distinguished courtiers had come to the house; it was an autumn night of exceptional beauty, music was in progress, and every one was in uncommonly good spirits. Even Yūgiri, usually so quiet and orderly, was talking in rather an excited manner. Some one amid the group of ladies at the end of the room pointed him out to her neighbour and made some remark to the effect that she had never seen him look so handsome. ‘Handsome! Who’s handsome?’ screamed a piercing voice, the owner of which suddenly craned her neck in the direction indicated; and before any one could stop her the Lady of Ōmi had pressed her way to the front of the throng, where she stood staring at Yūgiri open-mouthed, while every one present wondered what hideous piece of folly or impertinence would shortly issue from those ecstatically parted lips. But all she did was to point at the embarrassed Yūgiri and say in a voice which, though it was meant to be a whisper, was audible all over the room: ‘Look at that one, now, just look at him!’ And she recited in a ringing voice the poem:

One day, several distinguished courtiers had come to the house. It was an exceptionally beautiful autumn night, music was playing, and everyone was in unusually good spirits. Even Yūgiri, usually so quiet and composed, was talking rather excitedly. At the end of the room, one of the ladies pointed him out to her neighbor. She remarked that she had never seen him look so handsome. ‘Handsome! Who’s handsome?’ screamed a piercing voice. The woman who had spoken suddenly craned her neck in the direction indicated. Before anyone could stop her, the Lady of Ōmi pushed her way to the front of the crowd. There she stood, staring open-mouthed at Yūgiri. Everyone wondered what dreadful foolishness or rudeness would soon come from those ecstatically parted lips. But all she did was point at the embarrassed Yūgiri and say, ‘Look at that one, now, just look at him!’ She meant to whisper, but her voice carried all over the room. Then she recited the poem in a ringing voice:

‘Like the man who lost his rudder said, when he found himself at the same place where he started: “It all comes to the same thing in the end,”’ she added encouragingly.

‘It's like what the man who lost his rudder said when he found himself back where he started: “It all comes to the same thing in the end,”’ she added encouragingly.

Who on earth could, this extraordinary madcap be, wondered poor Yūgiri, when suddenly he recollected the queer stories that had a little while ago been current about some odd girl whom Tō no Chūjō had adopted. This of course must be she, and laughing, he answered her with the poem:

Poor Yūgiri wondered who on earth this extraordinary madcap could be. Then he remembered the strange stories that had recently circulated about an odd girl Tō no Chūjō had adopted. This must be her, of course. Laughing, he answered her with a poem:

That does not sound very kind, she thought.

That doesn't sound very kind, she thought.