 Chapter 6 of Genji Monogatari. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ziff. Genji Monogatari. By Murasaki Shikibu. Translated by Suyumetsu Kenjiyo. Saffron Flower. The beauteous yugao of Genji was lost, but memory of her never vanished from his mind. Her attractive nature, thoughtfulness and patient manner had seemed to him surpassingly charming. At last he began to think of seeking for some other maiden who might resemble her in these qualities. True, his thoughts had often reverted to Zikada and to her young friend, but it was now of little use thinking of them, for one had gone to the country, and the other was married. Now Genji had another nurse, next in degree to Daini. The daughter of this nurse, Taiyuu Nomiyobu, was in court service. She was still young, and full of mirth and life. Genji was wanted to make her useful when in the palace. Her father, who had been remotely connected with the royal blood, was an official in the War Department. Her mother, however, had been married again to the governor of the province of Chiksen, and had gone there with her husband. So Taiyuu made her father's house her home, and went from there backwards and forwards to the palace. She was an intimate acquaintance of a young princess, the daughter of the late Lord Lieutenant of Itachi, and she had been the child of his old age, and was at this time his survivor. The life that she passed was somewhat lonely, and her circumstance is miserable. Taiyuu mentioned this young lady to Genji, who exclaimed, How sad! Tell me about her. I cannot say that I know so much about her, replied Taiyuu. She leads a very retired life, and is seldom seen in society. Perhaps some favourable evening you might see her from a hiding place. The koto is her favourite instrument, and the favourite amusement of her solitude. Ah! said Genji. I see one of the three friends, as the Chinese poets call them, music, poetry, and wine, but of the other two one is not always a good friend. And he added, Well, you may manage some time to let me hear her koto. The prince, her father, had great taste and reputation in such arts. So I believe she is no ordinary performer. But perhaps, after all, not so good as you imagine, replied Taiyuu disingenuously. Oh! that remains to be discovered, quite Genji nibbling at the bait. One of these evenings I will come, and you had better be there also. Now the home of Taiyuu's father was at some distance from the princess's mansion, but Taiyuu used to spend her time very often with the princess when she had leave of absence from the court, chiefly because she did not like being at home with her stepmother. For this reason Taiyuu had plenty of chances for gratifying the wish of Genji to see the princess. So a certain evening was appointed. It was a sweet balmy day in spring, and the grounds of the palace were full of silence and repose. Taiyuu left the palace and proceeded to the mansion of the princess, attracted more by the beauty of the evening than by the point made. Genji also appeared on the scene with the newly risen moon, and was soon prattling with Taiyuu. You have not come at a very favorable time, said she. This is not the sort of evening when the kato sounds sweetest. But take me somewhere, so that I may hear her voice, I cannot go away without hearing that. Taiyuu then led him into a private room, where she made him sit down and left him, saying as she went away, I am sorry to make you wait, but you must have a little patience. She proceeded to another part of the palace occupied by the princess, whom she found sitting pensively near an open casement, inhaling the rich perfume of the plum blossoms. A good opportunity, thought Taiyuu, and advancing to the princess, said, What a lovely evening! How sweet it is at such an hour is the music of the kato. My official going to and fro to the palace prevents me from having the pleasure of hearing it often. So do now, if you please, play me a tune. You appreciate music, said the princess, but I am afraid that mine is not good enough to charm the ear of courtieres. And if you wish it, I will play one tune. And she ordered the kato to be brought, and began to strike it. Her skill was certainly not super excellent, but she had been well instructed, and the effect was by no means displeasing to the ear. Taiyuu, however, it must be remembered, was rather a sharp girl. She did not like Genji to hear too much, so as to criticize, and therefore sit to the princess, casting a glance upwards. Now changed and dull the sky has become, a friend of mine is waiting, and is perhaps impatient. I must have more of this pleasure some other time. At present I must go and see him. Thus she caused the princess to cease playing, and went to Genji, who exclaimed when she returned. Her music seems pretty good, but I had better not have heard it at all. How can we judge by so little? If you are willing to oblige me at all, let me hear her and see more closely than this. Taiyuu made a difficulty. She is so retiring. She said, and always keeps herself in the strictest privacy. Were you to intrude upon her, it would not be acting rightly. Truly so, replied Genji, her position ensures her from intrusion. Let us then seek for some better opportunity. And then he prepared to take leave, as if he had some other affairs on his hands. Were you observed with a knowing smile? The emperor, your father, always thinks of you as quite goddess, and actually says so. When I hear these remarks I often laugh in my sleep. Were his majesty to see you in these disguises? What would he then think? Genji answered with a slight laugh, nonsense, if these trifling amusements were thought so improper, how cheerless the life of a woman would be. Taiyuu made no remark and reply, so Genji then left the house and took a stroll around the garden, intending to reach that part of the mansion where the princess had her apartments. As he sauntered along he came to a thick hedge in which there was a dark bower, and here reached to stop awhile. He stepped cautiously into it, when he suddenly perceived a tall man concealed there. Who can this be? thought Genji, as he withdrew to a corner where the moonlight did not reach. This was To-no-chi-udio, and the reason of his being there was this. He had left the palace that evening in company with Genji, who did not go to his house in Nijio, nor to his bride, but separated from him on the road. To-no-chi-udio was very anxious to find out where Genji was going. He therefore followed him unperceived. When he saw Genji enter the mansion of the princess, he wished to see how the business would end, so he waited in the garden in order that he might witness Genji's departure. Listening at the same time to the kato of the princess, Genji did not know who the man was, nor did he wish to be recognized. He therefore began to retreat slowly on tiptoe, when To-no-chi-udio came up to him from behind and addressed him. You slighted me, but I have come to watch over you. Though like two wandering moons on high, we left a vast imperial home. We parted on our road, and I knew not where you were bent to roam. Genji had once recognized his companion, and being somewhat amused at his pertinacity exclaimed, What an unexpected surprise! We all admire the moon, just true. Whose home unknown to mortal eye is in the mountain's head, but who, to find that far-off home would try? Hereupon To-no-chi-udio gave him a taunt. What would you do, said he, if I were to follow you very often? Were you to maintain true propriety in your position, you had always to have trustworthy attendants, and I am sure by so doing, you will meet with better fortune. I cannot say that it is very decorous of you to go wondering about in such a fashion. It is too frivolous. How very tiresome, mentally exclaimed Genji, but he little knows about his Nadashiko, little darling. I have him there. Neither of them ventured to go to any other rendezvous that night, but with many mutual home thrusts they got into a carriage together and proceeded home, amusing themselves all the way with a duet on their flutes. Entering the mansion, they went to a small apartment where they changed their dresses and commenced playing the flute in such a manner as if they had come from the palace. The sedigion, hearing this music, could not for bear joining them, and blew skillfully a Korean flute and concert with the ears. Lady Aoi, also in her room, catching the impulse, ordered some practice players on the koto to perform. One time both Genji and Toa Nochujio in their secret minds were thinking of the notes of the koto heard before on that evening, and of the bare and pitiable condition of the residence of the princess whom they had left, a great contrast to the luxury of their present quarters. Toa Nochujio's idea about her took something of this shape. If girls who, from a modest propriety, keep themselves aloof for years from our society, where it lasts to be subdued by our attentions, our affection for them would become irresistible, even braving whatever remark's popular scandal might pass upon us. She may be like one of these. The prince Genji seems to have made her the object of some attentions. He is not one to waste his time without reason. He knows what he is doing. As these thoughts arose in his mind, a slight feeling of jealousy disturbed him, and made him ready to dare a little rivalry in that quarter. Four, it would appear, that after this day, amatory letters will often send both by him and Genji to the princess, who, however, return no answer to either. This silence on her part made Toa Nochujio more especially think thus, a strange rejection, and from one, too, who possesses such a secluded life. True, her birth is high, but that cannot be the only reason which makes her bury herself in retirement. There must be some stronger reason, I presume. As we have before mentioned, Genji and Toa Nochujio were so intimate that all ceremony was dispensed with between them, and they could ask each other any question without reserve. From this circumstance, Toa Nochujio one day boldly inquired of Genji. I dare say you have received some replies from the princess. Have you not? I, for my part, have thrown out some hits in that quarter by way of experiment, but I gave up in disappointment. Then he, too, has been trying there, thought Genji, smiling slightly, and replied very vaguely. I am not particularly concerned whether I get an answer or not, therefore I cannot tell you whether I have received any. I understand that, thought Toa Nochujio. Perhaps he has got one, and I suspect so. To state the truth, Genji was not very deeply smitten by the princess, and he was but little concerned at her sending no reply to his letter. But when he heard the confession of his brother-in-law's attempts in the same quarter, the spirit of rivalry stirred him once more. A girl, thought he, will yield to him who pays her the most attentions. I must not allow him to excel me in that. And Genji determined to achieve what he intended to do, and with this object still enlisted the aid of Tayu. He told her that the princesses treating his letter with such indifference was an act of great cruelty. Perhaps she does this, said he, because she suspects I am changeable. I am not, however, such a one is that. It is often only the fault of ladies themselves that causes men to appear so. Besides, a lady like the princess, who has neither parent nor brother to interfere with her, is a most desirable acquaintance, as we can maintain our friendship far better than we could otherwise do. Yes, what you say is all very well, replied Tayu, but the princess is not exactly so placed that anyone can make himself quite at ease with her, as I told you before she is very bashful and reserved, but yet is perhaps more desirable for this very reason. And she detailed many more particulars about her. This enabled Genji to fully picture the general bearing of the princess's character, and he thought, perhaps her mind is not one of brilliant activity, but she may be modest and of a quiet nature, worthy of attention, and so he kept the recollection of her alive in his mind. Before, however, he met her, many events had taken place. He had been attacked by the egg, which led to his journey to the mountain, and his discovery of violet and his secret affection for a certain one in the palace. His mind being thus otherwise occupied, the spring and summer passed away without anything further transpiring about the princess. As the autumn advanced, his thoughts recurred to past times, and even the sound of the fuller's hammer, which he had listened to in the home of Yu Gao, came back to his mental ear, and these reveries again brought him to the recollection of the princess Hitachi, and now once more he began to urge Tayu to contrive in mating. It would seem that there was no difficulty for Tayu to bring the matter about, but at the same time no one knew better than herself that the natural gifts and culture of the princess were far from coming up to Genji's standard. She thought, however, that it would matter very little if he did not care for her, but if, on the other hand, he did so, he was quite free to come and see her without any interference. For this reason she had last made up her mind to bring them together, and she gave several hints to the princess. Now it so happened towards the end of August that Tayu was on one occasion engaged in conversing with the princess. The evening was as yet moonless. The stars alone twinkled in the heavens, and the gentle winds blew plaintively over the tall trees around the mansion. The conversation gradually led to times gone by, and the princess was rendered sad by the contrasts of her present circumstances with those of her father's time. This is a good opportunity, thought Tayu, and she sent, it seems, a message to Genji who soon hastened to the mansion with his usual alacrity. At the moment when he arrived on the scene, the long looked foremoon had just made her appearance over the tops of a distant mountain, and as he looked along the wildly growing hedges around the residence, he heard the sound of the kato, which was being played by the princess at Tayu's request. It sounded a little too old-fashioned, but that was of no consequence to the eager years of the prince. He soon made his way to the entrance, and requested domestic to announce him to Tayu. When the latter heard of this she effected great surprise, and said to the princess, The princess, come! How annoying! He has often been displeased because I have not yet introduced him to you. I have often told him that you do not particularly like it, and therefore I cannot think what makes him come here. I had better see him and send him away, but what shall I say? We cannot treat him like an ordinary person. I am really puzzled what to do. Will you not let me ask you if you will see him for a few minutes? Then all matters will end satisfactorily. But I am not used to receive people, so the princess blushing. How simple-minded! rejoined Tayu, hoaxingly. I am sorry for that. For the bashfulness of young ladies who are under the care of their parents may sometimes be even desirable, but how then is that parallel with your case? Besides, I do not see any good in a friendless maiden refusing the offer of a good acquaintance. Well if you really insist upon it, said the princess, perhaps I will, but don't expose me too much to the gaze of a stranger. Having thus cunningly persuaded the princess, Tayu set the reception room in order, into which Genji was soon shown. The princess was all the while experiencing much nervousness, and thus she did not know exactly how to manage. She left everything to Tayu, and was led by her to the room to receive her visitor. The room was arranged in such a way that the princess had her back to the light, so that her face and emotions could be obscured. The perfume which she used was rich, still preserving the trait of high birth, but her demeanor was timid and her deportment awkward. Genji at once noticed this. Just as I imagine, she is so simple, thought he, and then he commenced to talk with her, and to explain how passionately he had desired to see her. She however listened to him almost in silence, and gave no plain answer. Genji was disconcerted, and at last said, From you I sought so oft to reply, but you to give one would not dame. If you discard me, speak, and I will cease to trouble you again. The governess of the princess could cheat you by name, who was present was a sagacious woman, and noticing the embarrassment of the lady, she advanced to her side and made the following reply in such a well-timed manner, that her real object, which was to conceal the deficiencies of her mistress, did not betray itself. Not by the ringing of a bell, your words we wish to stay, but simply she has not to tell, and nothing much to say. Your eloquence has so struck me that my mouth is almost closed, said Genji Smiley. Not speaking is a wiser part, and words are sometimes but to completely close the heart in silence gives me pain. He then tried to speak of this thing and that indifferently, but all hopes of agreeable responsiveness in the lady's part being vain, he coolly took his leave and left the mansion, much disappointed. This evening he slept in his mansion at Nijiyo. The next morning, To no Chiyo Jio appeared before he had risen. How late, how late, he cried in a peculiar tone. Were you fatigued last night, eh? Genji rose and presently came out, saying, I have overslept myself. That is all. Nothing to disturb me. But have you come from the palace? Was it your official watch night? Footnote. Young noble spent a night in the palace in turns to attend any unexpected official business. And a footnote. Yes, replied To no Chiyo Jio, and I must inform you that the dancers and musicians for the fate in Suzakuen are to be dominated today. I came from the palace to report this to my father, so I must now go home, but I will soon return to you. I will go with you, said Genji, but let us breakfast before we start. Breakfast was accordingly brought, of which they partook. Two carriages, Genji's and To no Chiyo's, were driven to the door, but To no Chiyo Jio invited the prince to take a seat with him. Genji complied, and they drove off. Going along, To no Chiyo observed with an envious tone in his voice. You look very sleepy, to which Genji returned in a different reply. From the house of Sadaijin, they proceeded to the Imperial palace to attend the selection of the dancers and musicians. Then, Genji drove with his father-in-law to the mansion of the latter. Here in the excitement of the coming fate were assembled several young nobles in addition to Genji himself. Some practiced dancing, others music, the sound of which echoed everywhere around. A large Hitchiriki and a Shakuhachi, two kinds of flute, were blown with the utmost figure. Even large drums were rolled upon a balcony and beaten with a will. During the following days, therefore, Genji was so busily engaged that no thought came across his mind of her visiting the princess Hitachi. Taiyu certainly came now and then, and strove to induce him to pay the princess another visit, but he made an excuse in the pretext of being so much occupied. It was not until the fate was over that one evening he resolved to pay a visit there. He did not, however, announce his intention openly, but went there in strict secrecy, making his way to the house unobserved as there was no one about. On his arrival, he went up to the lattice window and peeped through. The curtains were old and half worn out, yet were still left to hang in the once pretty and decorated chamber. There were a few domestic maintenance there partaking of supper. The table and service seemed to be old Chinese, but everything else portrayed a scantiness of furniture. In the further room where the mistress was probably dining, an old waitress was passing in and out, wearing a peculiar white dress, rather fabled in appearance, and an awkward-looking comb and her hair, after the old fashion style of those formerly in the service of their aristocratic class, of whom a few might still be retained in a family, thought Genji smiling. He might see this kind of thing in the college of ceremonies. One of the maids happened to say, This poor coal place, when one's life is too long, such fate comes to us. Another answered her, How was it we did not like the mansion when the late prince was living? Thus they talked about one thing or another connected with their mistress's point of means. Genji did not like that they should know that he had seen and heard all this, so he slyly went through some distance, and then, advancing with a firm step, approached the door and knocked. Someone has come, credit servant, who then brought a light, opened the door, and showed him into a room where he was soon joined by the princess, neither Taiyu nor Kujijiu being there on this occasion. The latter was acquainted with the Saiyan, the sacred virgin at the temple of Kamu, Futhnu. When a new emperor succeeded, two virgins, chosen from the royal princesses, were sent, one to the Shinto temple at Issei, the other to the same temple at Kamu, to become vestals, and super-intended services, and a Futhnu. And often spent some time with her. On this occasion she happened to be visiting her, a circumstance which was not very convenient for the princess. The dilapidated state of the mansion was just as novel to Genji as that which he had seen in the Lodge of Yugao, but the great drawback consisted in the princess's want of responsiveness. She spoke much, she but little. Outside in the meantime, the weather had become boisterous and snow fell thickly, while within in the room where they sat the lamp burned dimly, no one waiting there even to trim the light. Some hours were spent between them, and then Genji rose and, throwing up the shutter in the same way as he did in the Lodge of Yugao, looked upon snow which had fallen in the garden. The ground was covered with a sheet of pure whiteness. No footsteps had left its trace, betraying the fact that few persons came to the mansion. He was about to take his departure, but some vague impulse arrested him. Turning to the princess, he asked her to come near him, and to look out on the scene, and she somewhat unreadily complied. The evening was far advanced, but the reflection of the snow threw a faint light over all. Now for the first time he discovered the imperfections of the personal attractions the princess. First, her stature was very tall, the upper part of her figure being out of proportion to the lower. Then, one thing which startled him most was her nose. It reminded him of the elephant of Fugen. It was high and long, while its peak, a little drooping, was tinged with pink. To the refined eyes of Genji, this was a sad defect. Moreover, she was thin, too thin, and her shoulders drooped too much, as if the dress was too heavy for them. Why am I so anxious to examine and criticize, thought Genji, but his curiosity impelled him to continue his examination. Her hair and the shape of her head were good, in no way inferior to those of others he liked so well. Her complexion was fair and her forehead well developed. The train of her dress, which hung down gracefully, seemed about a foot too long. If I described everything when she wore her eye, she'd become loacious, but in old stories the dress of the personages is very often more minutely described than anything else, so I must, I suppose, do the same. Her vest and skirt dress were double, and were of light green silk, a little worn over which was a row of dark color. Over all this she wore a mantle of sable of good quality, only little too antique in fashion. To all these things, therefore, he felt no strong objection, but the two things he could not pass unnoticed were her nose and her style of movement. She moved in a stiff and constrained manner, like a master of the ceremonies in some court procession, spreading out his arms and looking important. This afforded him amusement, but still he felt for her. If I say too much, pardon me, said Genji, but you seem apparently friendless. I should advise you to take interest in one with whom you have made acquaintance. He will sympathize with you. You are much too reserved. Why are you so? The icicle hangs at the gable end, but melts when the sun is high. Why does your heart not to me unbend and warm to my melting sigh? A smile passed to the lips of the princess, but they seemed too stiff to reply in a similar strain. She said nothing. The time had now come for Genji to depart. His carriage was drawn up to the middle gate, which, like everything else that belonged to the mansion, was in a state of dilapidation. The spot overgrown with wild vegetation, spoken of by sama no kami, might be such as this, he thought, if one can find a real beauty of elevated character and obtain her, how delightful would it not be? The spot answers the description, but the girl does not quite equal the idea. However, I really pity her, and will look after her. She is a fortunate girl, for if I were not such a one as I am, I should have little sympathy for the unfortunate and unfavorite, but this is not what I shall do. He saw an orange tree in the garden covered with snow. He bade his servant, shake it free. A pine tree which stood close by suddenly jerked its branches as if in emulation of its neighbor, and threw off its load of snow like a wave. The gate through which he had to drive out was not yet opened. The gatekeeper was summoned to open it. Thereupon an aged man came forth from his lodge, a miserable looking girl with a pinched countenance stood by his daughter or his granddaughter, whose dress looked poorer from the whiteness of the surrounding snow. She had something containing light at charcoal, which she held to her breast for one. When she observed that her aged parent who could scarcely push back the gate, she came forward and helped him, and the scene was quite droll. Gengi's servant also approached him, and the gates were thrown open. Again Gengi hummed, the one who on the time-bent head of age beholds the gathered snow, nor lest his tears of grief may shed for griefs that youth can only know, and at it youth with its body uncovered. Footnote From a Chinese poem about poor people, night advancing, snow and hail fly white around, youth with its body uncovered, and the aged with chilly pain, grief and cold come together and make them both sob. End of Footnote Then the pitiful image of one with a tinge flower, footnote, a play upon the word hana, which means a nose as well as a flower, end of footnote. On her face presented itself once more to his thoughts and maiden smile. With toenote you observe this, what would he not have to say, but he as he drove back slowly to his mansion. After this time, communications were frequently sent from Gengi to the princess. This he did because he pitied the helpless condition and circumstances he had witnessed more than for any other reason. He also sent her rolls of silk which might replace the old fashion sable skins, some damas, calico, and the like. Indeed presents were made even to her aged servants and the gatekeeper. In ordinary circumstances with women, particular attention such as this might make a blush, but the princess did not take it in such a serious light, nor did Gengi do this from any other motive than kindness. The year approached its end. He was in his apartment in the Imperial Palace when one morning Tai Yu came in. She was very useful to him in small services, such as hairdressing, so she had easy access to him, and thus she came to him this morning. I have something strange to tell you, but it is somewhat trying for me to do so. She said, half-smiling. What can it be? There can be nothing to conceal from me. But I have some reason for my hesitation to reveal it, replied Tai Yu. You make a difficulty, as usual, rejoined Gengi. This is from the princess. She said, taking a letter from her pocket and presenting it. Is this a thing of all others that you ought to conceal? cried Gengi, taking the letter and opening it. It was written on thick and coarse paper of Michinok manufacture. The verse it contained ran as follows. Like this my sleeves are worn away by weeping at her long delay. These words puzzled Gengi. Inclining his head in a contemplative way, he glanced from the paper to Tai Yu and from Tai Yu to the paper. Then she drew forth a substantial case of antique pattern, saying, I cannot produce such a thing without shame, but the princess expressly sent this for your new year. I could not return it to her, nor keep it myself. I hope you will just look at it. Oh, certainly, replied Gengi. It is very kind of her. At the same time thinking, what a pitiful verse. This may really be her own composition. No doubt Kujiji has been absent. Besides, she seems to have had no master to improve her penmanship. This must have been written with great effort. We are to be grateful for it, as they say. Here a smile rose in Gengi's cheeks in a blush upon Tai Yu's. The case was opened and a Naoshi, a kind of gown, of scarlet, shabby and old-fashioned, of the same colour on both sides was found inside. The sight was almost too much for Gengi from its very absurdity. He stretched out the paper on which the verse had been written and began to write on one side, as if he was merely playing with the pen. Tai Yu, glancing slally, found that he had written. This colour pleases not my eye, too fiery bright its gaudy hue, and when the saffron flower was nigh, the same pink tinge was plain to view. He then erased what he had written, but Tai Yu quickly understood what he really meant by saffron flower, referring to the pinkness of its flower. Although the dress too brightened hue and scarlet tints may please you not, at least to her who sends be true, soon will Naoshi be forgot. While they were thus prattling on the manner, people were entering the room to see him, so Gengi hastily put the things aside, and Tai Yu retired. A few days after, Gengi one morning looked into the Dai Han show, large parlor, where he found Tai Yu and threw a letter to her, saying, Tai Yu, here is the answer. It has cost me some pains, and then passed through, humming as he went, with a peculiar smell, like that scarlet-tinged plum. None but Tai Yu understood the real illusion, one of the women observed. The weather is too frosty, perhaps he has seen someone written by the frost, and others said, what an absurdity, there is no one among us of that hue, but perhaps saffron, or unenei, maybe like this, and thus they chatted on till the matter dropped. The letter was soon sent by Tai Yu to the princess, who assembled all her tendons round her, and they all read it together, when the following was found in it. Of my rare visits you complain, but can the meaning be, pray come not often, nor again, for I am tired of thee? On the last day of the year he made the following presents to the princess, sending them in the same case as the Naoshi had been sent to him. Stuff for a complete dress, which had originally been presented to himself, also rolls of silk, one of the colour of the purple grape, and either of the Kariya Japonica colour, and others. All these were handed to the princess by Tai Yu. It should be observed that these presents were made by Genji to the princess chiefly on account of her reduced circumstances. Her attendants, however, who wished to flatter their mistress, exclaimed, our scarlet dress is very good, too, scarlet is a colour which never fades, the lines we sent were also excellent, those of the prince are, no doubt, a little amusing, but nothing more. The princess, slatted by the remarks, wrote down her verse in her album, as if worthy of preservation. The new year began with the morrow, and it was announced that the Atoko Doka, gentleman singing-dances, would soon take place in which Genji would take part. Since he was busy in going backwards and forwards to practice, but the lonely residents of the saffron flower began to draw his thoughts in that direction. So after the ceremony of the state festival, on the seventh day, he betook himself there in the evening, after he had left the emperor's presence, having made a pretence of retiring to his own private apartments. On this occasion the appearance of the lady happened to be little more attractive, and Genji was pleased, thinking there might be a time when she would improve still more. When the sun shone forth, he rose to leave. He opened the casement on the western side of the mansion, and looking at the corridor, perceived that its roof was broken. Through it the sunshine peeped, and shone upon the slight cover of snow, scattered in the crevices. The scene, as we have before us, betrayed everywhere, dilapidation and decay. The mirror-stand, combs and dressing-case were brought in by an attendant. They were all of an extremely antique pattern. He drew an armstool near him, and, resting himself upon it, began combing his hair. He was amused at the sight of these articles, which were doubtless a legacy from her parents. The dress of the princess was in every way nicer. It had been made out of the silk of Genji's present. He recognized it by the tasteful pattern. Turning to her, he said, This year, you might become a little more genio. The only thing I wait for, above all, is a change in your demeanour, to which she, with some awkwardness, said. In the spring, when numerous birds sing, such poetic responses were a great delight to Genji who thought they were the silent testers of time, and that she had made some improvement. He then left and returned to his mansion in Nidio, where he saw the young violet innocently amusing herself. She wore with grace a long, close-fitting, cherry-colored dress of plain silk. He had not yet blackened her teeth. Footnote An old custom in Japan for girls when married, or even betrothed, is to blacken their teeth. This custom, however, is rapidly disappearing. End of footnote But he now made her do so, which gave a pleasant contrast to her eyebrows. He played at their usual games at toys with her, trying in every way to please her. She drew pictures and painted them, so did he also. He drew the likeness of a lady with long hair, and painted her nose with pink. Even a caricature it was odd to see. He turned his head to a mirror in which he saw his own image reflected in great serenity. He then took the brush and painted his own nose pink. Violet on seeing this screamed. When I become ornamented in this way, what shall I be like? inquired Genji. That would be a great pity. Do wipe it off. It might stain, she replied. Genji partly wiped it off, saying, Need I wipe it off any more? Suppose I go with this to the palace. On this, Violet approached and carefully wiped it for him. Don't put any more color, cried Genji, and play upon me as hey, G.U. Footnote In an old tale it is stated that this man had a sweetheart. He often pretended to be weeping, and made his eyes moist by using the water which he kept in his bottle for mixing ink in order to deceive her. She discovered this rose, so one day she put ink into it secretly. He damped his eyes as usual, when, giving him a hand mirror, she hummed, You may show me your tears, but don't show your blackened face to strangers. End of footnote. The mild sun of spring descended in the west, and darkness slowly gathered over the forest tops, of scurrying all but the lovely white plum blossoms which were still visible amidst the gloom. At the front of the porch also, a red plum blossom which usually opens very early, was deeply tinged with glowing hues, Genji murmured. The red-tinged flower is far from fair, nor do my eyes delight to see, but your red plum, which blossoms there, is full of loveliness to me. What will become of all these personages? End of Saffron Flower, Recording by Ziff, Yokohama, Japan. The royal visit to the Suzakin was arranged to take place towards the middle of October, and was anticipated to be a grand affair. Ladies were not expected to take part in it, and they all regretted their not being able to be present. The Emperor therefore wished to let his favourite, the Princess Wisteria, above others, have an opportunity of witnessing a rehearsal that would represent the coming fate, and ordered a preliminary concert to be performed at the court, in which Genji danced their blue main waves, with Torno Tiu-Jio for his partner. They stood and danced together, forming a most pleasing contrast, one so to speak, like a bright flower, the other, an everlasting verger beside it. The rays of the setting sun shone over their heads, and the tones of the music rose higher and higher in measure to their steps. The movements both of hand and foot were eminently graceful, as well also was the song of Genji, which was sung at the end of his dance, so that some of the people remarked that the sound of the holy bird, Karyō-binga, might be even like this, and so the rehearsal ended. When the day of the fate came, all the royal princes, including the heir apparent, and all personages of state, were present at the scene. On the lake, the music-boat, filled with selected musicians, floated about, as usual on such occasions. And in the grounds, the bands, which had been divided into two divisions on the right and left, under the direction of two ministers and two Yemon Nokami, played. With this music different dances, including Chinese and Korean, were performed, one after another, by various dances. As the performance went on, the high winds rustled against the tall fir trees, as though divine strains of music had broken forth on high in harmony with them. The tune of the bands became quick and thrilling, as different colored leaves whirled about overhead. Then at length, the hero of the blue main waves made his appearance, to the delight of the suddenly startled spectators, from the midst of a knoll in the grounds, covered with maple leaves. The twigs of maple which crowned his head, became thinned as he danced, and a sadaishio, plucking a bunch of chrysanthemums from in front of the royal stand, replaced the lessened maple leaves. The sun was by this time descending, and the sky had become less glaring, while the face of nature seemed as if it were smiling on the scene. Genji danced with unusual skill and energy. All the pages and attendants who were severally stationed here under the side of the rock, there under the shade of the foliage, were quite impressed with the effect of the performance. After Genji, a little prince, the child of the Nyogo of Dior Kyoden, danced the autumn gales, with a success next to that of Genji. In the principal interest of the day being over, as these dances were finished, the fate ended. This very evening Genji was invested with the title of shousanmi, and tono chiudio, with that of shoushi. Many other persons also received promotion in rank according to their merits. It was after this fate that the young violet was taken into the mansion of Genji at Nidior, and she lived with him. The more care he took of her, the more amiable she became, while nothing pleased him more than teaching her to read and write. The full extent of her mourning for her grandmother was three months, as it is for the maternal side, and on the last day of December her dress was changed. As she, however, had been always brought up under the care of her grandmother, her indebtedness to the latter was not to be held lightly. Consequently, any bright colors were not advisable for her, so she wore plain scarlet, mauve, and light yellow, without trimmings or ornament on them. The dawn ushered in the New Year's Day. Genji was about to leave his mansion to attend the New Year's Levy. Just before starting, he came into Violet's room to see her. "'How are you? Are you becoming less childish now?' said he, with a smile to the girl who was playing with her henna—toys. "'I am trying to mend this. Inuki damaged it when he was playing what he called, Driving Out Devils,' replied the girl. "'What carelessness! I will soon get it mended for you. Don't cry this day, please!' said Genji, and he went off, the maidens who attended on Violet accompanying him to the door. This example was also followed by Violet herself. She went back again to her toys, and presented a toy prince, whom she called Genji, at the court of her toy-house. Xionagon was beside her. She said, "'You might really be a little more womanly,' as the prince told you. "'How very childish! A girl older than ten, always playing with toys!' Genji said nothing, but she seemed, for the first time, to have become aware that she was expected to be a woman in the course of time. From the court Genji went to the mansion of Sadajin. Lady Aoi was as cool to him as ever. His persuasive eloquence availed him but little. She was older than Genji by four years, and was as cold and stately in her mien as ever. Her father, however, received him joyfully whenever he called, although he was not always satisfied with the capriciousness of his son-in-law. The next morning Genji rose early and was arranging his toilet with a view of making his New Year's visits, when Sadajin entered the room and officiously assisted him in putting on his dress, except perhaps his boots. He moreover had brought him a belt mounted with rare jewels, and requested him to wear it. Genji observed, such a belt is more suited for some special occasion, such as a royal banquet or the like. But Sadajin insisted on his putting it on, telling him that for that sort of occasion he possessed a much more valuable one. These New Year's visits were only paid to the Emperor, to the heir apparent, and to the Princess Wisteria at her private residence in Sandyo, where she had retired, but she did not receive him personally. At this time the Princess was not in her usual state of health, for she was approaching her confinement. Many people who thought they might have heard of the event in December now began to say, at least we shall receive the intelligence this month, and the Emperor himself became impatient, but the month passed away and yet it did not happen. In the middle of February, however, she was safely delivered of a prince. During the following April the child was presented to the Emperor. He was rather big for his age, and had already begun to notice those around him. In these days much of Genji's time was passed at Nidyur with Violet, and Lady Aowee was still greatly neglected. The circumstances which induced him to stay at home more than ever were these. He would order his carriage to be brought in readiness to take him, but before it was ready he would proceed to the western wing, where Violet lived. Perhaps with eyes drowsy after dozing, and playing on a loot as he went, he would find her moping on one side of the room, like a fair flower moistened with Jews. He would then approach her side and say, How are you? Are you not well? She, without being startled, would slowly open her eyes, and murmur, sad like the weed in a creek, and then put her hand on her mouth deprecatingly. On this he would remark how knowing you are, where did you learn such things? He would then call for a koto, and saying, The worst of the so koto is that its middle cord should break so easily, would arrange for a hyo-gyo tune, and when he had struck a few cords on it, would offer it to her, asking her to play, and would presently accompany her with his flute. They would then play some difficult air, perhaps Horsoroguciri, a very ugly name, but a very lively tune, and she would keep very good time, and display her skill. The lamp would be presently brought in, and they would look over some pictures together. In due time the carriage would be announced. Perhaps it might be added, it is coming on to rain. Upon hearing this, she would, perhaps, put her pictures aside, and become downcast. He would then smooth her wavy hair, and say, Are you sorry when I am not here? To this question she would indicate her feelings by slightly nodding and affirmative, and she would lean on his knee, and begin to doze. He would then say, I shall not go out tonight. The servant having brought in supper, would tell her that Genji was not going out that evening. Then she would manifest the greatest delight, and would partake of the supper, and thus it came to pass that he often disappointed one who was expecting him. The way that Genji neglected his bride gradually became known to the public, nay, to the emperor himself, who sometimes admonished him, telling him that his father-in-law always took great interest in him, and great care from his earliest childhood, and saying that he hoped that he would surely not forget all these benefits, and that it was strange to be unkind to his daughter. But when these remarks were made to Genji, he answered nothing. Let us now change our subject. The emperor, though he had already passed the meridian of life, was still fond of the society of the fair sex, and his court was full of ladies who were well versed in the ways of the world. Some of these would occasionally amuse themselves by paying attentions to Genji. We will here relate the following amusing incident. There was at the court a Naishino-skit, who was already no longer young, and commonly called Gen-Naishino-skit. Both her family and character were good. She was, however, in spite of her age, still cocketish, which was her only fault. Genji often felt amused at her being so young in temperament, and he enjoyed occasionally talking nonsense with her. She used to attend on the emperor while his hair was being dressed. One day, after he had retired into his dressing-room, she remained in the other room, and was smoothing her own hair. Genji happened to pass by. He stole unperceived into the room, and slyly tugged the skirt of her robe. She started, and instinctively half covered her face with an old-fashioned fan, and looked back at Genji with an arch-glance in her sunken eyes. "'What an unsuitable fan for you!' exclaimed Genji, and took it from her hand. It was made of reddish paper, apparently long in use, and upon it an ancient forest had been thickly painted. In a corner was written, in antique style, the following words. "'On grass is old, neath forest trees, no steed will browse or sway in delay. How real that grass may be, it is neither good for food nor play!' Genji was highly amused. "'There are many things one might write on fans,' thought he. "'What made her think of writing such odd lines as these?' "'Ah!' said Genji. "'I see. Its summer shade is still thick, though.' While he was joking, he felt something like nervousness in thinking what people might say if any one happened to see him flirting with such an elderly lady. She, on her side, had no such fear.' She replied, "'If beneath that forest tree, the steed should come or sway in should be, where that ancient forest grows, is grass for food, and sweet repose.' "'What!' retorted Genji. If my steed should venture near, perhaps he'd find a rival there. Someone's steed full well I wean, rejoices in these pastures green, and quitted the room. The emperor, who had been peeping, unobserved into it, after he had finished his toilet, laughed heartily to himself at the scene. Tono Tudio was somehow informed of Genji's fun with this lady, and became anxious to discover how far he meant to carry on the joke. He therefore sought her acquaintance. Genji knew nothing of this. It happened on a cool summer evening that Genji was sauntering round the Umeiden in the palace-yard. He heard the sound of a biwa, mandolin, proceeding from a veranda. It was played by this lady. She performed well upon it, for she was often accompanied to play it before the emperor along with male musicians. It sounded very charming. She was also singing it to the melanchroa. I thought Genji. The singing woman in Gakshore, whom the poet spoke of, may have been like this one, and he stood still and listened. Slowly he approached near the veranda, humming slowly as he went, adds Mayat, which she soon noticed and took up the song. Do open and come in, but I do not believe you're in the rain, nor that you really wish to come in. Genji had once responded, Whose love you may be, I know not, and I'll not stand outside your cot, and was going away, when he suddenly thought, This is too abrupt, and, coming back, he entered the apartment. How great was the joy of Torno Tudio, who had followed Genji unperceived by him, when he saw this. He contrived a plan to frighten him, so he reconnoited in order to find some favourable opportunity. The evening breeze blew chill, and Genji, it appears, was becoming very indifferent. During this moment Torno Tudio slyly stepped forward to a spot where Genji was resting. Genji soon noticed his footsteps, but he never imagined that it was his brother-in-law. He thought it was Sudino Kami, a great friend of the lady. He did not wish to be seen by this man. He reproached her for knowing that he was expected, but that she did not give him any hint. Carrying his Naushi on his arm, he hid himself behind a folding screen. Torno Tudio, suppressing a laugh, advanced to the side of the screen, and began to fold it from one end to the other, making a crashing noise as he did so. The lady was in a dilemma, and stood aloof. Genji would feign have run out and concealed himself elsewhere, but he could not get on his Naushi, and his head-dress was all awry. The Tudio spoke not a word lest he should betray himself, but making a pretended angry expostulation he drew his sword, all at once the lady threw herself at his feet, crying, My Lord, my Lord! Torno Tudio could scarcely constrain himself from laughing. She was a woman of about fifty-seven, but her excitement was more like that of a girl of twenty. Genji gradually perceived that the man's rage was only simulated, and soon became aware who it was that was there, so he suddenly rushed out, and catching hold of Torno Tudio's sword-arm pinched it severely. Torno Tudio no longer maintained his disguise, but burst into loud laughter. How are you, my friend? Were you in earnest? exclaimed Genji jestingly. But first let me put on my Naushi. But Torno Tudio caught it, and tried to prevent him putting it on. Then I will have yours, cried Genji, seizing the end of Torno Tudio's sash, and began to unfasten it while the latter resisted. Then they both began to struggle, and their Naushi soon began to tear. Ah! cried Torno Tudio. Like the Naushi to the eye, your secrets all discovered lie. Well! replied Genji. This secret is so well you know, why am I now disturbed by you? And they both quitted the room without much noticing the state of their garments. Torno Tudio proceeded to his official chamber, and Genji to his own apartment. The sash and other things which they had left behind them were soon afterwards sent to Genji by the lady. The sash was that of Torno Tudio. Its colour was somewhat deeper than his own, and while he was looking at this he suddenly noticed that one end of a sleeve of his own Naushi was wanting. Torno Tudio, I suppose, has carried it off, but I have him also, for here is his sash. A page-boy from Torno Tudio's office, hereupon entered, carrying a packet in which the missing sleeve was wrapped, and a message advising Genji to get it mended before all things. Fancy if I had not got this sash, thought Genji, as he made the boy take it back to his master in return. In the morning they were in attendance at court. They were both serious and solemn in demeanour, as it happened to be a day when there was more official business than on other days. Torno Tudio, who being chief of the Kurand, which office has to receive and dispatch official documents, was especially much occupied. Nevertheless, they were amused themselves at seeing each other's solemn gravity. In an interval when free from duty Torno Tudio came up to Genji and said, with envious eyes, Have you not been a little scared in your private expedition? When Genji replied, No, why so? There was nothing serious in it, but I do sympathise with one who took so much useless trouble. They then cautioned each other to be discreet about the matter, which became afterwards a subject for laughter between them. Now even some royal princes would give way to Genji, on account of his father's favour towards him, but Torno Tudio, on the contrary, was always prepared to dispute with him on any subject, and did not yield to him in any way. He was the only brother of the Lady Aoi, by the same royal mother, with an influential state-personage for their father, and in his eyes, that it not seemed to be much difference between himself and Genji. The incidents of the rivalry between them, therefore, were often very amusing, though we cannot relate them all. In the month of July the Princess Wisteria was proclaimed Empress. This was done because the Emperor had a notion of abdication in favour of the heir apparent, and of making the son of the Princess Wisteria the heir apparent to the new Emperor. But there was no appropriate guardian or supporter, and all relations on the mother's side were of the royal blood, and thereby disqualified from taking any active part in political affairs. For this reason the Emperor wished to make the position of the mother firmer. The mother of the heir apparent, whom this arrangement left still a simple niogo, was naturally hurt and uneasy at another being proclaimed Empress. Indeed she was the mother of the heir apparent, and had been so for more than twenty years, and the public remarked that it was a surveyor-trial for her to be thus superseded by another. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of Genji Monogatari This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Genji Monogatari by Murasaki Shikobu, translated by Suyama Tsukenshiro. Chapter 8 Flower Feast Towards the end of February the cherry flowers at the front of the southern palace were coming into blossom, and a feast was given to celebrate the occasion. The weather was most lovely, and the merry birds were singing their melody to the charms of the scene. All the royal princes, nobles, and literati were assembled, and among them the Emperor made his appearance. Supported by the Princess Wisteria, now Empress, on the one side, and the Nyogol of Kokiden, the mother of the heir apparent on the other, the latter having constrained herself to take part with her rival in the fate in spite of her uneasiness at the recent promotion of that rival. When all the seats were taken the composing of poems as was the custom commenced, and they began picking up the rhymes. The turn came in due course to Genji who picked up the word spring. Next to Genji, Tōnochiyochiyo took his. Many more followed them including several aged professors, who had often been present on similar occasions, with faces wrinkled by time and figures bowed by the weight of years. The movements and announcements both of Genji and his brother-in-law were elegant and graceful, as might be expected, but among those who followed there were not a few who showed awkwardness, this being more the case with scholars of ordinary accomplishments, since this was an epoch when the Emperor, the heir apparent, and others of higher distinction were more or less accomplished in these arts. Meanwhile they all partook of the feast, the celebrated musicians joyfully played their parts, and as the sun was setting the spring lark sings, name of a dance was danced. This reminded those present of Genji's dance at the Maple Fade, and the heir apparent pressed him to dance, at the same moment putting on his head a wreath of flowers. Upon this Genji stood up and waving his sleeves danced a little. Tōnochiyochiyo was next requested by the Emperor to do the same thing, and he danced the Willow Flower Gardens most elaborately, and was honoured by the Emperor with a present of a roll of silk. After them many young nobles danced indiscriminately one after another, but we cannot give an opinion about them as the darkness was already gathering round. Lamps were at length brought, when the reading of the poems took place, and late in the evening all present dispersed. The palace grounds now became quite tranquil, and over them the moon shone with her soft light. Genji, his temper mellowed by Sakke, was tempted to take a stroll to see what he could see. He first sauntered round Fuji Tsubo, the Chamber of Wisteria, and came up by the side of the corridor of Kokkiden. He noticed a small private door standing open. It seems that the Norōgō was in her chamber at the Emperor's quarters, having gone there after she retired from the feast. The inner sliding door was also left open, and no human voice was heard within. Such are occasions on which one often compromises oneself, thought he, and yet slowly approached the entrance. Just at that moment he heard a tender voice coming toward him humming. Everything so sweet as the overall moonlight. Genji waited her approach, and caught her by the sleeve. It made her start. Who are you, she exclaimed? Don't be alarmed, he replied, and gently led her back to the corridor. He then added, Let us look out on the moonlight together. She was, of course, nervous, and would fain have cried out. Hush, said he. Know that I am one with whom no one will interfere. Be gentle and let us talk a little while. These words convinced her that it was Prince Genji, and calmed her fears. It appears that he had taken more sake than usual, and this made him rather reckless. The girl, on the other hand, was still very young, but she was witty and pleasantly disposed, and spent some time in conversing with him. He did not yet know who she was, and asked, Can't you let me know your name? Suppose I wish to write to you hereafter. But she gave no decided answer. So Genji, after exchanging his fan with hers, left her and quietly returned to his apartments. Genji's thoughts were now directed to his new acquaintance. He was convinced that she was one of the younger sisters of the Nyogor. He knew that one of them was married to a Prince, one of his own relations, and another to his brother-in-law, Doinō Chōchō. He was perfectly sure that his new acquaintance was not either of these, and he presumed her to be the fifth or sixth of them, but was not sure which of these two. How can I ascertain this, he thought, if I compromise myself and her father becomes troublesome, that won't do, and yet I must know. The fan which he had just acquired was of the colour of cherry. On it was a picture representing the pale moon coming out of a purple cloud, throwing a dim light upon the water. To Genji this was precious. He wrote on the one side the following, and kept it carefully with a longing for the chance of making it useful. The moon I love has left the sky, and where it is appeared I cannot tell. I search in vain, in vain I try, to find the spot where it may dwell. Now it so happened that on a certain day at the end of March an archery meeting was to be held at Udaijins, in which numerous noble youths were to be present, and which was to be succeeded by the Wisteria flower-feast. The height of the flower season was past, but there were two cherry-cheese beside the Wisteria in the gardens which blossomed later. A new building in the ground which had been decorated for the occasion of the mogie of the two princesses was being beautifully arranged for this occasion. Genji also had been told one day at court by Udaijin that he might join the meeting. When the day came Genji did not arrive early. Udaijin sent by one of his sons the following haughty message to Genji who was at the time with the Emperor, if the flowers of my home were of every day hue, why should they so long a time have tarried for you? Genji at once showed this to the Emperor asking whether he had better go. Ah! said the latter, smiling, this is from a great personage. You had better go, I should think, besides there are the princesses there. Thereupon he prepared to go and made his appearance late in the afternoon. The party was very pleasant although the archery match was almost finished and several hours were spent in different amusements. As twilight fell around Genji affected to be influenced by the sake he had taken, left the party and went to the part of the palace where the princesses lived. Only wisteria flowers in the gardens could also be seen from this spot and several ladies were looking out on them. I have been too much pressed. Let me take a little quiet shelter here, said Genji, as he joined them. The room was nicely scented with burning perfume. There he saw his two half-sisters and some others with whom he was not acquainted. He was certain that the one he wished to ascertain about was among them, but from the darkness of the advancing evening he was unable to distinguish her. He adopted a device for doing so. He hummed as he looked vacantly around the Ishikawa, but instead of the original line, my belt being taken artfully and in an arched tone substituted the word fan for belt. Some were surprised at this change while others even said, What a strange Ishikawa! One only said nothing but looked down and thus betrayed herself as the one whom he was seeking, and Genji was soon at her side. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Genji Monogatari This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Elizabeth Zokaites. Genji Monogatari by Murasaki Shikigu. Translated by Suyematsu Kencho. Chapter 9, Hollyhawk The Emperor has at last abdicated his throne, as he has long intended, in favor of the heir apparent, and the only child of the princess Wisteria is made heir apparent to the new emperor. The ex-emperor now lived in a private palace with this princess in a less royal style, and the Nyogo of Kokiden to whom was given the honorary title of ex-empress resided in the imperial palace with the emperor, her son, and took up a conspicuous position. The ex-emperor still felt some anxiety about the heir apparent, and appointed Genji as his guardian, as he had not yet a suitable person for that office. This change in the reigning emperor, and the gradual advancement of Genji's position, gave the latter greater responsibility, and he had to restrain his wandering. Now, according to usage, the Saigyu and the Saeim were selected, for the latter the second sister of the emperor was chosen, and for the former the only daughter of the lady of Doku-jiyo, whose husband had been a royal prince. The day of the departure of the Saigyu for Issei was not yet fixed, and the mind of her mother, who had some reasons for dissatisfaction with Genji, was still wavering in her indecision, whether or not she should go to Issei with her daughter. The case of the Saeim, however, was different, and the day of her installation was soon fixed. She was the favourite child of her mother as well as of her father, and the ceremonies for the day of consecration were arranged with a special splendor. The number of persons who take a share in the procession on this occasion is defined by regulations, yet the selection of this number was most carefully made from the most fashionable of the nobles of the time, and their dresses and saddles were all chosen of beautiful appearance. Genji was also directed by special order to take part in the ceremony. As the occasion was expected to be magnificent, every class of the people showed great eagerness to witness the scene, and a great number of stands were erected all along the road. The day thus looked forward to at last arrived. Lady Aoi Seldom showed herself on such occasions. Besides, she was now in a delicate state of health, near her confinement, and had, therefore, no inclination to go out. Her attendance, however, suggested to her that she ought to go. It is a great pity, they said, not to see it. People come from a long distance to see it. Her mother also said, You seem better to-day. I think you had better go. Take these girls with you. Being pressed in this way, she hastily made up her mind, and went with a train of carriages. All the road was thronged by multitudes of people, many dressed in a style which is called Tsubo Shouzoku. Many of great age prostrated themselves in an attitude of adoration, and many others, notwithstanding their natural blindness, looked almost blooming from the joy expressed in their countenances. Nay, even nuns and aged women from their retreats were to be seen amongst them. Numerous carriages were also squeezed closely together, so that the broad thoroughfare of the Ichijo road was made almost spaceless. When, however, the carriages of the Lady Aoi's party appeared, her attendants ordered several others to make way, and forced a passage to the spot where the best view could be obtained, and where the common people were not allowed. Being these happened to be two Ajiro carriages, and their inmates were plainly incognito and persons of rank. These belonged to the party of the Lady of Dokudyo. When these carriages were forced to give place, their attendants cried out, These carriages do not belong to people who ought to be so abruptly forced away, but the attendants of the Lady Aoi, who were slightly under the influence of rank, would not listen to their expostulations, and they at last made their way and took up their position, pushing the other two back where nothing could be seen, even breaking their poles. The Lady so maltreated was, of course, extremely indignant, and she would feign have gone home without seeing the spectacle, but there was no passage for retiring. Meanwhile the approach of the procession was announced, and only this calmed her a little. Genji was as usual conspicuous in the procession. There were several carriages along the roads on whose occupants his glance was cast. That of Lady Aoi, however, was the most striking, and as he passed by the attendants saluted him courteously, which Act Genji acknowledged. What were the feelings of the Lady of Dokudyo who had been driven back at this moment? In due course the procession passed, and the exciting scene of the day was over. The quarrels about the carriage naturally came to the ears of Genji. He thought that Lady Aoi was too modest to be the instigator of such a dispute, but her house was one of great and powerful families famous for overweening pride, a tendency shared by its domestics, and they, for other motives, also of rivalry, were glad to have an opportunity of mortifying the Lady of Dokudyo. He felt for the wounded Lady, and hastened to see her, but she, under some pretext, refused to see him. The day of the Holy Hawk fate of the same temple came. It was especially grand, as it was the first one after the installation of the new Saim, but neither Lady Aoi nor the Lady of Dokudyo was present, while Genji privately took violet with him in a close carriage to see the festival and saw the horse races. We have already mentioned that the mind of the Lady of Dokudyo was still wavering and unsettled whether or not she should go to Ise with her daughter, and this state of mind became more and more augmented and serious after the day of the dispute about the carriages, which made her feel a bitter disdain and jealousy towards the Lady Aoi. Strange to say that from about the same time Lady Aoi became ill and began to suffer from spiritual influences. All sorts of exorcisms were duly performed, and some spirits came forth and gave their names, but among them was a spirit, apparently a living one, which obstinately refused to be transmitted to the third party. It caused her great suffering, and seemed not to be of a casual nature, but a permanent hostile influence. Some imagined this to be the effect of fearful jealousy of someone who was intimately known to Genji and who had most influence over him, but the spirit gave no information to this effect. Hence, some even surmised that the wandering spirit of some aged nurse or the like, long since dead, still haunted the mansion and might have seized the opportunity of the Lady's delicate health and taken possession of her. Meanwhile, at the mansion of Dokujou, the Lady, when she was informed of the sufferings of Lady Aoi, felt somewhat for her, and began to experience a sort of compassion. This became stronger when she was told that the sufferings of the Lady Aoi were owing to some living spirit. She thought that she never wished any evil to her, but when she reflected, there were several times when she began to think that a wounded spirit, such as her own, might have some influence of the kind. She had sometimes dreams, after weary thinking, between slumber and waking, in which she seemed to fly to some beautiful girl, apparently Lady Aoi, and to engage in bitter contention and struggle with her. She became even terrified at these dreams, but yet they took place very often. Even in ordinary matters, she thought, it is too common a practice, to say nothing of the good done by people, but to exaggerate the bad. And so, in such cases, if it should be rumoured that mine was that living spirit which tormented Lady Aoi, how trying it would be to me. It is no rare occurrence that one's disembodied spirit after death should wander about, but even that is not a very agreeable idea. How much more, then, must it be disagreeable to have the repute that one's living spirit was inflicting pain upon another? This thought still preyed upon her mind, and made her listless and depressed. Being due course, the confinement of Lady Aoi approached. At the same time, the jealous spirit still vexed her, and now more vigorous exercising was employed. She became much affected by it, and cried out, Please release me a little, I have something to tell the Prince. Hereupon he was ushered into the room. The curtain was dropped, and the mother of the Lady left the room, as she thought her daughter might prefer to speak to him in private. The sound of the spells performed in the next chamber ceased, and Hokei Kyō was read in its place. The Lady was lying on her couch, dressed in a pure white garment, with her long tresses unfastened. He approached her, and taking her hand, said, What sad affliction you cause us? She then lifted her heavy eyelids, and gazed on Genji for some minutes. He tried to soothe her, and said, Pray don't trouble yourself too much about matters. Everything will come right. Your illness, I think, will soon pass away. Even supposing you quit this present world, there is another where we shall meet, and where I shall see you once more cheerful, and there will be a time when your mother and father will also join you. Ah, no, I only come here to solicit you to give me a little rest. I feel extremely disturbed. I never thought of coming here in such a way, but it seems the spirit of one whose thoughts are much disconcerted wanders away unknown even to itself. Oh, bind my wandering spirit, pray, dear one, nor let it longer stray. The enunciation of these words was not of Lady Aoi herself, and when Genji came to reflect it clearly belonged to the Lady of Dokdil. Always before, when anyone had talked with him about a living spirit coming to vex Lady Aoi, he felt inclined to suppress such ideas. But now he began to think that such things might really happen, and he felt disturbed. You speak thus, said Genji, as if he was addressing the spirit. But you do not tell me who you are. Do therefore tell me clearly. At these words, strange to say, the face of the Lady Aoi seemed momentarily to assume the likeness of that of Dokdil. On this Genji was still more perplexed and anxious, and put a stop to the colloquy. Presently she became very calm, and people thought that she was a little relieved. Soon after this, the Lady was safely delivered of a child. Now, to perform due thanksgiving for this happy deliverance, the head of the monastery on Mount Hie and some other distinguished priests were sent for. They came in all haste, wiping off the perspiration from their faces as they journeyed, and from the emperor and royal princes down to the ordinary nobles, all took an interest in the ceremony of Ubu-Yashinae, first feeding, and the more so as the child was a boy. To return to the Lady of Dokdil. When she heard of the safe delivery of Lady Aoi, a slightly jealous feeling once more seemed to vex her, and when she began to move about, she could not understand how it was, but she perceived that her dress was scented with a strange odor. She thought this most surprising, and took baths and changed her dress in order to get rid of it, but the odor soon returned, and she was disgusted with herself. Some days passed, and the day of autumn appointments arrived. By this time Lady Aoi's health seemed progressing favorably, and Genji left her in order to attend the court. When he said good-bye to her, there was a strange and unusual look in her eyes. Sada'idim also went to court, as well as his sons, who had some expectation of promotion, and there were few people left in the mansion. It was in the evening of that day that Lady Aoi was suddenly attacked by a spasm, and before the news of this could be carried to the court, she died. These sad tidings soon reached the court, and created great distress and confusion. Even the arrangements for appointments and promotion were disturbed. As it happened late in the evening, there was no time to send for the head of the monastery, or any other distinguished priest. Messengers of inquiry came one after another to the mansion, so numerous that it was almost impossible to return them all answers. We need not add how greatly affected were all her relations. As the death took place from a maligned spiritual influence, she was left untouched during two or three days in the hope that she might revive, but no change took place, and now all hope was abandoned. In due course the corpse was taken to the cemetery of Toribeno. Most mourners and priests of different churches crowded to the spot, while representatives of the ex-emperor, princess Wisteria and the heir apparent also were present. The ceremony of burial was performed with all solemnity and pathos. Thus the modest and virtuous Lady Aoi passed away forever. Genji forthwith confined himself to his apartment in the great mansion of Sadaidim for mourning and consolation. Tono Chujyo, who is now elevated to the title of Sammi, constantly bore him company and conversed with him both on serious and amusing subjects. Their struggle in the apartment of Gennai-shi and also their recounter in the garden of the saffron flower were among the topics of their consoling conversation. It was on one of these occasions that a soft shower of rain was falling. The evening was rendered cheerless, and Tono Chujyo came to see him, walking slowly in his mourning robes of a dull color. Genji was leaning out of a window, his cheek resting on his hand, and, looking out upon the half-fading shrubberies, was humming. Has she become rain or cloud, it is now unknown. Tono Chujyo gently approached him. They had, as usual, some pathetic conversation, and then the latter hummed as if to himself. Beyond the cloud in yonder sky, from which descends the passing rain, her gentle soul made well, though we may cease to trace its form in vain. This was soon responded to by Genji. That cloudy shrine we view on high, where my lost love made well unseen, looks gloomy now to this sad eye, that looks with tears on what has been. There was among the faded plants of the garden a solitary dindou nadeshko. When Tono Chujyo had gone, Genji picked this flower, and sent it to his mother-in-law by the nurse of the infant child, with the following. In bowers where all beside are dead, survives a lowness lovely flower. Red autumn's cherished gem, symbol of joy's departed hour. Genji still felt lonely. He wrote a letter to the Princess Momozono Peach Gardens. He had known her long. He admired her too. She had been a spectator with her father on the day of the consecration of the saim, and was one of those to whom the appearance of Genji was most welcome. In his letter he stated that she might have a little sympathy with him in his sorrow, and he also sent with it the following. Many an autumn have I passed in gloomy thought, but none I wane has been so mournful as the last, which rife with grief and change hath been. There was indeed nothing serious between Genji and this Princess, yet as far as correspondence was concerned, they now and then exchanged letters, so she did not object to receiving this communication. She felt for him much, and an answer was returned, in which she expressed her sympathy at his bereavement. Now in the mansion of Sadaijim every performance of requiem was celebrated. The forty-ninth day had passed, and the mementos of the dead, both trifling and valuable, were distributed in a due and agreeable manner, and Genji at length left the grand mansion with the intention of first going to the ex-emperor, and then of returning to his mansion at Nijo. After his departure Sadaijim went into the apartment occupied till lately by him. The room was the same as before, and everything was unchanged. But his only daughter, the pride of his old days, was no more, and his son-in-law had gone too. He looked around him for some moments. He saw some papers lying about. They were those on which Genji had been practicing penmanship for amusement, some in Chinese, others in Japanese, some in freestyle, others in stiff. Among these papers he saw one on which the words, old pillows and old quilts, were written, and close to these the following. How much the soul departed, still may love to linger round this couch, my own heart tells me, even I reluctant am to leave it now. And on another of these papers, accompanying the words, the white frost lies upon the tiles, the following. How many more of nights shall I on this lone bed without the lie? The flower has left its well-known bed, and o'er its place the do's are shed. The sadai-jim was turning over these papers a withered flower, which seems to have marked some particular occasion, dropped from amongst them. Return we now to Genji. He went to the ex-emperor, to whom he still seemed thin and care-worn. He had some affectionate conversation with him, remained till evening, and then proceeded to his mansion at Nijio. He went to the western wing to visit the young Violet. All were habited in new winter apparel, and looked fresh and blooming. How long it seems since I saw you, he exclaimed. Violet turned her glance a little aside. She was apparently shy, which only increased her beauty. He approached, and after having a little conversation said, I have many things to say to you, but now I must have a little rest, and returned to his own quarters. The next morning, first of all he sent a letter to sadai-jims, making inquiry after his infant child. At this time he confined himself more than usual to his own house, and for companionship he was constantly with Violet, who was now approaching womanhood. She would sometimes talk with her differently from the manner in which he would speak to a mere girl, but on her part she seemed not to notice the difference, and for their daily amusement either Go or Henski was resorted to, and sometimes they would play on till late in the evening. Some weeks thus passed away, and there was one morning when Violet did not appear so early as usual. The inmates of the house, who did not know what was the reason, were anxious about her, thinking she was indisposed. About noon Genji came. He entered the little room, saying, Are you not quite well? Perhaps you would like to play at Go again, like last night, for a change. But she was more than ever shy. Why are you so shy, he exclaimed, Be a little more cheerful. People may think it strange, said he, and stayed with her a long time trying to soothe her, but to no effect. She still continued silent and shy. This was the evening of Wild Boar's Day, and so much pounded rice cake was presented to him, according to custom, on a tray of plain white wood. He called Kodemitsu before him and said, Today is not a very opportune day. I would rather have them to-morrow evening. Do send in some to-morrow. It need not be of so many colours. So saying, he smiled a little, and sharp Kodemitsu soon understood what he meant, and this he accordingly did on the morrow, on a beautiful flower waiter. Up to this time nothing about Violet had been publicly known, and Genji thought it was time to inform her father about his daughter. But he considered he had better have the ceremony of Mogi first performed, and ordered preparations to be made with that object. Let us hear notice that the young daughter of Udaizin, after she saw Genji, was longing to see him again. This inclination was perceived by her relations. It seems that her father was not quite averse to this liking, and he told his eldest daughter, the reigning emperor's mother, that Genji was recently bereaved of his good consort, and that he should not feel discontented if his daughter were to take the place of Lady Aoi. But this the royal mother did not approve. It would be far better for her to be introduced at court, she said, and began contriving to bring this about. End of chapter 9