The tale of Genji
Genji, enchanted by her appearance, hastened to answer: ‘Indeed I have
made no mistake; rather, with no guide but a long-felt deference and
esteem, I have found my way unerringly to your side. But I see that
the suddenness of my visit has made you distrust my purpose. Let me
tell you then that I have no evil intentions and seek only for someone
to talk with me for a while about a matter which perplexes me.’ So
saying he took her up in his arms (for she was very small) and was
carrying her through the ante-room when suddenly Chūjō, the servant
for whom she had sent before, entered the bedroom. Genji gave an
astonished cry and the maid, wondering who could have entered the
ante-room, began groping her way towards them. But coming closer she
recognized by the rich perfume of his dress that this could be none
other than the Prince. And though she was sorely puzzled to know
what was afoot, she dared not say a word. Had he been an ordinary
person, she would soon have had him by the ears. ‘Nay’ she thought
‘even if he were not a Prince I should do best to keep my hands off
him; for the more stir one makes, the more tongues wag. But if I
should touch this fine gentleman ...,’ and all in a flutter she found
herself obediently following Genji to his room. Here he calmly closed
the door upon her, saying as he did so ‘You will come back to fetch
your mistress in the morning.’ Utsusemi herself was vexed beyond
measure at being thus disposed of in the presence of her own
waiting-maid, who could indeed draw but one conclusion from what she
had seen. But to all her misgivings and anxieties Genji, who had the
art of improvising a convincing reply to almost any question, answered
with such a wealth of ingenuity and tender concern, that for awhile
she was content. But soon becoming again uneasy, ‘This must all be a
dream—that you, so great a Prince, should stoop to consider so humble
a creature as I, and I am overwhelmed by so much kindness. But I think
you have forgotten what I am. A Zuryō’s wife! there is no altering
that, and you...!’ Genji now began to realize how deeply he had
distressed and disquieted her by his wild behaviour, and feeling
thoroughly ashamed of himself he answered: ‘I am afraid I know very
little about these questions of rank and precedence. Such things are
too confusing to carry in one’s head. And whatever you may have heard
of me I want to tell you for some reason or other I have till this day
cared nothing for gallantry nor ever practised it, and that even you
cannot be more astonished at what I have done to-night than I myself
am.’ With this and a score of other speeches he sought to win her
confidence. But she, knowing that if once their talk became a jot less
formal, she would be hard put to it to withstand his singular
charm, was determined, even at the risk of seeming stiff and awkward,
to show him that in trying so hard to put her at her ease he was only
wasting his time, with the result that she behaved very boorishly
indeed. She was by nature singularly gentle and yielding, so that the
effort of steeling her heart and despite her feelings, playing all the
while the part of the young bamboo-shoot which though so green and
tender cannot be broken, was very painful to her; and finding that she
could not longer think of arguments with which to withstand his
importunity, she burst into tears; and though he was very sorry for
her, it occurred to him that he would not gladly have missed that
sight. He longed however to console her, but could not think of a way
to do so, and said at last, ‘Why do you treat me so unkindly? It is
true that the manner of our meeting was strange, yet I think that Fate
meant us to meet. It is harsh that you should shrink from me as though
the World and you had never met.’ So he chided her, and she: ‘If this
had happened long ago before my troubles, before my lot was cast,
perhaps I should have been glad to take your kindness while it
lasted, knowing that you would soon think better of your strange
condescension. But now that my course is fixed, what can such meetings
bring me save misery and regret? _Tell none that you have seen my
home_’ she ended, quoting the old song.[19] ‘Small wonder that she is
sad’ thought Genji, and he found many a tender way to comfort her. And
now the cock began to crow. Out in the courtyard Genji’s men were
staggering to their feet, one crying drowsily ‘How I should like to go
to sleep again,’ and another ‘Make haste there, bring out his Honour’s
coach.’ Ki no Kami came out into the yard, ‘What’s all this hurry? It
is only when there are women in his party that a man need hasten
from a refuge to which the Earth star has sent him. Why is his
Highness setting off in the middle of the night?’
Genji was wondering whether such an opportunity would ever occur
again. How would he be able even to send her letters? And thinking of
all the difficulties that awaited him, he became very despondent.
Chūjō arrived to fetch her mistress. For a long while he would not let
her go, and when at last he handed her over, he drew her back to him
saying ‘How can I send news to you? For, Madam,’ he said raising his
voice that the maid Chūjō might hear ‘such love as mine, and such
pitiless cruelty as yours have never been seen in the world before.’
Already the birds were singing in good earnest. She could not forget
that she was no one and he a Prince. And even now, while he was
tenderly entreating her, there came unbidden to her mind the image of
her husband Iyo no Suke, about whom she generally thought either not
at all or with disdain. To think that even in a dream he might see her
now, filled her with shame and terror.
It was daylight. Genji went with her to the partition door. Indoors
and out there was a bustle of feet. As he closed the door upon her, it
seemed to him a barrier that shut him out from all happiness. He
dressed, and went out on to the balcony. A blind in the western wing
was hastily raised. There seemed to be people behind who were looking
at him. They could only see him indistinctly across the top of a
partition in the verandah. Among them was one, perhaps, whose heart
beat wildly as she looked...?
The moon had not set, and though with dwindled light still shone crisp
and clear in the dawn. It was a daybreak of marvellous beauty. But in
the passionless visage of the sky men read only their own comfort or
despair; and Genji, as with many backward glances he went upon his
way, paid little heed to the beauty of the dawn. He would send her a
message? No, even that was utterly impossible. And so, in great
unhappiness he returned to his wife’s house.
He would gladly have slept a little, but could not stop trying to
invent some way of seeing her again; or when that seemed hopeless,
imagining to himself all that must now be going on in her mind. She
was no great beauty, Genji reflected, and yet one could not say that
she was ugly. Yes, she was in every sense a member of that Middle
Class upon which Uma no Kami had given them so complete a dissertation.
He stayed for some while at the Great Hall, and finding that, try as
he might, he could not stop thinking about her and longing for her, at
last in despair he sent for Ki no Kami and said to him ‘Why do you not
let me have that boy in my service,—the Chūnagon’s son, whom I saw at
your house? He is a likely looking boy, and I might make him my
body-servant, or even recommend him to the Emperor.’ ‘I am sensible of
your kindness’ said Ki no Kami, ‘I will mention what you have said to
the boy’s sister.’ This answer irritated Genji, but he continued: ‘And
has this lady given you step-brothers my lord?’ ‘Sir, she has been
married these two years, but has had no child. It seems that in making
this marriage she disobeyed her father’s last injunctions, and this
has set her against her husband.’
_Genji:_ ‘That is sad indeed. I am told that she is not ill-looking.
Is that so?’
_Ki no Kami:_ ‘I believe she is considered quite passable. But I have
had very little to do with her. Intimacy between step-children and
step-parents is indeed proverbially difficult.’
Five or six days afterwards Ki no Kami brought the boy. He was not
exactly handsome, but he had great charm and (thought Genji) an air of
distinction. The Prince spoke very kindly to him and soon completely
won his heart. To Genji’s many questions about his sister he made such
answers as he could, and when he seemed embarrassed or tongue-tied
Genji found some less direct way of finding out what he wanted to
know, and soon put the boy at his ease. For though he vaguely realized
what was going on and thought it rather odd, he was so young that he
made no effort to understand it, and without further question carried
back a letter from Genji to his sister.
She was so much agitated by the sight of it that she burst into tears
and, lest her brother should perceive them, held the letter in front
of her face while she read it. It was very long. Among much else it
contained the verse ‘Would that I might dream that dream again! Alas,
since first this wish was mine, not once have my eye-lids closed in
sleep.’
She had never seen such beautiful writing, and as she read, a haze
clouded her eyes. What incomprehensible fate had first dragged her
down to be the wife of a Zuryō, and then for a moment raised her so
high? Still pondering, she went to her room.
Next day, Genji again sent for the boy, who went to his sister saying
‘I am going to Prince Genji. Where is your answer to his letter?’
‘Tell him’ she answered ‘that there is no one here who reads such
letters.’ The boy burst out laughing. ‘Why, you silly, how could I say
such a thing to him. He told me himself to be sure to bring an
answer.’ It infuriated her to think that Genji should have thus taken
the boy into his confidence and she answered angrily, ‘He has no
business to talk to you about such things at your age. If that is
what you talk about you had better not go to him any more.’ ‘But he
sent for me’ said the boy, and started off.
‘I was waiting for you all yesterday’ said Genji when the boy
returned. ‘Did you forget to bring the answer? Did you forget to
come?’ The child blushed and made no reply. ‘And now?’ ‘She said
there is no one at home who reads such letters.’ ‘How silly, what can
be the use of saying such things?’, and he wrote another letter and
gave it to the boy, saying: ‘I expect you do not know that I used to
meet your sister before her marriage. She treats me in this scornful
fashion because she looks upon me as a poor-spirited, defenceless
creature. Whereas she has now a mighty Deputy Governor to look after
her. But I hope that you will promise to be my child not his. For he
is very old, and will not be able to take care of you for long.’
The boy was quite content with this explanation, and admired Genji
more than ever. The prince kept him always at his side, even taking
him to the Palace. And he ordered his Chamberlain to see to it that he
was provided with a little Court suit. Indeed he treated him just as
though he were his own child.
Genji continued to send letters; but she, thinking that the boy, young
as he was, might easily allow a message to fall into the wrong hands
and that then she would lose her fair name to no purpose, feeling too
(that however much he desired it) between persons so far removed in
rank there could be no lasting union, she answered his letters only in
the most formal terms.
Dark though it had been during most of the time they were together,
she yet had a clear recollection of his appearance, and could not deny
to herself that she thought him uncommonly handsome. But she very much
doubted if he on his side really knew what she was like; indeed
she felt sure that the next time they met he would think her very