14

As evening approached, the women reminded him that his route from the palace had transgressed upon the domain of the Lord of the Center.* He must not spend the night here.

“To be sure. But my own house lies in the same direction. And I am very tired.” He lay down as if he meant in spite of everything to stay the night.

“It simply will not do, my lord.”

“The governor of Kii here,” said one of Genji's men, pointing to another. “He has dammed the Inner River + and brought it into his garden, and the waters are very cool, very pleasant.”

“An excellent idea. I really am very tired, and perhaps we can send ahead to see whether we might drive into the garden.”

There were no doubt all sorts of secret places to which he could have gone to avoid the taboo. He had come to Sanjo~, and after a considerable absence. The minister might suspect that he had purposely chosen a night on which he must leave early.

The governor of Kii was cordial enough with his invitation, but when he withdrew he mentioned certain misgivings to Genji's men. Ritual purification, he said, had required all the women to be away from his father's house, and unfortunately they were all crowded into his own, a cramped enough place at best. He feared that Genji would be inconvenienced.

“Nothing of the sort,” said Genji, who had overheard. “It is good to have people around. There is nothing worse than a night away from home with no ladies about. just let me have a little comer behind their curtains.”

“If that is what you want,” said his men, “then the governor's place should be perfect.”

And so they sent runners ahead. Genji set off immediately, though in secret, thinking that no great ceremony was called for. He did not tell the minister where he was going, and took only his nearest retainers. The governor grumbled that they were in rather too much of a hurry. No one listened.

The east rooms of the main hall had been cleaned and made presenta-ble. The waters were as they had been described, a most pleasing arrangement. A fence of wattles, of a deliberately rustic appearance, enclosed the garden, and much care had gone into the plantings. The wind was cool. Insects were humming, one scarcely knew where, fireflies drew innumerable lines of light, and all in all the time and the place could not have been more to his liking. His men were already tippling, out where they could admire a brook flowing under a gallery. The governor seemed to have “hurried off for viands.” * Gazing calmly about him, Genji concluded that the house would be of the young guardsman's favored in-between category. Having heard that his host's stepmother, who would be in residence, was a high-spirited lady, he listened for signs of her presence. There were signs of someone's presence immediately to the west. He heard a swishing of silk and young voices that were not at all displeasing. Young ladies seemed to be giggling self-consciously and trying to contain themselves. The shutters were raised, it seemed, but upon a word from the governor they were lowered. There was a faint light over the sliding doors. Genji went for a look, but could find no opening large enough to see through. Listening for a time, he concluded that the women had gathered in the main room, next to his.

The whispered discussion seemed to be about Genji himself.

“He is dreadfully serious, they say, and has made a fine match for himself. And still so young. Don't you imagine he might be a little lonely? But they say he finds time for a quiet little adventure now and then.”

Genji was startled. There was but one lady on his mind, day after day. So this was what the gossips were saying; and what if, in it all, there was evidence that rumors of his real love had spread abroad? But the talk seemed harmless enough, and after a time he wearied of it. Someone misquoted a poem he had sent to his cousin Asagao, attached to a morning glory.+ Their standards seemed not of the most rigorous. A misquoted poem for every occasion. He feared he might be disappointed when he saw the woman.

The governor had more lights set out at the eaves, and turned up those in the room. He had refreshments brought.

“And are the curtains all hung?” # asked Genji. “You hardly qualify as a host if they are not.”

“And what will you feast upon?” rejoined the governor, somewhat stiffly. “Nothing so very elaborate, I fear.”

Genji found a cool place out near the veranda and lay down. His men were quiet. Several young boys were present, all very sprucely dressed, sons of the host and of his father, the governor of Iyo.* There was one particularly attractive lad of perhaps twelve or thirteen. Asking who were the sons of whom, Genji learned that the boy was the younger brother of the host's stepmother, son of a guards officer no longer living. His father had had great hopes for the boy and had died while he was still very young. He had come to this house upon his sister's marriage to the governor of Iyo. He seemed to have some aptitude for the classics, said the host, and was of a quiet, pleasant disposition; but he was young and without backing, and his prospects at court were not good.

“A pity. The sister, then, is your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

“A very young stepmother. My father had thought of inviting her to court. He was asking just the other day what might have happened to her. Life,” he added with a solemnity rather beyond his years, “is uncertain.”

“It happened almost by accident. Yes, you are right: it is a very uncertain world, and it always has been, particularly for women. They are like bits of driftwood.”

“Your father is no doubt very alert to her needs. perhaps, indeed, one has trouble knowing who is the master?”

“He quite worships her. The rest of us are not entirely happy with the arrangements he has made.”

“But you cannot expect him to let you young gallants have every-thing. He has a name in that regard himself, you know. And where might the lady be?”

“They have all been told to spend the night in the porter's lodge, but they don't seem in a hurry to go.”

The wine was having its effect, and his men were falling asleep on the veranda.