5

On the sixteenth there was a lustration at the Katsura River, splendid as never before. Perhaps because the old emperor was so fond of the high priestess, the present emperor appointed a retinue of unusually grand rank and good repute to escort her to Ise. There were many things Genji would have liked to say as the procession left the temporary shrine, but he sent only a note tied with a ritual cord.* “To her whom it would be blasphemy to address in person,” he wrote on the envelope.

“I would have thought not even the heavenly thunderer strong enough.+

“If my lady the priestess, surveying her manifold realms,

Has feelings for those below, let her feel for me.

“I tell myself that it must be, but remain unconvinced.”

There was an answer despite the confusion, in the hand of the pries-tess's lady of honor:

“If a lord of the land is watching from above,

This pretense of sorrow will not have escaped his notice.”

Genji would have liked to be present at the final audience with the emperor, but did not relish the role of rejected suitor. He spent the day in gloomy seclusion. He had to smile, however, at the priestess's rather knowing poem. She was clever for her age, and she interested him. Difficult and unconventional relationships always interested him. He could have done a great deal for her in earlier years and he was sorry now that he had not. But perhaps they would meet again—one never knew in this world.#