20

The Kamo Shrines were not far away. He got off a letter to Princess Asagao, the high priestess. He sent it through Chu~jo~, with this message for Chu~jo~ herself: “A traveler, I feel my heart traveling yet further afield; but your lady will not have taken note of it, I suppose.”

This was his message for the princess herself:

“The gods will not wish me to speak of them, perhaps,

But I think of sacred cords of another autumn. 'Is there no way to make the past the present?'“*

He wrote as if their relations might permit of a certain intimacy. His note was on azure Chinese paper attached most solemnly to a sacred branch from which streamed ritual cords.

Chu~jo~'s answer was courteous and leisurely.” We live a quiet life here, and I have time for many stray thoughts, among them thoughts of you and my lady.”

There was a note from the princess herself, tied with a ritual cord:

“ Another autumn—what can this refer to?

A secret hoard of thoughts of sacred cords? And in more recent times?” +

The hand was not perhaps the subtlest he had seen, but it showed an admirable mastery of the cursive style, and interested him. His heart leaped (most blasphemously) at the thought of a beauty of feature that would doubtless have outstripped the beauty of her handwriting.

He remembered that just a year had passed since that memorable night at the temporary shrine of the other high priestess, and (blasphe-mously again) he found himself berating the gods, that the fates of his two cousins should have been so strangely similar. He had had a chance of successfully wooing at least one of the ladies who were the subjects of these improper thoughts, and he had procrastinated; and it was odd that he should now have these regrets. When, occasionally, Princess Asagao answered, her tone was not at all unfriendly, though one might have taxed her with a certain inconsistency.