16

The assistant viceroy of Kyushu was returning to the capital. He had a large family and was especially well provided with daughters, and since progress by land would have been difficult he had sent his wife and the daughters by boat. They proceeded by easy stages, putting in here and there along the coast. The scenery at Suma was especially pleasing, and the news that Genji was in residence produced blushes and sighs far out at sea. The Gosechi dancer* would have liked to cut the tow rope and drift ashore. The sound of a koto came faint from the distance, the sadness of it joined to a sad setting and sad memories. The more sensitive members of the party were in tears.

The assistant viceroy sent a message. “I had hoped to call on you immediately upon returning to the city from my distant post, and when, to my surprise, I found myself passing your house, I was filled with the most intense feelings of sorrow and regret. Various acquaintances who might have been expected to come from the city have done so, and our party has become so numerous that it would be out of the question to call on you. I shall hope to do so soon.”

His son, the governor of Chikuzen, brought the message. Genji had taken notice of the youth and obtained an appointment for him in the imperial secretariat. He was sad to see his patron in such straits, but people were watching and had a way of talking, and he stayed only briefly.

“It was kind of you to come,” said Genji. “I do not often see old friends these days.”

His reply to the assistant viceroy was in a similar vein. Everyone in the Kyushu party and in the party newly arrived from the city as well was deeply moved by the governor's description of what he had seen. The tears of sympathy almost seemed to invite worse misfortunes.

The Gosechi dancer contrived to send him a note.

“Now taut, now slack, like my unruly heart,

The tow rope is suddenly still at the sound of a koto.

“Scolding will not improve me.” +

He smiled, so handsome a smile that his men felt rather inadequate.

“Why, if indeed your heart is like the tow rope,

Unheeding must you pass this strand of Suma?

“I had not expected to leave you for these wilds.” #

There once was a man who, passing Akashi on his way into exile, brought pleasure into an innkeeper's life with an impromptu Chinese poem. * * For the Gosechi dancer the pleasure was such that she would have liked to make Suma her home.