4

But presently they and their sisters married into provincial families, and the return to the city, once so devoutly longed for, receded into the distance. Life was difficult for the girl as she came to understand her situation a little better. She made her retreats three times a year. Now she was twenty, and she had attained to a perfection wasted in these harsh regions.

The family lived in the province of Hizen. The local gentry continued to hear rumors and to pay court. The nurse only wished they would go away.

There was an official of the Fifth Rank who had been on the viceroy's staff and who was a member of a large clan scattered over the province of Higo. He was something of a local eminence, a warrior of very considerable power and influence. Though of an untamed nature, he did have a taste for the finer things, and among his avocations was the collecting of elegant ladies.

He heard of the girl. “I don't care if she is the worst sort of freak. I'll just shut my eyes.” His suit was earnest and a little threatening too.

“It is quite impossible,” the nurse sent back. “Tell him that she is to become a nun.”

The man came storming into Hizen and summoned the nurse's sons for conference. If they did what he wanted, they would be his allies. He could do a great deal for them. The two young sons were inclined to accede.

“It is true that we did not want her to marry beneath her. But he will be a strong ally, and if we make an enemy of him we will have to pack up and leave. Yes, she is very wellborn. That we do not deny—but what good does it do when her father doesn't recognize her and no one even knows she exists? She is lucky he wants her. She is probably here because she was meant all along to marry someone like him. There's no point in trying to hide. He is a determined and ruthless man, and he will do anything if he is crossed.”

But the oldest brother, who was vice-governor of Bungo, disagreed. “It is out of the question. Have you forgotten Father's instructions? I must get her back to the capital.”

Tearfully, the daughters supported him. The girl's mother had wan-dered off and they had quite lost track of her, but they would think themselves sufficiently repaid for their worries if they could make a decent life for the girl. They most certainly did not want to see her marry the Higo man.

Confident of his name and standing and unaware of this disagree-ment, the man showered her with letters, all of them on good Chinese paper, richly colored and heavily perfumed. He wrote a not at all con-temptible hand, but his notion of the courtly was very provincial. Having made an ally of the second son, he came calling. He was about thirty, tall and powerfully built, not unpleasant to look at. Perhaps it was only in the imagination that his vigorous manner was a little intimidating. He glowed with health and had a deep, rough voice and a heavy regional accent that made his speech seem as alien as bird language. Lovers are called “night crawlers,” one hears, but he was different. He came of a spring evening, victim, it would seem, of the urgings which the poet felt more strongly on autumn evenings.*

Not wishing to offend him, the “grandmother” came out.

“The late deputy was a great man and he understood things. I wanted to be friends with him and i'm sorry he died. Now I want to make up for it. I got my courage up and came to see the little lady. She's too good for me, but that's all right. I'll look up to her and be her servant. I hear Your Grace doesn't want me to have her. Maybe because of all my other women? Don't worry. She won't be one of them. She'll be the queen.” It was a very forceful statement.

“Thank you very much. It is gratifying to hear of your interest. But she has been unlucky. To our great regret we must keep her out of sight and do not find it possible to let her marry. It is all very sad.”

“Oh, come on. I don't care if she's blind and has a club foot. I swear it by all the gods.”

He asked that a day be named when he might come for her. The nurse offered the argument often heard in the region that the end of the season was a bad time to marry.

He seemed to think that a farewell poem was called for. He deliber-ated for rather a long time.

“I vow to the Mirror God of Matsura:

If I break it he can do what he wants with me.

“Pretty good” He smiled.

Poetry was not perhaps what he had had most experience with.

The nurse was by this time too nervous to answer, and her daughters protested that they were in an even worse state. Time ran on. Finally she sent back the first verse that came into her head.

“It will be for us to reproach the Mirror God

If our prayers of so many years remain unanswered.”

Her voice trembled.

“What's that? How's that?”

He seemed about to attack them frontally. The nurse blanched.

Despite her agitation, one of the daughters managed a brave laugh. “Our niece is not normal. That is I'm sure what she meant to say, and we would be very unhappy if she had bad luck in the matter of your kind proposal. Poor Mother. She is very old, and she is always saying unfortunate things about her gods.”

“I see, I see.” He nodded. “A very good poem. You may look down on us country people, but what's so great about city people? Anyone can come up with a poem. Don't think I can't do as well as the next one.”

He seemed to think demonstration called for, but it refused to take shape. He left.

With her second son gone over to the enemy, the old woman was terrified. She urged her oldest son to action.

“But what can I do? There is no one I can go to for help. I don't have all that many brothers, and they have turned against me. Life will be impossible if we make an enemy of the man, and if I try something bold I will only make things worse.”

But he agreed that death would be better for the girl than marriage to such a man. He gathered his courage and they set sail. His sisters left their husbands.* The one who had as a child been called Ateki was now called Hyo~bu She slipped off in the night and boarded ship with her lady.

The man had gone home to Higo, to return on the day appointed, late in the Fourth Month.