12

      On the day of the ceremony a secret messenger arrived bringing gifts from Princess Omiya. Despite the shortness of the notice, the princess had put together a fine collection of comb boxes and the like.

“Nuns do not write letters,” she said, “and so I shall be brief. I hope that I may persuade you to follow my example in living a long and full life. Perhaps it is improper of me to confess how deeply moved I was to learn of your circumstances. I would not wish in any way to offend you, but

“Whatever lid the jeweled comb box bears,

I still shall think it no one's box but mine.” *

It was in a tremulous old-fashioned hand. Busy with last-minute preparations and instructions, Genji was in Tamakazura's rooms when it arrived.

“Yes, it is a little old-fashioned,” he said, “but it is very touching all the same. She has aged, poor thing. She used to write a very fine hand. See how it shakes and wanders.” He read it again and yet again, and laughed quietly. “One might charge her with making too much of her boxes. A box per line—I doubt that it would be possible to write a more box-filled poem.”