4

Yu~giri did take great care with his dress. To~ no Chu~jo~ had begun to grow restless when finally he arrived. Seven or eight of To~ no Chu~jo~'s sons, led by Kashiwagi, came out to receive him. They were all very handsome, but Yu~giri was even handsomer, with a calm dignity that rather put them to shame. To~ no Chu~jo~ showed him to his place. It was clear that the preparations for receiving him had been thorough.

“Be sure that you get a good look at him,” To~ no Chu~jo~ had said to his wife and her young women as he changed to formal dress. “He is completely in control of himself. In that respect I think he is more than his father's equal, though of course Genji is so handsome that a smile from him can make you think all the world's problems have been solved. I doubt that anyone minds very much if he sometimes seems a little flippant in his treatment of public affairs. Yu~giri is a sterner sort and he has studied hard. I for one would have trouble finding anything wrong with him, and I suspect that most people Would have the same trouble.”

Dispensing with the stiffer formalities, he turned immediately to the matter of honoring his wisteria.

“There is much to be said for cherry blossoms, but they seem so flighty. They are so quick to run off and leave you. And then just when your regrets are the strongest the wisteria comes into bloom, and it blooms on into the summer. There is nothing quite like it. Even the color is somehow companionable and inviting.” He was still a very handsome man. His smile said a great deal.

Though the lavender was not very apparent in the moonlight, he worked hard at admiring it. The wine flowed generously and there was music. Pretending to be very drunk and to have lost all thought for the proprieties, he pressed wine upon Yu~giri, who, though sober and cautious as always, found it hard to refuse.

“Everyone agrees that your learning and accomplishments are more than we deserve in this inferior day of ours. I should think you might have the magnanimity to put up with old dotards like myself. Do you have in your library a tract you can refer to in the matter of filial piety? I must lodge a complaint that you who are so much better informed than most about the teachings of the sages should in your treatment of me have shown indifference to their high principles.” Through drunken tears—might one call them?—came these adroit hints.

“You do me a very grave injustice, sir. I think of you as heir to all the ages, and so important that no sacrifice asked of me could be too great. I am a lazy, careless man, but I cannot think what I might have done to displease you.”

The moment had come, thought To~ no Chu~jo~. “Underleaves of wis-teria,” he said, smiling.* Kashiwagi broke off an unusually long and rich spray of wisteria and presented it to Yu~giri with a cup of wine. Seeing that his guest was a little puzzled, To~ no Chu~jo~ elaborated upon the reference with a poem of his own:

“Let us blame the wisteria, of too pale a hue,

Though the pine has let itself be overgrown.”

Taking a careful though elegant sip from the cup that was pressed upon him, Yu~giri replied:

“Tears have obscured the blossoms these many springs,

And now at length they open full before me.”

He poured for Kashiwagi, who replied:

“Wisteria is like the sleeve of a maiden,

Lovelier when someone cares for it.”

Cup followed cup, and it would seem that poem followed poem with equal rapidity; and in the general intoxication none were superior to these.

The light of the quarter-moon was soft and the pond was a minor, and the wisteria was indeed very beautiful, hanging from a pine of medium height that trailed its branches far to one side. It did not have to compete with the lusher green of summer.

Ko~bai, in his usual good voice, sang “The Fence of Rushes,” * very softly.

“What an odd one to have chosen,” To~ no Chu~jo~ said, laughing. Also in fine voice, he joined in the refrain, changing the disturbed house into “a house of eminence.” The merriment was kept within proper bounds and all the old enmity vanished.

Yu~giri pretended to be very drunk. “I am not feeling at all well,” he said to Kashiwagi, “and doubt very much that I can find my way home. Let me borrow your room.”

“Find him a place to rest, my young lord,” said To~ no Chu~jo~. “I am afraid that in these my declining years I do not hold my liquor well and may create a disturbance. I shall leave you.” He withdrew.