19

There were sad farewells now that the rime had come for his ladies to go their several ways. Oborozukiyo moved into Kokiden's Nijo~ man-sion. After the Third Princess she had been most on the Suzaku emperor's mind. She thought of becoming a nun, but he dissuaded her, saying that a great rush to holy orders would be unseemly. She devoted more and more of her time to collecting holy images and otherwise preparing for the religious vocation.

The disastrous conclusion to their affair had made it impossible for Genji to forget her. He wanted very much to see her again. Their positions were such, however, that they must always be on good behavior, and the memory of the disaster was still vivid. He kept his wishes to himself. But he did want very much to know something of her thoughts now that she had cut the old entanglements. Though quite aware of the impropriety, he wrote to her from time to time, pretending that his letters, in fact rather warm, were routine inquiries after her health. Because they were no longer young, she sometimes answered. He could tell that she was much improved, and now he did want very much to see her. From time to time he got off a sad petition to her woman Chu~nagon.

He summoned Chu~nagon's brother, the former governor of Izumi, and addressed him as if they were young adventurers again. “There is some-thing I want very much to speak to your sister's lady about, Something confidential. You must arrange a secret interview. I no longer go off keeping lighthearted rendezvous, and I am sure that she is as careful as I am, and that we need not worry about being detected.”

f But she answered sadly that she could not even consider receiving him. As she had gown in her understanding of the world she had come to see rather better that she had been badly treated. And what had they to talk about now, save regret that the Suzaku emperor was leaving them? Yes, a meeting might be kept secret—but what was she to tell her own conscience?

She had welcomed his advances, however, back in the days when they had presented far greater difficulties. Though her solicitude for the Suzaku emperor, now off in his hermitage, was without doubt genuine, she could hardly say that she and Genji had been nothing to each other. She might now make a great thing of her chastity, but the telltale flock of birds, as the poet said,* would not come back. He summoned his courage and hoped that he might rely for shelter on the grove of Shinoda.+

“The Hitachi lady in the east lodge at Nijo~ has not been well,” he said to Murasaki. “I have been too busy to look in on her, and I have been feeling guilty. It would not do to raise a great stir in the middle of the day. I think a quiet evening visit is what is called for, something no one even need know about.”

She thought him improbably nervous about visiting a lady who had never meant a great deal to him. But a certain reserve had grown up between them and she let his explanation pass.

As for the Third Princess, he made do with an exchange of notes. He spent the whole day scenting his robes. It was well after dark when he set off with four or five close retainers. His carriage was a plain one covered with woven palm fronds, putting one in mind of his youthful exploits. The governor of Izumi had been sent ahead to announce his approach.

Oborozukiyo's women informed her in whispers, and she was aghast. “What can the governor have told him?”

“You must receive him politely, my lady, and send him on his way. You have no alternative.”

Reluctantly, she had him shown in.

After inquiring about her health, he asked that intermediaries be dispensed with. “I will not object if you keep curtains between us, and I assure you that I am no longer the unthinking boy you once knew.”

She sighed and came forward. So, in spite of everything, she was not completely unapproachable—and they had known each other well enough that a certain excitement communicated itself through the barred door behind which she sat at the southeast corner of the west wing.

“Remember, please, that you have been in my thoughts for a sum of years which I can reckon up very easily. Do not be so girlish.”

It was very late. The call of a waterfowl and the answering call of its mate were like reminders of the old affair. The house, once so crowded and noisy, was almost deserted. He could not be accused of wishing to imitate Heichu~ as he brushed away a tear.* He spoke with a calm self-possession of which he would not earlier have been capable, and yet he rattled irritably at the door.

“So many years, and we meet at Meeting Barrier.

A barrier it remains, but not to my tears.”

“Though tears may flow as the spring at Meeting Hill,

The road between us was long ago blocked off.”

She knew that she was not being very friendly. Memories came back and she asked herself who had been chiefly responsible for their misfortunes. It was not wrong of him to want to see her. She had become more aware of her own inadequacies as she had come to know more of the world. In public life and in private the occasions for guilt and regret had been numberless and had turned her more and more strongly in upon herself. Now the old affair seemed suddenly very near, and she was not capable of treating him coldly. She seemed as young and engaging as ever, and her very great reticence gave her a charm as fresh as upon their first meeting. He found it very difficult to leave her. Birds were already singing in an unusually beautiful dawn. The cherry blossoms had fallen and new leaves were a pale green through morning mists. He remembered a wisteria party long ago,+ at just this time of the year. All the years since seemed to come flooding back at once.

Chu~nagon saw him off. He turned back as he started to leave.

“How can wisteria be so beautiful? Just see what a magical color it is —and I must leave it.”

The morning sun was now pouring over the hills. He had always been a dazzlingly handsome man, thought Chu~nagon, and the years had only improved him. Why could he and her lady not have come together? Life at court was difficult and constricting and her lady had not reached the highest position. Kokiden had insisted on having things her own way, and the scandal had served no purpose at all. Nothing had come of her lady's love for Genji.

Many things had still been left unsaid, but he was not master of his own movements. He feared prying eyes as the sun rose higher, and his men, who had had his carriage brought up to a gallery, were coughing politely but nervously. He had one of them break off a spray of wisteria.

“I have not forgotten the depths into which I plunged,

And now these waves of wisteria seek to engulf me.”

Chu~nagon was very sorry for him, leaning against a balustrade in an attitude of utter dejection. Though even more fearful than he of being seen, Oborozukiyo felt constrained to answer.

“No waves at all of which to be so fearful.

My heart, unchastened, sends out waves to join them.”

Genji regretted the harm his youthful heedlessness had done, and yet, perhaps encouraged by evidences that her gate was not very closely guarded, he took his leave only after she had promised to see him again. Why, after all, should he deny his feelings? She had been important to him, and the affair had been brief.

A very sleepy Genji returned to Rokujo~. It was not hard for Murasaki to guess what had happened, but she gave no hint of her suspicions. Her silence was more effective than the most violent tantrum, and made Genji feel a little sorry for himself. Did she no longer care what he did? His avowals of undying love were more fervent than ever, and he so rejected the claims of secrecy, which he quite recognized, as to tell her a little of what had happened the night before. There had been a very short interview through screens, he said, and it had left him far from satisfied. He hoped that another might be arranged, so tastefully and discreetly that no one could reprove him for it.

A suggestion of a smile came to her lips. “Such a marvel of rejuvenation.” But her voice trembled as she went on: “An ancient affair is superimposed on a new one, and I am caught beneath.”

She was never lovelier than when on the verge of tears.

“Sulking is the one thing I cannot bear. Pinch me and beat me and pour out all your anger, but do not sulk. It is not what I trained you for.”

And presently, it would seem, the whole story came forth.

He was in no hurry to visit the Third Princess. She did not seem to care a great deal whether he came or not, but her women were unhappy. If she had made trouble he would probably have been more worried about her than about Murasaki; but as it was she worried him no more than a pretty, harmless toy.