12

He frequently visited the Ichijo~ mansion of the Second Princess. There was something indefinably pleasant about the Fourth Month sky and the trees were a lovely expanse of new green; but the house of sorrows was quiet and lonely, and for the ladies who lived there each new day was a new trial.

It was in upon this sadness that he came visiting. Young grasses had sprung up all through the garden, and in the shade of a rock or a tree, where the sand covering was thin, wormwood and other weeds had taken over as if asserting an old claim. The flowers that had been tended with such care were now rank and overgrown. He thought how clumps of grass now tidy and proper in the spring would in the autumn be a dense moor humming with insects,* and he was in tears as he parted the dewy tangles and came up to the veranda. Rough blinds of mourning were hung all along the front of the house. Through them he could see gray curtains newly changed for the season. He had glimpses too of skirts that told of the presence of little page girls, very pretty and at the same time incongruously drab. A place was set out for him on the veranda, but the women protested that he should be treated with more ceremony. Vaguely unwell, the princess's mother had been resting. He looked out into the garden as he talked with her women, and the indifference of the trees brought new pangs of sorrow. Their branches intertwined, an oak+ and a maple seemed younger than the rest. “How reassuring. What bonds from other lives do you suppose have brought them together?” Quietly, he came nearer the blinds.

“By grace of the tree god let the branch so close

To the branch that withered be close to the branch that lives.

“I think it very unkind of you to keep me outdoors.” He leaned forward and put a hand on the sill.

The women were in whispered conversation about the gentler Yu~giri they were being introduced to. Among them was one Sho~sho~,* through whom came the princess's answer.

“There may not be a god protecting the oak.

Think not, even so, its branches of easy access.

“There is a kind of informality that can suggest a certain shallow-ness.

He smiled. It was a point well taken. Sensing that her mother had come forward, he brought himself to attention.

“My days have been uninterrupted gloom, and that may be why I have not been feeling well.” She did indeed seem to be unwell. “I have been unable to think what to do next. You are very kind to come calling so often.”

“Your grief is quite understandable, but you should not let it get the better of you. Everything is determined in other lives, everything has its time and goes.”

The princess seemed to be a more considerable person than he had been led to expect. She had had wretched luck, belittled in the first instance for having married beneath her and now for having been left a widow. He thought he might find her interesting, and questioned the mother with some eagerness. He did not expect great beauty, but one could be fond of any lady who was not repulsively ugly. Beauty could sometimes make a man forget himself, and the more important thing was an equable disposition.

“You must learn to tell yourself that I am as near as he once was.” His manner fell short of the insinuating, perhaps, but his earnestness did carry overtones all the same.

He was very imposing and dignified in casual court dress.

“His Lordship had a gentle sort of charm,” one of the women would seem to have whispered to another. “There was no one quite like him, really, for quiet charm and elegance. But just see this gentleman, so vigorous and manly, all aglow with good looks. You want to squeal with delight the minute you set eyes on him. There was no one like the other gentleman and there can't be many like this one either. If we need someone to look after us, well, we couldn't do much better.”