5

Bennokimi had made it known that she would not go along. Through no desire of her own, she had lived this shamefully long life, and the others would think it bad luck to have an old crone with them; and so she had resolved that she was no longer to be considered a part of the world. Kaoru asked to see her. The nun's habit and tonsure again brought him to the point of tears.

They talked of old times. “I shall of course be stopping by occasionally,” he concluded, his voice faltering, “and I had feared that no one would be here to receive me. I am sorry that you have decided to stay behind, but I know that you will be a great comfort.”

“I have lived too long. Life has a way of becoming more stubborn the more you hate it. I find it hard to forgive my older lady for leaving me behind, and though I know it is wrong of me I am resentful of the whole wide world.” *

She was becoming querulous, pouring forth the complaints as they came to her; but his efforts to comfort her were on the whole successful. Her hair still had traces of its youthful beauty, and her forehead, now shorn, seemed younger than before, and even somewhat distinguished. Overcome with longing for Oigimi, he asked why she could not have stayed with him even thus, as a nun. He might at least have had the comfort of quiet, leisurely conversation. Though the old woman was an improbable object for envy, he was somehow envious of her. He pulled her curtain slightly aside, that she might seem a little nearer. She really was very old, and yet her speech and manner aroused little of the revulsion one expects from advanced age. She must once have been a woman of considerable beauty.

Her face was contorted with sorrow.

“Tears came first. I should have flung myself into

A stream of tears that would not have left me behind.”

“But that, of course, would have made the sin graver,” said Kaoru. “People do sometimes reach the far shore, I suppose, but everything considered I doubt that you would have succeeded. We would not want to have lost you in midstream. No, you must remind yourself how empty and useless it all is.

“Deep though one plunges into the river of tears,

One comes upon occasional snags of remembrance.

“When, I wonder, and where will there be relief?” But he knew the answer: never and nowhere.

He did not want to leave, though it was evening. But an unscheduled night's lodging might arouse suspicions. Presently he set out for the city.