11

Fate had been unkind to them, to her sister and her, from the outset. They had had only their father, a man intent upon cutting his ties with the world. Life in the mountains had been lonely and monotonous, but she had not known as she now knew the deep cruelty of the world. There had been the one death and then the other. Not wanting to linger for even a moment after her father and sister, she had deceived herself into thinking that such grief and longing must be unique. But she had lived on, and had come to be treated rather more like a human being than, in the circumstances, one might have expected. Though she had tried to tell herself that this happiness could not last, there Niou had been beside her, the most endearing of men, and the worry and sorrow had gradually subsided. How very ironical that the healing powers of time should have left her all the less prepared for this new shock. It was the end.

Would she not see him from time to time?—for he had not, after all, departed the world. Yet his behavior tonight threw everything, past and future, into a meaningless jumble, and her efforts to find a light through the gloom were unavailing. There would be a change of some sort if she but lived long enough, she told herself over and over again, knowing that to give up would indeed be the end. Her anguish, as the night drew on, had for company the rising moon, the clear moon, “of the Mount of Women Forsaken.” *

To one who knew the wild winds from the mountains of Uji, the pine breeze here was gentleness itself; but tonight she would have preferred the wind through those oaks.

“Never, beneath the pines of that mountain village,

Did I know the autumn winds to lash at me so.”

So it is that ancient miseries cease to be real.

“Do please come inside, my lady. You mustn't sit there looking up at the moon. And what will become of you if you go on refusing to eat? You haven't touched a thing in days.”

And the women talked among themselves: “It drives a person frantic. Especially a person that's seen what can happen when a lady won't eat.” Loud sighs punctuated these remarks. “Things seemed to be going so well. But he won't _leave_ her, surely he won't. Yes, I agree with you. Things could be better. But you don't mean to tell me love like that just goes away?”

Nakanokimi heard it all, and wished that they would be quiet. Far better to watch and wait. It may have been, of course, that she did not want to risk diluting her resentment by sharing it with others.

Women who knew of the events leading up to Oigimi's death had cause to wonder at the erratic ways of fate. The other young gentleman had been so good about waiting on their other young lady; and just see how he had been rewarded!