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The princess took out illustrations to old romances, which they examined while Ukon read from the texts. Absorbed now in the pictures and facing her sister in the lamplight, Ukifune had a delicate, girlish beauty that was perfection of its kind. The quiet elegance of the face, with a slight glow about the eyes and at the forehead, was so like Oigimi that Nakanokimi herself was paying little attention to the pictures. A longing for the past flooded over her. She compared the two in her mind. How could they be so alike? No doubt the girl took after their father. Old women long in the Eighth Prince's service had said that Oigimi looked like her father, Nakanokimi herself like her mother. What affection and yearning she did call up, this girl so like the two now gone! Nakanokimi felt tears coming to her eyes. Oigimi had been a lady of cold, proud nobility, but she had had an affectionate strain and could be docile and accommodating to excess. Ukifune still had not outgrown a certain childish awkwardness, and perhaps because of it and because of her shyness one would have had to put her down as rather inferior to Oigimi in the sort of undeniable beauty that immediately catches the eye. Given a certain mellowing and deepening, however, she would not seem in any degree a mismatch for Kaoru. Nakanokimi was beginning to behave like an elder sister.

They talked until dawn, when they lay down side by side to sleep. Nakanokimi spoke of her father, though at no great length, and of the life they had lived at Uji. Ukifune sighed that she had not been allowed to share it.

Meanwhile others who knew something of what had happened were also talking.

“How far do you suppose it went? She really is very pretty—and what horrid luck! Our lady may be fond of her, but small good that will do her now.”

“Oh, I don't think it went far at all,” replied Ukon. They were con-versing in whispers.” That nurse of hers pulled me in and had a few things to say, but she didn't make it sound as if she had allowed much to happen. And then the prince was reciting the poem about'meeting and not meeting'* when he went out. But I don't know—maybe he did it to put me off the track. You never can tell. But remember how calm and cool she was when she was sitting with our lady? She certainly didn't look like someone with a great deal to hide.”