14

In the evening Kaoru called. Asking that he be shown in, Niou received him in dishabille.

“Her Majesty was terribly alarmed when she heard that you had not been well. What might the trouble be?”

The sight of him made Niou's breath come more rapidly. Here I am in the presence of our resident saint, he was thinking; but he smells a little of the vagrant saint,* I fear. Such a sweet girl, and he keeps her off in the mountains all for himself, and leaves her waiting week after week. Niou thought his friend sanctimonious, giving assurances of his sincerity when nothing in the conversation seemed to call for them. Always assiduous in his search for openings, was he not to take delicious advantage of this new secret? But sarcasm did not fit his mood. He wished that Kaoru would go away.

“This will not do,” said Kaoru most solicitously as he got up to leave. “You may think it is nothing at all, but when these little complaints refuse to clear up after a few days they can be dangerous. You must take care of yourself.”

The man had a remarkable way of making one feel defeated, thought Niou. And how would the girl at Uji be rating them against each other, Kaoru and himself? So each passing incident brought her back—not that she was ever far away.

At Uji the days went by in dull procession, now that the trip to Ishiyama no longer offered relief. Niou wrote at almost tedious length of his impatience and frustration. Knowing that he could not be too careful, he chose for his messenger a man of Tokikata's who knew little of the situation at Uji. The man always went to Ukon.

“We were very fond of each other, once upon a time,” said Ukon to her fellows. “He discovered me here when he came with the general, and now he wants to be friends again.” She had become adept at lying.