25

His thoughts on the way home were far from pleasant. What a very clever fellow his friend was! How had he learned that the girl was at Uji? How had he arranged to be in communication with her? Kaoru had thought that so far from the city she would be in no danger. He had been $$ naive. Niou could have as many ladies as he wished if they were his alone; but how could he be so unfeeling towards the friend who had been so close to him, who had acted as guide and intermediary, indeed almost as procurer, in the Uji days? Kaoru had kept his longing for Nakanokimi under tight control, and now his forbearance seemed merely stupid. His feelings for her went far beyond a passing attachment of yesterday and today. There was that bond between them over so many years. He had controlled himself, wanting to spare her pain, and wanting to have nothing on his own conscience; and he had been very stupid indeed. With all those hordes of people around the empress, how had Niou managed to get a letter off to distant Uji? Had he already seen the girl? Love did have a way of keeping one on the road. And Niou's whereabouts _had_ given cause for speculation and inquiry these last days, and he had been vaguely unwell, and his ailments could frequently be traced to amatory sources. Kaoru thought of Niou's distress—everyone had been so sorry for him—at being unable to see Nakanokimi. Ukifune's moodiness on their last meeting no longer puzzled him.

Such was the human heart. So charming and quiet on the surface, she was a good match for Niou. They were meant for each other. Perhaps he should withdraw in Niou's favor. But he had never, not in his most sentimental moments, thought her the only one for him. He would leave her to other affairs as she chose to have them, and take her for what she was. He knew that a decision to send her away would not come easily.

His men could see all too clearly that he was lost in a black reverie.

If in his anger he were to abandon her, Niou would no doubt take her in; but Niou was not one to dwell carefully and compassionately upon the distant future. There were already two or three women of whom he had wearied and whom he had put in the service of the First Princess. Kaoru did not want to hear that Ukifune had joined the company. He would not, he concluded once again, find it easy to dismiss her.

He wrote inquiring after her health. Choosing a moment when there was no danger of being overheard, he summoned that astute guardsman.

“Is Lord Michisada still with Nakanobu's* daughter?”

“Yes, my lord, it seems that he is.”

“And does he make it a practice to send that man to Uji? There is a lonely lady there and he may have his eye on her.” He sighed. “Well, see that no one goes trailing _you_. We'd look very silly.”

The man bowed. He remembered that Michisada was always prying into Kaoru's affairs and had asked about the situation at Uji, but it seemed wise not to tell unsolicited tales. Kaoru questioned him no further. Too

much had been spied out already, he feared.

At Uji, the increasing frequency of his messages was a new worry. The latest said only:

“It yet stands firm, the pine-clad mount of Su?”

Thought I. And even then the waves engulfed it!+ Do not, I pray, make us an object of unkind laughter.”

An odd thing to say—what could he mean? She did not wish to make it seem that he had scored a hit, and it was always possible that there had been a mistake.