6

Nakanokimi was by now familiar with the whole story. Her sisters had died so young, no doubt because they had both of them been of a too introspective nature. She, the one without worries, had lived on. And how long would it be until she joined them?

Since she obviously knew everything, the pretense at concealment was becoming awkward. Arranging matters somewhat to his own advantage, now laughing and now weeping, he made his confession. “I was very annoyed at you for hiding her,” he concluded. How very affecting it was to have the girl's own sister for his audience!

He was more comfortable here at Nijo~. At Rokujo~ everything was so grand and ceremonious. When he was indisposed they all fussed over him so. He had no defenses against well-wishers, and Yu~giri and his sons made genuine nuisances of themselves.

But everything still seemed so vague and dreamlike. Her sudden death had not been properly explained. He sent for Ukon.

At Uji, the roar of the waters stirred the governor's wife to thoughts of suicide. There could be no rest from her grief. Sadly, she returned to the city. The Uji house settled into near silence, the monks its chief source of strength and cheer. This time the troublesome guards made no attempt to challenge Niou's emissaries. How sad, the latter were thinking, that what had proved to be their lord's last chance for a meeting had come to nothing. It had not been pleasant to watch the effects of his clandestine love, and now the memory of those nocturnal visits, and of the girl too, so fragile and so beautiful on the night of the river crossing, was enough to dissolve the least sensitive of them in tears.

They told Ukon why they had come.

“It would not do to stir up gossip at this late date,” she said, “and I doubt that any explanations I might make would satisfy him. I shall think up a good excuse to visit him once we are out of mourning. I can tell people that I have business to discuss with him. It is true that I do not want to outlive my own grief, but if someday I manage to pull myself together, I shall call on him, you may be sure, whether he sends for me or not, and describe this nightmare to him.” They could not persuade her to go with them.

“I did not have all the details and was not in a good position to judge?” said Tokikata, “but I did sense something very unusual in his feelings for her. I looked forward to the day when I might myself be of service to you, and saw no need to rush things; and this sudden disaster has only strengthened my good intentions. We seem to have this carriage, and I would hate to take it back empty. What about the other lady?”

“Yes, by all means.” Ukon summoned Jiju~. “You go.”

“But I would have even less to tell him than you. And we are in mourning, you know. I wouldn't want to pass the defilement on.”

“He is being careful of his health, but I doubt if that would worry him. He has been so upset by it all that I rather imagine he would welcome a few days' retreat. And you won't be in mourning much longer in any case. Come along, now, one or the other of you.”

Jiju~ agreed to go. She did want to see Niou again, and when could she hope for another chance? She was a handsome figure herself when she had put her somber robes in order. Because formal dress could be dispensed with in the absence of one's lady, she had not been wearing formal trains, and she had none dyed in the proper hues of mourning. A lavender one was the best she could find. Thinking of her lady's secret but triumphal progress along this same road had she but lived, she wept the whole of the way into the city.

She had always been partial towards Niou, and he was pleased and touched that she had come. Wishing to avoid a scene, he did not tell Nakanokimi of the visit. He went to the main hall and asked Jiju~ to alight at a gallery adjoining it.

She told him in great detail of Ukifune's last days. “My lady had been in low spirits for some time and she was weeping when she went to bed that night. She seemed so wrapped up in herself, she had even less to say than usual. She was not a lady to complain about her troubles, you will remember, and that may be why she didn't leave a proper letter behind. It hadn't occurred to us in our wildest dreams that she would be capable of such a thing.”

All the sadness of those days came back. One somehow manages to accept a natural death—but to throw herself into those savage waters! What could account for such resolve? If only he had been there himself. He pictured himself on the spot, pulling her from the river, and regret attacked him more fiercely, to no purpose, of course.

“What fools we were not to guess when she burned her letters.”

They talked the night through. She told him too of the poem they had found in the tree. He had not paid much attention to her until now, and she interested him.

“Would you think of joining us here at Nijo~? You and the lady in the other wing are not strangers, after all.”

“No, it would be too sad. Let me at least wait until we are out of mourning.”

“Do come again.” He was sorry to see her go.

As she left in the dawn, he gave her a comb box and a clothespress he had had made for Ukifune. Though he had in fact put together a considerable collection of boxes and chests, he gave her only what she could take with her. She had not expected such largesse, and was a little embarrassed at the thought of displaying it to her fellows. There being little relief these days from the tedium, however, she did show Ukon her new treasures when no one else was near. The designs were most elegant, the workmanship was superb—and this and much more their lady had thrown away! The contents of the clothespress quite dazzled them, but of course women in mourning had no use for such finery.