18

In the Ninth Month the nun made a pilgrimage to Hatsuse. All those months had done little to ease her grief, and now she had found a girl whom she could only think of as a daughter; and the pilgrimage was by way of showing her gratitude to Our Lady of Hatsuse.

“Suppose you come along, my dear. No one need hear of it. You may say that one holy image is very much like another, but Hatsuse does seem to produce very special results. Do come with me.”

Her mother and nurse had said exactly that, she remembered, and had more than once taken her to Hatsuse; and what good had their efforts done? In those last desperate days, she had not even been allowed to dispose of her own life. And the thought of going on a long journey with a near stranger somehow frightened her.

But she made no effort to argue the matter. “I am not myself,” she said quietly, “and I am not at all sure what the trip would do to me.”

Yes, poor child, she had every right to be apprehensive, thought the nun. She said no more.

She came upon a scrap of paper on which, by way of writing practice, the girl had jotted down a verse:

“On shoals unsought, I ask no further view

Of cedars twain beside that ancient river.” *

“Two cedars, is it?” said the nun banteringly. “So there actually are two persons you might want to see again?”

The girl started and flushed crimson. The nun had said more than she intended to. She thought this confusion charming, and rattled off a not very distinguished poem:

“I know not the roots of the tree by the ancient river,

But it takes the place, for me, of one now gone.”

She had hoped to steal off almost by herself, but everyone clamored to go along. Fearing that the girl would be lonely, she left three attendants behind: the sensitive and cultivated Sho~sho~, an elderly woman called Saemon, and a little girl. Gazing moodily after the pilgrims, Ukifune felt the loneliness close in upon her even more threateningly. Indeed, she felt quite defenseless, her one ally now off for Hatsuse. In upon the tedium and loneliness, as her thoughts wandered now to the past and now to the perilous future, came a letter from the captain. Sho~sho~ asked her at least to glance at it, but she refused.

“Come, now. This gloom is getting to be contagious. Let's see if I can best you at Go.”

“Of course you can. I always lose.” The girl seemed not unhappy at the suggestion, however, and the board was brought out. Expecting an easy victory, Sho~sho~ let her have the first play. But the girl was no weakling, and in the next match Sho~sho~ was easily persuaded to play first.

“What a charming surprise. Something to tell my lady about, if she will just hurry back. She is rather good at it herself. Her honored brother has always been fond of the game, and there was a time when he was taking on airs like the gentleman they called the High Priest of Go.* It was just about then that he challenged my lady to a match. He promised that he would be a generous and forbearing conqueror, and he lost two in a row. I am sure you would have no trouble besting His Reverence the High Priest of Go. You are very, very good, I do not hesitate to tell you.,

Sho~sho~ was warming to her subject. But the girl was beginning to fear that this unlovely, bald-pated person might be too insistent a companion. She was a little tired, she said, and went to lie down.

“A game now and then would do you a world of good. It seems such a pity that a girl as attractive as you should be forever moping. The flaw in the gem, as they say.”

The night wind moaning outside brought memories.