behind him.
"I doubt," said the old lady, "that anyone could reprove us for enjoy-
ing ourselves this evening. You have made the evening seem short with
honest talk of the old days. I am sure that if you were to let me hear more
of your playing it would add years to my life."
She gave him a flute as he left.
"It is said to have a rich past. I would hate to have it lost among these
tangles of wormwood. You must play on it as you leave and drown out
the calls of your runners. That would give me great pleasure."
"Far too valuable an addition to my retinue."
It did indeed have a rich past. It had been Kashiwagi's favorite. Yu~giri
had heard him say more than once that it had possibilities he had never
done justice to, and that he wanted it to have an owner more worthy of
it. Near tears once more, he blew a few notes in the _banjiki_ mode, but did
not finish the melody he had begun.
"My inept pluckings on the koto may perhaps be excused as a kind
of memorial, but this flute leaves me feeling quite helpless, wholly inade-
quate."
The old lady sent out a poem:
"The voices of insects are unchanged this autumn,
Rank though the grasses be round my dewy lodging."
He sent back:
"The melody is as it always was.
The voices that mourn are inexhaustible."
Though it was very late, he left with great reluctance.
<N 6>
His house was firmly barred and shuttered, and everyone seemed to
be asleep. Kumoinokari's women had suggested that his kindness to the
Second Princess was more than kindness, and she was not pleased to have
<P 663>
him coming home so late at night. It is possible that she was only pretend-
ing to be asleep.
"My mountain girl and I," he sang, in a low but very good voice.
"This place is locked up like a fort. A dark hole of a place. Some people
do not seem to appreciate moonlight."
He had the shutters raised and himself rolled up the blinds. He went
out to the veranda.
"Such a moon, and there are people sound asleep? Come on out. Be
a little more friendly."
But she was unhappy and pretended not to hear. Little children were
sprawled here and there, sound asleep, and there were clusters of women,
also asleep. It was a thickly populated scene, in sharp contrast to the
mansion from which he had just come. He blew a soft strain on his new
flute. And what would the princess be thinking in the wake of their
interview? Would she indeed, as he had requested, leave the koto and the
other instruments in the same tuning? Her mother was said to be very good
on the Japanese koto. He lay down. In public Kashiwagi had shown his
wife all the honors due a princess, but they had seemed strangely hollow.
Yu~giri wanted very much to see her, and at the same time feared that he
would be disappointed. One was often disappointed when the advance
reports were so interesting. His thoughts turned to his own marriage. All
through the years he had given not the smallest cause for jealousy. He had
given his wife ample cause, perhaps, to be somewhat overbearing.
He dozed off and dreamed that Kashiwagi was beside him, dressed as
on their last meeting. He had taken up the flute. How unsettling, Yu~giri
said to himself, still dreaming, that his friend should still be after the flute.
"If it matters not which wind sounds the bamboo flute,
Then let its note be forever with my children.
"I did not mean it for you."
Yu~giri was about to ask for an explanation when he was awakened
by the screaming of a child. It was screaming very lustily, and vomiting.
The nurse was with it, and Kumoinokari, sending for a light and pushing
her hair roughly behind her ears, had taken it in her arms. A buxom lady,
she was offering a well-shaped breast. She had no milk, but hoped that the
breast would have a soothing effect. The child was fair-skinned and very
pretty.
"What seems to be the trouble?" asked Yu~giri, coming inside.
The noise and confusion had quite driven away the sadness of the
<P 664>
dream. One of the women was scattering rice to exorcise malign spirits.
"We have a sick child on our hands and here you are prancing and
dashing about like a young boy. You open the shutters to enjoy your
precious moonlight and let in a devil or two."
He smiled. She was still very young and pretty. "They have found an
unexpected guide. I suppose if it had not been for me they would have lost
their way? A mother of many children acquires great wisdom."
"Go away, if you will, please." He was so handsome that she could
think of nothing more severe to say. "You should not be watching."
She did indeed seem to find the light too strong. Her shyness was not
at all unattractive.
The child kept them awake the whole night.
Yu~giri went on thinking about the dream. The flute was threatening
to raise difficulties. Kashiwagi was still attached to it, and so perhaps it
should have stayed at Ichijo~. It should not, in any case, have been passed
on to Yu~giri by a woman. But what had Kashiwagi meant, and what would
he be thinking now? Because of the regret and the longing he must wander
in stubborn darkness, worrying about trifles. One did well to avoid such
entanglements.
<P 665>
He had services read on Mount Otagi and at a temple favored by
Kashiwagi. But what to do about the flute? It had a rich history, the old
lady had said. Offered immediately to a temple it might do a little toward
the repose of Kashiwagi's soul. Yet he hesitated.
He visited Rokujo~.
<N 7>
Genji, he was told, was with his daughter.
Murasaki had been given charge of the Third Prince, now three, the
prettiest of Genji's royal grandchildren. He came running up.
"If you're going over there, General, take my royal highness with
you."
Yu~giri smiled at this immodest language. "If you wish to go. But am
I to walk past a lady's curtains without a by-your-leave? That would be
very rude." He took the little prince in his arms.
"No one will see. Look, I'll cover your face. Let's go, let's go."
He was charming as he covered Yu~giri's face with his sleeves. The two
of them went off to the Akashi princess's apartments. The Second Prince
was there, as was Genji's little son. Genji was fondly watching them at
play. Yu~giri deposited the Third Prince in a corner, where the Second
Prince discovered him.
"Carry me too, General," he commanded.
"He's my general," objected the Third Prince, refusing to dismiss him.
"Don't you have any manners, the two of you?" said Genji. "He is
supposed to guard your father, and you are appropriating him for your-
selves. And you, young sir," he said to the Third Prince, "are just a little
too pushy. You are always trying to get the best of your brother."
"And the other one," said Yu~giri, "is very much the big brother,
always willing to give way if it seems the right thing. Such a fine young
gentleman that I'm already a little afraid of him."
Genji smiled. They were both of them very fine lads indeed. "But
come. This is no place for an important official to be wasting his time."
He started off towards the east wing, trailing children behind him. His
own little boy ought not to be so familiar with the princes--but the usual
awareness of such things told him that any sort of discrimination would
hurt the Third Princess. She had a bad conscience and was easily hurt. He
too was a very pretty boy, and Genji had grown fond of him.
Yu~giri had seen very little of the boy. Picking up a fallen cherry
branch he motioned towards the blinds. The boy came running out. He had
on but a single robe, of a deep purple. The fair skin glowed, and there was
in the round little figure something, an extraordinary refinement, that
rather outdid the princes. Perhaps, thought Yu~giri, he had chanced to catch
an unusual angle; but it did seem to him that there was remarkable
strength in the eyes, and the arch of the eyebrows reminded him very
much of Kashiwagi. And that sudden glow when he laughed--perhaps,
<P 666>
thought Yu~giri, he had caught a very rare moment--but Genji must surely
have noticed. He really must do a bit of probing.
The princes were princes, already proud and courtly, but they had the
faces of pretty children, no more. I he other boy, he thought, looking from
one child to another, had a most uncommon face and manner. How very
sad. To~ no Chu~jo~, half lost to the world, kept asking why no one came
demanding to be recognized as Kashiwagi's son, why there were no keep-
sakes. If Yu~giri's suspicions were well founded, then to keep the secret
from the bereaved grandfather would be a sin. But Yu~giri could not be
sure. He still had no real solution to the puzzle, nothing to go on. He was
delighted with the child, who seemed unusually gentle and affectionate.
<N 8>
They talked quietly on and it was evening. Genji listened smiling to
Yu~giri's account of his visit to Ichijo~ the evening before.
"So she played the lotus song. That is the sort of thing a lady with
the old graces would do. Yet one might say that she allowed an ordinary
conversation to take an unnecessarily suggestive turn. You behaved quite
properly when you told her that you wished to carry out the wishes of a
dead friend and be of assistance to her. The important thing is that you
continue to behave properly. Both of you will find the clean, friendly sort
of relationship the more rewarding."
Yes, thought Yu~giri, his father had always been ready with good
advice. And how would Genji himself have behaved in the same circum-
stances?
"How can you even suggest that there has been anything improper?
I am being kind to her because her marriage lasted such a tragically short
time, and what suspicions would it give rise to if my kindness were to be
equally short-lived? Suggestive, you say. I might have been tempted to use
the word if she had offered the lotus song on her own initiative. But the
time was exactly right, and the gentle fragment I heard seemed exactly
right too. She is not very young any more, and I think I am a rather steady
sort, and so I suppose she felt comfortable with me. Everything tells me
that she is a gentle, amiable sort of lady."
The moment seemed ripe. Coming a little closer, he described his
dream. Genji listened in silence and was not quick to answer. It did of
course mean something to him.
"Yes, there are reasons why I should have the flute. It belonged to the
Yo~zei emperor and was much prized by the late Prince Shikibu. Remark-
ing upon Kashiwagi's skills, the prince gave it to him one day when we
had gathered to admire the _hagi_. I should imagine that the princess's mother
did not quite know what she was doing when she gave it to you."
<P 667>
He understood Kashiwagi's reference to his own descendants. He
suspected that Yu~giri was too astute not to have understood also.
The expression on Genji's face made it difficult for Yu~giri to proceed,
but having come this far, he wanted to tell everything. Hesitantly, as if he
had just this moment thought of something else, he said: "I went to see
him just before he died. He gave me a number of instructions, and said
more than once that he had reasons for wanting very much to apologize
to you. I have fretted a great deal over the remark, and even now I cannot
imagine what he may have had in mind."
He spoke very slowly and hesitantly. Genji was convinced that he did
indeed know the truth. Yet there seemed no point in making a clean breast
of things long past.
After seeming to turn the matter over in his mind for a time, he
replied: "I must on some occasion have aroused his resentment by seeming
to reveal sentiments which in fact were not mine. I cannot think when it
might have been. I shall give some quiet thought to that dream of yours,
and of course I shall let you know if I come upon anything that seems
significant. I have heard women say that it is unlucky to talk about dreams
at night."
It had not been a very satisfying answer. One is told that Yu~giri was
left feeling rather uncomfortable.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 4>
<C 38>{The Bell Cricket}
<N 1>
<P 668>
In the summer, when the lotuses were at their best, the Third Princess
dedicated holy images for her chapel. All the chapel fittings to which Genji
had given such careful attention were put to use. There were soft, rich
banners of an unusual Chinese brocade which were Murasaki's work, and
the covers for the votive stands were of a similarly rich material, tie-dyed
in subtle and striking colors. The curtains were raised on all four sides of
the princess's bedchamber, at the rear of which hung a Lotus Mandala.
Proud blossoms of harmonious colors had been set out in silver vases,
while a "hundred pace" Chinese incense spread through the chapel and
beyond. The main image, an Amita~bha, and the two attendants were
graceful and delicately wrought, and all of sandalwood. The fonts, also
small and delicate, held lotuses of white, blue, and purple. Lotus-leaf
pellets compounded with a small amount of honey had been crushed to
bits, to give off a fragrance that blended with the other to most wondrous
effect.
The princess had had scrolls of the holy writ copied for each of the
Six Worlds. Genji himself had copied a sutra for her own personal use,
and asked in the dedication that, having thus plighted their troth, they be
