to fresh clothes. Still she hesitated. What would these women be thinking?
And her mother--her mother could know nothing as yet, and would be
hurt if hints were to come from someone else.
"I am feeling dreadful," she said, lying down again. "It would be
better for everyone if I were not to recover. Something seems to be attack-
ing my legs."
She had one of the women massage it away, a force, probably, that
had taken advantage of the confusion to mount through the extremities.
"Someone has been telling your good mother stories," said Kosho~sho~.
"She asked me about last night and I told her everything. I insisted on your
innocence by making the door seem a little firmer than it was. If she should
ask you, please try to make your story match mine." She did not say how
upset the old lady had been.
So it was true. Utterly miserable, the princess wept in silence. Then
and now--she had had two suitors, both of them unwelcome. Both had
caused her poor mother pain. As for the princess herself, she seemed to face
a future of limitless trials. There would be further overtures. She had
resisted, and that was some small comfort; but for a princess to have
exposed herself as she had was inexcusably careless.
Presently it was evening.
"Do please come," said her mother.
She made her way in through a closet. The old lady sat up, ill though
she was, and omitted none of the amenities. "I must look a fright. Do
please excuse me. It has only been a few days and it seems like an eternity.
We cannot know that we will meet in another world, and we cannot be
sure that we will recognize each other if we meet again in this one. Perhaps
it was a mistake to become so fond of each other. Such a very short time
together and we must say goodbye." She was weeping.
The princess could only gaze at her in silence. Always a quiet, reserved
girl, she knew nothing of the comforts of confession. The mother could not
bring herself to ask questions. She ordered lights and had dinner brought
for the two of them. Having heard from Kosho~sho~ that the princess was
not eating, she arranged the meal in the way the princess liked best, but
to no avail. The princess was pleased all the same to see her mother so
improved.
<N 8>
A letter came from Yu~giri. A woman who knew nothing of what had
happened took it. "From the general," she said, "for Kosho~sho~."
<P 687>
How unfortunate, thought Kosho~sho~. Very deferentially, the mother
asked what might be in it. Resentment was giving way to anticipation and
a hope that Yu~giri might again come visiting. Indeed, the possibility that
he might not was emerging as her chief worry.
"You really must answer him," she said to the princess. "You may
proclaim to the world that you are clean and pure, but how many will
believe you? Let him have a good-natured answer and let things go on very
much as they are. That will be the best thing. You will not want him to
think you an ill-mannered flirt."
Reluctantly Kosho~sho~ gave up the letter.
"You may be sure that evidence of your unconscionable hostility will
have the effect of arousing me further.
"Shallow it is, for all these efforts to dam it.
You cannot dam and conceal so famous a flow."
It was a long letter, but the old lady read no more. It seemed to her
the worst sort of sophistry, and the implied reason for his failure to visit
seemed pompous and wholly unacceptable. Kashiwagi had not been the
best of husbands, but he had behaved correctly and never made the prin-
cess feel threatened or insecure. The old lady had not been happy with him
--and Yu~giri's behavior was far worse. What would To~ no Chu~jo~ and his
family be thinking, what would they be saying?
But she must try to learn more of Yu~giri's intentions. Drying her tears
and struggling to quiet her thoughts, she set about composing a letter. The
hand was like the strange tracks of a bird.
"When she came inquiring about my health, which is in a sorry state,
I urged that she reply to your letter. I could see that she was not at all well
herself, and I felt that some sort of reply was required of someone.
"You stay a single night. It means no more,
This field of sadly fading maiden flowers?"
It was a much shorter note than she would have wished. She folded
it formally and lay down, suddenly worse. Her women were greatly
alarmed. The evil spirit had lulled her into a moment of inattention and
taken advantage of it. The more famous healers were put to work again
and the house echoed with their prayers and incantations. The princess
must return at once to her rooms, insisted the women. She refused abso-
lutely. If her mother was to die she wished to die also.
<N 9>
Yu~giri returned to his Sanjo~ mansion at about noon. He knew what
almost no one else did, that nothing had happened, and he would have
felt rather foolish running off to Ono again in the evening. This victory
for restraint, however, increased his longing a thousand times over.
Kumoinokari had sensed in a general way what was happening and was
of course not pleased, but with so many children to look after she had no
trouble feigning ignorance. She was resting in her parlor.
It was dark when the old lady's letter arrived. In that strange hand,
<P 688>
like the tracks of a bird, it was next to illegible. He brought it close to a
lamp.
Kumoinokari came lurching through her curtains and snatched it from
over his shoulder.
"And why did you do that? It is a note from the lady at Rokujo~. She
was coming down with a cold this morning and feeling wretched. I meant
to look in on her when I left Father, but something came up, and so I got
off a note instead. Read it, if you are so curious. Does it look like a love
letter? It seems rather common of you to want to. You treat me more like
a child the longer we are together. Have you thought of the effect it may
have on me?"
He did not try to recover the note, nor could she quite bring herself
to read it.
"It is your own conduct," she said, "which makes you feel that I do
not do sufficient honor to your maturity."
Though she found his self-possession somewhat daunting, she an-
swered with a brisk youthfulness that was not at all unconvincing.
"You may be right. But there is one matter of which you seem to be
unaware, that this sort of thing happens all the time. What is unique, I
suspect, is the case of a man who reaches a certain station in life and
continues to be unwaveringly faithful to one lady. You have heard of
henpecking, perhaps? People always seem to find it very funny. And I
should point out that the wife of so stodgy a man tends not to seem very
exciting herself. Think how her reputation rises, how the wrinkles go
away, how interesting and amusing life is, when she is first among a
multitude of ladies. What fun is it and what satisfaction does it give to be
like the old dotard, what's his name, hanging on to his Lady Something-or-
other?"
It seemed to be his purpose, while pretending that the letter was
nothing, to get it back.
She smiled a bright and pretty smile. "But you are so young all of a
sudden that you make me very much aware of my wrinkles. And the
novelty will take some getting used to. I have not had the proper educa-
tion."
A complaining wife, he thought, can sometimes be rather charming.
"Oh, you see a change in me? That surprises and upsets me. It shows
that we no longer understand each other as we once did. Has someone been
talking about me? Someone, perhaps, who long ago found me unaccepta-
ble? Who has failed to note that my sleeves are no longer blue, and still
wishes to interfere? But whoever she may be, an innocent princess is being
wronged." He was not feeling in the least apologetic, and did not wish to
argue the matter.
<P 689>
Tayu~ squirmed but was no more prepared to argue than he. The
discussion went on for a time, during which Kumoinokari managed to hide
the letter. Pretending not to care very much, he went to bed. But he was
very excited and very eager to have it back. He had guessed that it was
from the princess's mother. And what might it say? He lay sleepless, and
when Kumoinokari was asleep probed under her quilts. He found nothing.
How had she been able to hide it?
He lay in bed after the sun was up and after Kumoinokari had been
summoned to work by the children. As if putting himself in order for the
day, he probed yet further, and still found no trace of it. Persuaded that
it was indeed an innocent sort of letter, the busy Kumoinokari had forgot-
ten about it. The children were chasing one another and ministering to
their dolls and having their time at reading and calligraphy. The baby had
come crawling up and was tugging at her sleeves. She had no thought for
the letter. Yu~giri could think of nothing else. He must get off an answer,
but he did not know what he would be answering. The old lady would
conclude that her letter had been lost if his seemed irrelevant.
After breakfast there came a lull of sorts and he felt that he could wait
no longer.
"What was in the letter last night? Do you propose to keep it secret?
I ought to go see her again today, but I am not feeling at all well myself.
So I ought to get off a note."
He did not seem to care a great deal, and she was beginning to feel
a little foolish.
"Oh, think up some elegant excuse. Tell her you went hiking in the
mountains and caught cold."
"That was not funny, and I see no need for elegance. You think I am
like all the others, do you? Our friends here have always thought me a
queer old stick, and these insinuations must strike them as rather far from
the mark. But the letter--where is it?"
She was in no hurry. They talked of this and that, and had their naps,
and it was evening. Awakened by the evening cicadas he thought again of
the gloomy mountain mists. What a wretched business! And he still had
not answered. Deliberately, he got ink and brush ready, and considered
how to answer an unseen letter. His eyes lighted on a cushion that seemed
to bulge along the far edge--and there it was! The obvious places were the
ones a person overlooked. He smiled, and immediately was serious again.
It was deeply distressing. The old lady was assuming that something of
significance had occurred. How very unfortunate--and his failure to visit
the night before must have been for her a disaster. He had not even
written. No ordinary sort of disquiet could explain such a chaotic hand.
Nothing could be done now to repair the damage. He was angry with
Kumoinokari. Her playfulness could have done no good even if it had done
no damage. But no, the fault was his. He had not trained her properly. He
was so angry with her and with himself that he wanted to weep.
<P 690>
Perhaps he should go immediately to Ono. He could expect the prin-
cess to be no friendlier than before. But how was he to explain the mother's
apparent sense of crisis? It was moreover a very unlucky day, not the sort
on which a man went forth in the expectation of having a bride bestowed
upon him. He must be calm and take the longer view. He set about an
answer.
"I was surprised and for many reasons pleased to have your letter. Yet
it is somehow accusing. What can have aroused your suspicions?
"Although I made my way through thick autumn grasses,
I wove no pillow of grass for vagrant sleep.
"Apologies are not always to the point, even when silence might seem
to speak of something"
There was a long message for the princess as well. Ordering a fast
horse, he summoned the guards officer of the last Ono visit and, with
whispered instructions, sent him off to Ono once more.
"Say that I have been at Rokujo~ all day and have just come home."
The princess's mother had been persuaded by his apparent coldness
to dispatch a resentful note, and there had been no answer. What utter
insolence! It was evening once more and she was in despair and in even
greater pain. The princess, for her part, did not find his behavior even
mildly surprising. Her only concern was that she had let him see her. Her
mother's apparent view of the case embarrassed her acutely and left her
more inarticulate than ever. Poor child, the mother was thinking. Misfor-
tune heaped upon misfortune.
"I do not wish to seem querulous, my dear, but your astonishing
innocence makes it difficult for me to resign myself to what has happened.
You have left yourself exposed. There is nothing to be done now, but do
please try to be more careful. I do not count, I know, but I have tried to
do my best. I would have thought that you had reached an age when you
could be expected to know about men. I have hoped that I might be a little
more confident. But I see that you are still as easily persuaded as a child,
and pray that I may live a little longer.
"Wellborn ladies, even if they are not princesses, do not have two
husbands. And you are a princess, and should above everything guard
against appearing to be within easy reach. Things went so badly the first
time and I worried so about you. But it was meant to be, and there is no
point in complaining. Your royal father seemed to find him acceptable, and
he seems to have had his father's permission too, and so I told myself that
I must be the one who did not understand. I watched it all, knowing that
you had done nothing wrong and that I might as well complain to the
skies. This new affair will bring no great honor to either of you, but if
it leads to the usual sort of relationship, well, time will go by and we can
try not to listen to the gossips, and perhaps learn to live with it. Or so I
