He fell silent, lost in the memories. It was true, thought Nakanokimi:
if Oigimi had lived, they would be visiting each other, she and her sister,
and finding their happiness, as the seasons went by, in the same blossoms,
the same songs of birds. The sadness, the longing, the regrets were even
sharper than they had been at Uji, far away from the world.
My lady, my lady," urged her women. "He is _not_ an ordinary guest.
He has done everything for you, and now is the time to let him see that
you are grateful."
But Nakanokimi could not bring herself to address him directly.
Presently Niou, a splendid figure in full court regalia, came to say
goodbye. "Well, now. There he is sitting outside all by himself. It seems
very odd, really, after all you owe him. I am the one who should be afraid
of him, and here I am telling you how rude and even sinful it is not to invite
him inside. Be a little friendlier, have a good talk about the old days." And
abruptly he reversed himself: "Of course I wouldn't want you to let him
have too free a rein. You can never be quite sure what he is up to."
And so she was left not knowing what to do. She was in Kaoru's debt,
that much was clear, for he had been very kind; and she could not dismiss
him. He had ventured a hope that she might in some measure fill the
emptiness left by her sister. She would ask the same of him. She did want
him to know that she understood. But the situation was certainly awk-
ward, with Niou casting these insinuations about.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 5>
<C 49>{The Ivy}
<N 1>
<P 885>
Among the emperor's consorts was a daughter of a Minister of the Left
who was known as the wisteria lady. She was the earliest of the royal
consorts to be presented at court. The emperor, then the crown prince, was
very fond of her, even though the more obvious signs of his affection
were somehow wanting. Through the years when his numerous children
by the empress were one after another reaching adulthood, she gave birth
to only one child, a daughter, who was of course the center of her life. It
had been fated that she lose out to a rival, she told herself, and she found
consolation in the thought of seeing her daughter succeed where she had
failed. The emperor too was fond of the child, a very pretty girl; but the
First Princess had a stronger hold on his affection, and this Second Prin-
cess was far from as conspicuous a public figure. Still she had no reason
to feel neglected. The legacy from the minister's great days still largely
intact, her mother was by no means a pauper. She maintained an elegant
and fashionable household, and her women, after their several ranks,
dressed for the passing seasons in the most unexceptionable taste.
<N 2>
<P 886>
It was decided that the princess's initiation ceremonies would be held
in the early months of her fourteenth year. Plans for them occupied the
whole of the mother's attention. She was determined that every detail be
correct and yet somehow different. Ancient heirlooms from the late minis-
ter's family were brought out and the bustle and stir were such as the
house had not seen before. And then in the summer she fell victim to an
evil possession, and was gone almost before anyone knew that she was ill.
The emperor was desolate, though of course he could do nothing. The
grand courtiers agreed that it was a sad loss, for she had been a gentle,
sensitive lady; and maids of such low rank that they scarcely had a right
to mourn joined the emperor in his grief.
The Second Princess was now alone. The emperor quietly summoned
her to the palace when the memorial rites were over, and every day he
visited her rooms. The dark robes of mourning and a certain wanness from
grief only added to her beauty. Mature for her years, she had a quiet
dignity that made her perhaps even a little superior to her mother. And so
her position might on the surface have seemed secure. The facts were
rather different. She had no maternal uncles to whom she could turn for
support. One could find among her mother's half brothers a treasury
secretary and a superintendent of palace repairs, but they were very incon-
spicuous. They would not be much help to the princess in the difficulties
that lay ahead, and very considerable difficulties they promised to be. The
emperor was almost as apprehensive as the princess herself.
<N 3>
He came calling one day when the chrysanthemums, tinged by the
frost, were at their best and sad autumn showers were falling. They talked
of the wisteria lady. The giri's answers, calm and at the same time very
youthful, quite delighted him. Was there no one who was capable of
appreciating her many virtues and might be persuaded to look after her?
He remembered the deliberations and the final decision when the Suzaku
emperor had entrusted his daughter to Genji. There had been those who
argued that it was improper for a princess of the blood to marry a com-
moner and that she would do better to remain single. And now she had
an unusually talented son who was the strongest support a mother could
hope for, and no one could have said that she had slipped in the smallest
degree from her high position. Had it not been for her marriage to Genji,
she might have come upon sad days, no one could guess of what descrip-
tion, and she had her marriage to thank that the world still respected her.
Worrying the problem over, the emperor concluded that he must see to the
Second Princess's future while he still occupied the throne. And where
could he find a more appropriate candidate for her hand than Kaoru, a
better solution than to follow in the second generation the precedent of
the first? Ranged beside other royal consorts, he would not seem in the
least out of place. There did appear, it was true, to be someone of whom
<P 887>
he was fond, but he was not a man likely to let any breath of scandal
damage his relations with the Second Princess. And of course it was un-
thinkable that he would remain forever single. He must give some hint of
his feelings, the emperor told himself over and over again, before the
young man forestalled him by taking a wife.
In the evening, as he and the Second Princess were at a game of Go,
a shower passed and the chrysanthemums caught the light of the autumn
sunset.
The emperor summoned a page.
"Who is in attendance upon us tonight?"
"His Highness the minister of central affairs, His Highness Prince
Kanzuke, and Lord Minamoto, the councillor, are with us, Your Majesty."
"Call the last, if you will."
Kaoru came as ordered. The emperor's choice was not surprising.
Everything about the young man was remarkable, even the fragrance that
announced his approach.
"Such gentle showers as we are having tonight. They cry out for
<P 888>
music; but of course our mourning would not permit it. I can think of no
better a pursuit 'for whiling away the days' than a game of Go."
He pulled up a Go board. Used to these companionable services,
Kaoru settled down for a game.
"There is something I might wager," said the emperor, "but I am not
quite sure that I have the courage. Let me see, now--what else might there
be?"
Immediately guessing what he meant, Kaoru played very soberly. The
emperor lost the third game.
"How very disappointing. Well, I will let you break off a blossom.
Go choose one, if you will."
Kaoru went down into the garden and broke off one of the finer
chrysanthemums. Returning, he offered a cautious verse:
"If I had found it at a common hedge,
I might have plucked it quite to suit my fancy."
The emperor replied:
"A single chrysanthemum, left in a withered garden,
Withstands the frost, its color yet unfaded."
There were such hints from time to time, some through intermediar-
ies. Kaoru was not one to rush in headlong pursuit. He had no compelling
desire to many, and through the years he had turned aside hopeful talk
of more than one deprived though attractive young lady. It would not do
for the hermit to talk now (an odd way, perhaps, to put the matter) of
going back into business; and surely there would be any number of young
men willing to brush aside all other commitments in their eagerness to do
what they could for a royal princess. He suspected that, in his own case,
the conclusions might be somewhat different were the princess one of the
empress's daughters; but he quickly put the thought away as unworthy.
<N 4>
Yu~giri had vague reports of what was taking place, and was much
annoyed. He had had ideas of his own: Kaoru might not be as consumed
with ardor as one might hope, but he could not in the end refuse if Yu~giri
were to press his case. And now this strange development. Yu~giri's
thoughts turned once again to Niou. It would have been sheer self-decep-
tion to credit Niou with great steadfastness, but he had continued all the
while to send amusing and interesting little notes to Yu~giri's daughter
<P 889>
Rokunokimi. Though people were no doubt right to call him a trifler, fate
had dictated stranger things than that he fix his affections upon
Rokunokimi. Impassioned vows, impermeable, watertight vows, so to
speak, often enough led to disappointment and humiliation when the man
was not of grand enough rank.
"What sad days we have come upon," said Yu~giri. "Even monarchs
must go out begging for sons-in-law. Think how we commoners must
worry as we see our daughters passing their prime."
Though circumspect in his criticism of the emperor, he was otherwise
so outspoken with his sister, the empress, that she felt constrained to pass
at least a part of his complaints on to Niou:
"I do feel sorry for him, you know. He has been after you for a year
and more, knowing quite well what sort of cooperation he can expect from
you. You have spent the whole year dashing madly in the other direction,
not very good evidence, I must say, of warmth and kindness. And you
must remember that a good marriage is very important for someone like
you. Your father begins to talk of leaving the throne, and--ordinary people
are expected to be satisfied with only one wife, I suppose, but even with
them--look at my brother himself, such a model of propriety, and still able
to manage two wives without offending anyone. Just let things work
themselves out as we hope they will, and you can have any number you
like. No one will have the smallest objection."
She was not a loquacious woman, and it had been a remarkable
speech; and it did have a reasonable sound to it.
Never having disliked Rokunokimi, Niou did not want to answer in
a way that seemed to slam all the doors; but the prospect of being impris-
oned in that excessively decorous household, of forgoing the freedom that
was now his, made the proposed match seem unbearably drab. He could
not, all the same, deny that his mother's remarks were very sensible, most
particularly those about the folly of alienating important people who
wished to become one's in-laws. He was caught in a dilemma. And then
too there was his tendency to spread his affections generously, and the fact
that he still had not found it possible to forget Ko~bai's stepdaughter. As
the seasons presented occasions, the flowers of spring and the autumn
leaves, he still sent her letters, and he would have had to include both of
them, Rokunokimi and Ko~bai's daughter, on the list of those whom he
found not uninteresting.
And so the New Year came. <N 5> The Second Princess having put away
her robes of mourning, there was no longer a need for reticence in the
matter of her marriage.
"The indications are," someone said to Kaoru," that the emperor
would not be unfriendly to a proposal."
<P 890>
Kaoru could have feigned ignorance, but he was quite well enough
known already for eccentricity and brusqueness. Summoning up his re-
solve, he found occasion from time to time to hint that he was interested.
The emperor of course had no reason to reject these overtures, and pres-
ently Kaoru was informed, again through intermediaries, that a date had
been set. Though he was altogether in sympathy with the troubled em-
peror, his life was still haunted by a sense of emptiness, and he still found
it impossible to accept the fact that so apparently strong a bond should in
the end have snapped like a thread. He knew that he would be drawn to
a girl, even a girl of humble birth, who resembled Oigimi. If only he could,
like that Chinese emperor, have a glimpse through magic incense of his
lost love! He was in no great rush to wed this royal lady.
<N 6>
Yu~giri _was_ in a rush. He suggested to Niou that the Eighth Month
might be appropriate for his marriage to Rokunokimi.
So it had happened, thought Nakanokimi, learning of these events.
What was she to do? She had passed her days in anticipation of just such
gloomy news, which would make her the laughingstock of the whole
world. She had had little confidence in Niou from the start, having heard
of his promiscuous ways, and yet when she had come to know him some-
what better she had found him altogether gentle and considerate, and
given to the most ardent protestations of eternal love. And now this
sudden change--could she be expected to receive it with equanimity?
Their union would not. be dissolved, obliterated, as she might have had
cause to fear had she been of meaner birth, but the future seemed to offer
only worries and more worries. No doubt she was fated to go back to the
mountains one day. Her thoughts ran on, chasing one another in circles.
She was certain that she was at length facing the punishment she deserved
