But where go I, a boat upon the waters?"
The time was right, and so was the girl, and so was her poem: for him,
at least, things could not have been more pleasingly arranged.
<P 992>
They reached the far bank of the river. An attendant helped him
ashore, the girl still in his arms. No one else was to touch her, he insisted.
The custodian of the house was wondering what sort of woman could
have produced such an uncourtly uproar. It was a temporary house, rough
and unfinished, which Tokikata's uncle, the governor of Inaba, had put up
on one of his manors. Crude plaited screens such as Niou had not seen
before offered almost no resistance to the wind. There were patches of
snow at the fence, clouds had come up, bringing new flurries of snow, and
icicles glistened at the eaves. In the daylight the girl seemed even prettier
than by candlelight. Niou was dressed simply, against the rigors of the
journey. A fragile little figure sat huddled before him, for he had slipped
off her outer robe. And so here she was, she said to herself, not even
properly dressed, before a royal prince. There was nothing, nothing at all,
to protect her from his gaze. She was wearing five or six white singlets,
somewhat rumpled, soft and lustrous to the hems of the sleeves and skirts,
more pleasing, he thought, than any number of colors piled one upon
another. He seldom saw women with whom he kept constant company in
quite such informal dress. He was enchanted.
And so Jiju~ too (a pretty young woman) was witness to the scene.
Who might she be? Niou had asked when he saw her climbing uninvited
<P 993>
into the boat. She must not be told his name. Jiju~, for her part, was dazzled.
She had not been in the company of such a fine gentleman before.
The custodian made a great fuss over Tokikata, thinking him to be the
leader of the party. Tokikata, who had appropriated the next room for
himself, was in good form. He made an amusing game of evading the
questions the custodian kept putting in reverent tones.
"There have been bad omens, very bad, and I must stay away from
the city for a while. No one is to see me."
And so Niou and Ukifune passed pleasant hours with no fear of being
observed. No doubt, thought Niou, once more in the clutches of jealousy,
she was equally amiable when she received Kaoru. He let it be known that
Kaoru had taken the emperor's own daughter for his bride and seemed
devoted to her. He declined (let us say out of charity) to mention the snatch
of poetry he had overheard that snowy evening.
"You seem to be cock of the walk," he said when Tokikata came with
towels and refreshments." But keep out of sight while you're about it.
Someone might want to imitate you."
Jiju~, a susceptible young lady, was having _such_ a good time. She spent
the whole day with Tokikata.
Looking towards the city over the drifting snow, Niou saw forests
emerging from and sinking back into the clouds. The mountain above
caught the evening glow as in a minor. He described, with some embroid-
ering, the horror of last night's journey. A crude rustic inkstone having
been brought to him, he set down a poem as if in practice:
"I pushed through snowy peaks, past icy shores,
Dauntless all the way--O daunting one!
"It is true, of course, that I had a horse at Kohata."
In her answering poem she ventured an objection:
"The snow that blows to the shore remains there, frozen.
Yet worse my fate: I am caught, dissolve in midair."
This image of fading in midair rather annoyed him. Yes, she was being
difficult, she had to agree, tearing the paper to bits. He was always charm-
ing, and he was quite irresistible when he was trying to please.
He had said that he would be in retreat for two days. Each unhurried
hour seemed to bring new intimacy. The clever Ukon contrived pretexts
for sending over fresh clothes. Jiju~ smoothed her mistress's hair and helped
her into a robe of deep purple and a cloak of figured magenta lined also
with magenta--an unexceptionable combination. Taking up Jiju~'s apron,
he had Ukifune try it on as she ladled water for him. Yes, his sister the
First Princess would be very pleased to take such a girl into her service.
<P 994>
Her ladies-in-waiting were numerous and wellborn, but he could think of
none among them capable of putting the girl to shame.
But let us not look in too closely upon their dalliance.
He told her again and again how he wanted to hide her away, and he
tried to extract unreasonable promises from her. "You are not to see him,
understand, until everything is arranged."
That was too much to ask of her. She shed a few silent tears. He, for
his part, was almost strangled with jealousy. Even now she was unable to
forget Kaoru! He talked on and on, now weeping, now reproaching her.
Late in the night, again in a warm embrace, they started back across
the river.
"I doubt if the man to whom you seem to give the top ranking can
be expected to treat you as well. You will know what I mean, I trust."
It was true, she thought, nodding. He was delighted.
Ukon opened the side door and the girl went in, and he was left feeling
utterly desolate.
As usual after such expeditions, he returned to Nijo~. His appetite quite
left him and he grew paler and thinner by the day, to the consternation
of the whole court. In the stir that ensued he was unable to get a decent
letter off to Uji.
That officious nurse of Ukifune's had been with her daughter, who
was in confinement; but now that she was back Ukifune was scarcely able
to glance at such letters as did come. Her mother hated having her off in
the wilderness, but consoled herself with the thought that Kaoru would
make a dependable patron and guardian. The indications were that he
would soon, albeit in secret, move her to a place near his Sanjo~ mansion.
_Then_ they would be able to look the world square in the face! The mother
began seeking out accomplished serving women and pretty little girls and
sending them off to her daughter. All this was as it should be, Ukifune
knew; yet the image of the dashing, impetuous Niou, now reproaching her,
now wheedling and cajoling, insisted upon coming back. When she dozed
off for a moment, there he would be in her dreams. How much easier for
everyone if he would go away!
The rains continued, day after day. Chafing at his inability to travel
that mountain road, Niou thought how constricting was "the cocoon one's
parents weave about one" --and that was scarcely a kind way to charac-
terize the concern his royal parents felt for him. He sent off a long letter
in which he set down his thoughts as they came to him.
"I gaze your way in search of the clouds above you.
His hand was if anything more interesting the less care he took with
it. She was still young and rather flighty, and these avowals of love set up
<P 995>
increasingly strong tremors in response. Yet she could not forget the other
gentleman, a gentleman of undoubted depth and nobility, perhaps because
it was he who had first made her feel wanted. Where would she turn if
he were to hear of this sordid affair and abandon her? And her mother,
who lived for the day when he would give her a home, would certainly
be upset, and very angry too. Prince Niou, judging from his letters, burned
with impatience; but she had heard a great deal about his volatility and
feared that his fondness for her was a matter of the passing moment.
Supposing he were indeed to hide her away and number her among his
enduring loves--how could she then face Nakanokimi, her own sister? The
world kept no secrets, as his success in searching her out after that strange,
fleeting encounter in the dusk had demonstrated. Kaoru might bring her
into the city, but was it possible that his rival would fail to seek her out
there too? And if Kaoru were to turn against her, she knew that she would
have herself to blame.
Her thoughts had reached this impasse when a second letter came, this
one from Kaoru. Ranged side by side, the two letters seemed to reproach
her. She went off and lay down with Niou's, the longer of the two. Ukon
and Jiju~ exchanged glances: so the game was over, and Niou had won.
"Perfectly natural," said Jiju~. "I really thought I had never seen a finer
man than the general, but the prince is so handsome, especially when he's
just being himself. If he ever paid that much attention to me, I can tell you,
I'd be making my plans right now. I'd be looking for a place with Her
Majesty, and then I could see him every day of the week."
"I can see that you bear watching. But I don't agree. The general is the
finest of them all. I don't care about looks. Manners and disposition, those
are the things that count. But she has worked herself into a fine predica-
ment, on that I think we can agree. Whatever will become of her?"
Life was easier for Ukon, however. It was easier to tell lies and invent
excuses now that there were two of them.
"I have been very remiss," said Kaoru's letter in part, "though you
may be sure that you have been constantly on my mind. I would be very
pleased indeed if I might have a note from you now and then. Can you
have led yourself to believe that I do not care for you?
"The long, dark rains go on, one's heart is dark.
Will it be so in yon village of rising waters?
"My longing to see you is greater with each passing day."
It was on prim white paper in a formal envelope. The writing lacked
subtlety, perhaps, but suggested breeding and sensitivity.
Niou's letter was interesting too. Long and detailed and intricately
folded, it was as different from Kaoru's as a letter could possibly be. She
must answer it first, while no one else was with her, said one of the two
women. She took up her brush--but no, she could not possibly. As if by
way of practice, she set down a poem:
<P 996>
"'Gloom' is the name of Uji in Yamashiro.
It speaks of the lives of us who dwell in its compass."
Sometimes she would take out the sketch Niou had made for her, and
weep. His love would not last, it could not, she told herself, wishing that
quiet resignation would come to her. But she wept more bitterly at the
thought that she might one day be torn from him.
At length she sent an answer. He wept quite unapologetically as he
read it:
"I wish to be as the cloud that darkens the peak.
Better so than aimlessly drifting through life.
"Were I to join them..."
She did, after all, seem fond of him. He thought again of that pathetic
little figure, huddled up as if in defense against its own thoughts.
And the more proper of the two suitors was meanwhile reading _his_
note over and over. He deeply sympathized, and wanted very much to see
her. This was her poem:
"The tedious days of rain, incessant rain,
They speak to me of me. Yet wetter my sleeves."
"I have hesitated to mention it, not for the world wanting to offend
you," he said to his wife; "but the truth is that I have left an old friend
out in the country, and she is so unhappy there that I am thinking of
bringing her into town. I have always been an odd sort of man, reconciled
to living an odd life; but you have made me see that I am not capable of
running away from the world. And so it makes me feel sad and guilty to
have these little secrets."
"I see no reason at all to be jealous," she replied.
"But what will people say to your father? They will talk, you know,
and gossip can be a nuisance. Not that she is important enough to produce
a really good scandal."
He had a house for the girl, but he squirmed at the thought of having
it said that he was readying himself a pleasant trysting place. In the
greatest secrecy he commissioned paintings for the doors. And the man
whom he chose to make his special confidant was the father-in-law of the
secretary who had taken Niou to Uji. The news, nothing omitted, was
promptly relayed to Niou.
"He has the services of artists whom he trusts completely. It is an
out-of-the-way little place, but he doesn't seem to care a thing about the
expense."
<P 997>
Niou saw that he must act quickly. He remembered that his old nurse
had a house in the lower reaches of the city and that she would shortly
be going to a remote province with her husband, who was to be governor.
"I have someone whom it seems important to keep out of sight," he
said to her.
The nurse and her family had misgivings. What sort of woman would
he be after this time? But it was not theirs to refuse what seemed important
to him. Something would be arranged, they sent back, and his spirits
revived. The governor was to leave towards the end of the month. Niou
decided to move the girl into the house on the very day of his departure.
Word was sent to Uji, with emphasis on the need for secrecy. It would of
course be out of the question for Niou to go there himself, and word came
back that there might be complications because of that overzealous nurse.
Kaoru was meanwhile making his own plans: he would send for
Ukifune on the tenth day of the Fourth Month. Though Ukifune was not
disposed to follow "whatever waters beckon," she could not imagine
what else she was to do with herself. Utterly distraught, she wanted only
to go home, there to spend a few days in quiet thought. But the governor's
house would be overrun with priests and noisy with prayers and incanta-
tions, for the sister, the lieutenant's wife, was in confinement. Nor would
it be possible, in the circumstances, to think of a trip to Ishiyama.
