You may think me complacent and self-satisfied for saying so, but I feel
sure that we were joined in a former life. Let me speak to her, please.
"Rushes hide the sea grass at Wakanoura.
Must the waves that seek it out turn back to sea?
"That would be too much to ask of them."
"The grass at Wakanoura were rash indeed
To follow waves that go it knows not whither.
"It would be far, far too much to ask."
The easy skill with which she turned her poem made it possible for
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him to forgive its less than encouraging significance. "After so many
years," he whispered, "the gate still holds me back."
The girl lay weeping for her grandmother. Her playmates came to tell
her that a gentleman in court dress was with Sho~nagon. perhaps it would
be her father?
She came running in. "Where is the gentleman, Sho~nagon? Is Father
here?"
What a sweet voice she had!
"I'm not your father, but I'm someone just as important. Come here."
She saw that it was the other gentleman, and child though she was,
she flushed at having spoken out of turn. "Let's go." She tugged at
Sho~nagon's sleeve. "Let's go. I'm sleepy."
"Do you have to keep hiding yourself from me? Come here. You can
sleep on my knee."
"She is really very young, sir." But Sho~nagon urged the child forward,
and she knelt obediently just inside the blinds.
He ran his hand over a soft, rumpled robe, and, a delight to the touch,
hair full and rich to its farthest ends. He took her hand. She pulled away
--for he was, after all, a stranger.
"I said I'm sleepy." She went back to Sho~nagon.
He slipped in after her. "I am the one you must look to now. You must
not be shy with me."
"Please, sir. You forget yourself. You forget yourself completely. She
is simply not old enough to understand what you have in mind."
"It is you who do not understand. I see how young she is, and I have
nothing of the sort in mind. I must again ask you to be witness to the depth
and purity of my feelings."
It was a stormy night. Sleet was pounding against the roof.
"How can she bear to live in such a lonely place? It must be awful for
her." Tears came to his eyes. He could not leave her. "I will be your
watchman. You need one on a night like this. Come close to me, all of
you.
Quite as if he belonged there, he slipped into the girl's bedroom. The
women were astounded, Sho~nagon more than the rest. He must be mad!
But she was in no position to protest. Genji pulled a singlet over the girl,
who was trembling like a leaf. Yes, he had to admit that his behavior must
seem odd; but, trying very hard not to frighten her, he talked of things he
thought would interest her.
"You must come to my house. I have all sorts of pictures, and there
are dolls for you to play with."
She was less frightened than at first, but she still could not sleep. The
storm blew all through the night, and Sho~nagon quite refused to budge
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from their side. They would surely have perished of fright, whispered the
women, if they had not had him with them. What a pity their lady was
not a little older!
It was still dark when the wind began to subside and he made his
departure, and all the appearances were as of an amorous expedition.
"What I have seen makes me very sad and convinces me that she must not
be out of my sight. She must come and live with me and share my lonely
days. This place is quite impossible. You must be in constant tenor."
"Her father has said that he will come for her. I believe it is to be after
the memorial services."
"Yes, we must think of him. But they have lived apart, and he must
be as much of a stranger as I am. I really do believe that in this very short
time my feelings for her are stronger than his." He patted the girl on the
head and looked back smiling as he left.
There was a heavy mist and the ground was white. Had he been on
his way from a visit to a woman, he would have found the scene very
affecting; but as it was he was vaguely depressed. Passing the house of a
woman he had been seeing in secret, he had someone knock on the gate.
There was no answer, and so he had someone else from his retinue, a man
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of very good voice, chant this poem twice in tones that could not fail to
attract attention:
"Lost though I seem to be in the mists of dawn,
I see your gate, and cannot pass it by."
She sent out an ordinary maid who seemed, however, to be a woman
of some sensibility:
"So difficult to pass? Then do come in.
No obstacle at all, this gate of grass."
Something more was needed to end the night, but dawn was ap-
proaching. Back at Nijo~, he lay smiling at the memory of the girl. The sun
was high when he arose and set about composing a letter. A rather special
sort of poem seemed called for, but he laid his brush aside and deliberated
for a time, and presently sent some pictures.
Looking in on his daughter that same day, prince Hyo~bu found the
house vaster and more cavernous than he had remembered it, and the decay
astonishingly advanced since the grandmother's death.
"How can you bear it for even a moment? You must come and live
with me. I have plenty of room. And Nurse here can have a room of her
own. There are other little girls, and I am sure you will get on beautifully
together." Genji's perfume had been transferred to the child. "What a
beautiful smell. But see how rumpled and ragged you are. I did not like
the idea of having you with an ailing lady and wanted you to come and
live with me. But you held back so, and I have to admit that the lady who
is to be your mother has not been happy at the idea herself. It seems very
sad that we should have waited for this to happen."
"Please, my lord. We may be lonely, but it will be better for us to
remain as we are at least for a time. It will be better for us to wait until
she is a little older and understands things better. She grieves for her
grandmother and quite refuses to eat."
She was indeed thinner, but more graceful and elegant.
"Why must she go on grieving? Her grandmother is gone, and that is
that. She still has me." It was growing dark. The girl wept to see him go,
and he too was in tears. "You mustn't be sad. Please. You mustn't be sad.
I will send for you tomorrow at the very latest."
She was inconsolable when he had gone, and beyond thinking about
her own future. She was old enough to know what it meant, that the lady
who had never left her was now gone. Her playmates no longer interested
her. She somehow got through the daylight hours, but in the evening she
gave herself up to tears, and Sho~nagon and the others wept at their inability
to comfort her. How, they asked one another, could they possibly go on?
Genji sent Koremitsu to make excuses. He wanted very much to call,
but he had received an ill-timed summons from the palace.
"Has he quite forgotten his manners?" said Sho~nagon. "I know very
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well that this is not as serious an affair for him as for us, but a man is
expected to call regularly at the beginning of any affair. Her father, if he
hears of it, will think that we have managed very badly indeed. You are
young, my lady, but you must not speak of it to anyone." But the girl was
not listening as attentively as Sho~nagon would have wished.
Koremitsu was permitted a hint or two of their worries. "Perhaps
when the time comes we will be able to tell ourselves that what must be
must be, but at the moment the incompatibility overshadows everything.
And your lord says and does such extraordinary things. Her father came
today and did not improve matters by telling us that nothing must be
permitted to happen. What could be worse than your lord's way of doing
things?" She was keeping her objections to a minimum, however, for she
did not want Koremitsu to think that anything of real importance had
occurred.
Puzzled, Koremitsu returned to Nijo~ and reported upon what he had
seen and heard. Genji was touched, though not moved to pay a visit. He
was worried about rumors and the imputation of recklessness and frivolity
that was certain to go with them. He must bring the girl to Nijo~.
He sent several notes, and in the evening dispatched Koremitsu, his
most faithful and reliable messenger. Certain obstacles prevented Genji's
calling in person, said Koremitsu, but they must not be taken to suggest
a want of seriousness.
"Her royal father has said that he will come for her tomorrow. We are
feeling rather pressed. It is sad, after all, to leave a familiar place, however
shabby and weedy it may be. You must forgive us. We are not entirely
ourselves."
She gave him short shrift. He could see that they were busy at needle-
work and other preparations.
Genji was at his father-in-law's house in Sanjo~. His wife was as always
slow to receive him. In his boredom and annoyance he took out a Japanese
koto and pleasantly hummed "The Field in Hitachi." Then came Kore-
mitsu's unsettling report. He must act. If he were to take her from her
father's house, he would be called a lecher and a child thief. He must swear
the women to secrecy and bring her to Nijo~ immediately.
"I will go early in the morning. Have my carriage left as it is, and order
a guard, no more than a man or two."
Koremitsu went to see that these instructions were carried out. Genji
knew that he was taking risks. People would say that his appetites were
altogether too varied. If the girl were a little older he would be credited
with having made a conquest, and that would be that. Though Prince
Hyo~bu would be very upset indeed, Genji knew that he must not let the
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child go. It was still dark when he set out. His wife had no more than usual
to say to him.
"I have just remembered some business at Nijo~ that absolutely has to
be taken care of. I should not be long."
Her women did not even know that he had gone. He went to his own
rooms and changed to informal court dress. Koremitsu alone was on
horseback.
When they reached their destination one of his men pounded on the
gate. Ignorant of what was afoot, the porter allowed Genji's carriage to be
pulled inside. Koremitsu went to a corner door and coughed. Sho~nagon
came out.
"My lord is here."
"And my lady is asleep. You pick strange hours for your visits."
Sho~nagon suspected that he was on his way home from an amorous adven-
ture.
Genji had joined Koremitsu.
"There is something I must say to her before she goes to her father's."
Sho~nagon smiled. "And no doubt she will have many interesting
things to say in reply."
He pushed his way inside.
"please, sir. We were not expecting anyone. The old women are a
dreadful sight."
"I will go wake her. The morning mist is too beautiful for sleep."
He went into her bedroom, where the women were too surprised to
cry out. He took her in his arms and smoothed her hair. Her father had
come for her, she thought, only half awake.
"Let's go. I have come from your father's." She was terrified when she
saw that it was not after all her father. "You are not being nice. I have told
you that you must think of me as your father." And he carried her out.
A chorus of protests now came from Sho~nagon and the others.
"I have explained things quite well enough. I have told you how
difficult it is for me to visit her and how I want to have her in a more
comfortable and accessible spot; and your way of making things easier is
to send her off to her father. One of you may come along, if you wish."
"Please, sir." Sho~nagon was wringing her hands. "You could not have
chosen a worse time. What are we to say when her father comes? If it is
her fate to be your lady, then perhaps something can be done when the
time comes. This is too sudden, and you put us in an extremely difficult
position."
"You can come later if you wish."
His carriage had been brought up. The women were fluttering about
helplessly and the child was sobbing. Seeing at last that there was nothing
else to be done, Sho~nagon took up several of the robes they had been at
work on the night before, changed to presentable clothes of her own, and
got into the carriage.
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It was still dark when they reached Nijo~, only a short distance away.
Genji ordered the carriage brought up to the west wing and took the girl
inside.
"It is like a nightmare," said Sho~nagon. "What am I to do?"
"Whatever you like. I can have someone see you home if you wish."
Weeping helplessly, poor Sho~nagon got out of the carriage. What
would her lady's father think when he came for her? And what did they
now have to look forward to? The saddest thing was to be left behind by
one's protectors. But tears did not augur well for the new life. With an
effort she pulled herself together.
Since no one was living in this west wing, there was no curtained
bedchamber. Genji had Koremitsu put up screens and curtains, sent some-
one else to the east wing for bedding, and lay down. Though trembling
violently, the girl managed to keep from sobbing aloud.
"I always sleep with Sho~nagon," she said softly in childish accents.
"Imagine a big girl like you still sleeping with her nurse."
