bothering you with these trivia when you are not feeling well. Do please
be careful." And he went out.
<P 1020>
So Niou had been genuinely in love with her, he was thinking. Her
life had been a short one, but her destinies had borne her to high places.
Here was Niou: the pet of Their Majesties, the handsomest and stateliest
of men, with two noble beauties for wives. And he had pushed them aside
to make room for her! Was not this illness, on which so many scriptures
and ceremonies were being concentrated, the result of an uncontrollable
love? And Kaoru could point to himself too, not immodestly: high posi-
tion, a royal bride, everything; and the girl had bewitched him even as she
had bewitched Niou. And in death she seemed to have a stronger hold on
him than in life.
What utter folly! He would think of it no more. But he was dizzy with
memory and longing. "We are not sticks and stones, we all have
hearts," he whispered to himself as he lay down.
And how, he wondered, sadness giving way to irritation, had
Nakanokimi responded to news of that hasty funeral? He was not at all
happy with it himself. Possibly the mother, a common sort of woman, had
dispensed with ceremony on the theory that the grand ones do so out of
deference to surviving brothers and sisters.
<P 1021>
Faced with so many obscure points, he would have liked to run off
to Uji and ask about Ukifune's last days; but were he to make serious
inquiries he would have a long purification to look forward to, and on the
other hand he would not wish to go such a distance and turn back immedi-
ately.
The Fourth Month came. The evening of the day appointed for her
move to the city was especially difficult. The scent of the orange blossoms
near the veranda brought memories. A cuckoo called and called a second
time as it flew overhead. "Should you stop by her dwelling, O cuck-
oo." His heart heavy with memory and yearning, he broke off a sprig of
orange blossom and sent it with a poem to Nijo~, where Niou was spending
the night.
"It sings in the fields its muted song of the dead.
Your muted sobs may have joined it--to no avail."
The poem found Niou and his princess sunk in thoughts of the dead
girl. How very much the sisters had resembled each other, he was thinking
--and did his friend have to hint so broadly at what had happened?
This was his answer:
"Where orange blossoms summon memories
The cuckoo now should sing most cautiously.
"A very great trial, I am sure."
<N 6>
Nakanokimi was by now familiar with the whole story. Her sisters
had died so young, no doubt because they had both of them been of a too
introspective nature. She, the one without worries, had lived on. And how
long would it be until she joined them?
Since she obviously knew everything, the pretense at concealment
was becoming awkward. Arranging matters somewhat to his own advan-
tage, now laughing and now weeping, he made his confession. "I was very
annoyed at you for hiding her," he concluded. How very affecting it was
to have the girl's own sister for his audience!
He was more comfortable here at Nijo~. At Rokujo~ everything was so
grand and ceremonious. When he was indisposed they all fussed over him
so. He had no defenses against well-wishers, and Yu~giri and his sons made
genuine nuisances of themselves.
But everything still seemed so vague and dreamlike. Her sudden death
had not been properly explained. He sent for Ukon.
At Uji, the roar of the waters stirred the governor's wife to thoughts
<P 1022>
of suicide. There could be no rest from her grief. Sadly, she returned to the
city. The Uji house settled into near silence, the monks its chief source of
strength and cheer. This time the troublesome guards made no attempt to
challenge Niou's emissaries. How sad, the latter were thinking, that what
had proved to be their lord's last chance for a meeting had come to nothing.
It had not been pleasant to watch the effects of his clandestine love, and
now the memory of those nocturnal visits, and of the girl too, so fragile
and so beautiful on the night of the river crossing, was enough to dissolve
the least sensitive of them in tears.
They told Ukon why they had come.
"It would not do to stir up gossip at this late date," she said, "and I
doubt that any explanations I might make would satisfy him. I shall think
up a good excuse to visit him once we are out of mourning. I can tell people
that I have business to discuss with him. It is true that I do not want to
outlive my own grief, but if someday I manage to pull myself together, I
shall call on him, you may be sure, whether he sends for me or not, and
describe this nightmare to him." They could not persuade her to go with
them.
"I did not have all the details and was not in a good position to judge?"
said Tokikata, "but I did sense something very unusual in his feelings for
her. I looked forward to the day when I might myself be of service to you,
and saw no need to rush things; and this sudden disaster has only strength-
ened my good intentions. We seem to have this carriage, and I would hate
to take it back empty. What about the other lady?"
"Yes, by all means." Ukon summoned Jiju~. "You go."
"But I would have even less to tell him than you. And we are in
mourning, you know. I wouldn't want to pass the defilement on."
"He is being careful of his health, but I doubt if that would worry him.
He has been so upset by it all that I rather imagine he would welcome a
few days' retreat. And you won't be in mourning much longer in any case.
Come along, now, one or the other of you."
Jiju~ agreed to go. She did want to see Niou again, and when could she
hope for another chance? She was a handsome figure herself when she had
put her somber robes in order. Because formal dress could be dispensed
with in the absence of one's lady, she had not been wearing formal trains,
and she had none dyed in the proper hues of mourning. A lavender one
was the best she could find. Thinking of her lady's secret but triumphal
progress along this same road had she but lived, she wept the whole of the
way into the city.
She had always been partial towards Niou, and he was pleased and
touched that she had come. Wishing to avoid a scene, he did not tell
Nakanokimi of the visit. He went to the main hall and asked Jiju~ to alight
at a gallery adjoining it.
She told him in great detail of Ukifune's last days. "My lady had been
in low spirits for some time and she was weeping when she went to bed
<P 1023>
that night. She seemed so wrapped up in herself, she had even less to say
than usual. She was not a lady to complain about her troubles, you will
remember, and that may be why she didn't leave a proper letter behind.
It hadn't occurred to us in our wildest dreams that she would be capable
of such a thing."
All the sadness of those days came back. One somehow manages to
accept a natural death--but to throw herself into those savage waters!
What could account for such resolve? If only he had been there himself.
He pictured himself on the spot, pulling her from the river, and regret
attacked him more fiercely, to no purpose, of course.
"What fools we were not to guess when she burned her letters."
They talked the night through. She told him too of the poem they had
found in the tree. He had not paid much attention to her until now, and
she interested him.
"Would you think of joining us here at Nijo~? You and the lady in the
other wing are not strangers, after all."
"No, it would be too sad. Let me at least wait until we are out of
mourning."
"Do come again." He was sorry to see her go.
As she left in the dawn, he gave her a comb box and a clothespress
he had had made for Ukifune. Though he had in fact put together a
considerable collection of boxes and chests, he gave her only what she
could take with her. She had not expected such largesse, and was a little
embarrassed at the thought of displaying it to her fellows. There being
little relief these days from the tedium, however, she did show Ukon her
new treasures when no one else was near. The designs were most elegant,
the workmanship was superb--and this and much more their lady had
thrown away! The contents of the clothespress quite dazzled them, but of
course women in mourning had no use for such finery.
<N 7>
Numerous questions still on his mind, Kaoru paid a visit. His thoughts
on the road were of long ago. What strange legacy had brought him and
the Eighth Prince together? A bond from an earlier life, surely, had tied him
to this family and its sad affairs, and made him see to the needs of this last
sad foundling, even. He had first sought an audience with the prince in
hopes of divine revelation. His mind had been on the next world; and in
the end he had wandered back to this. Perhaps it was the Buddha's way
of making him see his own inadequacies.
"I still do not know what happened," he said to Ukon. "I am in such
a state of shock that I can't somehow make myself believe it all. You will
soon be out of mourning, I have told myself, and it would be better to wait;
but I found that I could wait no longer. What exactly was it that took her
so suddenly?"
The nun Bennokimi would have guessed the truth, thought Ukon, and
if she herself sought to dissemble, the combined result would be impossi-
ble confusion. Though she had grown used to lying, this solemn honesty
<P 1024>
made her forget the several stories she had put together. She told him a
good part of the truth.
For a time he said nothing. It could not be. A girl so quiet, so sparing
even of commonplaces--how could she have done it? No--these women
had conspired to deceive him. For a moment he was furious. But Niou's
grief seemed genuine, and here they all were, down to the lowest maid-
servant, wailing and lamenting.
"Did anyone else disappear? Tell me more precisely, if you can, what
happened. I cannot believe that anything I myself did can have turned her
against the world. Was there a crisis, something that left her with nowhere
to go? I do find it hard to believe."
Ukon was sad for him, and at the same time troubled. She was afraid
that he had guessed more of the truth than she had told him.
"You will have heard all about it, I am sure. She was unlucky from
the beginning, and after she came here to live, so far away from everyone,
she seemed to slip deeper and deeper into herself. But she did look forward
to your visits. They were a consolation, you may be sure. She did not
actually say so, but she also looked forward, I know she did, to the time
when you could be together. We were delighted when we began to find
reason for hoping that it might actually come. I can't tell you how relieved
and how pleased her mother was. Those were happy days for us all, her
mother too, when we were busy getting her ready. And then that odd note
came from you, and those awful guards--how they did frighten us--
started saying you had given them a dressing down, and after that they
were so strict that we could only think there had been a misunderstanding.
And there was no word from you for so long. Over the years she had come
to think that she was just unlucky, and she was sad for her poor mother
too, who only wanted her to live a decent, respectable life. It would be too
awful, she thought, after all your kindness, if some scandal were to ruin
everything and make a laughingstock of them. I can think of nothing else
that can have had her in such a state. Some say that this house is cursed.
I've always thought myself that if it is then the devils ought to make
themselves more evident."
He understood everything. He too was in tears.
"I am not able to do exactly as I would wish, and so I lived with my
worries, sure that I would soon have her near me, where I could protect
her and see to her needs. She thought me cold and distant, it seems, and
I can't help suspecting that she preferred someone else. Well, let me say
it. I would far rather not, but while no one is listening--the affair with
Prince Niou. When did it begin? He is very good at ruining women's lives.
Wasn't he responsible, wasn't it that she wanted to see more of him? Tell
me everything, please. I do not want you to leave anything out."
So he knew. How sad for her poor lady! "You ask very difficult
questions. I never once left her side." She fell silent for a time. "You will
have heard of it. One day when my lady was in hiding at her sister's, the
<P 1025>
prince stole in upon her in a way that seemed to us shockingly improper.
We would have none of it, and he left. My lady was terrified and moved
into the queer little house where you found her. We tried to keep our move
here a secret, but--I can't think where he might have found out--letters
started coming late last spring, a considerable number of them. She refused
to look at them. We told her that she should feel honored, and that he
would think her rude, and so she did answer once or twice. And that is
all I know."
Just what he might have expected. It seemed pointless and even cruel
to inquire further. He lapsed into his own thoughts. The girl had fallen
victim to Niou's charms, but she had not found Kaoru's own advances
distasteful. And so she had been caught in an impossible dilemma, and
here was the river, beckoning, and she had given in to it. If he had not left
her in this wilderness, she might have found life difficult, but she would
hardly have sought a "bottomless chasm." How sinister his ties had been
with this river, how deep its hostility flowed! Drawn by the Eighth Prince's
