through an intermediary, as custom demanded, and obtained a place with
Her Majesty. Of inconspicuous rank and good appearance, she had no
enemies. She frequently saw Kaoru, who was in and out of the empress's
<P 1036>
apartments and the sight of whom stirred powerful and conflicting emo-
tions. She found no one in the empress's retinue who seemed a match for
her dead mistress, and this despite the fact that the empress took in only
ladies of unexceptionable breeding.
The daughter of that Prince Shikibu who had died in the spring was
meanwhile having difficulties with her stepmother. The stepmother's
brother, an undistinguished cavalry captain, had for some time had his eye
on her, and it had been decided (for the stepmother wasted no affection
upon the girl) that he should be her husband.
The empress had heard of it all. "What a pity, and what a waste. Her
father was so fond of her."
The girl's brother, a chamberlain, had taken the empress at her kind
word, and so the princess, known as Miyanokimi, had recently come into
the royal service. She was singled out for special favors, since she was, after
all, the granddaughter of an emperor. She remained a lady-in-waiting all
the same, and one was touched and saddened to see her wearing the train
which the royal presence required, although she was granted a dispensa-
tion in certain other matters of ceremony.
Niou was greatly excited. Might she resemble Ukifune? Quite possi-
bly, since their fathers were brothers. It will be seen that volatility con-
tinued to be among his more striking traits: one moment he would be lost
in thoughts of his dead love, and the next he would be desperately impa-
tient to meet her cousin.
Kaoru thought it all very sad. Until yesterday Miyanokimi's father
had considered marrying her to the crown prince, and he had hinted that
Kaoru himself might be an acceptable son-in-law. How very uncertain
were the destinies of even a princess. One could understand why Ukifune
had thrown herself into the river. Kaoru more than anyone sensed what
Miyanokimi would be going through.
The empress had more spacious and comfortable apartments at
Rokujo~ than in the palace, and the people who tended to be somewhat lazy
about waiting upon her were with her now. Indeed, the wings and galleries
that wandered over the wide grounds were packed with them. Yu~giri was
as lavish in seeing to their needs and whims as his father would have been
--more so, it might almost have been said, for the house was if anything
more prosperous. The fun Niou might have had if he had been more his
usual self rather defies the imagination. He was so subdued and withdrawn
that people began to suspect an unlikely regeneration. But he was return-
ing to form, and had dedicated himself to the pursuit of Miyanokimi.
The weather being somewhat cooler, the empress thought of remov-
ing to the palace.
But her younger women objected. "This is the place for autumn
colors. Do let us stay and see them."
They were all of them gathered at Rokujo~. They went boating on the
<P 1037>
lake and they enjoyed the moonlight. Day and night, song to koto and lute
floated over the grounds. Niou was not one to overlook such excitement.
To the ladies, even those who saw him morning and night, he was like a
fresh flower upon each appearance. Kaoru visited less frequently and they
found him forbidding and unapproachable. One day Jiju~ chanced to look
out from behind a screen and saw the two of them side by side. If only
her lady had lived, become the bride of the one or the other, and reaped
blessings (people would have said) from former lives! How utterly forlorn
was the reality of her passing compared with the possibilities she had
thrown away. But no one must be vouchsafed the smallest hint of the
truth. Jiju~ must evince no more than any girl's interest in the two men.
Niou was transmitting all the court gossip to his mother. Kaoru got
up to leave and Jiju~ slipped out of sight. She did not want him to know
that she had taken service again before even the year of mourning was
over. He would think her lacking in steadfastness and dedication.
He went to the east galleries, where numbers of women were whisper-
ing to one another just inside an open door.
"How pleasant if we could all be friends. You can trust me, you know,
just as you trust one another, and it is possible that I might have a thing
or two to teach you. Do you know what I mean? Yes, I rather think you
do, and I am pleased."
The poor girl s were at a loss for an answer. Presently an older and very
experienced woman named Ben spoke up. "I fear that the ones who have
no good cause to answer are the ones with all the answers. Isn't that the
unfortunate way of the world? You are not to understand, of course, that
good cause makes a girl speak up in response to just any passing query;
and on the other hand it would be odd for us brazen ones to sit here like
lumps."
"So those who have good cause to be friendly tend to be shy, and you
are not such a one? How very sad for both of us."
She seemed to have slipped off her cloak and pushed it away, and, in
dishabille, to be at practice on her calligraphy. It seemed too that she had
been toying with flowers, for several delicate sprays lay on the lid of her
writing box. He was treated to an elegant array of ladies, though some had
slipped behind curtains and the others had turned so that their faces could
not be seen through the open door.
He pulled the inkstone nearer.
"Now through a field of riotous maiden flowers
I go, untouched by any drop of dew.
"Do you still not trust me?"
He handed it to a lady who sat turned away from him, very near the
door. Calmly, quickly, with scarcely a motion, she set down an answering
poem.
<P 1038>
"A flower whose name may suggest a want of judgment,
It does not bend for every passing dew."
It was a tiny sample to go by, but he found the hand pleasing and
distinguished. Perhaps en route to the royal audience chamber she had
found him blocking the way.
"Well," resumed Ben, "I must say that you make yourself very clear,
and you do, as you have indicated, show signs of senility.
"Suppose you too have a nap among the flowers.
Then may we see how well you resist their hues.
"And then we will be in a position to make up our minds about you."
Kaoru was ready with another poem:
"I shall stay the night, if I have your invitation,
Though common hues, I warn you, tempt me not."
"That was not kind. I spoke in generalities."
He had said little, but it had interested them.
<P 1039>
"Well, I see that I am in the way. I shall leave it unobstructed. And
I seem to have come at a time that calls for unusual reticence."
They only hoped, thought some of the women as he turned to leave,
that he had not taken Ben for their spokesman.
He leaned against the east railing and as the color of evening came
over the sky gazed at the flower beds before the empress's apartments. Lost
again in sad thoughts, he whispered to himself: "The autumn skies are the
cruelest of all."
There was a rustling of silk as the woman who had answered his poem
slipped inside the main hall.
Niou had come up beside him. "Who was that?"
"Chu~jo~," replied a second woman. "She is with your royal sister.
She should not have said it, thought Kaoru. Ladies were not supposed
to offer up the names of other ladies in response to any chance question.
And along with distaste at this impropriety he felt a twinge of jealousy.
Niou's presence seemed to offer no cause for shyness. Niou was so impetu-
ous, so direct--no doubt he swept them all before him. Kaoru's own
friendship with the prince had brought mainly sorrow. He played with the
possibility of reprisal. If Niou was after one of these beauties, then there
might be ways to make him sip of his own medicine. Women of true
discernment should prefer Kaoru to Niou--but where were they? His
thoughts moved to Nakanokimi and the unhappiness Niou's various ac-
tivities had brought. Yet she kept up the appearances demanded of her as
Niou's wife. Kaoru thought it all very touching, and very admirable too.
Would there be such women here? No frequenter of the women's quarters,
he did not know. He might have enjoyed a try at nocturnal wandering
himself, to beguile the long, sleepless hours; but such adventures were
alien to his nature.
He had, however--and it seemed odd--acquired a liking for that west
gallery, where he had espied the First Princess. Though she spent her
nights with her mother, her women were assembled there, enjoying music
and gossip. He interrupted a gentle strain upon a koto.
"Such music makes me impatient to see the musician."
He had caught them by surprise, but they left the blinds slightly
raised. One of them came forward.
<P 1040>
"And is there an elder brother for one to resemble?" It was Chu~jo~'s
voice.
"That I do not know," he answered brightly, "but there _is_ a maternal
uncle loitering about. Your lady is with her mother, I suppose? And how
does she spend these days of freedom from palace restraints?" He was
disappointed to find her away.
"Oh, she's not so very busy whether she is here or whether she is
there. You have caught us at the sort of thing we do."
For them life seemed to be very interesting. He sighed. Then, fearing
that the sigh might have been detected, he pulled a Japanese koto towards
him, and, making use of the scale on which one of the women had been
at practice, played the opening bars of a song. It was not unsuccessful, since
minor scales are thought especially suited to the moods of autumn; but he
broke off before he had finished. The women had been listening with great
interest and half wished he had not begun at all.
His mother was a princess too, and was she so inferior to Niou's eldest
sister? The First Princess's mother had been named empress, and his own
grandmother had not been so honored, and that was the whole of the
difference. Both of them, his mother and the princess, were the much-
loved daughters of emperors. Yet there was something ineffably different
about the princess. A remarkable place, that Akashi coast, where her
mother had been born. He must go someday for a look at it. He could
hardly say that fate had slighted him, for the Second Princess was his. Yet
how much kinder if it had given him the First Princess too! He was of
course asking the impossible.
Miyanokimi had rooms in the west wing. Numerous other young
women had gathered to enjoy the moonlight. She too was a princess, he
thought, and sighed again, this time at the uncertainty of human destinies.
He started toward her rooms, remembering that he had been among the
tentative candidates for her hand. Two or three little girl s, very pretty in
formal livery, had been strolling up and down the veranda. They retreated
at his approach. There was nothing to be shy about, thought he, but such
was the way with little girls. He stopped before the south door and
coughed to attract attention. An elderly woman came out.
"I might say that I have had secret thoughts about your lady, but I
fear I would sound altogether too gauche and unimaginative. So here I am,
seeking as best I can to describe 'what lies beyond mere thoughts].'"
A forward sort, the woman chose to make reply in her mistress's stead.
"In the rather unexpected pass we have arrived at, the views of my lady's
royal father come frequently to mind. I have more than once heard her
speak of them. I feel sure that these indirections of yours would give her
much pleasure."
<P 1041>
He was being put off like any wayward young man. He had failed to
make his point.
"I have never been one to abandon people near me, and now more
than ever, in this 'unexpected pass,' it would please me if she might find
cause to look to me for support. But one is not always delighted to be
confronted with an intermediary, you may perhaps have guessed, when
one wishes to address a lady."
Somewhat discommoded, she seems to have stirred her lady to action.
"I have 'not even the aged pines of Takasago' for comrades." This
time it was Miyanokimi's own voice, gentle and youthful. "Your assurance
that you have not forgotten gives me comfort."
Though the remark was acceptable enough in itself, he was of two
minds about it. Here was a princess of the blood reduced to addressing a
man, albeit briefly, as if she were an ordinary lady-in-waiting. He longed
for a glimpse of her, since there could be no doubt about her grace and
<P 1042>
distinction; and then a flicker of wry amusement crossed his mind. Niou
would be ill again!
One could go searching a very long while for a perfect woman. He had
been idealizing this royal princess. No rule of nature dictated that prin-
cesses be without equals.
The truly remarkable thing was that a hermit who had reared his two
daughters like mountain rustics should have produced two such paragons.
And the other girl, whom he had taxed with flightiness and poor judgment,
of whom he had really seen so little: she too had delighted him.
So his thoughts returned always to the same family. As he sank deeper
in memories of Uji, of his strange, cruel ties with the Uji family, drake flies,
than which no creatures are more fragile and insubstantial, were flitting
back and forth in the evening light.
"I see the drake fly, take it up in my hand.
Ah, here it is, I say--and it is gone."
