Her feelings would change, he felt sure, once she was more familiar with
his own. She was a perceptive woman, and the change was certain to come.
She still occupied first place among his ladies.
Murasaki was by now thoroughly comfortable with him. She was
maturing in appearance and manner, and yet there was artlessness in her
way of clinging to him. Thinking it too early to let the people in the main
hall know who she was, he kept her in one of the outer wings, which he
had had fitted to perfection. He was constantly with her, tutoring her in
the polite accomplishments and especially calligraphy. It was as if he had
brought home a daughter who had spent her early years in another house.
He had studied the qualifications of her stewards and assured himself that
she would have everything she needed. Everyone in the house, save only
Koremitsu, was consumed with curiosity. Her father still did not know of
her whereabouts. Sometimes she would weep for her grandmother. Her
mind was full of other things when Genji was with her, and often he
stayed the night; but he had numerous other places to look in upon, and
he was quite charmed by the wistfulness with which she would see him
off in the evening. Sometimes he would spend two and three days at the
palace and go from there to Sanjo~. Finding a pensive Murasaki upon his
return, he would feel as if he had taken in a little orphan. He no longer
looked forward to his nocturnal wanderings with the same eagerness. Her
granduncle the bishop kept himself informed of her affairs, and was
pleased and puzzled. Genji sent most lavish offerings for memorial ser-
vices.
<N 5>
Longing for news of Fujitsubo, still with her family, he paid a visit.
Omyo~bu, Chu~nagon, Nakatsukasa, and others of her women received him,
but the lady whom he really wanted to see kept him at a distance. He
forced himself to make conversation. Prince Hyo~bu, her brother and
Murasaki's father, came in, having heard that Genji was on the premises.
He was a man of great and gentle elegance, someone, thought Genji, who
would interest him enormously were they of opposite sexes. Genji felt very
near this prince so near the two ladies, and to the prince their conversation
<P 136>
seemed friendly and somehow significant as earlier conversations had not.
How very handsome Genji was! Not dreaming that it was a prospective
son-in-law he was addressing, he too was thinking how susceptible (for
he was a susceptible man) he would be to Genji's charms if they were not
of the same sex.
When, at dusk, the prince withdrew behind the blinds, Genji felt
pangs of jealousy. In the old years he had followed his father behind those
same blinds, and there addressed the lady. Now she was far away--though
of course no one had wronged him, and he had no right to complain.
"I have not been good about visiting you," he said stiffly as he got up
to leave. "Having no business with you, I have not wished to seem for-
ward. It would give me great pleasure if you would let me know of any
services I might perform for you."
Omyo~bu could do nothing for him. Fujitsubo seemed to find his pres-
ence even more of a trial than before, and showed no sign of relenting.
Sadly and uselessly the days went by. What a frail, fleeting union theirs
had been!
<N 6>
Sho~nagon, Murasaki's nurse, continued to marvel at the strange course
their lives had taken. perhaps some benign power had arranged it,
<P 137>
the old nun having mentioned Murasaki in all her prayers. Not that every-
thing was perfect. Genji's wife at Sanjo~ was a lady of the highest station,
and other affairs, indeed too many of them, occupied him as well. Might
not the girl face difficult times as she grew into womanhood? Yet he did
seem fond of her as of none of the others, and her future seemed secure.
The period of mourning for a maternal grandmother being set at three
months, it was on New Year's Eve that Murasaki took off her mourning
weeds. The old lady had been for her both mother and grandmother,
however, and so she chose to limit herself to pale, unfigured pinks and
lavenders and yellows, pale colors seemed to suit her even better than rich
ones.
"And do you feel all grown up, now that a new year has come?"
Smiling, radiating youthful charm, Genji looked in upon her. He was on
his way to the morning festivities at court.
She had already taken out her dolls and was busy seeing to their
needs. All manner of furnishings and accessories were laid out on a yard-
high shelf. Dollhouses threatened to overflow the room.
"Inuki knocked everything over chasing out devils last night and
broke this." It was a serious matter. "I'm gluing it."
"Yes, she really is very clumsy, that Inuki. We'll ask someone to repair
it for you. But today you must not cry. Crying is the worst way to begin
a new year."
And he went out, his retinue so grand that it overflowed the wide
grounds. The women watched from the veranda, the girl with them. She
set out a Genji among her dolls and saw him off to court.
"This year you must try to be just a little more grown up," said
Sho~nagon. "Ten years old, no, even more, and still you play with dolls. It
will not do. You have a nice husband, and you must try to calm down and
be a little more wifely. Why, you fly into a tantrum even when we try to
brush your hair." A proper shaming was among Sho~nagon's methods.
So she had herself a nice husband, thought Murasaki. The husbands
of these women were none of them handsome men, and hers was so very
young and handsome. The thought came to her now for the first time,
evidence that, for all this play with dolls, she was growing up. It sometimes
puzzled her women that she should still be such a child. It did not occur
to them that she was in fact not yet a wife.
<N 7>
From the palace Genji went to Sanjo~. His wife, as always, showed no
suggestion of warmth or affection; and as always he was uncomfortable.
"How pleasant if this year you could manage to be a little friendlier."
But since she had heard of his new lady she had become more distant
than ever. She was convinced that the other was now first among his ladies,
and no doubt she was as uncomfortable as he. But when he jokingly sought
to make it seem that nothing was amiss, she had to answer, if reluctantly.
Everything she said was uniquely, indefinably elegant. She was four years
his senior and made him feel like a stripling. Where, he asked, was he to
<P 138>
find a flaw in this perfection? Yet he seemed determined to anger her with
his other affairs. She was a proud lady, the single and treasured daughter,
by a princess, of a minister who overshadowed the other grandees, and she
was not prepared to tolerate the smallest discourtesy. And here he was
behaving as if these proud ways were his to make over. They were com-
pletely at cross purposes, he and she.
Though her father too resented Genji's other affairs, he forgot his
annoyance when Genji was here beside him, and no service seemed too
great or too small. As Genji prepared to leave for court the next day, the
minister looked in upon him, bringing a famous belt for him to wear with
his court dress, straightening his train, as much as helping him into his
shoes. One almost felt something pathetic in this eagerness.
"I'll wear it to His Majesty's family dinner later in the month," said
Genji.
"There are other belts that would do far more honor to such an
occasion." The minister insisted that he wear it. "It is a little unusual, thatis all."
Sometimes it was as if being of service to Genji were his whole life.
There could be no greater pleasure than having such a son and brother,
little though the Sanjo~ family saw of him.
Genji did not pay many New Year calls. He called upon his father, the
crown prince, the old emperor, and, finally, Fujitsubo, still with her
family. Her women thought him handsomer than ever. Yes, each year, as
he matured, his good looks produced a stronger shudder of delight and
foreboding. Fujitsubo was assailed by innumerable conflicting thoughts.
<N 8>
The Twelfth Month, when she was to have been delivered of her
child, had passed uneventfully. Surely it would be this month, said her
women, and at court everything was in readiness; but the First Month too
passed without event. She was greatly troubled by rumors that she had
fallen under a malign influence. Her worries had made her physically ill
and she began to wonder if the end was in sight. More and more certain
as time passed that the child was his, Genji quietly commissioned services
in various temples. More keenly aware than most of the evanescence of
things, he now found added to his worries a fear that he would not see her
again. Finally toward the end of the Second Month she bore a prince, and
the jubilation was unbounded at court and at her family palace. She had
not joined the emperor in praying that she be granted a long life, and yet
she did not want to please Kokiden, an echo of whose curses had reached
her. The will to live returned, and little by little she recovered.
The emperor wanted to see his little son the earliest day possible.
Genji, filled with his own secret paternal solicitude, visited Fujitsubo at a
time when he judged she would not have other visitors.
<P 139>
"Father is extremely anxious to see the child. perhaps I might have a
look at him first and present a report."
She refused his request, as of course she had every right to do. "He
is still very shriveled and ugly."
There was no doubt that the child bore a marked, indeed a rather
wonderful, resemblance to Genji. Fujitsubo was tormented by feelings of
guilt and apprehension. Surely everyone who saw the child would guess
the awful truth and damn her for it. People were always happy to seek out
the smallest and most trivial of misdeeds. Hers had not been trivial, and
dreadful rumors must surely be going the rounds. Had ever a woman been
more sorely tried?
Genji occasionally saw Omyo~bu and pleaded that she intercede for
him; but there was nothing she could do.
"This insistence, my lord, is very trying," she said, at his constant and
passionate pleas to see the child. "You will have chances enough later." Yet
secretly she was as unhappy as he was.
"In what world, I wonder, will I again be allowed to see her?" The
heart of the matter was too delicate to touch upon.
"What legacy do we bring from former lives
That loneliness should be our lot in this one?
"I do not understand. I do not understand at all."
His tears brought her to the point of tears herself. Knowing how
unhappy her lady was, she could not bring herself to turn him brusquely
away.
"Sad at seeing the child, sad at not seeing.
The heart of the father, the mother, lost in darkness."
And she added softly: "There seems to be no lessening of the pain for
either of you."
She saw him off, quite unable to help him. Her lady had said that
because of the danger of gossip she could not receive him again, and she
no longer behaved toward Omyo~bu with the old affection. She behaved
correctly, it was true, and did nothing that might attract attention, but
Omyo~bu had done things to displease her. Omyo~bu was very sorry for
them.
<N 9>
In the Fourth Month the little prince was brought to the palace.
Advanced for his age both mentally and physically, he was already able
to sit up and to right himself when he rolled over. He was strikingly like
Genji. Unaware of the truth, the emperor would say to himself that people
of remarkable good looks did have a way of looking alike. He doted upon
the child. He had similarly doted upon Genji, but, because of strong
opposition--and how deeply he regretted the fact--had been unable to
<P 140>
make him crown prince. The regret increased as Genji, now a commoner,
improved in looks and in accomplishments. And now a lady of the highest
birth had borne the emperor another radiant son. The infant was for him
an unflawed jewel, for Fujitsubo a source of boundless guilt and forebod-
ing.
One day, as he often did, Genji was enjoying music in Fujitsubo's
apartments. The emperor came out with the little boy in his arms.
"I have had many sons, but you were the only one I paid a great deal
of attention to when you were this small. perhaps it is the memory of those
days that makes me think he looks like you. Is it that all children look alike
when they are very young?" He made no attempt to hide his pleasure in
the child.
Genji felt himself flushing crimson. He was frightened and awed and
pleased and touched, all at the same time, and there were tears in his eyes.
Laughing and babbling, the child was so beautiful as to arouse fears that
he would not be long in this world. If indeed he resembled the child,
thought Genji, then he must be very handsome. He must take better care
of himself. (He seemed a little self-satisfied at times.) Fujitsubo was in such
acute discomfort that she felt herself breaking into a cold sweat. Eager
though he had been to see the child, Genji left in great agitation.
He returned to Nijo~, thinking that when the agitation had subsided he
would proceed to Sanjo~ and pay his wife a visit. In near the verandas the
garden was a rich green, dotted with wild carnations. He broke a few off
and sent them to Omyo~bu, and it would seem that he also sent a long and
detailed letter, including this message for her lady:
"It resembles you, I think, this wild carnation,
Weighted with my tears as with the dew.
"'I know that when it blossoms at my hedge'--but could any two
be as much and as little to each other as we have been?"
