The blossom awaits those all-encompassing ones."
Genji was astonished at himself, that his daughter should be so much
on his mind and that he should so long to see her.
<N 7>
He had said little to Murasaki of the events at Akashi, but he feared
that she might have the story from someone else. "And that would seem
to be the situation," he said, concluding his account. "Somehow every-
thing has gone wrong. I don't have children where I really want them, and
now there is a child in a very unlikely place. And it is a girl. I could of
course simply disown her, but that is the sort of thing I do not seem capable
of. I will bring her here one of these days and let you have a look at her.
You are not to be jealous, now."
Murasaki flushed. "How strange you are. You make me dislike my-
self, constantly assigning traits which are not mine at all. When and by
whom, I wonder, shall I begin to have lessons in jealousy?"
Genji smiled, and tears came to his eyes. "When indeed, pray. You are
very odd, my dear. Things come into your mind that would not occur to
anyone else."
She thought of their longing for each other through the years apart,
of letters back and forth, and his delinquencies and her resentment seemed
like a silly joke.
"There are very special reasons for it all," he continued, "that she
should be so much on my mind, and that I should be so diligent in my
inquiries. But I fear that it is too soon to tell you of them. You would not
understand. I think that the setting may have been partly responsible."
He had told of her of the lines of smoke across the Akashi sky that
last evening, and, though with some understatement, perhaps, of the lady's
appearance and of her skill on the koto. And so while she herself had been
<P 277>
lost in infinite sadness, thought Murasaki, he had managed to keep himself
entertained. It did not seem right that he should have allowed himself even
a playful glance at another woman.
If he had his ways, she would have hers. She looked aside, whispering
as if to herself: "There was a time when we seemed rather a nicely matched
couple.
"I think I shall be the first to rise as smoke,
And it may not go the direction of that other."
"What a very unpleasant thing to say.
"For whom, in mountains, upon unfriendly seas,
Has the flow of my tears been such as to sweep me under?
"I wish you could understand me, but of course it is not the way of
this world that we are ever completely understood. I would not care or
complain except for the fact that I do so love you."
He took out a koto and tuned it and pushed it towards her; but,
perhaps somewhat displeased at his account of the other lady's talents, she
refused to touch it. She was a calmly, delightfully gentle lady, and these
small outbursts of jealousy were interesting, these occasional shows of
anger charming. Yes, he thought, she was someone he could be with
always.
<N 8>
His daughter would be fifty days old on the fifth of the Fifth Month.
He longed more than ever to see her. What a splendid affair the fiftieth-day
celebrations would be if they might take place in the city! Why had he
allowed the child to be born in so unseemly a place? If it had been a boy
he would not have been so concerned, but for a girl it was a very great
disability not to be born in the city. And she seemed especially important
because his unhappiness had had so much to do with her destinies.
He sent off messengers with the strictest orders to arrive on that day
and no other. They took with them all the gifts which the most fertile
imagination could have thought of for such an occasion, and practical
everyday supplies as well.
This was Genji's note:
"The sea grass, hidden among the rocks, unchanging,
Competes this day for attention with the iris.
"I am quite consumed with longing. You must be prepared to leave
Akashi. It cannot be otherwise. I promise you that you have not the
smallest thing to worry about."
The old man's face was a twisted shell once more, this time, most
properly, with joy. Very elaborate preparations had been made for the
<P 278>
fiftieth-day ceremonies, but had these envoys not come from Genji they
would have been like brocades worn in the night.
The nurse had found the Akashi lady to her liking, a pleasant compan-
ion in a gloomy world. Among the women whom the lady's parents,
through family connections, had brought from the city were several of no
lower standing than the nurse; but they were all aged, tottering people who
could no longer be used at court and who had in effect chanced upon
Akashi in their search for a retreat among the crags. The nurse was at her
elegant best. She gave this and that account, as her feminine sensibilities
led her, of the great world, and she spoke too of Genji and how everyone
admired him. The Akashi lady began to think herself important for having
had something to do with the little memento he had left behind. The nurse
saw Genji's letter. What extraordinary good fortune the lady did have, she
Mad been thinking, and how unlucky she had been herself; and Genji's
inquiries made her feel important too.
The lady's reply was honest and unaffected.
"The crane is lost on an insignificant isle.
Not even today do you come to seek it out.
"I cannot be sure how long a life darkened by lonely reveries and
brightened by occasional messages from outside can be expected to con-
tinue, and must beg of you that the child be freed of uncertainty the
earliest day possible."
Genji read the letter over and over again, and sighed.
"The distant boat more distant." Murasaki looked away as she
spoke, as if to herself, and said no more.
"You do make a large thing of it. Myself' I make no more of it than
this: sometimes a picture of that seacoast comes into my mind, and memo-
ries come back, and I sigh. You are very attentive, not to miss the sigh."
He let her see only the address. The hand would have done honor to
the proudest lady at court. She could see why the Akashi lady had done
so well.
<N 9>
It was sad that his preoccupation with Murasaki had left him no time
for the lady of the orange blossoms. There were public affairs as well, and
he was now too important to wander about as he would wish. It seemed
that all was quiet in that sector, and so he gave little thought to it. Then
came the long rains of early summer to lay a pall over things and bring a
respite from his duties. He roused himself for a visit.
Though she saw little of him, the lady was completely dependent on
him; but she was not of the modern sort, given to outpourings of resent-
<P 279>
ment. He knew that she would not make him uncomfortable. Long ne-
glected, her house now wore a weirdly ruinous aspect. As usual, he first
looked in on her sister, and late in the night moved on to the lady's own
rooms. He was himself weirdly beautiful in the misty moonlight. She felt
very inadequate, but she was waiting for him out near the veranda, in
meditative contemplation of the night. Her refusal to let anything upset
her was remarkable.
From nearby there came the metallic cry of a water rail.
"Did not this bird come knocking at my door,
What pretext would I find to admit the moon?"
Her soft voice, trailing off into silence, was very pleasing. He sighed,
almost wishing it were not the case that each of his ladies had something
to recommend her. It made for a most complicated life.
"You respond to the call of every water rail?
You must find yourself admitting peculiar moons.
"I am worried."
<P 280>
Not of course that he really suspected her of indiscretion. She had
waited for him and she was very dear to him.
She reminded him of his farewell admonition not to look at the cloudy
moon. "And why," she said, gently as always, "should I have thought then
that I was unhappy? It is no better now."
He made the usual points (one wondered that they came so effort-
lessly) as he sought to comfort her.
He had not forgotten the Kyushu Gosechi dancer. He would have
liked to see her again, but a clandestine meeting was altogether too difficult
to arrange. He dominated her thoughts, so much so that she had turned
away all the prospective bridegrooms who interested her father and had
decided that she would not marry. Genji's plans were that once his east
lodge had been redone, all cheerfully and pleasantly, he would gather just
such ladies there, and, should a child be born who required careful up-
bringing, ask them to take charge of it. The new house compared very well
indeed with the old, for he had assigned officials of intelligence and good
taste to the work of remodeling.
He had not forgotten Oborozukiyo. He let her know that that unfor-
tunate event had not stilled his ardor. She had learned her lesson, however,
and so for Genji an affair that had never been really successful had become
a complete failure.
Life was pleasant for the retired emperor, who had taken up residence
in the Suzaku Palace. He had parties and concerts as the seasons went by
and was in generally good spirits. Various ladies were still with him. The
mother of the crown prince was the exception. Not especially conspicuous
among them, she had been no match for Oborozukiyo. Now she had come
into her own. She left the emperor's side to manage the crown prince's
affairs. Genji now occupied his mother's rooms at the palace. The crown
prince was in the Pear Pavilion, which adjoined them, and Genji was his
companion and servant.
Though Fujitsubo could not resume her former titles, she was given
the emoluments of a retired emperor. She maintained a full household and
pursued her religious vocation with solemn grandeur. Factional politics
had in recent years made it difficult for her to visit the palace, and she had
grieved at not being able to see her son. Now everything was as she would
have wished it, and the time had come for Kokiden to be unhappy with
the world. Genji was scrupulously attentive to Kokiden's needs. This fact
did nothing to change her feelings towards him, which were the subject
of unfriendly criticism.
Prince Hyo~bu, Murasaki's father, had sought during the bad years to
please the dominant faction. Genji had not forgotten. Genji's conduct was
on the whole not vengeful, but he was sometimes openly unfriendly to the
prince. Fujitsubo saw and was unhappy.
The conduct of public affairs was now divided between Genji and his
father-in-law, to pursue as they wished. The ceremonies when To~ no
Chu~jo~'s daughter entered court in the Eighth Month were magnificent,
<P 281>
under the energetic direction of the chancellor himself. It was known that
Prince Hyo~bu had been putting all his time and wealth into preparing his
second daughter for court service. Genji made it clear that the girl was not
to be so honored, and what was the prince to do?
In the autumn Genji made a pilgrimage to Sumiyoshi. It was a brilliant
progress, in thanks for the granting of his prayers. By the merest chance,
it came on the day the Akashi lady had chosen for her own pilgrimage, a
semiannual observance which this time had a special purpose, to apologize
for her not having been able to present herself the year before or earlier
this year. She came by ship. As the ship pulled in, a gorgeous array of
offerings was being laid out on the beach. The shrine precincts rang with
the shouts of bearers and there were uniformed dancers, all very good-
looking.
"And whose party might it be?" asked one of her men.
The very inferior footman to whom the query was made laughed
heartily. "You mean there is someone who does not know that the Genji
minister has come because of his vows?"
The lady was stunned. To have chosen this day of all days, to be
among the distant onlookers--her own inferiority could not have been
emphasized more painfully. She was, in spite of it, tied to him by some
bond or other, and here were these underlings, completely pleased with
themselves, reflecting his glory. Why, because of what crimes and sins,
should she, who never ceased thinking of him, have made this journey to
Sumiyoshi on this day without catching an echo of it all? She could only
turn away and try to hide her sorrow.
Genji's attendants were numberless, their robes of deep hues and
brilliant hues like maple leaves and cherry blossoms against the deep green
of the pine groves. Among the courtiers of the Sixth Rank, the yellow-
green of the imperial secretariat stood out. The man who had on an earlier
day had bitter words for the sacred fence of Kamo was among them. Also
holding a guards commission, he had an imposing retinue of his own.
Yoshikiyo too was a guards officer. He seemed especially proud of himself,
and indeed his scarlet robe was very grand. All the men she had known
at Akashi were scattered among the crowds, almost unrecognizable in their
finery, the picture of prosperity. The young courtiers had even sought to
outdo one another in caparisoning their horses, and for the rustics from
Akashi it was a very fine show.
For the lady it was torment to see all the splendor and not to see Genji
himself. Like the Kawara minister, he had been granted a special honor
guard of page boys, ten of them, all very pretty, of uniform height, and
resplendently decked out, the cords that bound up their hair in the page-
boy style a most elegant blending from white to deep purple. Yu~giri, whom
Genji denied nothing, had put even his stableboys into livery.
<P 282>
The Akashi lady felt as if she were gazing at a realm beyond the
