Nurse." And she withdrew to the back of the room.
"It is like a dream," said the nurse. "Ukon, you say? We have every
right to be furious with Ukon." But she went up to the curtains.
She was at first too moved to speak.
"And what has happened to my lady?" she asked finally. "I have
prayed and prayed for so many years that I might be taken wherever she
is. I have wanted to go to her, even if it be in a dream. And then I had to
suffer in a place so far away that not even the winds brought word of her.
I have lived too long. But thoughts of the little girl have kept me tied to
this world and made it difficult for me to go on to the next one. And so,
as you see, I have come limping along.',
Ukon almost wished she were back in the days when she had not been
permitted to speak. "There is no point in talking of our lady. She died long
ago."
And the three of them gave themselves up to tears.
It was now quite dark. Ready for the walk up to the temple, the men
were urging them on. The farewells were confused. Ukon suggested that
they go together, but the sudden friendship might seem odd. It had not
been possible to take even the former vice-governor into their confidence.
Quietly the two parties set forth. Ukon saw ahead of her a beautiful and
heavily veiled figure. The hair under what would appear to be an early-
summer singlet was so rich that it seemed out of place. A flood of affection
and pity swept over Ukon.
<N 8>
Used to walking, she reached the temple first. The nurse's party,
coaxing and helping the girl on, arrived in time for the evening services.
The temple swarmed with pilgrims. A place had been set out for Ukon
almost under the right hand of the Buddha. Perhaps because their guide
was not well known at Hatsuse, the Kyushu party had been assigned a
place to the west, behind the Buddha and some distance away. Ukon sent
<P 397>
for them. They must not be shy, she said. Leaving the other men and telling
the vice-governor what had happened, they accepted the invitation.
"I am not one who matters," said Ukon, "but I work in the Genji
chancellor's house. Even when I come with the few attendants you see, I
can be sure that nothing will happen to me. You can never be sure what
country people will do, and I would hate to have anything unpleasant
happen to our lady."
She would have liked to continue, but the noise was overwhelming.
She turned to her prayers. What she had prayed longest for had been
granted. She had sensed that Genji too continued to think about the girl,
and her prayer now was that, informed of her whereabouts, he would
make her happiness his concern.
Among the pilgrims, from all over the land, was the wife of the
governor of the province.
Sanjo~ was dazzled and envious. She brought her hands to her fore-
head. "O Lord of Great Mercy," she proclaimed, "I have no prayer but this,
that if my lady cannot be the wife of the assistant viceroy you let her many
the greatest one in this province. My name is Sanjo~. If you find decent
places for us, then I will come and thank you. I promise I will."
Ukon would have hoped that Sanjo~ might aim a little higher. "You
<P 398>
have a great deal to learn. But you must know, and you must have known
in the old days, that Lord To~ no Chu~jo~ was meant for great things. He is
a grand minister now and he has everything his way. Our lady comes from
the finest family, and here you are talking about marrying her off to a
governor."
"Oh, hush. You and your ministers and lordships. You just ought to
see the lady from the assistant viceroy's house when she goes off to
Kiyomizu. Why, the emperor himself couldn't put on a better show. So just
hush, please." And she continued her peroration, hands pressed always to
forehead.
The Kyushu party planned to stay three days. Ukon had not thought
of staying so long, but this seemed the opportunity for a good talk. She
informed one of the higher priests of a sudden wish to go into retreat. He
knew what she would need, votive lights and petitions and the like. She
described her reasons.
"I have come as usual in behalf of Lady Tamakazura of the Fujiwara.
Pray well for her, if you will. I have recently been informed of her where-
abouts, and I wish to offer thanks."
<P 399>
"Excellent. Our prayers over the years have been heard."
Services went on through the night, very noisily indeed.
<N 9>
In the morning they all went to the cell of Ukon's eminent acquaint-
ance. The talk was quite uninhibited. The lady was very beautiful, and
rather shy in her rough travel dress.
"I have been privileged to know ladies so grand that few people ever
see them. In the ordinary course of events they would have been kept out
of my sight. I have thought for a very long time that Lady Murasaki, the
chancellor's lady, couldn't possibly have a rival. But then someone came
along who could almost compete with her. It needn't have surprised any-
one, of course. The chancellor's daughter is growing up into a very beauti-
ful lady indeed. He has done everything for her. And just see what we have
here, so quiet and unassuming. She's every bit as pretty.
"The chancellor has seen them all, ever since the reign of his late
father, all the consorts and the other royal ladies. I once heard him say to
Lady Murasaki that the word'beautiful' must have been invented for the
late empress and his own daughter. I never saw the late empress and so
I cannot say, and the other is still a child, and a person can only imagine
how beautiful she will be someday. But Lady Murasaki herself: really she
doesn't have a rival even now. I'm sure he just didn't want to speak of her
own beauty right there in front of her. He most certainly is aware of it.
I once heard him say--he was joking, of course--that she should know
better than to take her place beside a handsome man like him. You should
see the two of them! The sight of them makes you think years have been
added to your life, and you wonder if anywhere else in the world there is
anything like it. But just see what we have here, just look at this lady. She
could hold her own with no trouble. You don't go looking for a halo with
even the most raving beauty, but if you want the next-best thing-?"
She smiled at Tamakazura, and the old nurse was grinning back. "Just
a little longer and she would have been wasted on Kyushu. I couldn't stand
the idea, and so I threw away pots and pans and children and came running
back to the city. It might as Well have been the capital of a foreign country.
Take her to something better, please, as soon as you possibly can. You are
in one of the great houses and you know everyone. Do please think of
some way to tell her father. Make him count her among his children."
The girl looked away in embarrassment.
"No, it is true. I don't amount to anything, but His Lordship has seen
fit to call me into his presence from time to time, and once when I said I
wondered what had happened to the child he said that he wondered too
and I must let him know if I heard anything."
"Yes, of course, he is a very fine gentleman. But he already has all
those other fine ladies. I would feel a little more comfortable, I think, if
you were to inform her father."
Ukon told her about the lady of the evening faces. "His Lordship took
it very hard. He said he wanted the little girl to remember her by. He said
then and he went on saying that he had so few children of his own, he
<P 400>
could tell people he had found a lost daughter. I was young and inex-
perienced and unsure of myself, and I was afraid to go looking for her. I
recognized the name of your good husband when he was appointed deputy
viceroy. I even caught a glimpse of him when he came to say goodbye to
His Lordship. I thought you might have left the child behind at the house
where I last saw you. Suppose she had spent the rest of her life in Kyushu
--the very thought of it makes me shiver."
They looked down upon streams of pilgrims. The river before them
was the Hatsuse.
"Had I not come to the place of cedars twain,
How should I have met you here beside the old river?"
said Ukon. "I am very happy."
Tamakazura replied:
"I know little, I fear, about the swift old river,
But I know the flow of tears of happiness."
She was indeed weeping, and very beautiful.
Astonishingly so--a jewel quite unblemished by rough provincial life.
The old nurse had worked wonders, and Ukon was deeply grateful. The
girl's mother had been such a quiet little child of a thing, completely gentle
and unresisting. The girl herself seemed proud and aloof by comparison;
and there was something else, something quietly mysterious about her,
suggestive of great depths. Kyushu must be a remarkable place--and yet
look at these others, very countrified indeed.
In the evening they all went up to the main hall, and the next day was
a quiet one of prayers and rites.
The autumn wind blowing up from the valley was cold, but they did
not let it trouble them. They had other concerns. For the Kyushu people
despair had suddenly given way to talk of To~ no Chu~jo~ and the careers he
had made for the least likely of his children by his several ladies. It seemed
possible that the sunlight would reach even to this undermost leaf. Fearing
that they might once more lose track of each other, Ukon and the nurse
exchanged addresses before they left the temple. Ukon's family lived not
far from the Rokujo~ mansion, a fact that gave a comforting sense of
nearness and accessibility.
When she was next on duty at Rokujo~, Ukon looked for a chance to
tell Genji a little of what had happened. As her carriage was pulled inside
the gate she had a sudden feeling of vast spaces, and all the grand carriages
coming and going made her marvel that she too was in attendance at the
jeweled pavilion. No occasion presented itself that evening. She went
restlessly to bed with her problem. The next day he summoned her by
name. It was a great honor, for numbers of women, old and important and
young and obscure, had the evening before come back from vacation.
"And why did you stay so long? But you have changed. The old
<P 401>
stiffness has given way to a more yielding quality, might we say? Some-
thing interesting has surely happened."
"I was gone for about a week, just wasting my time. But I did come
on someone rather interesting off in the hills."
"Yes?"
She preferred that Murasaki hear, lest she later be taxed with secre-
tiveness.
Other women came up. Lamps were lighted, and Genji and Murasaki
were pleasing indeed as they settled down for a quiet evening. Now in her
late twenties, Murasaki was at her best. It seemed to Ukon that even in
the brief time she had been away her lady had improved. And Tamakazura
was almost as beautiful--and perhaps it was only Ukon's imagination that
there was a small difference to be observed between the more and the less
fortunate.
Ukon was summoned to massage Genji's legs.
"The young ones hate to do it," he laughed. "We oldsters get on best."
"Really, sir, who would hate to do anything for you?" said one of the
younger women. "You do make the worst jokes."
"Even we oldsters must be careful. There is jealousy abroad. We are
in danger." He could be very amusing.
Having relieved himself of the heavier business of government, he
was able to relax with the women. Even an aging woman like Ukon was
not ignored.
"Now, then, who is this interesting person in the hills? A well-
endowed hermit you have come to an understanding with?"
"Please, sir, someone might hear you. I have found a lady who is not
unrelated to those evening faces. Do you remember? The ones that faded
so quickly."
"Ah, yes, memories do come back. Where has she been all this time?"
Ukon did not know how to begin. "She has been very far away. Some
of the people who were with her then are still with her. We talked about
the old days. It was so sad."
"Do remember, please, that we have an uninformed audience."
"You needn't worry," said Murasaki, covering her ears. "Your audi-
ence is too sleepy to care in the least."
"Is she as pretty as her mother?"
"I wouldn't have thought she could possibly be, but she has grown
into a very beautiful young lady indeed."
"How interesting. Would you compare her with our lady here?"
"Oh, sir, hardly."
"But you d em confident enough. Does she look like me? If so, then
I can be confident too."
He was already talking as if he were her father.
He called Ukon off by herself. "You must bring her here. I have
thought of her so often. I am delighted at this news and sorry that we lost
her for so long. She must not be kept away any longer. Why should we
<P 402>
tell her father? His house swarms with children. I am afraid the poor little
thing would be overwhelmed. And I have so few myself--we can say that
I have come upon a daugh r in a most unexpected place. She will be our
treasure. We will have all the young gallants eager to meet her.
"I leave everything to your judgment, sir. If her father is to know, then
you must be the one to tell him. I am sure that any little gesture in memory
of the lady we lost will lighten the burden of sin."
"The burden is mine, you are saying? " He smiled, but he was near
tears. "I have thought so often what a sad, brief affair it was. I have all the
