unable to think what to make of his behavior and what to do next. The
hand in his was soft, her skin smooth and delicate. He had made his
confession because beauty and pain had suddenly come to seem very much
alike. She was trembling.
"Am I so objectionable, then? I have worked hard to keep our secret,
<P 428>
and you must help me. You have always been important to me. Now you
are important in a new way. I wonder if there has ever been anything quite
like it. I can think of no reason that you should prefer those others to me.
I cannot imagine feelings deeper than my own, and I cannot bear the
thought of passing you on to them and their frivolity."
It all seemed rather beyond the call of paternal duty.
The night was a lovely one. The breeze was rustling the bamboo, the
wind had stopped, and a bright moon had come out. Her women had
tactfully withdrawn. Though he saw a great deal of her, a better oppor-
tunity did not seem likely to present itself. From the momentum, perhaps,
which his avowal had given him, he threw off his robe with practiced skill
--it was a soft one that made no sound--and pulled her down beside him.
She was stunned. What would her women think? She was sobbing
helplessly. Her father might treat her coldly, but at least he would protect
her from such outrages.
Yes, of course: she had a right to weep. He turned to the work of
calming her. "So you reject me. I am shattered. Ladies must often depend
on men who are nothing to them--it is the way of the world--and I should
have thought that I was rather a lot to you, at least in terms of what I have
done for you. This unfriendliness is not at all easy to accept. But enough.
It will not happen again. My comfort will be in heaping restraint upon
virtuous restraint."
She was so like her mother that the resemblance was scarcely to be
borne. He knew that this impetuous behavior did not become his age and
eminence. Collecting himself, he withdrew before the lateness of the hour
brought her women to mistaken conclusions.
"It will not be easy to forget that I have caused such revulsion. You
may be very sure that you will not succeed in driving anyone else quite
so thoroughly mad, and that my limitless, bottomless feelings for you will
keep me from doing anything unseemly in the future. A quiet talk for old
times' sake is all I ask. Can you not be persuaded to grant me that much?"
She was unable to reply.
"Such coldness, I would not have thought you capable of it. You do
seem to hate me most extravagantly." He sighed. "We must let no one
guess what has happened." And he left.
She was no child, but among ladies her age she was remarkable in not
having had the company of anyone of even modest experience. She could
not imagine a worse outrage, or a stranger fate than hers had been. Her
women thought she must be ill and could not think what to suggest.
"His Lordship has done so much for us," whispered Hyo~bu. "Really
more than we deserve. I doubt that even your honorable father could be
kinder and more considerate."
She wanted to reply that his kindness had taken a curious turn. Her
lot was a very strange one!
<P 429>
A letter came from him early in the morning. She was still in bed and
said that she was not feeling well; but with her women pressing ink and
brush on her she reluctantly looked at it. Though it seemed very prim on
white paper, the contents were rather different.
"You have cut so deeply that I shall never be whole again. And what,
I wonder, will they all be thinking?
"Although I scarcely saw the tender grasses,
They look as if I had tied them all in knots.
"Which seems silly of them."
Even here he somehow managed a suggestion of the avuncular. He
was impossible! But her women would think it odd if she did not answer.
She finally wrote this and no more on a sheet of thick, businesslike Mi-
chinoku paper:
"I have noted the contents of your letter, and must apologize for being
too unwell to reply."
He smiled. She had a certain flair.
<N 7>
One might have hoped that he would pursue the matter no further;
but he had made his confession and was not "the pine of Ota" he once
had been. He quite overwhelmed her with letters. She felt as if the trap
were closing and closing, and finally she took to her bed, physically ill.
There were very few who knew the truth, and outsiders as well as people
who might have been called part of the family seemed to think him a
model father. How they would all laugh when they learned the truth! And
her real father, to whom she was nothing, would doubtless laugh more
derisively than the rest. She had nowhere to turn.
Hotaru and Higekuro had sensed that Genji considered them accepta-
ble candidates and were energetically pleading their cases; and one hears
that the water among the rocks, similarly if obliquely encouraged, and still
ignorant of the true state of affairs, was complaining at great length and
very nervously.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 3>
<C 25>{Fireflies}
<N 1>
<P 430 >
Genji was famous and life was secure and peaceful. His ladies had in their
several ways made their own lives and were happy. There was an excep-
tion, Tamakazura, who faced a new crisis and was wondering what to do
next. She was not as genuinely frightened of him, of course, as she had
been of the Higo man; but since few people could possibly know what had
happened, she must keep her disquiet to herself, and her growing sense of
isolation. Old enough to know a little of the world, she saw more than ever
what a handicap it was not to have a mother.
Genji had made his confession. The result was that his longing in-
creased. Fearful of being overheard, however, he found the subject a diffi-
cult one to approach, even gingerly. His visits were very frequent.
Choosing times when she was likely to have few people with her, he would
hint at his feelings, and she would be in an agony of embarrassment. Since
she was not in a position to turn him away, she could only pretend that
she did not know what was happening.
She was of a cheerful, affectionate disposition. Though she was also
of a cautious and conservative nature, the chief impression she gave was
of a delicate, winsome girlishness.
<N 2>
Prince Hotaru continued to pay energetic court. His labors had not yet
gone on for very long when he had the early-summer rains to be resentful
of.
"Admit me a little nearer, please," he wrote. "I will feel better if I can
unburden myself of even part of what is in my heart."
<P 431>
Genji saw the letter. "Princes," he said, "should be listened to. Aloof-
ness is not permitted. You must let him have an occasional answer." He
even told her what to say.
But he only made things worse. She said that she was not feeling well
and did not answer.
There were few really highborn women in her household. She did
have a cousin called Saisho~, daughter of a maternal uncle who had held
a seat on the council. Genji had heard that she had been having a difficult
time since her father's death, and had put her in Tamakazura's service. She
wrote a passable hand and seemed generally capable and well informed.
He assigned her the task of composing replies to gentlemen who deserved
them. It was she whom he summoned today. One may imagine that he was
curious to see all of his brother's letters. Tamakazura herself had been
reading them with more interest since that shocking evening. It must not
be thought that she had fallen in love with Hotaru, but he did seem to offer
a way of evading Genji. She was learning rapidly.
<N 3>
Unaware that Genji himself was eagerly awaiting him, Hotaru was
delighted at what seemed a positive invitation and quietly came calling. A
seat was put out for him near the corner doors, where she received him
with only a curtain between them. Genji had given close attention to the
incense, which was mysterious and seductive--rather more attention, in-
deed, than a guardian might have felt that his duty demanded. One had
to admire the results, whatever the motive. Saisho~ was at a loss to reply
to Hotaru's overtures. Genji pinched her gently to remind her that her
mistress must not behave like an unfeeling lump, and only added to her
discomfiture. The dark nights of the new moon were over and there was
a bland quarter-moon in the cloudy sky. Calm and dignified, the prince
was very handsome indeed. Genji's own very special perfume mixed with
the incense that drifted through the room as people moved about. More
interesting than he would have expected, thought the prince. In calm
control of himself all the while (and in pleasant contrast to certain other
people), he made his avowals.
Tamakazura withdrew to the east penthouse and lay down. Genji
followed Saisho~ as she brought a new message from the prince.
"You are not being kind," he said to Tamakazura. "A person should
behave as the occasion demands. You are unnecessarily coy. You should
not be sending a messenger back and forth over such distances. If you do
not wish him to hear your voice, very well, but at least you should move
a little nearer."
She was in despair. She suspected that his real motive was to impose
himself upon her, and each course open to her seemed worse than all the
others. She slipped away and lay down at a curtain between the penthouse
and the main hall.
She was sunk in thought, unable to answer the prince's outpourings.
Genji came up beside her and lifted the curtain back over its frame. There
was a flash of light. She looked up startled. Had someone lighted a torch?
<P 432 >
No--Genji had earlier in the evening put a large number of fireflies in a
cloth bag. Now, letting no one guess what he was about, he released them.
Tamakazura brought a fan to her face. Her profile was very beautiful.
Genji had worked everything out very carefully. Prince Hotaru was
certain to look in her direction. He was making a show of passion, Genji
suspected, because he thought her Genji's daughter, and not because he
had guessed what a beauty she was. Now he would see, and be genuinely
excited. Genji would not have gone to such trouble if she had in fact been
his daughter. It all seems rather perverse of him.
He slipped out through another door and returned to his part of the
house.
The prince had guessed where the lady would be. Now he sensed that
she was perhaps a little nearer. His heart racing, he looked through an
opening in the rich gossamer curtains. Suddenly, some six or seven feet
away, there was a flash of light--and such beauty as was revealed in it!
Darkness was quickly restored, but the brief glimpse he had had was the
sort of thing that makes for romance. The figure at the curtains may have
been indistinct but it most certainly was slim and tall and graceful. Genji
would not have been disappointed at the interest it had inspired.
"You put out this silent fire to no avail.
Can you extinguish the fire in the human heart?
"I hope I make myself understood."
Speed was the important thing in answering such a poem.
"The firefly but burns and makes no comment.
Silence sometimes tells of deeper thoughts."
It was a brisk sort of reply, and having made it, she was gone. His
lament about this chilly treatment was rather wordy, but he would not
have wished to overdo it by staying the night. It was late when he braved
the dripping eaves (and tears as well) and went out. I have no doubt that
a cuckoo sent him on his way, but did not trouble myself to learn all the
detd ls.
So handsome, so poised, said the women--so very much like Genji.
Not knowing their lady's secret, they were filled with gratitude for Genji's
attentions. Why, not even her mother could have done more for her.
Unwelcome attentions, the lady was thinking. If she had been recog-
nized by her father and her situation were nearer the ordinary, then they
need not be entirely unwelcome. She had had wretched luck, and she lived
in dread of rumors.
<N 4>
Genji too was determined to avoid rumors. Yet he continued to have
his ways. Can one really be sure, for instance, that he no longer had designs
upon Akikonomu? There was something different about his manner When
he was with her, something especially charming and seductive. But she
<P 433>
was beyond the reach of direct overtures. Tamakazura was a modern sort
of girl, and approachable. Sometimes dangerously near losing control of
himself, he would do things which, had they been noticed, might have
aroused suspicions. It was a difficult and complicated relationship indeed,
and he must be given credit for the fact that he held back from the final
line.
<N 5>
On the fifth day of the Fifth Month, the Day of the Iris, he stopped
by her apartments on his way to the equestrian grounds.
"What happened? Did he stay late? You must be careful with him. He
is not to be trusted--not that there are very many men these days a girl
really can trust."
He praised his brother and blamed him. He seemed very young and
was very handsome as he offered this word of caution. As for his clothes,
the singlets and the robe thrown casually over them glowed in such rich
and pleasing colors that they seemed to brim over and seek more space.
One wondered whether a supernatural hand might not have had some part
in the dyeing. The colors themselves were familiar enough, but the woven
patterns were as if everything had pointed to this day of flowers. The lady
<P 434>
was sure she would have been quite intoxicated with the perfumes burned
