CHAPTER III

MAKIBASHIRA

‘I am very much perturbed by what you have just told I me,’ said Genji to Prince Higekuro some months later. ‘It will very likely upset all my plans. I hope you are not telling every one about it....’ That is precisely what Higekuro _was_ doing; the temptation to brag of such a success was one indeed which he could hardly be expected to resist. Some time had now elapsed since the episode to which Genji referred. Tamakatsura had then yielded less to his importunity than to a feeling that this man, from whose touch she still shrank with horror, was not so much a lover as an instrument of Fate, no more to be avoided than were those other strokes of destiny that had pursued her so relentlessly since her earliest years. He hoped at first that she would grow used to him, and pretended not to notice her depression. But as time went on matters only became worse, and Higekuro was already beginning to regard the situation as hopeless, when it became clear that she was with child. This gave him fresh courage; he felt that Heaven had set its seal upon their union, and determined to bear with patience her present wayward humour. For the mere sight of her beauty gave him an increasing pleasure, and the thought that he had still no hold upon her and might any day wake to find that she had fled from him to the Emperor’s Palace, perhaps even into his Majesty’s arms, was more than he could bear. He attributed his momentary success quite as much to the astuteness of Ben no Omoto[24] as to the compassion of the Ishiyama Buddha, to whom his prayers had for long been addressed. But his human ally was now in deep disgrace for the part she had played in the affair and was at present a prisoner in the servants’ rooms. ‘Though all the blame falls upon me,’ thought this unfortunate creature, ‘it is clear that the Blessed Buddha is really responsible. For I have played the go-between without a grain of success for a score or so of my mistress’s lovers; and if I did better this time it was only because the Buddha of Ishiyama knows an honest gentleman when he sees one....’

Genji would have given worlds that this thing should not have happened; but both he and Tō no Chūjō had encouraged Higekuro’s suit, and though they had every right to complain of the unfortunate manner in which he had urged it, it was now too late to scold him or send him about his business. Indeed, if the girl’s reputation were to be saved, the only possible course was to treat Higekuro as an approved and accepted lover; and henceforward on his visits to the New Palace he was openly received with every mark of consideration and respect. Higekuro for his part was anxious to go through the necessary formalities and establish the young bride in his own palace at the earliest possible moment. But Genji was determined that this should not take place if there was any chance that the girl’s reception there would in any quarter be an unfavourable one. Such at least was the pretext which he used for delaying Tamakatsura’s departure. ‘Do, I beg of you, make sure,’ he said to her father, ‘that she is not suddenly plunged into scenes of jealousy and intrigue. Anything in the shape of scandal or bickering would be extremely painful to her.’ ‘On the contrary,’ said Tō no Chūjō, ‘I should be much more uneasy if she were going to the Palace, which I imagine to be now out of the question. His Majesty has an undoubted partiality for her; and any one in that position, unless backed up by the most powerful family connections, is apt to have a very disagreeable time. I should certainly do all I could for her. But you see for yourself what difficulties I am having over Lady Chūjō’s Palace career....’ There was much truth in this. The Emperor had himself suggested her application for the vacant post. But his interest in her, if it existed at all, was based only on one brief glimpse, and so casual an approbation by no means implied that he would protect her with the full weight of Imperial authority against the contemptuous hostility of her rivals.

In the formal letter of committal sent by Tō no Chūjō to the husband on the third day after the wedding, he purposely laid great stress on the part played by Genji in her upbringing, expressing in the warmest terms his gratitude for her foster-father’s unceasing care and kindness; for he was certain that the content of the letter would end by reaching Genji’s ears. The marriage was of course concluded with the utmost secrecy; but the news of it was too interesting a piece of gossip to remain long concealed. It was whispered, in strictest confidence, from ear to ear; before long it had reached the Palace, and was finally recounted to the Emperor himself.

He was very nice about it. ‘I am extremely sorry that we are to lose her,’ he said. ‘But of course, if her thoughts have been occupied elsewhere, that quite explains her long hesitation.... I can easily understand that at such a moment as this she would not be willing to take up permanent duties at Court. But if she cares to assist us occasionally....’

It was now the eleventh month. Tamakatsura had agreed to discharge the functions of Lady-of-the-Bedchamber from her apartments in Genji’s palace. It was a time of year when a great many religious ceremonies take place at Court, and the new Lady-of-the-Bedchamber had not a moment’s leisure. Her subordinates were continually coming over from the Palace to ask her advice, and her rooms were full of bustle and youthful chatter. Much to her annoyance, Prince Higekuro was no longer content to pay long evening visits, but had now installed himself permanently in her quarters. Prince Sochi and the other suitors, who were still unaware that a secret wedding had taken place, were naturally indignant at the liberties which they saw accorded to their rival. One of them, indeed, had a double reason for annoyance. This was Sahyōye, the brother of Lady Makibashira. Not only was his own suit ignominiously unsuccessful, but his sister was being made publicly ridiculous by the continued presence of her husband in another woman’s house. The young man was furious, but at present saw no means of bringing his brother-in-law[25] to book.

The situation was really rather comic. Higekuro had for years past been held up as a model of regularity, industry, sobriety; and now his hectic courtship, with its secret journeyings at dead of night and break of dawn, was the talk of half the Court. Romantic touches were added to the story, and in the end it really seemed to Higekuro’s astonished friends that he must have undergone some mysterious transformation. Tamakatsura, too, was by nature sociable, good-humoured and full of high spirits; but in Higekuro’s presence her whole being underwent a profound change: she became gloomy, irritable, sharp-tempered, to a degree that must have made it sufficiently apparent to every one that she did not care in the least for him. But she constantly wondered whether Genji thought that she was really enjoying herself with this repulsive man, and blushed at the low opinion he must now have formed of her taste. She remembered too Prince Sochi’s attractive warmth and liveliness of disposition. What could have possessed her?... And she became more disagreeable to Higekuro than ever.

Genji was much relieved at having put an end once and for all to a situation which had involved him in much unpleasant suspicion. Feelings beyond his control might sometimes lead him into odd and equivocal positions, but (Genji assured himself) his natural tendency was to shrink from such entanglements. He was with Murasaki when these reflections passed through his mind, and said to her suddenly: ‘Do you remember how suspicious you were when Tamakatsura first came to us? You see now that there was no reason for your alarm....’ Yes, he could at last be certain that he was quite safe. Even if circumstances should bring them together again and some part of their former intimacy revive, there would never be the same danger as before.... And he began to recall the time when he was most in love with her, when he had even persuaded himself that he could find a way of keeping her for his own. But stay! Had things changed so much after all? Could the thought of parting with her ever have been more painful to him than at this very minute it was? Henceforward the image of Tamakatsura haunted his mind more constantly than ever.

One morning, hearing that Prince Higekuro had for a short while quitted her apartments, Genji once more paid her a visit. He found her looking extremely depressed and unwell. He was told that for some time past she had seemed incapable of making the slightest exertion. But his arrival seemed to give her a little strength, for she raised herself on her couch and had her screens drawn partly back. Genji was careful to behave with the utmost restraint, and for some while they conversed rather stiffly about the general news of the day. What a relief it was to be in the company of some one really good-looking, after such a long spell of Higekuro’s society! Her husband, it was true, had a straightforward, well-meaning sort of face, but how commonplace, how ordinary! She felt bitterly ashamed at the choice that Genji and the world at large must be thinking her to have made, and the tears welled into her eyes. Gradually their conversation became less strained, he moved to a low stool which he drew up quite close to her couch. She was much thinner in the face than when he last saw her, but this showed her features to even better advantage, and the prospect of losing her entirely was unendurably painful to him.

‘Though when I stooped I drew no draught, yet never thought I that at the Shallows of the Stream of Death another would stretch out his hand to claim what I had lost.’[26] He looked at her more tenderly than she could bear. She hid her face, murmuring as she did so the lines: ‘Long ere he guide me across the Shallows of Death’s Stream, may my life, a foam-fleck on the Waters of Trouble, have vanished quite away.’ ‘Come,’ he said smiling, ‘the River has got to be crossed; we cannot escape it by “vanishing.” However, I promise you I will be there too to hold your other hand. But let us be serious. You know, I am sure, how wretched I am at what has happened. Clearly, when I struggled as I did to overcome my feelings for you, it was not that you might be free to yield yourself in this rash way to one who, after all, cares far less for you than I did. It seems to me now incredible that I should ever have placed such confidence in his discretion; but who could foresee...?’

He saw that the whole matter was too painful for her to discuss; and to change the subject he continued hastily: ‘The Emperor is very much disappointed that you have not once been seen at Court. How would it be if you were to stay at the Palace for a little while after you leave us? It will not be so easy for you to get away, once you have settled in your new home. The Emperor will in any case think that I have behaved in a very inconsistent way. But I am glad to say your father is quite satisfied at what has happened....’ So he spoke, trying to distract her by such comfortable considerations as occurred to him. But it was all of no avail, and she was soon hopelessly involved in tears. He was aghast to discover into what depths of misery her own inexplicable act had plunged her; but it was clear that sympathy could not help her, and in as sensible and dispassionate a tone as he could muster he began to give her advice concerning her immediate future, insisting above all that, as things were,[27] there could be no question of her living at Higekuro’s house.

Prince Higekuro himself was at first very adverse to the idea of her going to the Palace at all. But in the end he saw that it would be easier to move her thence to his own palace than to snatch her straight from Genji’s hands, and he at last consented to her spending a few weeks at Court.

His present mode of existence, stowed away in a corner of Tamakatsura’s apartments, was very cramped and inconvenient; but even should he persuade her to return with him to his own palace, much required to be done before he could house her with even tolerable comfort. In the last year he had allowed everything to go to ruin, and there was hardly a corner in the whole building that did not urgently need repairs. For many months he had ceased to make any enquiry concerning his wife’s present condition of mind, and even his children, of whom he had always been particularly fond, seemed no longer to interest him. But he was at bottom a kind-hearted and even rather sentimental man; he realized in a vague and general way that this refurnishing of the house in honour of another woman’s arrival was probably rather painful to her, and he did his best to spare her any unnecessary inconvenience or humiliation. But his thoughts were all the time so entirely occupied with other things that his precautions were not in the least successful; indeed, everything seemed to happen in the way most calculated to wound her susceptibilities.

Lady Makibashira had not been brought up in a way to prepare her for servility or self-effacement. The daughter of a Royal Prince, and herself not lacking (at least in girlhood) either charm or good looks, she had been universally flattered and applauded. But in recent years a change had come over her; she had been subject to some strange possession or spiritual disorder. Her behaviour became more and more peculiar, and at times she seemed barely conscious of what was going on around her. For these and other reasons there had for a long time past been no question of Higekuro living with her as a wife in the ordinary sense of the word. But he continued to treat her in the way that her rank demanded, and nothing had occurred till now which could suggest to the world at large that she did not occupy the foremost place in his affections.

News of these preparations for Tamakatsura’s arrival reached Prince Hyōbukyō’s ears: ‘So it has come to this!’ he said with a sigh. ‘I hear she is extremely handsome and intelligent. No doubt he will make arrangements to keep her out of sight; but once this girl gets a foothold in the house, my daughter’s position will become such as no woman of her quality should be called upon to endure. I shall at once take steps to protect her from this humiliation; if Higekuro cannot be brought to reason, she must leave his house immediately. After all, so long as I am alive, she will not lack a home ...’; and he began setting to rights an unoccupied wing in his own palace.

But Lady Makibashira had been a married woman for many years. Though Prince Hyōbukyō was her father, she had long since ceased to think of his palace as her ‘home,’ and so far from reassuring her, the news that he intended her to come back to him completely overwhelmed her already distracted brain. She became first desperately violent and irrational, and then for days on end lay stretched out motionless upon her bed in a state of complete exhaustion.

She was by nature very quiet and even-tempered, seeming at times more like a child on its best behaviour than a full-grown woman. But for some while past she had suffered from sudden attacks, during which she played upon those about her the most unaccountable and repulsive tricks. Lately she had allowed no one to come near her, and her room had fallen into an indescribable state of filth and disorder. Such a scene would have at any time disgusted Prince Higekuro, to whom the least sign of slovenliness was an unforgivable offence. But coming as he now did straight from Tamakatsura’s scrupulously clean and well-ordered apartments, he was appalled at the slatternly scene that lay before him.

But he had shared his life with her for year upon year, and even now pity soon prevailed over disgust. She seemed to know him and be quite capable of carrying on a conversation. After a while he said: ‘It is obvious, is it not, that the relation between two people cannot go on being always exactly the same. But it is only among savages or quite uneducated persons that this leads to wranglings and altercations. People of our sort know how to control themselves, show a reasonable amount of forbearance so long as they choose to put up with the situation; and when there is obviously nothing to be gained by holding out any longer, they part good-humouredly. You, on the contrary, have worked yourself up into such a state over this business that you are quite ill, and though I have wanted to talk things over with you, I did not know whether you were in a fit state to take part in such a conversation. Not that there is anything new to say. We agreed about all this some time ago. For a long while after you first began to suffer from these attacks I waited patiently and was careful to do nothing that might distress you. But you always admitted that I could not be expected to wait for ever; sooner or later some one fresh would have to be called in to manage the household. Well, that’s what is now going to happen; you must try not to be cross with me about it. Quite apart from my affection for you, if it were only for our little people’s sake, you may be quite sure I should never ill-treat or neglect you. This continual state of grievance and jealousy in which you now live is simply due to your abandoning yourself unresistingly, morbidly to wild dreams and imaginings. I can quite understand that while all this was still undecided you passed through a very anxious and agitated time. But now everything is settled, and you must make up your mind to give the new arrangements a trial before you decide that you are being treated unkindly. I hear that your father is full of indignation at my alleged barbarity, and intends to remove you to his own house. Do you think he really means anything by it, or is it only a threat by which he hopes to bring me to my senses?’ He laughed as he said this, but in reply she only stared at him with an expression of reproach and anguish. Even Higekuro’s personal servants, the maids Moku no Kimi and Chūjō no Omoto, were against him in this matter, and expressed loud indignation at the prospect of Tamakatsura’s arrival.

One day when Makibashira, apparently better than she had been for some time, lay quietly weeping, she suddenly said to Chūjō no Omoto: ‘If he told me straight out that he is ashamed of me because I look so old and do odd things, I should not mind. But I cannot bear his dragging in my father’s name. He would not dare say such things to my father’s face, and if they were to get round.... What he says to me does not much matter. I have heard it all before, and it does me no harm to hear it again. But my father....’ At this moment Prince Higekuro entered. She quickly turned on the couch so that her face was hidden from him. She was very lightly built, and emaciated as she now was by months of constant illness, she presented as she lay there a spectacle of almost unconceivable fragility. Her hair was long and fine; but it had lately been falling out rapidly, and had in places become very thin. It was now in a hopeless tangle and pitiably dedraggled with tears. She could never have been very strikingly handsome, but there was enough of her father in her to give her face great distinction and charm, which, however, in her present uncared-for and haggard condition, had not much chance to take effect.

‘What is this you are saying about your father?’ asked Higekuro as he entered. ‘You will make terrible mischief between us, if you put it about that I speak slightingly of him. Besides, it is quite untrue....’ Then more kindly: ‘I have never felt at my ease in that magnificent palace of Prince Genji’s, and should not care to stay there for long at a time. But I am determined to go on seeing the lady whom I have just been visiting, and as I am not suited either by age or temperament to these perpetual runnings to and fro, I have arranged for her to come and live with us here. This will certainly be much pleasanter for her and me; and, I think, for you too. The fact that she is at such a distance and in so closely scrutinized a place makes the whole affair far more conspicuous than it need be. Prince Genji, as you know well enough, is a very important person; he has made himself responsible for this lady’s happiness, and if he hears that you are being unkind to her, he will be very angry both with you and with me. So please be as nice to her as you can.... But of course if you feel you would rather go and live with Prince Hyōbukyō for a little while, by all means do so. I promise to come and see you frequently. But in either case you need not be afraid that I shall cease to care for you and look after you. I wish I could be as sure that you, on your side, will begin to take things a little more quietly and sensibly. You do not realize, I am sure, that all this outcry (which presumably you would not make unless you were fond of me) is doing me a great deal of harm. For years past I have done all that was in my power to make you happy, and you may rest assured that I shall continue to do so....’ He tried to soothe her, speaking somewhat as he would have spoken to a cross child. ‘There is no need for you to tell me about your love affairs,’ she answered. ‘I am not interested in them. You know quite well what is worrying me. My father has been terribly upset by my illness ever since it began. What the effect upon him would be if I were to go home in my present condition, I dread to think. It distresses him immeasurably to see me suffer.... I cannot do it.... My father says that, after all, Lady Murasaki is my own sister, and it is very wrong of her to spoil my happiness by introducing you to this girl. But I do not at all agree with him. Let her introduce you to any one she likes. It is no affair of mine....’

She spoke quite calmly and sensibly. But Higekuro had seen her in this mood before, and knew only too well that it might at any moment terminate in an outburst of the wildest irrationality. ‘You are quite mistaken about Lady Murasaki,’ he said. ‘She had no hand whatever in this. She lives locked away in her bower like an Enchanted Princess in a fairy-story, and would never dream of interfering in the affairs of persons such as you or me. She regards us all, I can assure you, with complete contempt. Certainly nothing would distress her more than that it should be thought she had tried to interest me in Lady Tamakatsura. Please do not spread such a report; it might do a great deal of harm.’

He stayed chatting with her all the afternoon. By dusk his attention had already begun to wander, and he was conscious that his replies were often somewhat at random. For he was trying to decide whether he could contrive, without too much hurting her feelings, not to spend the whole of the evening in her society. Just as he was about to rise, a violent snowstorm began. To insist upon leaving at such a moment would have shown with too painful a clearness how anxious he was to escape from her company. Had she spoken one word of complaint or showed the slightest sign of ill-humour, it would have been easy enough for him to flare up on his side and so escape from his predicament. But she had, on the contrary, been a marvel of tolerance, reasonableness and amiability. It seemed too cruel to leave her, but he had not yet quite made up his mind, and stood with his hand on the door, staring out into the dusk. ‘I am afraid it is going to be a very heavy storm,’ she said, watching him. ‘You will never find your way. It has suddenly grown quite dark...’ Suddenly her expression changed. He knew exactly what was passing in her mind. ‘That is all over now,’ she was thinking. ‘If he does stay, what will be the use?...’ ‘I will wait till it clears a little,’ he said to her. And later: ‘Another time I shall be able to stay here as long as you like. But to-night there are reasons.... It might be misunderstood.... Both Genji and Tō no Chūjō particularly desired that I should not miss.... But there is no need to explain. You are so good and patient that I am sure you will forgive me. To-night will be the last time. When Lady Tamakatsura is living here everything will be easier.... But really, you are so much better to-night that there seems no reason to have any one else in the house at all.’ ‘I know you would not really like to stay here to-night,’ she said gently. ‘I shall be happier if you go. So long as I know you are thinking kindly of me I do not mind where you go. I promise not to cry any more. Look! My sleeve is almost dry....’

Then she sent for her incense-burner, poured in fresh perfumes one upon another, and with her own hands scented his great riding-cloak from tip to toe. Her own dress was of a soft yielding stuff, and as she bent over her work, this dress fell in loose folds that gave her figure a homely, useful air. But how thin, how frail she had grown! She seemed like some pale phantom flickering across the winter night. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, yet her face, he thought, was beautiful. He felt a sudden tenderness towards her. She had never been to blame. Ought he not to have waited months, years if need be, before he inflicted this terrible suffering upon her? For he knew in that moment all that she had suffered since his dereliction of her began. But in the midst of his remorse the image of Tamakatsura rose up before him, and sighing deeply he began to put on his cloak, perfuming it once more with a miniature brazier that he held for a moment inside each sleeve. He was not as handsome as Genji, but he was magnificently built; and as he stood there handling his great riding-coat he looked a man not lightly to be trifled with. One of his retainers remarked loud enough to be heard, though not speaking directly to the Prince, that it had ‘almost stopped snowing and was getting very late.’ The maids Chūjō no Omoto and Moku no Kimi were lying on a couch in the corner telling one another dismal stories and sighing ‘What a sad world it is to be sure!’ at regular intervals. Makibashira herself was lying calm and still at Higekuro’s feet, her head resting on a low stool. Suddenly she leapt up, seized a large brazier that was used for drying damp clothes, and coming up from behind, emptied it over his head.

The thing was done in a moment; so swiftly indeed that Higekuro had no idea what had happened. He only knew that suddenly his eyes and nostrils were full of fine, penetrating dust. Blind, choking, and still but dimly aware of what had happened to him, he found himself shaking ashes out of his coat, his breeches, his shirt, his hair. Her ladies stood by terror-stricken. Would he understand that this was one of her fits, one of those strange accesses of perversity in which her frenzy drove her to play the most revolting tricks precisely on those whom she most wished to please? If he thought that she had acted deliberately, was in possession of her senses when she played this odious prank, it was inconceivable that he would ever come near her again. They pressed round, dusting him, sponging him, offering him fresh clothes; but nothing took away this dry, gritty sensation that pervaded his whole person, so that he still felt as though he were smeared with ashes to the very roots of his thick, stubborn hair.

He could not present himself at Tamakatsura’s immaculate apartments in this condition, and dismissing his followers, he prepared to settle in for the night.

Makibashira was now in her gentlewomen’s hands. He knew that it was impossible to hold her responsible for what she had done. Yet the look of complete unconcern with which she surveyed the havoc she had just created stung him to a sudden fury, and he felt that he would have shouted abuse at her, had he not been terrified of provoking on her part a fresh outburst of devilry. It was now midnight, but he sent for priests and exorcists, and soon a service of Intercession was in full swing. The mad woman was now cursing and raving in the most horrifying manner. All night long she was cudgelled and pulled about by the priests[28]; dawn found her still maundering and weeping, but after a little while she became somewhat quieter, and Higekuro took this opportunity of sending his apologies to the New Palace. ‘Some one here was suddenly taken ill last night,’ he wrote, ‘and it was impossible for me to get away. Besides, it looked as though we were in for a very heavy fall of snow, and it would have seemed to my friends very odd if I had insisted upon setting out. Time after time I was on the point of starting, and at this moment I am chilled to the bone with waiting about for a chance to escape.... I know well enough that you will not be heart-broken at my failure to appear; but I fear that others may have taken advantage of my discourtesy....’

He was right. His absence had certainly not caused Tamakatsura the slightest concern, and the letter of apology, which he had penned with such agitation in the midst of a scene of utmost horror, she did not open or in any way acknowledge.

Next day Higekuro’s wife was still in a very distracted condition, and further incantations were performed. His own secret prayer was that she might at least recover her reason for a sufficient length of time to permit of his installing Tamakatsura in the house. For at present any such step was clearly impossible. He who knew her as she ought to be could realize that her present savagery and malice were merely the result of her illness; but a stranger would be terrified and disgusted.

At dusk he set out as usual for Tamakatsura’s rooms. Since his wife’s illness his wardrobe had been much neglected, and he was continually complaining that the garments put out for his use were so badly cut as to make him an object of ridicule as he drove through the streets. To-day a new cloak had been put out, which fitted him so ill that he refused to appear in it. The one he had worn on the night of the catastrophe was full of small holes made by fragments of red-hot charcoal, and though it had been carefully cleaned, there still clung to it a most unpleasant smell of burning. Yet in all his clothes the fragrance of the incense with which she had perfumed them that night was still distinctly perceptible. To arrive in this charred and smouldering condition at the New Palace was not to be thought of. He threw off all these garments, sent them to the washhouse, and once more had them thoroughly cleaned and set to rights. When they came back, Moku no Kimi was sent for to give them a good final perfuming. At last he was ready to start.

Even this one night’s absence made her seem to him more marvellously lovely than ever. To be with her drove the thought of what was going on in his own house completely out of his head. And some such solace was needed, for the scene which he had just left had been agonizing in the extreme. He stayed at the New Palace till far into the next day. Spells and incantations seemed powerless against the spirit which had possessed the sick woman, and she continued to rave in an unabating frenzy. Terrified lest she should attempt to disfigure him, or, at the best, play upon him some other sinister prank, Higekuro for the next few days kept as far away from her rooms as possible. When from time to time business compelled him to spend an hour or two at his house, he established himself at the farthest possible end of the building, and it was here that with great precautions he sent for his children to come and see him. The eldest was a girl of twelve; the two boys were younger. They had grown gradually used to the fact that their father and mother did not often meet; but till now there had never been any question of their mother’s place being usurped by some one else, and primed by their nurses with the notion that Tamakatsura’s projected arrival was part of a dark and monstrous conspiracy, they obeyed his summonses very sullenly.

Hearing what had taken place, Prince Hyōbukyō’s first thought was to get his daughter as quickly as possible out of Higekuro’s house. ‘This is certain to lead to a definite and final breach,’ he said. ‘She cannot with any dignity remain a day longer under his roof. After all, so long as I am alive, she can have a very good time here.... There is no need to take this business too tragically....’ And without any warning he arrived at Higekuro’s to fetch her away. It so happened that she was on this occasion enjoying an interval of comparative quietness and lucidity; though on recovering her self-possession, and realizing to some extent what had been passing, she was seized with a terrible fit of melancholy.

When informed that her father was at the door she knew at once what this implied, and determined to offer no resistance. To stay meant only to witness the last remnants of her husband’s affection for her dwindle and disappear. In the end she would probably be forced out of the house, under circumstances of even greater humiliation. Thinking that it would give her a feeling of support, her father had brought with him all her brothers; both the elder ones, Sahyōye and the rest, all of whom were now great officers at Court, and had come uniformed and attended as though for a state ceremony; and also her younger brothers, who by now were making their way in the world, one of them being a Captain in the Bodyguard, another a Lieutenant; a third, Assistant in the National Board. The whole party filled no less than three coaches. That if her father ever came to fetch her, it would be in this cumbersome and ceremonious way, both she and her gentlewomen had long anticipated. But the sight of the formidable cortège which was to put an end for ever to her married life completely overwhelmed her. To make matters worse, it was announced that the part of his palace which Hyōbukyō could put at her disposal could not possibly house both her and all her gentlewomen. Hasty consultations followed. It was arranged that about half the maids should go back to their own homes. There was much weeping, whispered promises of reinstatement ‘when Madam recovers herself,’ and hasty sorting out of small personal belongings. Then there was the sick woman’s own baggage to be considered, and heated discussions as to what she would need in her new home. Amid this scene of tears and confusion the three children strayed about, apparently quite unmoved. Calling to them, their mother now said: ‘I have been in great trouble for a long time; but now everything is over, and I do not care what becomes of me. But you three still have all your lives before you, and I do not want you to be dragged down with me in my ruin. You, my little girl, I shall keep with me, come what may. But I shall let the boys go to their father as often as he wants them—indeed, I would leave them with him altogether if I thought he would go on taking any interest in them. Their grandfather will give them all the usual advantages and make them as happy as he can; but when they grow up they will find it a great handicap to have been connected with him; for nothing can nowadays be done except through Prince Genji, and your grandfather is on very bad terms with him. What I should really like would be to take you all to some forest far away in the mountains where no one could ever find us.... But I know that would be a crime ...’ and she burst into tears. The children had very little idea what all this was about, but they too began quietly weeping. ‘Poor little things,’ said the nurses. ‘One knows from old stories that the kindest father will turn against his children if his heart is set upon another woman; and a man so barbarous as our master, who puts his own wife out of his house when she is ailing, is not likely to show much pity towards these defenceless creatures....’ It was now getting late. It looked as if more snow were coming, and was indeed a most cheerless and uninviting evening. ‘Make haste,’ some one shouted from outside, ‘it’s blowing up for a storm.’ Wiping her eyes, Makibashira went to the window and looked out. She was ready for the journey; but the little girl, who had always been a great favourite with her father, could not believe that he would wish her to go away without even having said good-bye to him; and she now flung herself upon a couch and declared that the carriage must start without her. Her mother tried to coax her, saying that things were bad enough as it was, and it was very unkind of her to be disobedient at such a time. But the child was all the while hoping that her father would come back to say good-bye to her, and was determined not to start until she had seen him. But the storm had now commenced, and she at last saw for herself that there was not the remotest chance of his stirring on such a night.

There was a certain pillar on the right as you went into the women’s rooms. Here it was that the little girl generally had her seat; and now, hating to think that this favourite corner of hers might soon become some stranger’s sitting-place, she took a folded sheet of dark-brown paper, and hastily scribbling something upon it, she pushed it into a crack in the pillar with the point of her long hair-pin. What she wrote was: ‘Though I say good-bye to this house and shall never see it again, do not forget me, O pillar of the Steadfast Tree!’ As the carriage drove away the maids looked wistfully at the familiar haunts that they would in all likelihood never set eyes on again. At this last moment many a tree, never noticed before, seemed the one place where it would be pleasant to seek shade when the summer-time came round; and neither Lady Makibashira nor her ladies ceased to gaze behind them till the topmost bough of the last tree had faded out of sight. For this place had been their home for year upon year, and even though they had been leaving under very different circumstances, they must needs have forsaken it with many a bitter pang.

Meanwhile their arrival was awaited at Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace with great trepidation. His wife, sharp-tongued as ever,[29] was bitterly reproaching him for having fallen out with Genji, whose hostility (she now made sure) was at the bottom of all their present trouble. ‘It all began with your miserable cowardice over that Suma affair. You did not write to him once all the time he was away from Court, and then were surprised that he would not help you to make an Empress of our younger daughter. You know quite well why it was that he would do nothing for you, as you confessed to me at the time and every one agreed. However, I did think that you had learnt your lesson and would take the first opportunity of re-establishing yourself in his good graces. But nothing of the kind. Prince Genji was completely under the sway of this bastard of yours, Lady Murasaki. Everything is easy for you. You had only to interest the girl in her sisters—people in her privileged position are expected to do something for their relations—and we could have got anything we liked to ask for. Instead of that, having got into a scrape with this supposed “daughter” of his, and being under the necessity of passing her off on any one who was fool enough to take her, he hit upon this simpleton Higekuro, whose wife, being your daughter, could easily be hustled out of the way. Upon my honour, I wonder you are willing to sit down under it all....’

‘Silence, woman,’ he broke in. ‘Prince Genji is our lord and master, and must be spoken of in this house with proper respect. A man of his intelligence is not as easily wheedled into friendship by one whom he believes to have done him an injury. My blunder at the time of his exile has turned out to be a great misfortune for us all. But I was not the only person to make that mistake. Indeed, if you look round the Court and note who has gone under and who has kept afloat, you will see that in every case it depended on what line they took in those Suma and Akashi days. So meticulous a scheme of punishments and rewards has surely never before been put into practice. I certainly have not fared worse than the rest. On the contrary, when a year or two ago I celebrated my fiftieth birthday,[30] Prince Genji’s interest in the affair gave it an importance far beyond what my rank and birth demanded; and this was solely due to his affection for my daughter Murasaki, a feeling which you accuse me of never having turned to proper account.’

But his wife’s bitterness only became more intense than ever; moreover, she began to spread the most scandalous stories about Genji’s conduct in the affair. And it may be imagined that in these inventions he did not come off lightly; for hers was the most dangerous tongue in the whole Court. The removal of his wife and children came as a complete surprise to Higekuro. He assumed that Lady Makibashira had, in a sudden fit of childish spleen, implored her father to take this drastic step. But Prince Hyōbukyō must himself be held largely to blame, for Makibashira’s mind was in an entirely volatile condition, and if her father had exercised a little tact she would a few hours later have been begging him to leave her where she was. ‘This has come as rather a shock,’ he said to Tamakatsura when he heard the news. ‘Of course, in a way it makes it much easier for you to come and live with me. But in any case she is in a condition which would soon have made it absolutely necessary to shut her up in some outlying wing of the house; and then you could have lived with me quite comfortably. I resent her being carried off so suddenly. It implies that I am not looking after her properly. I shall go at once to her father and complain.’

He was wearing a very handsome cloak lined with willow-green and blue-grey silken breeches. The costume became him particularly well, and the waiting-women who saw him pass out on the way to Hyōbukyō’s palace could not for the lives of them make out why their mistress was so down upon him.

The news that she had just heard convinced Tamakatsura more firmly than ever of the folly that she had committed in blindly yielding herself to such a man, and as he left the room she did not even raise her eyes to watch him go.

On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s he called at his own house. He was met by Moku no Kimi, who being his personal servant had been left behind, and from her lips he heard the full story of his wife’s departure. His distress was obvious, and when she was telling him of the little girl’s reluctance to leave the house without saying good-bye to him Moku no Kimi feared that her master would altogether lose his self-possession. ‘Hyōbukyō,’ he said at last, ‘does not in the least realize all that I patiently endured during the earlier stages of my wife’s insanity. I do not think there are many men in the world who would have sacrificed themselves as I did. As regards her happiness, it is doubtful if this change of residence will make any difference at all, for her mind is now breaking down entirely. But in any case what sense can there be in letting her carry off those unfortunate children?...’ Just then his eye fell upon the little girl’s favourite pillar. He saw that something was poked into the crack, and grasping at once who had put it there, he rescued the folded note and put it in his sleeve. On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace he read it, obliged to wipe the tears from his eyes while he did so, for though the handwriting had as yet no beauty, the sentiment expressed in the child’s poem could not fail to move him.

On his arrival he found that there was no question of his wife or daughter being allowed to see him. From her parents he received this message: ‘If your neglect of our daughter were of recent origin, we might be willing to listen to your protestations, and if satisfactory assurance were forthcoming might consider the possibility of permitting her return. But we are fully aware that your affections have for a long time past been engaged in another quarter, and we see no reason to suppose that time would bring any amendment to your ways. We therefore decided to act without delay, and are persuaded that by so doing we have saved you from much annoyance and discomfort.’ He replied that they had taken advantage of him in an extremely unfair way. They knew how great was his affection for the children, and might have assumed that his feelings towards the mother were at least sufficiently humane to make it worthwhile discussing this matter with him (many times, if necessary) before taking so drastic a measure. As it was, the world at large, which knew nothing of the real facts, must inevitably be led to the most damaging and at the same time erroneous conclusions.

So he justified himself, but with no effect; and Hyōbukyō would not even allow the little girl to come out and talk to him. The elder boy, now ten years old, had already become a page at Court. He was a fascinating child and much beloved; not exactly handsome, but very quick-witted and alert. The other, a boy of eight, was particularly good-looking and bore a strong resemblance to his sister. This child was now brought to Higekuro, and patting it on the head, he said sadly: ‘It is well that you are so like your sister, for you are all that I shall see to remind me of her in the years that are to come.’ He begged Prince Hyōbukyō to accord him even a few moments’ interview. But the prince excused himself on the ground that ‘he had caught cold and was at present avoiding all exertion.’ There was nothing for it but to drive away. His two sons had climbed into the carriage to talk to him. They now begged for a drive; but as he was going straight to Tamakatsura’s, this was rather embarrassing. ‘You had better stay here,’ he said. ‘I will come and see you again soon.’ They gazed after the carriage, and when they presently saw that instead of going in the direction of their father’s house it had turned towards the New Palace, they looked at one another in bewilderment. But once he was back again in Tamakatsura’s presence, the picture of these two children staring after him in consternation, the memory of his unhappy wife’s ravings and contortions, all vanished completely from his mind, and it was long before he again attempted to get news from his father-in-law’s house. He felt indeed that he could hardly be expected to risk the repetition of such a welcome as he had met with last time he called; but Hyōbukyō insisted upon regarding this abstention as a fresh offence, and made many caustic remarks concerning Higekuro’s callous indifference.

‘Even _I_ have been getting into trouble over this business,’ said Murasaki to Genji one day. ‘My stepmother says I ought not to have let you upset her daughter’s domestic arrangements!’ ‘It has been very difficult to know what to do,’ he replied. ‘If it had rested with me only, I should never have encouraged her to marry Higekuro. But her father was bent upon it, and I fell in with his desire. The Emperor was not at all pleased, and one naturally hears it said that all the other suitors are in a rage with me; though I can hardly believe this of Prince Sochi, who is such a sensible fellow, that I am sure as soon as he sees that I have really given Tamakatsura up he will not, despite his disappointment, be so unreasonable as to pick a quarrel with _me_. I am very glad that the true nature of my relations with her is now known. For though I think that in general it is better for people to keep their private affairs to themselves, there are cases where, unless all be known, far worse things will be imagined than there is any warrant for assuming.’

Meanwhile Tamakatsura was taking less trouble than ever to pretend that Higekuro’s caresses were agreeable to her. But his efforts to overcome her distaste for him were untiring, and when the time came for her to spend a few days at the Palace in order to be presented to the Emperor, Higekuro did his best to prevent or at least postpone this separation. But it was evident that the Emperor would regard any further refusal as an act of discourtesy; Genji and Tō no Chūjō both strongly urged him to obey at once, and Higekuro himself discovered, on looking into the matter, that there were numberless precedents for the Emperor’s request. Accordingly he yielded, and in the spring of the next year she was brought to the Palace. There was a dancing festival going on at the time, and consequently the ceremonies connected with her Presentation attracted very little notice. But it was known that Genji, Tō no Chūjō and Higekuro, the three most powerful men in the country, were her sponsors; while she was actually attended at the time of her arrival by Yūgiri and several of her elder brothers, so that it was by no means likely that she would be overlooked. The room that was allotted to her was separated only by a covered gallery from the apartments of Lady Nishi no Miya, Prince Hyōbukyō’s eldest daughter; but though their habitations were divided by so small a space, their interests and sympathies could hardly have been farther apart, and no civilities were exchanged between them.

It happened to be a moment when the scene at Court was simplified by the absence of low-born favourites or clandestine mistresses. Four great ladies, Akikonomu, Lady Chūjō, Nishi no Miya (whom I have just mentioned), and finally a daughter of the Minister of the Left held absolute sway. Apart from them, two young girls, daughters of the Junior State Secretary and the Chancellor, enjoyed a certain prominence; but on the whole the field was remarkably clear.

This year the Mummers[31] visited all the apartments at Court where they had kinswomen or connections of any kind, and the whole affair was far more animated and interesting than usual. The reception given to the dancers in the various quarters they visited was of the most magnificent kind, such a display of hangings and gay-coloured favours seldom having been witnessed. One of the most dazzling displays took place in the rooms of the Crown Prince’s mother, Lady Jōkyōden. The Prince was still a mere child,[32] but his nursery had already become a centre of fashionable activities.

After performing before the Emperor, the Mummers visited the quarters of Lady Akikonomu, and finally finished their round very late in the day at the ex-Emperor Suzaku’s palace. There had been some talk of their going on to Genji’s; but it would have been inconvenient to receive them at such an hour, and he discouraged the visit. On their way back from Suzaku’s, already much enlivened by the hospitality which they had received during the course of the evening, they went the round of the Crown Prince’s apartments, singing the ‘Bamboo River’[33] at the tops of their voices. Faint streaks of light were already appearing in the sky when they were joined by a band of young men, which included some of Tō no Chūjō’s sons and a number of courtiers famous for the beauty of their voices. The youngest among them all was Chūjō’s eighth son, who being the child of his legitimate wife, had been brought up to regard himself as a little person of considerable consequence. He was a good-looking child, about the same age as Higekuro’s eldest boy, with whom he was often favourably compared. Unlike many of the other children who saw the sights that day, he was not at all overawed by the first appearance at Court of this much-talked-about lady, but on the contrary stared at her to his fill.

Tamakatsura had not so much experience of Court festivities as was possessed by most of her rivals and neighbours. She wisely refrained from venturing upon any unusual or particularly ambitious combinations of colour. But upon the general lines laid down by the taste of her competitors, she often achieved a success considerably greater than theirs. Both she and her gentlewomen found this sojourn at the Palace a most welcome distraction, and only wished that it might be indefinitely prolonged.

Wherever they went the Mummers were received with presents of costly wadded cloaks and a profusion of good things both to eat and drink. Though it was not at Tamakatsura’s that they were to have their set banquet, the entertainment she gave them was, by Higekuro’s help, on so generous a scale that it was hard to recognize in it the mere ‘passing refreshments,’[34] which it was supposed to represent. Higekuro was himself on duty at the Palace that day, and said to his wife more than once during the course of the festivities, ‘There is no need whatever for you to sleep here a second night; it would look as though you had changed your mind and meant to stay on in the Palace.’ She did not answer. But her gentlewomen protested that Genji had only allowed her to leave the New Palace on the express understanding that she should pay a leisurely visit to the Emperor, which, considering she had never once been to Court before and might not go again for a long time, was the least that ordinary good breeding demanded. To leave so soon as this would be far too precipitate....

He noted with pain her obvious reluctance to leave a place the chief charm of which, as he conjectured, lay in the fact that it afforded her a refuge from his embraces.

Prince Sochi was present when the Mummers performed at the Palace, and his heart beat wildly as he pressed near the Lady-of-the-Bedchamber’s[35] office. Knowing that if she recognized a note as coming from him she would not open it, he found an excuse for going to Higekuro’s official quarters and sent a messenger from there. Tamakatsura naturally thought that the note came from her husband, and reluctantly opened it: ‘Hatefullest of seasons for me has Spring become, who must stand by and watch the birds of the deep forest folded wing in wing.’ So ran his poem. She blushed crimson as she read it, and was just thinking how she could possibly reply, when the Emperor himself came that way. The moon had risen, and in its full light she scanned his countenance. He was, she at once noticed, extraordinarily like Genji, and it was a relief to her to discover that there were perhaps people in the world who possessed Genji’s beauty yet at the same time were not cut off from her by fictitious parental ties. But her guardian had been extremely fond of her, of that there could be no doubt; whereas this young man unfortunately showed no signs whatever of feeling for her one particle of the affection which Genji had attributed to him. His Majesty expressed in a very good-tempered and considerate way his regret that she had decided not to live permanently at the Palace. This made her feel extremely uncomfortable; she hid her face in her sleeve and did not reply. ‘I should like so much to know what is going on in your mind,’ he said at last. ‘I have a small piece of news for you which I flattered myself would not be unwelcome. But I now remember that not answering is a peculiarity of yours.’

He then handed her an acrostic poem in which he at the same time asked what previous affection on her side had for so long delayed their meeting, and also announced that she had been promoted to the Third Rank. ‘I had hoped that in time we might become very close friends,’ he added. ‘But I see that you hold a different view.’ There came into his voice as he said these few words a new tone, which proved to her in an instant that the Emperor’s feelings as well as his outward appearance were after all uncommonly like those of Genji. Her heart leapt, and she replied with the poem: ‘Of what former love you speak I know not; but henceforward him alone I serve who put the purple on my sleeve.’[36] ‘It is now my duty to earn what hitherto I have done so little to deserve,’ she said timidly. At this he laughed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you have got your reward, and you had better make the most of it. I did not mean it as a bribe. But I think that any reasonable person would admit I had come very badly out of the business....’ He spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was genuinely piqued. ‘This is dreadful,’ thought poor Tamakatsura. ‘Will a handsome man never fall in love with me without saying in the same breath that we must part for ever?’ Evidently he regarded her marriage as a fatal bar to friendship. She became very staid in her manner. Noting this, the Emperor feared that he had shocked her, and made up his mind (for he had by no means abandoned the idea of continuing the acquaintance) henceforth to advance more cautiously.

Meanwhile it reached Higekuro’s ears that the Emperor was with her, and falling into a panic he again began scheming to carry her home at the earliest possible moment. Nor did she attempt to dissuade him, for repeated disasters had at last destroyed in her all capacity for resistance. Higekuro invented one pretext after another for her instant removal, and when each in turn had been easily disposed of, he tried to enlist the help of Tō no Chūjō and others of the Court Council. At last the Imperial sanction was obtained. ‘I see that I had better let her go,’ said the young Emperor good-humouredly. ‘If I keep her now, Higekuro will not allow her to come here again; and I am hoping for frequent visits. I think I am right in saying that I first began to take interest in her long before Prince Higekuro set eyes upon her. But he got to work much more quickly than I, and fully deserves the advantage which he has gained.... I have an idea that there was a famous case[37] of this kind in years gone by, but cannot now recall the names.’ When he had seen her in the distance years ago his curiosity had been aroused, and he had felt that she might be worth getting to know. But at close quarters he found her far more attractive than he had imagined or been led by those who knew her to suppose. He could not now forgive himself for having handled the affair so incompetently. Having at one moment determined to give her confidence by slow stages, he felt at the next that he had not made his sentiments sufficiently plain, and plunged into the most impassioned and hectic avowals. She could not help thinking how well her own state of mind matched that of the lady to whose story the Emperor had already referred.

Meanwhile the letters of several public men who were seeking audience with his Majesty had for some time been waiting in the corridor, and just outside the door Higekuro stood officiously mounting sentry over the apartment. ‘I know he is an officer in the Bodyguard,’ said the Emperor, annoyed by his persistency, ‘but I think that on this occasion he is performing his professional duties rather too thoroughly.’

At parting he gave her the poem: ‘Because the Ninefold Hedge of royalty girds me about, not even the scent of the plum-blossom, nay, not even so much[38] is carried to the steps of my Throne.’ Not a very remarkable poem, as on later reflection she would easily have perceived; but at the time it seemed to her a masterly performance. ‘Higekuro,’ the Emperor added, ‘is like the man who “went to gather violets”; I cannot expect that he should be willing even for the briefest space to “quit the fields of Spring.”[39] Nor have I the heart to ask it of him. Henceforward I shall not attempt to approach you....’

She could not but admire his delicacy of feeling: ‘Though the scent of this blossom be not as that of others that grow upon the tree, yet even so much let the wind carry to and from your Throne.’[40] It cost him much to part from her for the last time as he supposed, and it was with many backward glances that he now left her room.

Higekuro was determined that she should not sleep another night at the Palace. He knew that if he broached the matter beforehand to his colleagues on the Council they would certainly refuse to countenance so precipitate a step. Accordingly, without mentioning the matter to anybody, he went straight to Tamakatsura and said: ‘I have suddenly caught a severe chill, and it is essential that I should go at once to some place where I can be properly looked after. There is nothing so awkward as being ill in other people’s houses.’ He spoke in such a weak, plaintive tone that she felt quite sorry for him. A few hours later she was already installed in Higekuro’s house.

Her father Tō no Chūjō soon heard of this. He was not best pleased, for he feared that the Emperor would regard so sudden a flight as very discourteous. But on the whole he was glad he had not been consulted, for he had no desire to quarrel with Higekuro over so small a matter. In fact, as he usually did when things went wrong, he chose to regard it as Genji’s affair rather than his own; and Genji, although this sudden termination of his tutelage over the girl came as a great shock to him, naturally did not feel called upon to interfere.

Higekuro, though in his heart of hearts he knew that Tamakatsura had no more chosen this destiny than the smoke from the salt-kilns chooses to be blown back across the hill, was so much elated by his success that for the moment her contempt for him did not in the least spoil his pleasure. His state of mind was indeed that of some brigand chief who has carried off an unwilling bride at his saddle-croup. He did indeed scold her for having remained closeted so long with the Emperor. This seemed to her insufferably petty and vindictive on Higekuro’s part. Henceforward she took less and less pains even to keep up in public the appearance of being on any kind of terms with him. He was also cut off from all intercourse with Prince Hyōbukyō’s family. He tried to give the impression that he regarded this as no great loss; but in reality he felt this isolation acutely. However, he did not attempt to communicate with the Prince, and henceforward spent the whole of his time in lavishing unwanted attentions upon his new-won prize.

To Genji, who had for months past been preparing himself for Tamakatsura’s departure, her loss came as a far greater blow than he had ever anticipated. It was not indeed her departure (he explained to himself) that he found difficult to bear, but the suddenness and completeness with which Higekuro had taken possession. But be that as it may, he could not for an instant stop thinking about her, and soon fell into a condition of absent-mindedness and melancholy that was observed by all who met him. It is said that whatever happens to us is ruled by our conduct in previous existences, or, as others would express it, by Fate. But it seemed to Genji that for the miseries into which he constantly found himself plunged, no other person or power could possibly be held responsible. They sprang from his own excessive susceptibility, and from no other cause whatever. He longed to write to her; but it seemed impossible, now that she was in the hands of the grim, unbending Higekuro, to address to her the small humours and absurdities of which their correspondence was usually composed. In the second month a period of heavy rain set in; after the ceremonies of the New Year this season is apt to seem rather flat and stale, and, desperately in need of distraction, Genji broke all his resolutions and called at Prince Higekuro’s house. He knew, however, that there was no chance of his seeing her personally, and though it was painful to him, who had been used to spend hour after hour in her company, merely to send in a note, this was the most he dared to attempt. And even so, despite the fact that he was able to get hold of the old nurse Ukon and send the letter through her, he thought it unwise to send a closed note and was therefore obliged to express himself in the most guarded manner, trusting that she would be able to read between the lines. ‘In these dull days when hour on hour the spring rain spills upon the quiet earth, do you at times recall the people and the palace whence you came?’ So he wrote, adding: ‘This is a dreary season at best; and worse than ever for me, who am tormented by longings and recollections of which I cannot now speak.’ Ukon took the letter and succeeded in conveying it to Tamakatsura at one of the rare moments when Higekuro was absent from her side. The old woman, of course, knew nothing of Genji’s sentiments towards her mistress, who had never breathed to any one a word concerning his occasional indiscretions and excesses; but watching Tamakatsura’s face as she read the letter Ukon now guessed a good deal of the truth. But exactly how much had happened between them? That was a question about which Ukon henceforward frequently puzzled her head; but she was unable to reach any conclusion.

Throughout this time Genji was constantly reminded of his separation from Oborozuki[41] at the time when she became Consort of the Emperor Suzaku. She too was Lady-of-the-Bedchamber; she too was carried away and locked up in a place whither it was impossible for him to pursue her. He remembered having been very unhappy then, but nothing like so miserable as he was now. Was it that he was becoming more and more sentimental, he asked himself, or merely that the sufferings of the moment always seem more acute than those which we conjure up out of the past? But whether or no the miseries of to-day were really worse than those of yesterday, of this much he was sure, that from none of his divagations had anything but torment and agitation ever ensued. Well, it was all over now; henceforward his existence would be free from these devastating entanglements, and no doubt he would be a great deal happier than ever before. But for the moment it was not so very easy as he had imagined to begin this new life of resignation and tranquillity. He thought he would make use of the bad weather to practise a little on his zithern; but no sooner did he take it into his hands than he began to recall how Tamakatsura had played this and that phrase or run at the time when he was giving her a lesson every day. To break the spell of these recollections he tuned his instrument to the Eastern Mode and played the old song ‘Let the weeds grow.’[42] Could she have seen him as he sat playing that lovely air, it would have been strange indeed if she had not wished herself back in her late home.

The young Emperor too, though their acquaintance had been so brief, could not get Tamakatsura out of his head. ‘As she went by, trailing the skirts of her crimson gown....’[43] For some reason these words haunted him, though the poem could scarcely be more ill-sounding and crude than it is; and he too began to contrive secret ways of communicating with her. But she had long ago made up her mind that happiness was not to be her fate, and could not bring herself to toy with it by the familiar interchange of pretty thoughts and images. Letter after letter arrived; but in her replies she never went beyond a formal acknowledgment. Often she remembered with gratitude Genji’s untiring devotion to her interests and comforts. What matter if he fell between the two extremes of parent and lover? No one, she felt sure, would ever look after her as he had done.

It was now the third month. The wisteria and mountain-kerria in the gardens of the New Palace were in full bloom, loveliest of all at evening, when the light of the setting sun slanted through the hanging sprays of delicate blossom. This was a moment of the year that had always given him an intense delight; but now it hardly seemed to move him. He left Murasaki’s domain and made his way to the western garden.[44] Here too the mountain-kerria was in magnificent bloom. In especial he noticed a great trail of it that hung across a clump of Chinese bamboos and recited to himself the poem: ‘O mountain flower that lovest to grow upon the rocks,[45] thou shalt teach me to endure in silence,[45] the love that I must hide.’ Never before had he repented so bitterly of his determination to surrender the girl into other hands. It had seemed while she was with him so easy to be wise, to make self-sacrificing resolutions. But now that he had lost her it was incredible that he could ever have deliberately planned and executed so terrible a disaster. He happened to notice that there were a lot of eggs in the pigeon-house, and arranging them prettily in a basket along with oranges and lemons he sent it as a present to Tamakatsura, not with any very definite intention.[46] When Higekuro saw the basket with its accompanying note, he burst out laughing: ‘What an extraordinary man this Genji is!’ he said. ‘Why, even if he were your real father he could not now that you are married expect to meet you except on particular occasions. What does he want? He seems, in one way or another, to be always complaining that he does not see you.’ She did not seem to have any intention of acknowledging the gift, and as the messenger was still waiting, Higekuro said: ‘Let me answer it for you!’ ‘I am not minded that any should reclaim her, this fledgling that was not counted among the brood of either nest.’ Such was the poem he sent, and he added: ‘My wife was surprised at the nature of your gift, and was at a loss how to reply without seeming to attach an undue importance to it....’

Genji laughed when the note was brought to him. ‘I have never known Higekuro stoop to concern himself in such trifles as this,’ he said. ‘What is the world coming to?’ But in his heart he was deeply offended by the arrogantly possessive tone of Higekuro’s letter.

As the months went by Lady Makibashira became more and more deeply buried in her own dark and frightful thoughts. Soon she seemed to be gradually lapsing into complete helplessness and imbecility. Higekuro enquired after her constantly and did everything in his power to make her comfortable, incurring considerable outlay on her behalf, and indeed watching over her practical interests exactly as he would have done if she had still been at home. He continued to be devotedly attached to his children, but Prince Hyōbukyō would not allow him to see the little girl. The boys, however, were constantly at their father’s house, and came back chattering about ‘such a nice, new lady’ who had come to live there. ‘She knows all sorts of lovely games and plays with us all day,’ they said. The little girl stared at them open-eyed, having formed in her mind a very different picture of the woman whom her present guardians represented always as the unscrupulous monster who had ruined their father’s home. But in reality it was not surprising that Tamakatsura should have won the boys’ hearts, for she possessed an extraordinary faculty for making herself liked by people of all sorts and ages wherever she went.

In the eleventh month of that year she bore Higekuro a handsome boy. The father’s delight knew no bounds, and the solicitude with which he watched over both mother and child can easily be imagined. Tō no Chūjō too rejoiced that the match should be turning out so unqualified a success and felt that he had acted very wisely in recommending it. And certainly, he said to himself, she deserved a success, for she possessed quite as much charm as the sisters over whom he had taken a great deal more trouble. Kashiwagi too was glad that all seemed to be going well, for he had settled down into the position of an extremely helpful and admiring brother. Perhaps, however, he still cared for her with something more than brotherly affection; he had a feeling that he would have preferred the child to be some one else’s rather than Higekuro’s; for example, if only she had borne such a child (so he reflected as he gazed at the infant) to the Emperor Ryōzen, who constantly lamented that he had no children, what a future might have been in store for it!

After her recovery Tamakatsura continued to administer the business of the Bedchamber from her husband’s house, and seemed to show no intention of ever again appearing at the Palace. There were precedents for such an arrangement as this, and no exception could well be taken to it.

But to go back a little. In the autumn of this year Tō no Chūjō’s eccentric daughter, foiled in her ambition to become Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, added to the embarrassment of her relations by a series of the most flutter-brained flirtations. Her sister Lady Chūjō lived in a constant state of agitation, convinced that sooner or later this Lady of Ōmi would get into some scrape of a kind which might seriously compromise the whole family. She saw no reason why she should be saddled with so needless a responsibility and begged her father to intervene. Tō no Chūjō accordingly sent for her and warned her as impressively as he could that she must in future stay in her sister’s rooms and not wander all over the house, as she had lately developed the habit of doing. This remonstrance, however, had no effect, and she was soon causing as much anxiety as ever to her unwilling sponsors.

It happened one day that a number of distinguished courtiers had come to the house; it was an autumn night of exceptional beauty, music was in progress, and every one was in uncommonly good spirits. Even Yūgiri, usually so quiet and orderly, was talking in rather an excited manner. Some one amid the group of ladies at the end of the room pointed him out to her neighbour and made some remark to the effect that she had never seen him look so handsome. ‘Handsome! Who’s handsome?’ screamed a piercing voice, the owner of which suddenly craned her neck in the direction indicated; and before any one could stop her the Lady of Ōmi had pressed her way to the front of the throng, where she stood staring at Yūgiri open-mouthed, while every one present wondered what hideous piece of folly or impertinence would shortly issue from those ecstatically parted lips. But all she did was to point at the embarrassed Yūgiri and say in a voice which, though it was meant to be a whisper, was audible all over the room: ‘Look at that one, now, just look at him!’ And she recited in a ringing voice the poem:

If your ship is lost at sea And you cannot land where you’d like to be, You’d better come aboard of me.[47]

‘Like the man who lost his rudder said, when he found himself at the same place where he started: “It all comes to the same thing in the end,”’ she added encouragingly.

Who on earth could, this extraordinary madcap be, wondered poor Yūgiri, when suddenly he recollected the queer stories that had a little while ago been current about some odd girl whom Tō no Chūjō had adopted. This of course must be she, and laughing, he answered her with the poem:

Though my good ship should split in two, I’d rather be drowned with all my crew Than trust my life to one like you.

That does not sound very kind, she thought.

[24] One of Tamakatsura’s maids.

[25] Prince Higekuro.

[26] The soul of a woman is helped across the Stream of Death by the spectre of her first lover.

[27] While Makibashira, Higekuro’s mad wife, was still there.

[28] In order to drive the ‘possession’ out of her.

[29] For this woman’s character see vol. i, p. 145. She had pursued her rival, Murasaki’s mother, ‘with constant vexations and affronts; day in and day out this obstinate persecution continued, till at last she died of heart-break.’

[30] See vol. iii, p. 139.

[31] See vol. iii, p. 24.

[32] He must by now be about eleven, having been born shortly before Genji’s exile.

[33] See vol. iii, p. 215.

[34] ‘Mizu-umaya,’ or water-stabling, as it was technically called by the dancers. The regular banquet was called ‘ii-umaya,’ or rice-stabling.

[35] Tamakatsura.

[36] Promoted her to the Third Rank.

[37] In the 9th century Fujiwara no Tokihira carried off a lady who had for some time been admired by Taira no Sadabumi. When reproached by Sadabumi for her fickleness, the lady replied: ‘What in waking hours I may have promised I know not; but now I wander in the mazes of a dream; or _some one_ wanders, for I scarce think it can be I.’

[38] _Ka bakari_ means ‘so much,’ and also ‘only the scent.’

[39] Allusion to a poem by Yamabe no Akahito (8th century).

[40] I.e. write to me sometimes.

[41] Vol. ii, p. 54.

[42] ‘The water-weeds that grow in the pool on the plain of Oshitaka where wild doves feed—do not cut them at the root, for they will not grow again. Do not cut them at the root.’

[43] ‘Outdoors I think, at home I think of how she looked that day as she went by trailing the skirts of her crimson gown.’ _Manyōshū_ 2550. A very rough, primitive poem.

[44] Tamakatsura’s former apartments.

[45]_Iwa_—‘rock’ and ‘silent.’

[46] But there is a hint that Tamakatsura is shut away in Higekuro’s palace like a tame bird in a cage. The bird mentioned is really a kind of duck, but much smaller. ‘Duck’s eggs’ would give a wholly wrong visual impression.

[47] If you can’t have Kumoi, why not marry me?