Part 13
He remained in the palace, and she on her way home thought of that strange going out and of the rumours that would fly about--yet the uncommonly beautiful features of the Prince at dawn were lingering in her mind.
Her letter:
_Rather would I urge your early return at evening_ _Than ever again make you arise at dawn_ _It is so sorrowful._
His reply:
_To see you departing in the morning dew--_ _Comparing,_ _It were better to come back in the evening unsatisfied._
Let us drive away such thoughts. I cannot go out this evening on account of the evil spirit [i.e., he might encounter it]. Only to fetch you I venture.
She felt distress because this [sort of thing] could not go on always. But he came with the same palanquin and said, "Hurry, hurry!" She felt ashamed because of her maids, yet stole out into the carriage. At the same place as last night voices were heard, so they went to another building. At dawn he complained of the cock's crowing, and leading her gently into the palanquin, went out [with her]. On the way he said, "At such times as these, always come with me," and she--"How can it always be so?" Then he returned.
Two or three days went by; the moon was wonderfully bright; she went to the veranda to see it and there received a letter:
What are you doing at this moment? Are you gazing at the moon?
_Are you thinking with me_ _Of the moon at the mountain's edge?_ _In memory lamenting the short sweet night--_ _Hearing the cock, awake too soon!_
More than usually pleasing was that letter, for her thoughts were then dwelling on the bright moon-night when she was unafraid of men's eyes at the Prince's palace.
The answer:
_That night_ _The same moon shone down--_ _Thinking so I gaze,_ _But unsatisfied is my heart,_ _And my eyes are not contented_ _With moon-seeing._
She mused alone until the day dawned. The next night the Prince came again, but she knew not of it. A lady was living in the opposite house. The Prince's attendant saw a palanquin stopping before it and said to His Highness, "Some one has already come--there is a palanquin." "Let us retire," said the Prince, and he went away. Now he could believe the rumours. He was angry with her, yet being unable to make an end of it he wrote: "Have you heard that I went to you last night? It makes me unhappy that you don't know even that.
_Against the hill of pines where the maiden pines for me,_ _Waves were high--that I had seen._ _Yet to-day's sight, O ominous!"_[11]
She received the letter on a rainy day, O unlooked-for disaster! She suspected slanderous tongues.
_You only are my always-waited-for island--_ _What waves can sweep it away!_
So she answered, but the Prince being somewhat troubled by the sight of the previous night, did not write to her for a long time.
Yet at last:
_Love and misery in various shapes_ _Pass through my mind and never rest._
She wished to answer, but was ashamed to explain herself, so only wrote:
Let it be as you will, come or not, yet to part without bitter feeling would lighten my sorrow.
From that time he seldom sent letters. One moon-bright night she was lying with grieving thoughts. She envied the moon in its serene course and could not refrain from writing to the Prince:
_In her deserted house_ _She gazes at the moon--_ _He is not coming_ _And she cannot reveal her heart--_ _There is none who will listen._
She sent her page to give the poem to Ukon-no-Zo. Just then the Prince was talking with others before the King. When he retired from the presence, Ukon-no-Zo offered the letter. "Prepare the palanquin," he said, and he came to her. The lady was sitting near the veranda looking at the sky, and feeling that some one was coming had had the sudaré rolled down. He was not in his court robe, but in his soft, everyday wear, which was more pleasing to her eye. He silently placed his poem before her on the end of his fan, saying, "As your messenger returned too soon without awaiting my answer--" She drew it towards her with her own.
The Prince seemed to think of coming in, but went out into the garden, singing, "My beloved is like a dew-drop on a leaf." At last he came nearer, and said: "I must go to-night. I came secretly, but on such a bright night as this none can escape being seen. To-morrow I must remain within for religious duties, and people will be suspicious if I am not at home." He seemed about to depart, when she--"Oh, that a shower might come! So another brightness, more sweet than the heavenly one, might linger here for a while!" He felt that she was more amiable than others had admitted. "Ah, dear one," he said, and came up for a while, then went away, saying:
_Unwillingly urged by the moon on her cloudy track_ _His body is going out, but not his heart_
When he was gone she had the sudaré rolled up and read his poem in the moonlight.
_She is looking at the moon,_ _But her thoughts are all of me_ _Hearing this_ _It draws me to her side._
How happy! He seemed to have been thinking her a worthless woman, but he has changed his mind, she thought. The Prince, on his side, thought the lady would have some value for him when he wanted to be amused, but even while he was thinking it, he was told that the Major-General was her favourite and visited her in the daytime. Still others said, "Hyobukyo is another of her lovers." The Prince was deterred by these words and wrote no more.
One day His Highness's little page, who was the lover of one of her maids, came to the house. While they were chattering the page was asked if he had brought a letter, he answered: "No; one day my Lord came here, but he found a palanquin at the gate. From that time he does not write letters. Moreover, he has heard that others visit here." When the boy was gone this was told. She was deeply humiliated. No presumptuous thoughts nor desire for material dependence had been hers. Only while she was loved and respected had she wished for intercourse. Estrangement of any other kind would have been bearable, but her heart was torn asunder to think that he should suspect her of so shameful a thing. In the midst of mourning over her unfortunate situation, a letter was brought her:
I am ill and much troubled these days. Of late I visited your dwelling, but alas! at an unlucky time. I feel that I am unmanly.
_Let it be--_ _I will not look toward the beach--_ _The seaman's little boat has rowed away._
Her answer:
You have heard unmentionable things about me. I am humiliated and it is painful for me to write any more. Perhaps this will be the last letter.
_Off the shore of_ { _aimlessness_ { _Sodé_ _With burning heart and dripping sleeves,_ _I am he who drifts in the seaman's boat._
It was already the Seventh month. On the seventh day she received many letters from elegant persons in deference to the celestial lovers,[12] but her heart was not touched by them. She was only thinking that she was utterly forgotten by the Prince, who had never lost such an opportunity to write to her; but [at last] there came a poem:
_Alas! that I should become like the Herder-God_ _Who can only gaze at the Weaving One_ _Beyond the River of Heaven._
The lady saw that he could not forget her and she was pleased.
Her poem:
_I cannot even look towards that shore_ _Where the Herder-God waits:_ _The lover stars also might avoid me._
His Highness would read, and he would feel that he must not desert her. Towards the moon-hidden day [end of the month] he wrote to her:
I am very lonely. Please write to me sometimes as to one of your friends.
Her reply:
_Because you do not wake you cannot hear--_ _The wind is sighing in the reeds--_ _Ah, nights and nights of Autumn!_
The messenger who took the poem came back with one from him:
O my beloved, how can you think my sleep untroubled? Lately sad thoughts have been mine and never sleep is sound.
_The wind blows over the reeds--_ _I will not sleep, but listen_ _Whether its sigh thrills my heart._
After two or three days, towards evening, he came unexpectedly and made his palanquin draw into the courtyard. As she had not yet seen him in the daylight, he was abashed, he said, but there was no help for it. He went away soon and did not write for so long that anxiety began to fill her heart, so at last she sent:
_Wearily the Autumn days drag by--_ _From him no message--_ _Boding silence!_
Sweet are man's promises, but how different is the heart!
Then he wrote that, though he never forgot her, of late he could not leave the palace.
_Though days pass_ _And others may forget_ _I can never lose the thought_ _That meeting in the evening_ _Of an Autumn day._
The lady was pitiable, having no one to depend on, and tried to sustain herself with the uncertain consolations of a life of sentiment. Reflection increased her wretchedness, and when the eighth month came she went to Ishiyama Temple[13] to revive her doleful spirit intending to remain there for seven days.
One day the Prince said to his page: "It is a long time since I wrote; here is a letter for her." The page replied: "I went to her house the other day and heard that she had lately gone to Ishiyama Temple." "Then--it is already late in the day--to-morrow morning you shall go there." He wrote a letter and the page went to Ishiyama with it.
Her mind was not in the presence of Buddha, but at home in the Royal City. She was thinking that were she loved by him as at the beginning there would have been no wandering like that. She was very sad, yet sadness made her pray to the Buddha with all her heart.
Perceiving that some one approached, she looked down, wondering who it might be. It was the Prince's page! As she had just been thinking of the Prince, she hurriedly sent her maid to question him. The letter was brought and opened with more agitation than usual. It was as follows:
You seem to be steeped in Buddha's teaching. It would have given me pleasure to have been informed of it. Surely I am not loved so deeply that I am a hindrance to your devotion to Buddha. Only to think of your calm makes me jealous.
The poem:
_Do you feel that my soul wanders after you,_ _Passing across the Barrier?_ _O ceaseless longing!_
When shall you return?
When she was in his neighbourhood he wrote but seldom--gratifying that he should send a letter so far!
The answer:
_The way of_ { _meeting_ { _Omi_ [14]
_She was thinking that he had quite forgotten--_ _Who can it be that is coming across the barrier?_
You ask when I shall go back--it is as yet uncertain.
_On the Mount_ { _Nagara_ { _while being_ _My yearning is towards the_ { _Biwa lake_ { _open water_ { _Uchi de no Hama_ { _The beach of going out_ _Does not lie towards_ { _Miyako_ { _the royal city._
The Prince read her poems and said to the page: "I am sorry to trouble you, but please go once more."
His poem:
_I sought for you in the_ { _Osaka Yama_ { _mount of meeting_ _But though never forgetting you_ _My way was lost in the trackless valley._
His second poem:
_Being overwhelmed with sorrow_ _I wished to remain in retirement_ _But_ { _Omi no umi_ { _the lake of meeting_ _Is beyond_ { _Uchi de no Hama_ { _the beach of going out._
She wrote back only poems:
_Tears which could not be restrained at the barrier_ _Flow towards the_ { _Omi no umi--_ { _lake of meeting_
And on the margin she wrote:
_Let me try you--_ _My own heart also,_ _Come and tempt me towards the royal city._
His Highness had never thought of going so far [to seek her], but he thought he must go to her as he had received such a letter. He came and they went back together.
His poem:
_Infelicitous love! Although entered into the Way of Eternal Law.[15]_ _Who was it came_ _And tempted back to the Royal City?_
The answer:
_Out of the mountain to the darker path I wander,_ _Because I met you once more._
Towards the moon-hidden day a devastating wind blew hard. It rained and she was even sadder than usual, when a letter was brought. She thought the Prince had not lost a fit occasion to inquire for her, and she could harbour no hard thoughts of him.
His poem:
_In sorrow I gaze upon the sky of Autumn_ _The clouds are in turmoil_ _And the wind is high._
Her answer:
_A gentle wind of Autumn makes me sad_ _O day of storm--_ _No way to speak of it!_
The Prince thought in this he could read her true feeling, but days passed before his visit.
It was after the tenth day of the Ninth month. He waked and saw the morning moon.[16] It seemed a long time since he had seen her. He felt that she was gazing at this moon, so followed by his page, he knocked at her gate. The lady was lying awake and meditating, lost in a melancholy which may have been due to the season. She wondered at the knock, but knew not who the visitor might be. She waked the maid lying beside her, who was in a sound sleep; the latter called out for the manservant. When he went out, waking with difficulty, the knocking had ceased and the visitor had gone. The guest must have thought her a dull sleeper and been disheartened. Who was it likely to be? Surely one of like mind with herself! Her man, who had gone out after much rousing, and seen no one, complained that it was only her fancy. "Even at night our mistress is restless--Oh, these unpeaceful persons!" Thus he grumbled away, but went to sleep again at once.
The lady got up and saw the misty sky. When morning came she jotted down her thoughts aimlessly, and while doing it received a letter:
_In the Autumn night_ _The pale morning moon was setting_ _When I turned away from the shut door._
He must have thought her a disappointing woman. Yet she was happy to think that he never failed to associate her with every changing season and came to her door when he was attracted by the lovely sight of the sky, so she folded the notes she had just written and sent them to His Highness.
The notes:
Sound of wind; wind blows hard as if it were determined to blow away the last leaves on the branch. It grows cloudy and threatening, rain patters slightly. I am hopelessly desolate.
_Before the Autumn ends_ _My sleeves will be all rotted with tears,_ _The slow rains cannot do more to them._
I am sad, but no one remarks it; the leaves of trees and plants change day by day and so affection in him. In anticipation I feel the dreariness of the long winter rains; the leaves are pitifully teased by the winds; the drops on the leaves which may vanish at any moment--how like they are to my own life!
The sight of the leaves ever reminds me strangely of my own sadness. I cannot go within, but lie on the veranda; mayhap my end is not far off. I feel a vague anger that others are in comfortable sleep and cannot sympathize with me. Just now I heard the faint cry of a wild goose.[17] Others will not be touched by it, but I cannot endure the sound.
_How many nights, alas!--_ _Sleepless--_ _Only the calls of the wild geese--_
Let me not pass the time in this way. I will open the shutter and watch the moon declining towards the western horizon. It seems distant and serenely transparent. There is mist over the earth; together comes the sound of the morning bell and the crowing of cocks. There will be no moment like this in past or future. I feel that the colour of my sleeves is new to me.
_Another with same thoughts_ _May be gazing at the pale morning moon_ _Of the Long-night month--_ _No sight is more sorrowful._
Now there comes a knocking at the gate. What does it mean? Who passes the night with thoughts like mine?
_There is one of like mind with me_ _Musing upon the morning moon._ _But no way to find him out!_
[Illustration: "THE LADY GOT UP AND SAW THE MISTY SKY"]
She had meant to send the last poem only to the Prince, but when she learned that it was His Highness himself who had come she sent all.
The Prince read and did not feel that his visit had been in vain, if she also had been awake and sadly dreaming. He wrote promptly and the letter was presented while she was gazing aimlessly. She opened it anxiously and read:
First poem:
_She thinks her own sleeves only are wet_ _But another's also are rotting._
Second poem:
_Dew-life soon to vanish away,_ _Hangs long suspended in forgetfulness of self_ _On the long-blooming chrysanthemum flower._
Third poem:
_Sleepless the call of wild geese on the cloud-track_ _Yet the pain is from your own heart._
Fourth poem:
_There may be another with thoughts like mine,_ _Who is gazing toward the sky of the morning moon._
Fifth poem:
_Although not together_ _You too were gazing at the moon_ _Believing that I went this morning to your gate,_ _Alas!_
O that gate hard to be opened!
So her writing had not been uselessly sent!
Towards the moon-hidden day she had another letter. After excusing himself for his late neglect he wrote:
I have an awkward thing to ask you. There is a lady with whom I have been secretly intimate. She is going away to a distant province and I want to send her a poem which will touch her heart deeply. Everything you write touches me, so please compose a poem for me.
She was unwilling conceitedly to carry out his wishes, but she thought it too prudish to refuse him, so she wrote with the words: "How can I satisfy you?"
Her poem:
_In the tears of regret_ _Your image will linger long_ _Even after chilly Autumn has gone by._
It is painful for me to write a heartfelt letter in your place.
And on the margin she wrote:
_Leaving you, where can she go?_ _For me no other life._
The Prince wrote back:
Very good poem is all that I can say. I cannot say that you have expressed my heart. Forsaking me she wanders away.
_So let it be._ _Let me think of you, the unexcelled one._ _There is not another._
Thus I can live on.
It was the Tenth month and more than ten days had passed before the Prince came to her.
"The inner room is too dark and makes me restless. Let me sit here near the veranda." He said many heart-touching and tender words. She could not help being pleased. The moon was hidden and rain came pattering down; the scene was in harmony with their feeling. Her heart was disturbed with mingled emotions. The Prince perceived her feeling and thought: "Why is she so much slandered by others? She is always here alone sorrowing thus." He pitied her and startled the lady a little whose head was bowed in distress on her hand by reciting a poem:
_It is not dripping rain nor morning dew_ _Yet here lying, strangely wet are the sleeves of the arm-pillow._
She was overwhelmed by feeling and could not speak, but he saw her tears glistening in the moonlight. He was touched and said: "Why do you not speak? Have my idle words displeased you?" She replied: "I do not know why, but I feel that my heart is anguished, though your words are in my ears. You will see," she went on lightly; "I shall never forget your poem on the sleeves of the arm-pillow."
Thus the pitiful sad night was passed, and the Prince saw that she had no other lover. He was sorry to go away from her in the early dawn, and immediately sent a message: "How are you to-day? Are the tears dry this morning?"
Her answer:
_In the morning they were dry,_ _For only in a dream_ _Were the sleeves of the arm-pillow wet._
He read it and smiled at the word "arm-pillow" which she had said she should never forget.
His poem:
_You say it was only in a dream_ _That the sleeves were wet with tears:_ _Yet I cannot dry them--the sleeves of the arm-pillow._
I have never experienced so sorrow-sweet an autumnal night. Was it the influence of the time?
After that he could not live without seeing her, and visited her oftener. As he saw her more intimately he saw that she was not a faithless woman. Her helpless situation touched his heart more and more, and he became deeply sympathetic with her. Once he said to her: "Even though you live on thus in solitude, I shall never forget you, but it would be better to come to my palace. All these slanderous rumours are due to your living alone. I for my part never met any men [here]; is it because I come from time to time? Yet others tell me very improper things about you which should not be heard; it made me unspeakably sad to turn away from your shut gate. Remembering that you are living in loneliness I sometimes have made a decision; yet being old-fashioned in my ways I hesitated to tell you of it because I anticipated the profound sadness with which you would hear these rumours; nevertheless, I cannot continue our relations in this way. I fear that the rumour might become true; then I should not be allowed to come, and you would become for me like the moon in the Heavenly way. If you really feel the loneliness you speak of, please come to me. There are many persons living there [in his palace], yet you will have no feeling of constraint. As I have been unhappy in my domestic relations, I do not linger in that desolate region [the house of his Princess]; but am always alone, performing religious services; I hope that my loneliness may be lessened by talking with you whose mind is in sympathy with mine."
[Illustration: "STRANGELY WET ARE THE SLEEVES OF THE ARM-PILLOW"]
Her feeling was opposed to such a thing; she had never told him about the late Prince. Yet there was no mountain retreat to which she could fly from World-troubles and her present condition seemed like a never-ending night. There had been many men who had wanted her; hence many strange reports were flying about. She could have confidence in no one but the Prince, so she was much tempted.