No More Learning

'tis Miss
Mimb, no wonder so tall. "

This remark seemed to allude to one of her fellow-servants, who must
have been a stalwart maiden, and the subject of remarks among her
companions. The old woman, quite satisfied in thinking that it was she
who was with Kokimi, added: "You, my young master, will soon be as
tall as she is; I will come out this way, too," and approached the
door. Genji could do nothing but stand silent and motionless. When she
came nearer she said, addressing the supposed Mimb, "Have you been
waiting on the young mistress this evening? I have been ill since the
day before yesterday, and kept myself to my room, but was sent for
this evening because my services were required. I cannot stand it. " So
saying, and without waiting for any reply, she passed on, muttering as
she went, "Oh! my pain! my pain! " Genji and the boy now went forth,
and they drove back to the mansion in Nijio. Talking over the events
of the evening, Genji ironically said to his companion, "Ah! you are a
nice boy! " and snapped his fingers with chagrin at the escape of his
favorite and her indifference. Kokimi said nothing. Genji then
murmured, "I was clearly slighted. Oh wretched me! I cannot rival the
happy Iyo! " Shortly after, he retired to rest, taking with him, almost
unconsciously, the scarf he had carried off, and again making Kokimi
share his apartment, for company's sake. He had still some hope that
the latter might be useful to him; and, with the intention of stirring
up his energies, observed, "You are a nice boy; but I am afraid the
coldness shown to me by your sister may at last weaken the friendship
between you and me. "

Kokimi still made no reply. Genji closed his eyes but could not
sleep, so he started up and, taking writing materials, began to write,
apparently without any fixed purpose, and indited the following
distich:--

"Where the cicada casts her shell
In the shadows of the tree,
There is one whom I love well,
Though her heart is cold to me. "

Casting away the piece of paper on which these words were
written--purposely or not, who knows? --he again leaned his head on his
hand. Kokimi slyly stretching out his hand, picked up the paper from
the floor, and hid it quickly in his dress. Genji soon fell into
profound slumber, in which he was speedily joined by Kokimi.

Some days passed away and Kokimi returned to his sister, who, on
seeing him, chided him severely, saying:--

"Though I managed with some difficulty, we must not forget what people
might say of us, _your_ officiousness is most unpardonable. Do you
know what the Prince himself will think of your childish trick? "

Thus was poor Kokimi, on the one hand, reproached by Genji for not
doing enough, and on the other by his sister for being too officious!
was he not in a very happy position! Yet, notwithstanding her words,
he ventured to draw from his dress the paper he had picked up in
Genji's apartment, and offered it to her. The lady hesitated a moment,
though somewhat inclined to read it, holding it in her hand for some
little time, undecided. At length she ventured to throw her eyes over
its contents. At once the loss of her scarf floated upon her mind as
she read, and, taking up her pen, wrote on part of the paper where
Genji had written his verses, the words of a song:--

"Amidst dark shadows of the tree,
Cicada's wing with dew is wet,
So in mine eyes unknown to thee,
Spring sweet tears of fond regret. "

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 51: Ji and Koh are the names of certain positions in the
game of "Go. "]




CHAPTER IV

EVENING GLORY


It happened that when Genji was driving about in the Rokjio quarter,
he was informed that his old nurse, Daini, was ill, and had become a
nun. Her residence was in Gojio. He wished to visit her, and drove to
the house. The main gate was closed, so that his carriage could not
drive up; therefore, he sent in a servant to call out Koremitz, a son
of the nurse.

Meantime, while awaiting him, he looked round on the deserted terrace.
He noticed close by a small and rather dilapidated dwelling, with a
wooden fence round a newly-made enclosure. The upper part, for eight
or ten yards in length, was surrounded by a trellis-work, over which
some white reed blinds--rude, but new--were thrown. Through these
blinds the indistinct outline of some fair heads were faintly
delineated, and the owners were evidently peeping down the roadway
from their retreat. "Ah," thought Genji, "they can never be so tall as
to look over the blind. They must be standing on something within. But
whose residence is it? What sort of people are they? " His equipage was
strictly private and unostentatious. There were, of course, no
outriders; hence he had no fear of being recognized by them. And so he
still watched the house. The gate was also constructed of something
like trellis-work, and stood half open, revealing the loneliness of
the interior. The line: "Where do we seek our home? " came first into
his mind, and he then thought that "even this must be as comfortable
as golden palaces to its inmates. "

A long wooden rail, covered with luxuriant creepers, which, fresh and
green, climbed over it in full vigor, arrested his eye; their white
blossoms, one after another disclosing their smiling lips in
unconscious beauty. Genji began humming to himself: "Ah! stranger
crossing there. " When his attendant informed him that these lovely
white flowers were called "Yugao" (evening-glory), adding, and at the
same time pointing to the flowers, "See the flowers _only_,
flourishing in that glorious state. "

"What beautiful flowers they are," exclaimed Genji. "Go and beg a
bunch. "

The attendant thereupon entered the half-opened gate and asked for
some of them, on which a young girl, dressed in a long tunic, came
out, taking an old fan in her hand, and saying, "Let us put them on
this, those with strong stems," plucked off a few stalks and laid them
on the fan.

These were given to the attendant, who walked slowly back. Just as he
came near to Genji, the gate of Koremitz's courtyard opened and
Koremitz himself appeared, who took the flowers from him and handed
them to Genji, at the same moment saying, "I am very sorry I could not
find the gate key, and that I made you wait so long in the public
road, though there is no one hereabouts to stare at, or recognize you,
I sincerely beg your pardon. "

The carriage was now driven in, and Genji alighted. The Ajari,[52]
elder brother of Koremitz; Mikawa-no-Kami, his brother-in-law; and the
daughter of Daini, all assembled and greeted him. The nun also rose
from her couch to welcome him.

"How pleased I am to see you," she said, "but you see I have quite
altered, I have become a nun. I have given up the world. I had no
reluctance in doing this. If I had any uneasiness, it was on your
account alone. My health, however, is beginning to improve; evidently
the divine blessing on this sacrifice. "

"I was so sorry," replied Genji, "to hear you were ill, and now still
more so to find you have given up the world. I hope that you may live
to witness my success and prosperity. It grieves me to think you were
compelled to make such a change; yet, I believe, this will secure your
enjoyment of happiness hereafter. It is said that when one leaves this
world without a single regret, one passes straight to Paradise. " As he
said these words his eyes became moistened.

Now, it is common for nurses to regard their foster children with
blind affection, whatever may be their faults, thinking, so to speak,
that what is crooked is straight. So in Genji's case, who, in Daini's
eyes, was next door to perfection, this blindness was still more
strongly apparent, and she always regarded her office as his nurse, as
an honor, and while Genji was discoursing in the above manner, a tear
began to trickle from her eyes.

"You know," he continued, "at what an early age I was deprived of my
dearest ties; there were, indeed, several who looked after me, but you
were the one to whom I was most attached. In due course, after I grew
up, I ceased to see you regularly. I could not visit you as often as I
thought of you, yet, when I did not see you for a long time, I often
felt very lonely. Ah! if there were no such things as partings in the
world! "

He then enjoined them earnestly to persevere in prayer for their
mother's health, and said, "Good-by. "

At the moment of quitting the house he remembered that something was
written on the fan that held the flowers. It was already twilight, and
he asked Koremitz to bring a taper, that he might see to read it. It
seemed to him as if the fragrance of some fair hand that had used it
still remained, and on it was written the following couplets:--

"The crystal dew at Evening's hour
Sleeps on the Yugao's beauteous flower,
Will this please him, whose glances bright,
Gave to the flowers a dearer light? "

With apparent carelessness, without any indication to show who the
writer was, it bore, however, the marks of a certain excellence. Genji
thought, "this is singular, coming from whence it does," and turning
to Koremitz, he asked, "Who lives in this house to your right? " "Ah,"
exclaimed Koremitz mentally, "as usual, I see," but replied with
indifference, "Truly I have been here some days, but I have been so
busy in attending my mother that I neither know nor have asked about
the neighbors. " "You may probably be surprised at my inquisitiveness,"
said Genji, "but I have reasons for asking this on account of this
fan. I request you to call on them, and make inquiries what sort of
people they are. "

Koremitz thereupon proceeded to the house, and, calling out a servant,
sought from him the information he wanted, when he was told that,
"This is the house of Mr. Yomei-no-Ske. He is at present in the
country; his lady is still young; her brothers are in the Court
service, and often come here to see her. The whole history of the
family I am not acquainted with. " With this answer Koremitz returned,
and repeated it to Genji, who thought, "Ah! the sending of this verse
may be a trick of these conceited Court fellows! " but he could not
entirely free his mind from the idea of its having been sent
especially to himself. This was consistent with the characteristic
vanity of his disposition. He, therefore, took out a paper, and
disguising his handwriting (lest it should be identified), indited the
following:--

"Were I the flower to see more near,
Which once at dusky eve I saw,
It might have charms for me more dear,
And look more beauteous than before. "

And this he sent to the house by his servant, and set off on his way.
He saw a faint light through the chinks of the blinds of the house,
like the glimmer of the firefly. It gave him, as he passed, a silent
sort of longing. The mansion in Rokjio, to which he was proceeding
this evening, was a handsome building, standing amidst fine woods of
rare growth and beauty, and all was of comfortable appearance. Its
mistress was altogether in good circumstances, and here Genji spent
the hours in full ease and comfort.

On his way home next morning he again passed the front of the house,
where grew the Yugao flowers, and the recollection of flowers which he
had received the previous evening, made him anxious to ascertain who
the people were who lived there.

After the lapse of some time Koremitz came to pay him a visit,
excusing himself for not having come before, on account of his
mother's health being more unsatisfactory. He said, "In obedience to
your commands to make further inquiries, I called on some people who
know about my neighbors, but could not get much information. I was
told, however, that there is a lady who has been living there since
last May, but who she is even the people in the house do not know.
Sometimes I looked over the hedges between our gardens, and saw the
youthful figure of a lady, and a maiden attending her, in a style of
dress which betrayed a good origin. Yesterday evening, after sunset, I
saw the lady writing a letter, her face was very calm in expression,
but full of thought, and her attendant was often sobbing secretly, as
she waited on her. These things I saw distinctly. "

Genji smiled. He seemed more anxious than before to know something
about them, and Koremitz continued: "Hoping to get some fuller
information, I took an opportunity which presented itself of sending a
communication to the house. To this a speedy answer was returned,
written by a skilful hand. I concluded from this and other
circumstances that there was something worth seeing and knowing
enclosed within those walls. " Genji immediately exclaimed, "Do! do!
try again; not to be able to find out is too provoking," and he
thought to himself, "If in lowly life, which is often left unnoticed,
we find something attractive and fair, as Sama-no-Kami said, how
delightful it will be, and I think, perhaps, this may be such a one. "

In the meantime his thoughts were occasionally reverting to Cicada.
His nature was not, perhaps, so perverted as to think about persons of
such condition and position in life as Cicada; but since he had heard
the discussion about women, and their several classifications, he had
somehow become speculative in his sentiments, and ambitious of testing
all those different varieties by his own experience. While matters
were in this state Iyo-no-Kami returned to the capital, and came in
haste to pay his respects to Genji. He was a swarthy, repulsive
looking man, bearing the traces of a long journey in his appearance,
and of advanced age. Still there was nothing unpleasant in his natural
character and manners. Genji was about to converse with him freely,
but somehow or another an awkward feeling arose in his mind, and threw
a restraint upon his cordiality. "Iyo is such an honest old man," he
reflected, "it is too bad to take advantage of him. What Sama-no-Kami
said is true, 'that to strive to carry out wrong desires is man's evil
failing! ' Her hardheartedness to me is unpleasant, but from the other
side this deserves praise! "

It was announced after this that Iyo-no-Kami would return to his
province, and take his wife with him, and that his daughter would be
left behind to be soon married.

This intelligence was far from pleasing to Genji, and he longed once
more, only once more to behold the lady of the scarf, and he concerted
with Kokimi how to arrange a plan for obtaining an interview. The
lady, however, was quite deaf to such proposals, and the only
concession she vouchsafed was that she occasionally received a letter,
and sometimes answered it.

Autumn had now come; Genji was still thoughtful. Lady Aoi saw him but
seldom, and was constantly disquieted by his protracted absence from
her. There was, as we have before hinted, at Rokjio, another person
whom he had won with great difficulty, and it would have been a little
inconsistent if he became too easily tired of her. He indeed had not
become cool towards her, but the violence of his passion had somewhat
abated. The cause of this seems to have been that this lady was rather
too zealous, or, we may say, jealous; besides, her age exceeded that
of Genji by some years. The following incident will illustrate the
state of matters between them:--

One morning early Genji was about to take his departure, with sleepy
eyes, listless and weary, from her mansion at Rokjio. A slight mist
spread over the scene. A maiden attendant of the mistress opened the
door for his departure, and led him forth. The shrubbery of flowering
trees struck refreshingly on the sight, with interlacing branches in
rich confusion, among which was some Asagao in full blossom. Genji was
tempted to dally, and looked contemplatively over them. The maiden
still accompanied him. She wore a thin silk tunic of light green
colors, showing off her graceful waist and figure, which it covered.
Her appearance was attractive. Genji looked at her tenderly, and led
her to a seat in the garden, and sat down by her side. Her countenance
was modest and quiet; her wavy hair was neatly and prettily arranged.
Genji began humming in a low tone:--

"The heart that roams from flower to flower,
Would fain its wanderings not betray,
Yet 'Asagao,' in morning's hour,
Impels my tender wish to stray. "

So saying, he gently took her hand; she, however, without appearing to
understand his real meaning, answered thus:--

"You stay not till the mist be o'er,
But hurry to depart,
Say can the flower you leave, no more
Detain your changeful heart? "

At this juncture a young attendant in Sasinuki[53] entered the garden,
brushing away the dewy mist from the flowers, and began to gather some
bunches of Asagao. The scene was one which we might desire to paint,
so full of quiet beauty, and Genji rose from his seat, and slowly
passed homeward. In those days Genji was becoming more and more an
object of popular admiration in society, and we might even attribute
the eccentricity of some of his adventures to the favor he enjoyed,
combined with his great personal attractions. Where beautiful flowers
expand their blossoms even the rugged mountaineer loves to rest under
their shade, so wherever Genji showed himself people sought his
notice.

Now with regard to the fair one about whom Koremitz was making
inquiries. After some still further investigations, he came to Genji
and told him that "there is some one who often visits there. Who he
was I could not at first find out, for he comes with the utmost
privacy. I made up my mind to discover him; so one evening I concealed
myself outside the house, and waited. Presently the sound of an
approaching carriage was heard, and the inmates of the house began to
peep out. The lady I mentioned before was also to be seen; I could not
see her very plainly, but I can tell you so much: she looked charming.
The carriage itself was now seen approaching, and it apparently
belonged to some one of rank. A little girl who was peeping out
exclaimed, "Ukon, look here, quick, Chiujio is coming. " Then one older
came forward rubbing her hands and saying to the child, 'Don't be so
foolish, don't be excited. ' How could they tell, I wondered, that the
carriage was a Chiujio's. I stole forth cautiously and reconnoitred.
Near the house there is a small stream, over which a plank had been
thrown by way of a bridge. The visitor was rapidly approaching this
bridge when an amusing incident occurred: The elder girl came out in
haste to meet him, and was passing the bridge, when the skirt of her
dress caught in something, and she well-nigh fell into the water.
'Confound that bridge, what a bad Katzragi,'[54] she cried, and
suddenly turned pale. How amusing it was, you may imagine. The visitor
was dressed in plain style, he was followed by his page, whom I
recognized as belonging to To-no-Chiujio. "

"I should like to see that same carriage," interrupted Genji eagerly,
as he thought to himself, "that house may be the home of the very girl
whom he (To-no-Chiujio) spoke about, perhaps he has discovered her
hiding-place. "

"I have also made an acquaintance," Koremitz continued, "with a
certain person in this house, and it was through these means that I
made closer observations. The girl who nearly fell over the bridge is,
no doubt, the lady's attendant, but they pretend to be all on an
equality. Even when the little child said anything to betray them by
its remarks, they immediately turned it off. " Koremitz laughed as he
told this, adding, "this was an amusing trick indeed. "

"Oh," exclaimed Genji, "I must have a look at them when I go to visit
your mother; you must manage this," and with the words the picture of
the "Evening-Glory" rose pleasantly before his eyes.

Now Koremitz not only was always prompt in attending to the wishes of
Prince Genji, but also was by his own temperament fond of carrying on
such intrigues. He tried every means to favor his designs, and to
ingratiate himself with the lady, and at last succeeded in bringing
her and Genji together. The details of the plans by which all this was
brought about are too long to be given here. Genji visited her often,
but it was with the greatest caution and privacy; he never asked her
when they met any particulars about her past life, nor did he reveal
his own to her. He would not drive to her in his own carriage, and
Koremitz often lent him his own horse to ride. He took no attendant
with him except the one who had asked for the "Evening-Glory. " He
would not even call on the nurse, lest it might lead to discoveries.
The lady was puzzled at his reticence. She would sometimes send her
servant to ascertain, if possible, what road he took, and where he
went. But somehow, by chance or design, he always became lost to her
watchful eye. His dress, also, was of the most ordinary description,
and his visits were always paid late in the evening. To her all this
seemed like the mysteries of old legends. True, she conjectured from
his demeanor and ways that he was a person of rank, but she never
ascertained exactly who he was. She sometimes reproached Koremitz for
bringing her into such strange circumstances. But he cunningly kept
himself aloof from such taunts.

Be this as it may, Genji still frequently visited her, though at the
same time he was not unmindful that this kind of adventure was
scarcely consistent with his position. The girl was simple and modest
in nature, not certainly manoeuvring, neither was she stately or
dignified in mien, but everything about her had a peculiar charm and
interest, impossible to describe, and in the full charm of youth not
altogether void of experience.

"But by what charm in her," thought Genji, "am I so strongly affected;
no matter, I am so," and thus his passion continued.

Her residence was only temporary, and this Genji soon became aware of.
"If she leaves this place," thought he, "and I lose sight of her--for
when this may happen is uncertain--what shall I do? " He at last
decided to carry her off secretly to his own mansion in Nijio. True,
if this became known it would be an awkward business; but such are
love affairs; always some dangers to be risked! He therefore fondly
entreated her to accompany him to some place where they could be
freer.

Her answer, however, was "That such a proposal on his part only
alarmed her. " Genji was amused at her girlish mode of expression, and
earnestly said, "Which of us is a fox? [55] I don't know, but anyhow be
persuaded by me.
" And after repeated conversations of the same nature,
she at last half-consented. He had much doubt of the propriety of
inducing her to take this step, nevertheless her final compliance
flattered his vanity. He recollected very well the Tokonatz (Pinks)
which To-no-Chiujio spoke of, but never betrayed that he had any
knowledge of that circumstance.

It was on the evening of the 15th of August when they were together.
The moonlight streamed through the crevices of the broken wall. To
Genji such a scene was novel and peculiar. The dawn at length began to
break, and from the surrounding houses the voices of the farmers might
be heard talking.

One remarked, "How cool it is. " Another, "There is not much hope for
our crops this year. " "My carrying business I do not expect to
answer," responded the first speaker. "But are our neighbors
listening! " Conversing in this way they proceeded to their work.

Had the lady been one to whom surrounding appearances were important,
she might have felt disturbed, but she was far from being so, and
seemed as if no outward circumstances could trouble her equanimity,
which appeared to him an admirable trait. The noise of the threshing
of the corn came indistinctly to their ears like distant thunder. The
beating of the bleacher's hammer was also heard faintly from afar off.

They were in the front of the house. They opened the window and looked
out on the dawn. In the small garden before their eyes was a pretty
bamboo grove; their leaves, wet with dew, shone brilliantly, even as
bright as in the gardens of the palace. The cricket sang cheerfully in
the old walls as if it was at their very ears, and the flight of wild
geese in the air rustled overhead. Everything spoke of rural scenes
and business, different from what Genji was in the habit of seeing and
hearing round him.

To him all these sights and sounds, from their novelty and variety,
combined with the affection he had for the girl beside him, had a
delightful charm. She wore a light dress of clear purple, not very
costly; her figure was slight and delicate; the tones of her voice
soft and insinuating. "If she were only a little more cultivated,"
thought he, but, in any case, he was determined to carry her off.

"Now is the time," said he, "let us go together, the place is not very
far off. "

"Why so soon? " she replied, gently. As her implied consent to his
proposal was thus given without much thought, he, on his part, became
bolder. He summoned her maid, Ukon, and ordered the carriage to be got
ready. Dawn now fairly broke; the cocks had ceased to crow, and the
voice of an aged man was heard repeating his orisons, probably during
his fast. "His days will not be many," thought Genji, "what is he
praying for? " And while so thinking, the aged mortal muttered, "Nam
Torai no Doshi" (Oh! the Divine guide of the future). "Do listen to
that prayer," said Genji, turning to the girl, "it shows our life is
not limited to this world," and he hummed:--

"Let us together, bind our soul
With vows that Woobasok[56] has given,
That when this world from sight shall roll
Unparted we shall wake in heaven. "

And added, "By Mirok,[57] let us bind ourselves in love forever. "

The girl, doubtful of the future, thus replied in a melancholy tone:--

"When in my present lonely lot,
I feel my past has not been free
From sins which I remember not,
I dread more, what to come, may be. "

In the meantime a passing cloud had suddenly covered the sky, and made
its face quite gray. Availing himself of this obscurity, Genji hurried
her away and led her to the carriage, where Ukon also accompanied her.

They drove to an isolated mansion on the Rokjio embankment, which was
at no great distance, and called out the steward who looked after it.
The grounds were in great solitude, and over them lay a thick mist.
The curtains of the carriage were not drawn close, so that the sleeves
of their dresses were almost moistened. "I have never experienced this
sort of trouble before," said Genji; "how painful are the sufferings
of love. "

"Oh! were the ancients, tell me pray,
Thus led away, by love's keen smart,
I ne'er such morning's misty ray
Have felt before with beating heart.

Have you ever? "

The lady shyly averted her face and answered:--

"I, like the wandering moon, may roam,
Who knows not if her mountain love
Be true or false, without a home,
The mist below, the clouds above. "

The steward presently came out and the carriage was driven inside the
gates, and was brought close to the entrance, while the rooms were
hurriedly prepared for their reception. They alighted just as the mist
was clearing away.

This steward was in the habit of going to the mansion of Sadaijin, and
was well acquainted with Genji.

"Oh! " he exclaimed, as they entered. "Without proper attendants! " And
approaching near to Genji said, "Shall I call in some more servants? "

Genji replied at once and impressively, "I purposely chose a place
where many people should not intrude. Don't trouble yourself, and be
discreet. "

Rice broth was served up for their breakfast, but no regular meal had
been prepared.

The sun was now high in the heavens. Genji got up and opened the
window. The gardens had been uncared for, and had run wild. The forest
surrounding the mansion was dense and old, and the shrubberies were
ravaged and torn by the autumn gales, and the bosom of the lake was
hidden by rank weeds. The main part of the house had been for a long
time uninhabited, except the servants' quarter, where there were only
a few people living.

"How fearful the place looks; but let no demon molest us," thought
Genji, and endeavored to direct the girl's attention by fond and
caressing conversation. And now he began, little by little, to throw
off the mask, and told her who he was, and then began humming:--

"The flower that bloomed in evening's dew,
Was the bright guide that led to you. "

She looked at him askance, replying:--

"The dew that on the Yugao lay,
Was a false guide and led astray. "

Thus a faint allusion was made to the circumstances which were the
cause of their acquaintance, and it became known that the verse and
the fan had been sent by her attendant mistaking Genji for her
mistress's former lover.

In the course of a few hours the girl became more at her ease, and
later on in the afternoon Koremitz came and presented some fruits. The
latter, however, stayed with them only a short time.

The mansion gradually became very quiet, and the evening rapidly
approached. The inner room was somewhat dark and gloomy. Yugao was
nervous; she was too nervous to remain there alone, and Genji
therefore drew back the curtains to let the twilight in, staying there
with her. Here the lovers remained, enjoying each other's sight and
company, yet the more the evening advanced, the more timid and
restless she became, so he quickly closed the casement, and she drew
by degrees closer and closer to his side. At these moments he also
became distracted and thoughtful. How the Emperor would be asking
after him, and know not where he might be! What would the lady, the
jealous lady, in the neighboring mansion think or say if she
discovered their secret? How painful it would be if her jealous rage
should flash forth on him! Such were the reflections which made him
melancholy; and as his eyes fell upon the girl affectionately sitting
beside him, ignorant of all these matters, he could not but feel a
kind of pity for her.

Night was now advancing, and they unconsciously dropped off to sleep,
when suddenly over the pillow of Genji hovered the figure of a lady of
threatening aspect. It said fiercely, "You faithless one, wandering
astray with such a strange girl. "

And then the apparition tried to pull away the sleeping girl near him.
Genji awoke much agitated. The lamp had burnt itself out. He drew his
sword, and placed it beside him, and called aloud for Ukon, and she
came to him also quite alarmed.

"Do call up the servants and procure a light," said Genji.

"How can I go, 'tis too dark," she replied, shaking with fear.

"How childish! " he exclaimed, with a false laugh, and clapped his
hands to call a servant. The sound echoed drearily through the empty
rooms, but no servant came. At this moment he found the girl beside
him was also strangely affected. Her brow was covered with great drops
of cold perspiration, and she appeared rapidly sinking into a state of
unconsciousness.

"Ah! she is often troubled with the nightmare," said Ukon, "and
perhaps this disturbs her now; but let us try and rouse her. "

"Yes, very likely," said Genji; "she was very much fatigued, and since
noon her eyes have often been riveted upwards, like one suffering from
some inward malady. I will go myself and call the servants"--he
continued, "clapping one's hands is useless, besides it echoes
fearfully. Do come here, Ukon, for a little while, and look after your
mistress. " So pulling Ukon near Yugao, he advanced to the entrance of
the saloon. He saw all was dark in the adjoining chambers. The wind
was high, and blew gustily round the mansion. The few servants,
consisting of a son of the steward, footman, and page, were all buried
in profound slumber. Genji called to them loudly, and they awoke with
a start. "Come," said he, "bring a light. Valet, twang your
bow-string, and drive away the fiend. How can you sleep so soundly in
such a place? But has Koremitz come? "

"Sir, he came in the evening, but you had given no command, and so he
went away, saying he would return in the morning," answered one.

The one who gave this reply was an old knight, and he twanged his
bow-strings vigorously, "Hiyojin! hiyojin! " (Be careful of the fire!
be careful of the fire! ) as he walked round the rooms.

The mind of Genji instinctively reverted at this moment to the comfort
of the palace. "At this hour of midnight," he thought, "the careful
knights are patrolling round its walls. How different it is here! "

He returned to the room he had left; it was still dark. He found Yugao
lying half dead and unconscious as before, and Ukon rendered helpless
by fright.

"What is the matter? What does it mean? What foolish fear is this? "
exclaimed Genji, greatly alarmed. "Perhaps in lonely places like this
the fox, for instance, might try to exercise his sorcery to alarm us,
but I am here, there is no cause for fear," and he pulled Ukon's
sleeve as he spoke, to arouse her.

"I was so alarmed," she replied; "but my lady must be more so; pray
attend to her. "

"Well," said Genji, and bending over his beloved, shook her gently,
but she neither spoke nor moved. She had apparently fainted, and he
became seriously alarmed.

At this juncture the lights were brought. Genji threw a mantle over
his mistress, and then called to the man to bring the light to him.
The servant remained standing at a distance (according to etiquette),
and would not approach.

"Come near," exclaimed Genji, testily. "Do act according to
circumstances," and taking the lamp from him threw its light full on
the face of the lady, and gazed upon it anxiously, when at this very
moment he beheld the apparition of the same woman he had seen before
in his terrible dream, float before his eyes and vanish. "Ah! " he
cried, "this is like the phantoms in old tales. What is the matter
with the girl? " His own fears were all forgotten in his anxiety on her
account. He leaned over and called upon her, but in vain. She answered
not, and her glance was fixed. What was to be done? There was no one
whom he could consult. The exorcisms of a priest, he thought, might do
some good, but there was no priest. He tried to compose himself with
all the resolution he could summon, but his anguish was too strong for
his nerves. He threw himself beside her, and embracing her
passionately, cried, "Come back! come back to me, my darling! Do not
let us suffer such dreadful events. " But she was gone; her soul had
passed gently away.

The story of the mysterious power of the demon, who had threatened a
certain courtier possessed of considerable strength of mind, suddenly
occurred to Genji, who thought self-possession was the only remedy in
present circumstances, and recovering his composure a little, said to
Ukon, "She cannot be dead! She shall not die yet! " He then called the
servant, and told him. "Here is one who has been strangely frightened
by a vision. Go to Koremitz and tell him to come at once; and if his
brother, the priest, is there, ask him to come also. Tell them
cautiously; don't alarm their mother. "

The midnight passed, and the wind blew louder, rushing amongst the
branches of the old pines, and making them moan more and more sadly.
The cries of strange weird birds were heard, probably the shrieks of
the ill-omened screech-owl, and the place seemed more and more remote
from all human sympathy. Genji could only helplessly repeat, "How
could I have chosen such a retreat. " While Ukon, quite dismayed, cried
pitifully at his side. To him it seemed even that this girl might
become ill, might die! The light of the lamp flickered and burnt dim.
Each side of the walls seemed to his alarmed sight to present
numberless openings one after another (where the demon might rush in),
and the sound of mysterious footsteps seemed approaching along the
deserted passages behind them. "Ah! were Koremitz but here," was the
only thought of Genji; but it would seem that Koremitz was from home,
and the time Genji had to wait for him seemed an age. At last the
crowing cocks announced the coming day, and gave him new courage.

He said to himself, "I must now admit this to be a punishment for all
my inconsiderateness. However secretly we strive to conceal our
faults, eventually they are discovered. First of all, what might not
my father think! and then the general public? And what a subject for
scandal the story of my escapades will become. "

Koremitz now arrived, and all at once the courage with which Genji had
fought against calamity gave way, and he burst into tears, and then
slowly spoke. "Here a sad and singular event has happened; I cannot
explain to you why. For such sudden afflictions prayers, I believe,
are the only resource. For this reason I wished your brother to
accompany you here. "

"He returned to his monastery only yesterday," replied Koremitz. "But
tell me what has happened; any unusual event to the girl? "

"She is dead," returned Genji in a broken voice; "dead without any
apparent cause. "

Koremitz, like the Prince, was but young. If he had had greater
experience he would have been more serviceable to Genji; indeed, they
both were equally perplexed to decide what were the best steps to be
taken under the trying circumstances of the case.

At last Koremitz said, "If the steward should learn this strange
misfortune it might be awkward; as to the man himself he might be
relied on, but his family, who probably would not be so discreet,
might hear of the matter. It would, therefore, be better to quit this
place at once. "

"But where can we find a spot where there are fewer observers than
here? " replied Genji.

"That is true. Suppose the old lodgings of the deceased. No, there are
too many people there. I think a mountain convent would be better,
because there they are accustomed to receive the dead within their
walls, so that matters can be more easily concealed. "

And after a little reflection, he continued, "There is a nun whom I
know living in a mountain convent in Higashi-Yama. Let us take the
corpse there. She was my father's nurse; she is living there in strict
seclusion. That is the best plan I can think of. "

This proposal was decided on, and the carriage was summoned.

Presuming that Genji would not like to carry the dead body in his
arms, Koremitz covered it with a mantle, and lifted it into the
carriage. Over the features of the dead maiden a charming calmness was
still spread, unlike what usually happens, there being nothing
repulsive. Her wavy hair fell outside the mantle, and her small mouth,
still parted, wore a faint smile. The sight distressed both the eyes
and heart of Genji. He fain would have followed the body; but this
Koremitz would not permit.

"Do take my horse and ride back to Nijio at once," he said, and
ordered the horse for him. Then taking Ukon away in the same carriage
with the dead, he, girding up his dress, followed it on foot. It was
by no means a pleasant task for Koremitz, but he put up with it
cheerfully.

Genji, sunk in apathy, now rode back to Nijio; he was greatly
fatigued, and looked pale. The people of the mansion noticed his sad
and haggard appearance.

Genji said nothing, but hurried straight away to his own private
apartment.

"Why did I not go with her? " he still vainly exclaimed. "What would
she think of me were she to return to life? " And these thoughts
affected him so deeply that he became ill, his head ached, his pulse
beat high, and his body burned with fever. The sun rose high, but he
did not leave his couch. His domestics were all perplexed. Rice gruel
was served up to him, but he would not touch it.