There was with them a certain member of the Night Watch famous for his singing of ancient ballads, and to cheer the company he now sang with great spirit the ballad ‘Ho, my pony’; whereupon his companions doffed their scarves and wound them round the singer’s head. The wind fluttered through the many-coloured ends that dangled about his shoulders, weaving as gay a brocade as that with which the storms of autumn carpet a forest floor.
The news of his swift return or at least some faint echo of it reached the Lady of Akashi in her chamber, making her feel more than ever desolate. To Genji it suddenly occurred that he had never written the customary[14] letter. Other things had indeed been occupying his attention; but he wished he had remembered.
On his return to the Nijō-in he rested for a little while and then went to tell Murasaki about his country visit ‘I am very sorry that I was away longer than I led you to expect,’ he said; ‘those wretched fellows hounded me down and, try as I might, I could not get rid of them. I am very tired this morning. I think, if you will excuse me, I must get some more sleep,’ and so saying he retired to his own room. When they met later he saw that things were not going well, but for a time pretended not to notice. At last she became so tiresome that he said somewhat sharply: ‘This is ridiculous. You know quite well that there can never be any comparison between her position and yours. Surely you had better drop this absurd affectation and make the best of me now I am here.’
He had promised to be at the Palace before nightfall, and now rose to go. But before he left the room she saw him go into a corner and scribble a hasty note. She guessed at once to whom it was addressed. What a long time it was taking! He seemed to have a great deal to say. Her women saw him giving it to a messenger with many whispered instructions and they were duly indignant.
He was supposed to be on duty all night at the Palace. But he was impatient to put matters right, and though it was very late indeed before he could get away he hurried back to Murasaki at the first opportunity of escape. While he was with her, the messenger returned from Ōi with an answer in his hand. Genji read it without any attempt at concealment, and finding it to be of the most harmless description, he handed it to her saying: ‘Please tear it up when you have read it, and do not leave the pieces lying about; pieces make such a bad impression! In my position one has to be so careful.’
He came and sat by her couch; but he was thinking all the time of the Lady at Ōi and wishing he could be with her. For a long while he sat gazing into the lamp and did not speak a word.
The letter which he had handed to Murasaki was spread open before her; but she was not reading it. ‘I am sure you have been peeping,’ he said at last. ‘That way of reading letters is very tiring,’ and he smiled at her with such evident affection that the tears welled to her eyes. ‘There is something I want to talk to you about,’ he said, bending over her; ‘I have seen the little girl and, as a matter of fact, taken a great fancy to her. I naturally want to do as well for her as I can, but under the circumstances that is far from easy, and I am rather worried about it. I want you to think about the matter a little, and see if you cannot help me. What can be done? For example, would you be willing to have her here and bring her up as your own child? She is almost three years old, and at that age they are so pretty and innocent that it is very hard indeed to harden one’s heart against them. It is getting to be time that she came out of her long clothes. Would you be very much upset if I asked you to take charge of the ceremony?’[15] ‘I was cross just now,’ she said; ‘but I knew you were thinking all the while about other things, and there seemed to be no use in pretending we were friends if we were not. I should love to look after the little girl. She is just the age I like best.’ She laughed with joy at the thought of having such a creature in her arms, for she was passionately fond of children. Should he try to secure the child? Genji was still very doubtful. Visits to Ōi were very difficult to arrange, and he seldom contrived to get there except on the two days in each month when he went over to hear the service at his chapel near Saga.
Thus though the Lady of Akashi fared considerably better than the Weaving Lady[16] in the story and though her expectations were of the most moderate description, it would have been strange had these hurried visits contented her.
[1] Also called the Katsura River. Runs near Saga (to the east of Kyōto) where Genji was building his hermitage.
[2] The Lady of Akashi’s child.