“No. She still condescends to accept my humble hospitality.”
“I have not seen her lately—a fortunate circumstance, by-the-way. The lady oppresses me.”
“She has been much engaged with the marriage garments of the Lady Wistaria.”
The Prince’s face softened at the mere mention of Wistaria’s name, and the look of impatience passed from his face. For a time he seemed plunged in a pleasing reverie. Again he questioned the samurai.
“Do you not think it a strange fancy for my lady to wish to be married here at your house instead of at Catzu?”
“Not at all. Your health is such that an ordinary wedding would be harmful; besides, think of the danger!”
“Well, it is my opinion that the state of my health is exaggerated. All I need to drive away my paleness quickly is the open air and the golden sunlight. As for the danger, I was not thinking of a wedding in Catzu, but one in my own province. I should be perfectly safe there with my own samurai to protect me, and a half-dozen other southern clans ready to come to my assistance.”
“I cannot conceive of your excellency’s impatience and dissatisfaction,” said Genji, “when I recall that you are about to be wedded soon, and to one for whom any prince would be only too glad to sacrifice everything.”
“You are right, Sir Genji. Yet is it not strange that, despite all this, I feel melancholy. I cannot understand it.” He paused, and turned on his seat to look back at the samurai. “Sometimes it appears to me that I have caught this sadness of spirit from my lady herself.”
“What, the Lady Wistaria? Impossible.”