"Cannot you let me have the boy, the son of the late Chiûnagon[48] whom I saw the other day? He is a nice lad, and I wish to have him near at hand. I will also introduce him to the Emperor."
"I receive your commands. I will talk with his sister, and see if she consents to it," replied Ki-no-Kami with a bow.
These last words alluding to the object which occupied his thoughts caused Genji to start, but he said with apparent calmness—
"Has the lady presented you yet with a brother or a sister?"
"No, sir, not yet; she has been married now these two years, but it seems she is always thinking she is not settled in the way her parents desired, and is not quite contented with her position."
"What a pity! I heard, however, she was a very good lady. Is it so?"
"Yes, I quite believe so; but hitherto we have lived separately, and were not very cordial, which, as all the world knows, is usual in such relationship."
After the lapse of five or six days the boy Kokimi was brought to him. He was not tall or handsome but very intelligent, and in manners perfectly well-bred. Genji treated him with the greatest kindness, at which, in his boyish mind, he was highly delighted. Genji now asked him many questions about his sister, to which he gave such answers as he could, but often with shyness and diffidence. Hence Genji was unable to take him into his confidence, but by skilfully coaxing and pleasing him, he ventured to hand him a letter to be taken to his sister. The boy, though he possibly guessed at its meaning, did not trouble himself much, but taking it, duly delivered it to his sister. She became confused and thoughtful as she took it, and fearing what the boy might think, opened the letter and held it before her face as she read, in order to conceal the expression of her countenance.
It was a long one, and among other things contained the following lines:—
I had a dream, a dream so sweet,
Ah! would that I could dream again;
Alas, no sleep these eyes will greet,
And so I strive to dream in vain!