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The Tale of Genji

Murasaki Shikibu

  He drew her by force to face him again. “I was sure that you were kind and that you believed everything I have told you, yet you have been keeping yourself from me, have you not? Or have your feelings toward me changed in a single night?” He dried her tears with his own sleeve.

  “You talk of feelings changing in a night, but I know all too well whose feelings those are!” she retorted with a little smile.

  “But, my darling, you are talking like a child! Really, though, my conscience is clear: I am hiding nothing at all. If I were, I could defend myself as much as I liked, and the truth would still be perfectly plain. You understand nothing of the world, which is at once one of your charms and a great difficulty. Very well, think it over from my point of view. One can never do as one pleases:38 that is my own situation. If what I hope for comes to pass, I will then have it within my power to convince you that you mean more to me than anyone else.39 This is not something I could ever say lightly. As long as I have breath…”40

  Meanwhile, his messenger to His Excellency's forgot all shame and came barging straight into the southern front of their wing, very drunk indeed. He carried heaped across his shoulders so marvelous a burden of gifts41 that the women saw why he was there, and they must have wondered anxiously when His Highness could have written his letter. His Highness, who did not mean to conceal what the man had brought him, still had no desire to show it off, and he wished angrily that he would behave himself. It was too late, though, and he had a gentlewoman bring the letter to him. Resolved to have no secrets on the matter, he opened the message, to find it written apparently in the hand of Her Highness the lady's stepmother.42 That made him feel a little better, and he put it down—a risky thing to do, whether or not someone else had written it for her! It said, “Please forgive my presumption, but I am afraid that despite all I did to encourage her, she felt too unwell.

  This maidenflower seems only to wilt and wilt in the morning dew—

  what, in settling and leaving, can the dew have ever done?”43

  Her writing had charm and distinction.

  “She might spare me her complaints!” he said. “All I really wanted was to be left in peace with you, and now this had to happen!” Actually, though, anyone could certainly have shared her resentment if he had been a commoner,44 who properly has one wife, not two, but in his case it was not really so. This had been bound to happen. The world knew that his destiny differed from that of the other Princes, and it would have raised no objection no matter how many women he had. It is unlikely that anyone pitied her. People apparently spoke of her good fortune because of the way he had taken her in so grandly and continued to honor and love her. The tragedy for her seems to have been that she found her position compromised suddenly, after he had let her become too accustomed to his intimacy. Why, she had always wondered, reading an old tale or listening to talk about somebody else, why does this aspect of life upset people so? But now that these difficulties touched her, she knew quite clearly that they were no joke.

  His Highness, who felt particularly sorry for her, was more than usually tender and attentive. “It is not right for you to eat nothing at all,” he said. He pressed her to take something, calling for the most pleasing refreshments and summoning an expert to make things specially for her, but they failed to appeal to her at all. “Ah,” he sighed, “it is too bad!”

  The sun was setting by now, and at dusk he went off to the main house. The chilly winds and splendid skies of the season stirred him to languorous thoughts, fond as he was of novelty; while to her, with all her cares, things were too painful to bear. A cicada's singing only made her miss the shadow of the hills.45

  “Nothing of that song, there, would have struck me at all, yet this autumn dusk,

  how a cicada's singing calls forth bitter, bitter thoughts!”

  This evening he set out before it was late. Seafolk might well have fished below her pillow46 while the cries of his escort receded into the distance, and she reproached herself as she lay there even for this. She remembered the sorrows he had caused her from the start and wished that it had never happened. And this condition that makes me so uncomfortable—how will it end? People in my family are so short-lived—perhaps I will not live after all! She did not regret the prospect, but it saddened her, and besides, it would be a very great sin. Such thoughts as these ran through her mind while she lay sleepless through the night.

  The next day Her Majesty felt unwell, and the whole court gathered to attend her, but it was only a slight indisposition and not serious at all. His Excellency withdrew from the palace at midday and invited the Counselor to accompany him; they drove away in the same carriage. He wondered about the ceremony tonight,47 which he seemed to want to be as magnificent as possible, although he could obviously do only so much and no more.48 He felt somewhat constrained in the Counselor's presence, but the Counselor was after all a very close relative, and having no one else of the kind to turn to, he no doubt felt that he would do perfectly to lend a special touch to the event. The Counselor came more quickly than usual49 and was a great help in all sorts of ways, since in his estimation the matter did not concern him and he felt no regret. His Excellency secretly found his attitude quite annoying.

  His Highness arrived some way into the evening. A seat had been prepared for him at the east end of the southern aisle in the main house. Eight tall stands were set out there in formally handsome array, bearing the usual dishes,50 and beside them two smaller stands, bearing in stylish fashion blossom-footed dishes containing rice cakes—but it is tiresome of me to record anything that ordinary. Upon noting how late it was, His Excellency went to have the gentlewomen remind His Highness that it was time,51 but His Highness was absorbed in dalliance and did not immediately go. The others present included two brothers of His Excellency's wife, the Intendant of the Left Gate Watch, and the Fujiwara Consultant.

  When at last His Highness appeared, he was a wonder to behold. His host, the Secretary Captain, offered him a wine cup and presented him with his meal. Others offered him their cups, turn by turn, and he drank two or three. The way the Counselor pressed wine on him rather made him smile. The Counselor must have been remembering how His Highness, who did not feel at home in this house, had once remarked what a tiresome place it was, but his grave expression betrayed nothing of the kind. He then proceeded to the east wing to entertain His Highness's retinue, among whom he knew a great many of the privy gentlemen. The six gentlemen of the fourth rank each received a set of women's robes and a long dress; the ten of the fifth got a triple-layered Chinese jacket and a train that acknowledged their station;52 and the four of the sixth got trousers and a damask long dress. Impatient at not being allowed to do better, His Excellency had made sure that these things were all exceptionally beautiful in color and finish. The gifts for His Highness's household staff and grooms were so grand as to border on the outrageous. Yes, crowded, brilliant scenes are well worth seeing, which is no doubt why tales always feature them, but unfortunately it seems to have been impossible to note everything.

  One of the Counselor's retainers had enjoyed little of all this opulence (perhaps he had been standing somewhere lost in shadows), and he whispered as they passed through the middle gate at Sanjō, on their way back, “Why will his lordship not act sensibly and marry into His Excellency's house? This solitary life of his is a bore!” The Counselor caught what he said and was quite amused. The man was probably envious because it was late and they were all tired, and because after their lavish welcome His Highness's people must still be lying about here and there, pleasantly drunk.

  The Counselor went in and lay down. How awkward these things are! he thought. In came the father, looking ever so grand, and everyone raised the lamp wicks and kept pressing wine on His Highness, even though we are all related. They certainly looked after him nicely! He remembered His Highness's figure with pleasure. Yes indeed, if I had a daughter of whom I thought highly, I would rather give her to him than send her to the palace; whic
h reminded him, I hear everyone with a daughter he wants His Highness to have also talks of offering her to the Minamoto Counselor—why, there seems to be nothing wrong with my reputation either! I am too unworldly and too old-fashioned, though. These prideful thoughts were followed by others. His Majesty is dropping hints, but what will I do when he makes up his mind, if I am still as reluctant as I am now? It would be a great honor, of course, but how would it actually turn out? I wonder. How happy I would be if by any chance she looked just like the Princess I lost! No, he did not really feel like refusing her.

  As so often, he slept poorly, and to relieve the boredom of lying awake he went to the room of Azechi,53 whom he preferred somewhat to the others, and spent the night there. It is not as though anyone would have taken any particular notice even if morning had come, but he arose in such haste and with such a preoccupied air that she was offended.

  “When neither of us has the leave of anyone to cross Barrier Brook,

  I regret to have my name known thanks to your attentions!”54

  He was touched and said,

  “At first glance indeed it may seem shallow enough, yet this Barrier Brook

  underneath runs on and on, its depths beyond all sounding. “55

  His mention of “depths” must only have confirmed her doubts, and she can hardly have liked this business of “shallow at first glance.”

  He opened the double doors. “Really, though,” he said, “come and see this sky! I wonder how you can just lie there and ignore it. I do not mean to put on airs, but seem to be sleeping less and less well, and when I lie awake night after night into a dawn like this, you know, I cannot help thinking over this life and the one to come.” Before leaving he thus turned her mind to other things. No doubt the grace of his looks made up for his lack of winning eloquence, for no one ever thought him unkind. Any woman to whom he had once addressed a playful word aspired to know him better, which may explain why among those who had gathered so eagerly to serve Her Highness his mother, many, in keeping with their station, nursed variously wounded feelings.

  His Highness was still better pleased when he saw his new lady by daylight.56 Her height was perfect, and the length of her sidelocks and the set of her head struck him as exceptionally lovely. Her skin had an exquisite tone, her face an imposing dignity, and her glance a quickness so daunting that he was completely satisfied. She lacked nothing worthy of a beauty. At twenty-one or -two she was no longer a girl, and nothing about her conveyed immaturity; she resembled a flower in brilliant bloom. The studied care of her upbringing had rounded her perfectly. Her father must have worried endlessly on her behalf. For sweet, yielding charm, though, he thought first of the other one in the wing of his own residence. This one answered bashfully enough when spoken to, but she was not excessively reserved, and she was both handsome and intelligent. Her thirty young gentlewomen and six page girls were all flawless, and as far as their dress was concerned, His Highness's distaste for commonplace formality had prompted her father instead to encourage an almost baffling chic. The favor enjoyed by His Highness, as well as his personal quality, had apparently made His Excellency even keener on this daughter than on his eldest, by his wife at Sanjō57 who had gone to the Heir Apparent.

  His Highness could not go easily to Nijō after that. Such restrictions affected him at his rank that he could not go out as he pleased during the day, so that he quickly settled into the southeast quarter,58 where he lived as he had done years before; and since he could not then after dark escape the house that claimed him to set off to Nijō she awaited him there in vain many and many a time, until it seemed to her that although she had expected nothing else, the reality of it was very cruel indeed. How true it is, she reflected, that this is no world for anyone with any sense to join in ignorance of her own worthlessness. Her regrets were so bitter that time after time she found it all but impossible to believe that she had actually come here over those mountain paths. She wanted desperately to go back—not so much that she wanted no more of him, since it would be wrong of her to treat him unkindly, but simply to seek a little peace and quiet. So her thoughts ran, and, not knowing what else to do, she overcame her modesty to write to the Counselor.

  “The Adept has let me know about the ceremony the other day, and I am therefore well informed,” she had written. “I owe you the deepest gratitude, since without your enduring kindness I should have been in great distress on behalf of those whom I have lost. I hope that you will allow me to thank you in person, if I may.”

  It was a serious letter on Michinokuni paper, and nothing about it sought to impress, but precisely that delighted him. Her gratitude for the solemnity given the customary memorial rites for His Highness was not at all exaggerated, but she certainly was sensitive to what he had done. She who normally shrank even from answering his notes had written neither explicitly nor fully, but her use of “in person” was a wonder and a joy, and it must have quite excited him. He deduced sadly that His Highness was neglecting her lately in favor of the pleasures of novelty, and although her note offered no touch of charm, he felt so sorry for her that he could not put it down. Instead he read and reread it.

  In his reply he wrote, “Thank you for your letter. I went there the other day with intentional discretion, feeling rather like a holy man myself. At the time I thought that the best thing to do. Your mention of my ‘enduring kindness’ suggests that you suspect me of feeling less by now, and I must protest. I shall do nothing without consulting you. Your obedient servant.” It was on white paper, thoroughly businesslike and formal.

  He went to call on her late the next day. Being also secretly in love, he was more attentive than necessary to his dress, giving each layer of his soft robes an extra, exquisite scent; and as if that were not enough, he fanned himself with a clove-dyed fan so that he wafted an indescribably delicious fragrance toward her.

  She herself now and again remembered their strange night together, and having seen how much more truly kind he was than other men, she must only have wished that things had turned out otherwise. She was no longer an innocent girl, and comparing him to the man who caused her such suffering must have made the difference between them all too plain, for she spared him the distance she usually put between them and, lest he think her unkind, admitted him this time within the blinds.59 She received him sitting some way back from a curtain placed against the blinds of the chamber.60

  “You have not actually invited me to visit you before,” he said, “but this unaccustomed gesture has given me great pleasure, and I would have come immediately if I had not gathered that His Highness might be here, so that I feared I might be unwanted. That is why I decided to come today. Perhaps my devotion over the years has found its reward, though, because I see that you have relaxed a little the space between us and that I am inside the blinds!”

  Still extremely shy, she felt at a loss for words. “After the pleasure of hearing about the other day,” she replied very circumspectly, “I thought how much I would regret it if as usual I kept my feelings to myself and never even tried to tell you how grateful I am.” She spoke from very far back, and her voice reached him only uncertainly, which aroused him further.

  “You are such a long way off!” he said. “To tell the truth, there is something that I should like to discuss with you.”

  She granted him that, and his heart pounded when he heard her move just a little closer, but he let none of it show and mastered himself better than ever. He hinted that to his mind His Highness's attitude, alas, left much to be desired, and he ventured to chide him for that and to console her as well. For some time he talked quietly on such topics as these.

  She could not very well voice her resentment, and she only gave him to understand that she blamed no one but herself,61 skirting the matter in a mere few words and begging him meanwhile to take her back for a visit to her mountain village.

  “That is not a service that is up to me alone to render you,” he said. “The best thing would be for you t
o bring the matter up honestly with His Highness and to do as he prefers. Otherwise the least misunderstanding might lead him to suspect some sort of foolishness, and that would be a disaster. Were it not for that, I would not hesitate a moment to devote my efforts to accompanying you there and back. His Highness knows quite well that he can trust me more readily than anyone else.” Nevertheless, he never really forgot how much he regretted what was past, and he went on to intimate that he would gladly take back what he had done, until by and by it began to grow dark, and she wished desperately that he would go.

  “I am afraid that I am unwell,” she said. “We must of course talk again when I feel a little better.” To his great chagrin he gathered that she was about to retire.

  “But when would you like to go?” he asked, to distract her. “The path there is very overgrown, and I should want to have it cleared a little.”

  She paused. “Early next month, I think—this month is nearly over. The best would be to keep it a secret. Why ask for leave and make an issue of it?”

  What a perfectly dear voice! he thought, and the memory of her sister came back to him so vividly that he could bear it no longer. From where he was sitting, leaning against a pillar, he softly reached under the blind and caught her sleeve.

  Oh, no! Not that! How awful! That was what she thought. What could she possibly have said? In silence she slipped farther from him, at which he came halfway under the blind himself, as though quite at home, and lay down beside her. “You do not understand!” he protested. “I am so delighted to know that you prefer secrecy; I just want to ask you whether I heard you rightly! How unfriendly you are! After all, it is not as though you had any need to treat me coldly!”