Reflecting how he might on some future occasion convey a message to the lady, and looking back several times, he presently quitted the house and returned to the mansion of his father-inlaw.
During some days succeeding the above events, he was staying at the mansion with his bride. His thoughts, however, were now constantly turning to the lady on the bank of the middle river. He therefore summoned Ki-no-Kami before him, and thus addressed him:—
“Cannot you let me have the boy, the son of the late Chiûnagon27 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!
It was beautifully written, and as her eyes fell upon the passionate words, a mist gathered over them, and a momentary thought of her own life and position once more flashed over her mind, and without a word of comment to the boy, she retired to rest.
A few days afterwards Kokimi was again invited to join the Prince. Thereupon he asked his sister to give him an answer to the Prince's letter.
“Tell the Prince,” she said, “there is no one here who reads such letters.”
“But,” said the boy, “he does not expect such an answer as this! How can I tell him so?”
At first, she half-resolved to explain everything to Kokimi, and to make him thoroughly understand why she ought not to receive such letters, but the effort was too painful, so she simply said, “It is all the better for you not to talk in that way. If you think it so serious why should you go to him at all?”
“Yet, how can I disobey his commands to go back?” exclaimed the boy, and so he returned to Genji without any written answer to him.
“I was weary of waiting for you. Perhaps you, too, had forgotten me,” said Genji, when he saw the boy, who was, however, silent and blushed. “And what answer have you brought me?” continued Genji, and then the boy replied in the exact words which his sister had used.
“What?” cried Genji, and continued, “Perhaps you may not know, so I will tell you. I knew your sister before she knew Iyo. But she likes to treat me so because she thinks she has got a very good friend in Iyo; but do you be like a brother to me. The days of Iyo will be probably fewer than mine.”
He now returned to the Palace taking Kokimi with him, and, going to his dressing-room, attired him nicely in the Court style; in a word, he treated him as a parent would do.
By the boy's assistance several more letters were conveyed to his sister. Her resolution, however, remained unshaken.
“If one's heart were once to deviate from the path,” she reflected, “the only end we could expect would be a damaged reputation and misery for life: the good and the bad result from one's self!”
Thus thinking, she resolved to return no answer. She might, indeed, have admired the person of Genji, and probably did so, yet, whenever such feelings came into her mind, the next thought that suggested itself was, “What is the use of such idle admiration?”
Meanwhile, Genji was often thinking of paying a visit to the house where she was staying, but he did not consider it becoming to do so, without some reasonable pretext, more especially as he would have been sorry, and for her sake more than his own, to draw a suspicion upon her.
It happened, however, after a prolonged residence at the Court, that another occasion of closing the Palace in the certain celestial line of direction arrived. Catching at this opportunity he left the Palace, and suddenly turning out of his road, went straight to Kino-Kami's residence, with the excuse that he had just discovered the above fact on his way. Ki-no-Kami surprised at this unexpected visit, had only to bow before him, and acknowledge the honor of his presence. The boy, Kokimi, was already there before him, having been secretly informed of his intention beforehand, and he attended on him as usual in his apartment on his arrival.
The lady, who had been told by her brother that the Prince earnestly desired to see her, knew well how dangerous it was to approach an inviting flower growing on the edge of a precipice. She was not, of course, insensible to his coming in such a manner, with an excuse for the sake of seeing her, but she did not wish to increase her dream-like inquietude by seeing him. And again, if he ventured to visit her apartment, as he did before, it might be a serious compromise for her.
For these reasons she retired while her brother was with Genji, to a private chamber of Chiûjiâ, her companion, in the rear of the main building, under the pretence that her own room was too near that of the Prince, besides she was indisposed and required “Tataki,”28 which she desired to have done in a retired part of the house.
Genji sent his attendants very early to their own quarters, and then, through Kokimi, requested an interview with the lady. Kokimi at first was unable to find her, till after searching everywhere, he, at last, came to the apartment of Chiûjiâ, and with great earnestness endeavored to persuade her to see Genji, in an anxious and half trembling voice, while she replied in a tone slightly angry, “What makes you so busy? Why do you trouble yourself? Boys carrying such messages are highly blamable.”
After thus daunting him, she added, more mildly, “Tell the Prince I am somewhat indisposed, and also that some friends are with me, and I cannot well leave them now.” And she again cautioned the boy not to be too officious, and sent him away from her at once.
Yet, at the bottom of her heart, different feelings might have been struggling from those which her words seemed to express, and some such thoughts as these shaped themselves to her mind: “Were I still a maiden in the home of my beloved parents, and occasionally received his visits there, how happy might I not be? How trying to act as if no romantic sentiment belonged to my heart!”
Genji, who was anxiously waiting to know how the boy would succeed in persuading his sister, was soon told that all his efforts were in vain. Upon hearing this he remained for some moments silent, and then relieved his feelings with a longdrawn sigh, and hummed:—
“The Hahaki-gi29 distant tree
Spreads broom-like o'er the silent waste;
Approach, how changed its shape we see,
In vain we try its shade to taste.”
The lady was unable to sleep, and her thoughts also took the following poetic shape:—
Too like the Hahaki-gi tree,
Lonely and humble, I must dwell,
Nor dare to give a thought to thee,
But only sigh a long farewell.
All the other inmates of the house were now in a sound slumber, but sleep came not to Genji's eyes. He did, indeed, admire her immovable and chaste nature, but this only drew his heart more towards her. He was agitated. At one moment he cried, “Well, then!” at another, “However!” “Still!” At last, turning to the boy, he passionately exclaimed, “Lead me to her at once!”
Kokimi calmly replied, “It is impossible, too many eyes are around us!”
Genji with a sigh then threw himself back on the cushion, saying to Kokimi, “You, at least, will be my friend, and shall share my apartment!”