Half-unconsciously she took her place by his side. He pushed aside a small shawl which covered her hair, and played with her long tresses, and then he took her small hand in his. “Ah, my hand!” cried she, and drawing it back, she ran into a neighboring room. Genji followed her, and tried to coax her out of her shyness, telling her that he was one of her best friends, and that she was not to be so timid.
By this time darkness had succeeded to the beautiful evening, and hail began to fall.
“Close the casement, it is too fearful, I will watch over you this evening,” said Genji, as he led the girl away, to the great surprise of Shiânagon and others who wondered at his ease in doing this.
By and by she became sleepy, and Genji, as skilfully as any nurse could, removed all her outer clothing, and placed her on the couch to sleep, telling her as he sat beside her, “some day you must come with me to some beautiful palace, and there you shall have as many pictures and playthings as you like.” Many other similar remarks he added to arrest her attention and to please her.
Her fears gradually subsided, and as she kept looking on the
handsome face of Genji, and taking notice of his kindness, she did not fall asleep for some time.
When the night was advanced, and the hailstorm had passed away, Genji at last took his departure. The temperature now suddenly changed, and the hail was lying white upon the grass. “Can it be,” thought he, “that I am leaving this place as a lover?” At that moment he remembered that the house of a maiden with whom he had had an acquaintance was on his road home. When he came near to it he ordered one of his attendants to knock at the door. No one, however, came forth. Thereupon Genji turned to another, who had a remarkably good voice, and ordered him to sing the following lines:—
“Though wandering in the morning gray,
This gate is one I cannot pass,
A tender memory bids me stay
To see once more a pretty lass.”
This was repeated twice, when presently a man came to the door and sang, in reply, as follows:—
“If you cannot pass the gate,
Welcome all to stop and wait.
Nought prevents you. Do not fear,
For the gate stands always here.”
And then went in, slamming the door in their faces, and appearing no more. Genji, therefore disappointed, proceeded on his way home.
On the morrow he took up his pen to write a letter to Violet, but finding that he had nothing in particular to say, he laid it aside, and instead of a letter several beautiful pictures were sent for her.
From this time Koremitz was sent there very often, partly to do them service, and partly to watch over their movements. At last the time when the girl's father was to take her home approached within a night, and Shiânagon was busily occupied in sewing a dress for the girl, and was thus consequently unable to take much notice of Koremitz when he arrived. Noting these preparatory arrangements, Koremitz at once hastened to inform Genji about them. He happened to be this evening at the mansion of Sadaijin, but Lady Aoi was not, as was often the case, with him, and he was amusing himself there with thumping a wagon as he sang a “Hitachi” song, Koremitz presented himself before him, and gave him the latest information of what was going on.
Genji, when he had listened to Koremitz, thought, “This will never do; I must not lose her in this way. But the difficulty is indeed perplexing. If, on the one hand, she goes to her father, it will not become me to ask him for her. If, on the other hand, I carry her off, people may say that I stole her. However, upon consideration, this latter plan, if I can manage to shut people's mouths beforehand, will be much better than that I should demand her from her father.”
So, turning to Koremitz, he said, “I must go there. See that the carriage is ready at whatever hour I may appoint. Let two or three attendants be in readiness.” Koremitz, having received these orders, retired.
Long before dawn broke, Genji prepared to leave the mansion. Lady Aoi, as usual, was a little out of temper, but Genji told her that he had some particular arrangements to make at his mansion at Nijiâ, but that he would soon return to her. He soon started, Koremitz alone following him on horseback.
On their arrival Koremitz proceeded to a small private entrance and announced himself. Shiânagon recognized his voice and came out, and upon this he informed her that the Prince had come. She, presuming that he did so only because he happened to pass by them, said, “What! at this late hour?” As the spoke, Genji came up and said:—
“I hear that the little one is to go to the Prince, her father, and I wish to say a few words to her before she goes.”
“She is asleep; really, I am afraid that she cannot talk with you at this hour. Besides, what is the use?” replied Shiânagon, with a smile.
Genji, however, pressed his way into the house, saying:—
“Perhaps the girl is not awake yet, but I will awake her,” and, as the people could not prevent his doing so, he proceeded to the room where she was unconsciously sleeping on a couch. He shook her gently. She stared up, thinking it was her father who had come.
Genji pushed the hair back from her face, as he said to her, “I am come from your father;” but this she knew to be false, and was alarmed. “Don't be frightened,” said Genji; “there is nothing in me to alarm you.” And in spite of Shiânagon's request not to disturb her, he lifted her from the couch, abruptly saying that he could not allow her to go elsewhere, and that he had made up his mind that he himself would be her guardian. He also said she should go with him, and that some of them should go with her.
Shiânagon was thunderstruck. “We are expecting her father to-morrow, and what are we to say to him?” She added, “Surely, you can find some better opportunity to manage matters than this.”
“All right, you can come afterward; we will go first,” retorted Genji, as he ordered his carriage to drive up.