The Tale of Genji . Murasaki Shikibu
I’ve lost. Let’s just see what I have in the corners.” She counted up on her fingers. “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty.” She would have had no trouble, he thought, taking the full count of the baths of Iyo — though her manner might have been just a touch inelegant.
The other woman, a model of demureness, kept her face hidden. Gazing at her, Genji was able to make out the details of the profile. The eyelids seemed a trifle swollen, the lines of the nose were somewhat erratic, and there was a weariness, a want of luster, about the face. It was, one had to admit, a little on the plain side. Yet she clearly paid attention to her appearance, and there were details likely to draw the eye to a subtler sensibility than was evident in her lively companion. The latter, very engaging indeed, laughed ever more happily. There was no denying the bright gaiety, and in her way she was interesting enough. A shallow, superficial thing, no doubt, but to his less than pure heart she seemed a prize not to be flung away. All the ladies he knew were so prim and proper. This was the first time he had seen one so completely at her ease. He felt a little guilty, but not so guilty that he would have turned away had he not heard the boy coming back. He slipped outside.
Apologetic that his master should still be at the beginning, the boy said that the unexpected guest had interfered with his plans.
“You mean to send me off frustrated once more? It is really too much.”
“No, sir. But I must ask you to wait until the other lady has gone. I’ll arrange everything then, I promise you.”
Things seemed to be arranging themselves. The boy was very young, but he was calmly self-possessed and had a good eye for the significant things.
The game of Go was apparently over. There was a stir inside, and a sound as of withdrawing.
“Where will that boy have gone?” Now there was a banging of shutters. “Let’s get the place closed up.”
“No one seems to be stirring,” said Genji after a time. “Go and do your best.”
The boy knew well enough that it was not his sister’s nature to encourage frivolity. He must admit Genji when there was almost no one with her.
“Is the guest still here?” asked Genji. “I would like a glimpse of her.”
“Quite impossible. There are curtains inside the shutters.”
Genji was amused, but thought it would be bad manners to let the boy know that he had already seen the lady. “How slowly time does go by.”
This time the boy knocked on the corner door and was admitted.
“I’ll just make myself comfortable here,” he said, spreading bed-clothes where one or two of the sliding doors had been left open. “Come in, breezes.”
Numbers of older women seemed to be sleeping out near the veranda. The girl who had opened the door seemed to have joined them. The boy feigned sleep for a time. Then, spreading a screen to block the light, he motioned Genji inside.
Genji was suddenly shy, fearing he would be defeated once more. He followed the boy all the same. Raising a curtain, he slipped into the main room. It was very quiet, and his robes rustled alarmingly.
With one part of her mind the woman was pleased that he had not given up. But the nightmare of the earlier evening had not left her. Brooding days, sleepless nights — it was summer, and yet it was “budless spring.”
Her companion at Go, meanwhile, was as cheerful as could be. “I shall stay with you tonight,” she announced. It was not likely that she would have trouble sleeping.
The lady herself sensed that something was amiss. Detecting an unusual perfume, she raised her head. It was dark where the curtain had been thrown over the frame, but she could see a form creeping toward her. In a panic, she got up. Pulling a singlet of raw silk over her shoulders, she slipped from the room.
Genji was delighted to see that there was only one lady asleep behind the curtains. There seemed to be two people asleep out toward the veranda. As he pulled aside the bedclothes it seemed to him that the lady was somewhat larger than he would have expected. He became aware of one odd detail after another in the sleeping figure, and guessed what had happened. How very stupid! And how ridiculous he would seem if the sleeper were to awaken and see that she was the victim of a silly mistake. It would be equally silly to pursue the lady he had come for, now that she had made her feelings so clear. A new thought came to him: might this be the girl who had so interested him in the lamplight? If so, what had he to lose? It will be observed that a certain fickleness was at work.
The girl was now awake, and very surprised. Genji felt a little sorry for her. But though inexperienced in the ways of love, she was bright and modern, and she had not entirely lost her composure. He was at first reluctant to identify himself. She would presently guess, however, and what did it matter if she did? As for the unfriendly one who had ned him and who was so concerned about appearances — he did have to think of her reputation, and so he said to the girl that he had taken advantage of directional taboos to visit her. A more experienced lady would have had no trouble guessing the truth, but this one did not sense that his explanation was a little forced. He was not displeased with her, nor was he strongly drawn to her. His heart was resentfully on the other. No doubt she would be off in some hidden chamber gloating over her victory. She had shown a most extraordinary firmness of purpose. In a curious way, her hostility made her memorable. The girl beside him had a certain young charm of her own, and presently he was deep in vows of love.
“The ancients used to say that a secret love runs deeper than an open one.” He was most persuasive. “Think well of me. I must worry about appearances, and it is not as if I could go where my desires take me. And you: there are people who would not at all approve. That is sad. But you must not forget me.”
“I’m afraid.” Clearly she was afraid. “I won’t be able to write to you.”
“You are right that we would not want people to know. But there is the little man I brought with me tonight. We can exchange notes through him. Meanwhile you must behave as if nothing had happened.” He took as a keepsake a summer robe the other lady seemed to have thrown off.
The boy was sleeping nearby. The adventure was on his mind, however, and Genji had no trouble arousing him. As he opened the door an elderly serving woman called out in surprise.
Who’s there?
“Just me,” replied the boy in some confusion.
“Wherever are you going at this time of the night?” The woman came out, wishing to be helpful.
“Nowhere,” said the boy gruffly. “Nowhere at all.”
He pushed Genji through the door. Dawn was approaching. The woman caught sight of another figure in the moonlight.
“And who is with you? Oh, Mimbu, of course. Only Mimbu reaches such splendid heights.” Mimbu was a lady who was the victim of much humor because of her unusual stature. So he was out walking with Mimbu, muttered the old woman. “One of these days you’ll be as tall as Mimbu yourself.” Chattering away, she followed after them. Genji was horrified, but could not very well shove her inside. He pulled back into the darkness of a gallery.
Still she followed. “You’ve been with our lady, have you? I’ve been having a bad time with my stomach these last few days and I’ve kept to my room. But she called me last night and said she wanted more people around. I’m still having a terrible time. Terrible,” she muttered again, getting no answer. “Well, goodbye, then.”
She moved on, and Genji made his escape. He saw more than ever how dangerous these adventures can be.
The boy went with him to Nijō. Genji recounted the happenings of the night. The boy had not done very well, he said, shrugging his shoulders in annoyance at the thought of the woman’s coldness. The boy could find no answer.
“I am rejected, and there is nothing to be done for me. But why could s e not have sent a pleasant answer? I’m no match for that husband of hers. That’s where the