“Honored Sir, the next village is far; and the snow is falling thickly.
The wind is piercing; and the road is very bad. Therefore, to proceed
further this night would probably be dangerous. Although this hovel is
unworthy of your presence, and although we have not any comfort to
offer, perhaps it were safer to remain to-night under this miserable
roof... We would take good care of your horse.”
Tomotada accepted this humble proposal,—secretly glad of the chance
thus afforded him to see more of the young girl. Presently a coarse but
ample meal was set before him; and the girl came from behind the
screen, to serve the wine. She was now reclad, in a rough but cleanly
robe of homespun; and her long, loose hair had been neatly combed and
smoothed. As she bent forward to fill his cup, Tomotada was amazed to
perceive that she was incomparably more beautiful than any woman whom
he had ever before seen; and there was a grace about her every motion
that astonished him. But the elders began to apologize for her, saying:
“Sir, our daughter, Aoyagi,[1] has been brought up here in the
mountains, almost alone; and she knows nothing of gentle service. We
pray that you will pardon her stupidity and her ignorance.” Tomotada
protested that he deemed himself lucky to be waited upon by so comely a
maiden. He could not turn his eyes away from her—though he saw that his
admiring gaze made her blush;—and he left the wine and food untasted
before him. The mother said: “Kind Sir, we very much hope that you will
try to eat and to drink a little,—though our peasant-fare is of the
worst,—as you must have been chilled by that piercing wind.” Then, to
please the old folks, Tomotada ate and drank as he could; but the charm
of the blushing girl still grew upon him. He talked with her, and found
that her speech was sweet as her face. Brought up in the mountains as
she might have been;—but, in that case, her parents must at some time
been persons of high degree; for she spoke and moved like a damsel of
rank. Suddenly he addressed her with a poem—which was also a
question—inspired by the delight in his heart:—
“Tadzunétsuru,
Hana ka toté koso,
Hi wo kurasé,
Akénu ni otoru
Akané sasuran?”
[“_Being on my way to pay a visit, I found that which I took to be a
flower: therefore here I spend the day... Why, in the time before dawn,
the dawn-blush tint should glow—that, indeed, I know not._”][2]