His poem:
_All the night through, it was of you I thought--_
_How is it in a house where is no other_
_To make rain forgotten?_
At noon people were talking about the flooding of the Kamo River, and
many went to see it, the Prince among them. He wrote:
How are you at present? I have just come back from
flood-seeing.
_The feeling of my heart, like the overflowing waters of the flood,_
_But deeper my heart's feeling._
Do you know this?
She wrote:
_Toward me the waters do not overflow._
_No depth lies there_
_Though the meadow is flooded._
Words are not enough.
In these words she replied to him; and his Highness made up his mind
to come, and ordered perfumery for himself. Just then his old nurse,
Jiju-no-Menoto, came up: "Where are you going?" she said,
"People are talking about it. She is no lady of high birth. If you
wish her to serve you, you may summon her here as a servant. Your
undignified goings-out are very painful for us. Many men go to her,
and some awkward thing may happen. All these improper things are
suggested by Ukon-no-Zo.[9] He accompanied the late Prince also. If
you wander out in the depths of night no good can come of it. I will
tell the Prime Minister[10] of the persons who accompany you in these
night visits. In the world there may be changes. No one can tell what
will happen to-morrow. The late Minister loved you much and asked the
present one to show you favour. You must keep yourself from these
indiscretions till worldly affairs are quite settled."
The Prince said: "Where shall I go? I am so bored, and am seeking
temporary recreation. People are foolish to make much of it."
He said this, although much hurt by the necessity for it. Besides that,
he thought her not unworthy of him and even wished to bring her to the
palace [as a concubine]. On the other hand, he reflected that in that
case things even more painful to hear would be said, and in his trouble
of mind days were passed.
At last he visited her. "I could not come in spite of my desires.
Please do not think that I neglect you. The fault is in you; I have
heard that there are many friends of yours who are jealous of me. That
makes me more reserved, and so many days have gone by."
The Prince talked gently, and said: "Now come for this night only.
There is a hidden place no one sees; there I can talk with tranquil
mind." The palanquin was brought near the veranda. She was forced to
enter it and went, without her own volition, with unsteady mind. She
kept thinking that people would know about it, but as the night was far
advanced no one found them out. The conveyance was quietly brought to a
corridor where no one was and he got out.
He whispered, "As the moon is very bright, get down quickly." She was
afraid, but hurriedly obeyed him. "Here there is no one to see us; from
this time we will meet here. At your honourable dwelling I am always
anxious about other men. I can never be at ease there." His words were
gentle, and when it was dawn he made her get into the palanquin and
said, "I wish to go with you, but as it is broad daylight I fear people
may think I have passed the night outside the Court."
He remained in the palace, and she on her way home thought of that
strange going out and of the rumours that would fly about--yet the
uncommonly beautiful features of the Prince at dawn were lingering in
her mind.
Her letter:
_Rather would I urge your early return at evening_
_Than ever again make you arise at dawn_
_It is so sorrowful._
His reply:
_To see you departing in the morning dew--_
_Comparing,_
_It were better to come back in the evening unsatisfied._
Let us drive away such thoughts. I cannot go out this
evening on account of the evil spirit [i.e., he might
encounter it]. Only to fetch you I venture.
She felt distress because this [sort of thing] could not go on always.
But he came with the same palanquin and said, "Hurry, hurry!" She felt
ashamed because of her maids, yet stole out into the carriage. At the
same place as last night voices were heard, so they went to another
building. At dawn he complained of the cock's crowing, and leading her
gently into the palanquin, went out [with her]. On the way he said, "At
such times as these, always come with me," and she--"How can it always
be so?" Then he returned.
Two or three days went by; the moon was wonderfully bright; she went to
the veranda to see it and there received a letter:
What are you doing at this moment? Are you gazing at the
moon?
_Are you thinking with me_
_Of the moon at the mountain's edge?_
_In memory lamenting the short sweet night--_
_Hearing the cock, awake too soon!_
More than usually pleasing was that letter, for her thoughts were then
dwelling on the bright moon-night when she was unafraid of men's eyes
at the Prince's palace.
The answer:
_That night_
_The same moon shone down--_
_Thinking so I gaze,_
_But unsatisfied is my heart,_
_And my eyes are not contented_
_With moon-seeing._
She mused alone until the day dawned. The next night the Prince came
again, but she knew not of it. A lady was living in the opposite house.
The Prince's attendant saw a palanquin stopping before it and said to
His Highness, "Some one has already come--there is a palanquin." "Let
us retire," said the Prince, and he went away. Now he could believe the
rumours. He was angry with her, yet being unable to make an end of it
he wrote: "Have you heard that I went to you last night? It makes me
unhappy that you don't know even that.
_Against the hill of pines where the maiden pines for me,_
_Waves were high--that I had seen._
_Yet to-day's sight, O ominous!"_[11]
She received the letter on a rainy day, O unlooked-for disaster! She
suspected slanderous tongues.
_You only are my always-waited-for island--_
_What waves can sweep it away!_
So she answered, but the Prince being somewhat troubled by the sight of
the previous night, did not write to her for a long time.
Yet at last:
_Love and misery in various shapes_
_Pass through my mind and never rest._
She wished to answer, but was ashamed to explain herself, so only wrote:
Let it be as you will, come or not, yet to part without
bitter feeling would lighten my sorrow.
From that time he seldom sent letters. One moon-bright night she was
lying with grieving thoughts. She envied the moon in its serene course
and could not refrain from writing to the Prince:
_In her deserted house_
_She gazes at the moon--_
_He is not coming_
_And she cannot reveal her heart--_
_There is none who will listen._
She sent her page to give the poem to Ukon-no-Zo. Just then the Prince
was talking with others before the King. When he retired from the
presence, Ukon-no-Zo offered the letter. "Prepare the palanquin," he
said, and he came to her. The lady was sitting near the veranda looking
at the sky, and feeling that some one was coming had had the sudaré
rolled down. He was not in his court robe, but in his soft, everyday
wear, which was more pleasing to her eye. He silently placed his poem
before her on the end of his fan, saying, "As your messenger returned
too soon without awaiting my answer--" She drew it towards her with her
own.
The Prince seemed to think of coming in, but went out into the garden,
singing, "My beloved is like a dew-drop on a leaf." At last he came
nearer, and said: "I must go to-night. I came secretly, but on such
a bright night as this none can escape being seen. To-morrow I must
remain within for religious duties, and people will be suspicious if
I am not at home." He seemed about to depart, when she--"Oh, that a
shower might come! So another brightness, more sweet than the heavenly
one, might linger here for a while!" He felt that she was more amiable
than others had admitted. "Ah, dear one," he said, and came up for a
while, then went away, saying:
_Unwillingly urged by the moon on her cloudy track_
_His body is going out, but not his heart_
When he was gone she had the sudaré rolled up and read his poem in the
moonlight.
_She is looking at the moon,_
_But her thoughts are all of me_
_Hearing this_
_It draws me to her side._
How happy! He seemed to have been thinking her a worthless woman, but
he has changed his mind, she thought. The Prince, on his side, thought
the lady would have some value for him when he wanted to be amused,
but even while he was thinking it, he was told that the Major-General
was her favourite and visited her in the daytime. Still others said,
"Hyobukyo is another of her lovers." The Prince was deterred by these
words and wrote no more.
One day His Highness's little page, who was the lover of one of her
maids, came to the house. While they were chattering the page was
asked if he had brought a letter, he answered: "No; one day my Lord
came here, but he found a palanquin at the gate. From that time he does
not write letters. Moreover, he has heard that others visit here."
When the boy was gone this was told. She was deeply humiliated. No
presumptuous thoughts nor desire for material dependence had been hers.
Only while she was loved and respected had she wished for intercourse.
Estrangement of any other kind would have been bearable, but her heart
was torn asunder to think that he should suspect her of so shameful
a thing. In the midst of mourning over her unfortunate situation, a
letter was brought her:
I am ill and much troubled these days. Of late I visited
your dwelling, but alas! at an unlucky time. I feel that
I am unmanly.
_Let it be--_
_I will not look toward the beach--_
_The seaman's little boat has rowed away._
Her answer:
You have heard unmentionable things about me. I am
humiliated and it is painful for me to write any more.
Perhaps this will be the last letter.
_Off the shore of_ { _aimlessness_
{ _Sodé_
_With burning heart and dripping sleeves,_
_I am he who drifts in the seaman's boat._
It was already the Seventh month. On the seventh day she received many
letters from elegant persons in deference to the celestial lovers,[12]
but her heart was not touched by them. She was only thinking that
she was utterly forgotten by the Prince, who had never lost such an
opportunity to write to her; but [at last] there came a poem:
_Alas! that I should become like the Herder-God_
_Who can only gaze at the Weaving One_
_Beyond the River of Heaven._
The lady saw that he could not forget her and she was pleased.
Her poem:
_I cannot even look towards that shore_
_Where the Herder-God waits:_
_The lover stars also might avoid me._
His Highness would read, and he would feel that he must not desert her.
Towards the moon-hidden day [end of the month] he wrote to her:
I am very lonely. Please write to me sometimes as to one
of your friends.
Her reply:
_Because you do not wake you cannot hear--_
_The wind is sighing in the reeds--_
_Ah, nights and nights of Autumn!_
The messenger who took the poem came back with one from him:
O my beloved, how can you think my sleep untroubled?
Lately sad thoughts have been mine and never sleep is
sound.
_The wind blows over the reeds--_
_I will not sleep, but listen_
_Whether its sigh thrills my heart._
After two or three days, towards evening, he came unexpectedly and made
his palanquin draw into the courtyard. As she had not yet seen him in
the daylight, he was abashed, he said, but there was no help for it. He
went away soon and did not write for so long that anxiety began to fill
her heart, so at last she sent:
_Wearily the Autumn days drag by--_
_From him no message--_
_Boding silence!_
Sweet are man's promises, but how different is the heart!
Then he wrote that, though he never forgot her, of late he could not
leave the palace.
_Though days pass_
_And others may forget_
_I can never lose the thought_
_That meeting in the evening_
_Of an Autumn day._
The lady was pitiable, having no one to depend on, and tried to sustain
herself with the uncertain consolations of a life of sentiment.
Reflection increased her wretchedness, and when the eighth month came
she went to Ishiyama Temple[13] to revive her doleful spirit intending
to remain there for seven days.
One day the Prince said to his page: "It is a long time since I wrote;
here is a letter for her." The page replied: "I went to her house the
other day and heard that she had lately gone to Ishiyama Temple."
"Then--it is already late in the day--to-morrow morning you shall go
there." He wrote a letter and the page went to Ishiyama with it.
Her mind was not in the presence of Buddha, but at home in the Royal
City. She was thinking that were she loved by him as at the beginning
there would have been no wandering like that. She was very sad, yet
sadness made her pray to the Buddha with all her heart.
Perceiving that some one approached, she looked down, wondering who it
might be. It was the Prince's page! As she had just been thinking of
the Prince, she hurriedly sent her maid to question him. The letter was
brought and opened with more agitation than usual. It was as follows:
You seem to be steeped in Buddha's teaching. It would
have given me pleasure to have been informed of it.
Surely I am not loved so deeply that I am a hindrance
to your devotion to Buddha. Only to think of your calm
makes me jealous.
The poem:
_Do you feel that my soul wanders after you,_
_Passing across the Barrier?_
_O ceaseless longing!_
When shall you return?
When she was in his neighbourhood he wrote but seldom--gratifying that
he should send a letter so far!
The answer:
_The way of_ { _meeting_
{ _Omi_ [14]
_She was thinking that he had quite forgotten--_
_Who can it be that is coming across the barrier?_
You ask when I shall go back--it is as yet uncertain.
_On the Mount_ { _Nagara_
{ _while being_
_My yearning is towards the_ { _Biwa lake_
{ _open water_
{ _Uchi de no Hama_
{ _The beach of going out_
_Does not lie towards_ { _Miyako_
{ _the royal city._
The Prince read her poems and said to the page: "I am sorry to trouble
you, but please go once more."
His poem:
_I sought for you in the_ { _Osaka Yama_
{ _mount of meeting_
_But though never forgetting you_
_My way was lost in the trackless valley._
His second poem:
_Being overwhelmed with sorrow_
_I wished to remain in retirement_
_But_ { _Omi no umi_
{ _the lake of meeting_
_Is beyond_ { _Uchi de no Hama_
{ _the beach of going out._
She wrote back only poems:
_Tears which could not be restrained at the barrier_
_Flow towards the_ { _Omi no umi--_
{ _lake of meeting_
And on the margin she wrote:
_Let me try you--_
_My own heart also,_
_Come and tempt me towards the royal city._
His Highness had never thought of going so far [to seek her], but he
thought he must go to her as he had received such a letter. He came and
they went back together.
His poem:
_Infelicitous love! Although entered into the Way of Eternal Law.[15]_
_Who was it came_
_And tempted back to the Royal City?_
The answer:
_Out of the mountain to the darker path I wander,_
_Because I met you once more._
Towards the moon-hidden day a devastating wind blew hard. It rained and
she was even sadder than usual, when a letter was brought. She thought
the Prince had not lost a fit occasion to inquire for her, and she
could harbour no hard thoughts of him.
His poem:
_In sorrow I gaze upon the sky of Autumn_
_The clouds are in turmoil_
_And the wind is high._
Her answer:
_A gentle wind of Autumn makes me sad_
_O day of storm--_
_No way to speak of it!_
The Prince thought in this he could read her true feeling, but days
passed before his visit.
It was after the tenth day of the Ninth month. He waked and saw the
morning moon.[16] It seemed a long time since he had seen her. He
felt that she was gazing at this moon, so followed by his page, he
knocked at her gate. The lady was lying awake and meditating, lost in
a melancholy which may have been due to the season. She wondered at
the knock, but knew not who the visitor might be. She waked the maid
lying beside her, who was in a sound sleep; the latter called out for
the manservant. When he went out, waking with difficulty, the knocking
had ceased and the visitor had gone. The guest must have thought her
a dull sleeper and been disheartened. Who was it likely to be? Surely
one of like mind with herself! Her man, who had gone out after much
rousing, and seen no one, complained that it was only her fancy. "Even
at night our mistress is restless--Oh, these unpeaceful persons!" Thus
he grumbled away, but went to sleep again at once.
The lady got up and saw the misty sky. When morning came she jotted
down her thoughts aimlessly, and while doing it received a letter:
_In the Autumn night_
_The pale morning moon was setting_
_When I turned away from the shut door._
He must have thought her a disappointing woman. Yet she was happy to
think that he never failed to associate her with every changing season
and came to her door when he was attracted by the lovely sight of the
sky, so she folded the notes she had just written and sent them to His
Highness.
The notes:
Sound of wind; wind blows hard as if it were determined
to blow away the last leaves on the branch. It grows
cloudy and threatening, rain patters slightly. I am
hopelessly desolate.
_Before the Autumn ends_
_My sleeves will be all rotted with tears,_
_The slow rains cannot do more to them._
I am sad, but no one remarks it; the leaves of trees and
plants change day by day and so affection in him. In
anticipation I feel the dreariness of the long winter
rains; the leaves are pitifully teased by the winds; the
drops on the leaves which may vanish at any moment--how
like they are to my own life!
The sight of the leaves ever reminds me strangely of
my own sadness. I cannot go within, but lie on the
veranda; mayhap my end is not far off. I feel a vague
anger that others are in comfortable sleep and cannot
sympathize with me. Just now I heard the faint cry of a
wild goose.[17] Others will not be touched by it, but I
cannot endure the sound.
_How many nights, alas!--_
_Sleepless--_
_Only the calls of the wild geese--_
Let me not pass the time in this way. I will open the
shutter and watch the moon declining towards the western
horizon. It seems distant and serenely transparent.
There is mist over the earth; together comes the sound
of the morning bell and the crowing of cocks. There will
be no moment like this in past or future. I feel that
the colour of my sleeves is new to me.
_Another with same thoughts_
_May be gazing at the pale morning moon_
_Of the Long-night month--_
_No sight is more sorrowful._
Now there comes a knocking at the gate. What does it
mean? Who passes the night with thoughts like mine?
_There is one of like mind with me_
_Musing upon the morning moon._
_But no way to find him out!_
[Illustration: "THE LADY GOT UP AND SAW THE MISTY SKY"]
She had meant to send the last poem only to the Prince, but when she
learned that it was His Highness himself who had come she sent all.
The Prince read and did not feel that his visit had been in vain, if
she also had been awake and sadly dreaming. He wrote promptly and the
letter was presented while she was gazing aimlessly. She opened it
anxiously and read:
First poem:
_She thinks her own sleeves only are wet_
_But another's also are rotting._
Second poem:
_Dew-life soon to vanish away,_
_Hangs long suspended in forgetfulness of self_
_On the long-blooming chrysanthemum flower._
Third poem:
_Sleepless the call of wild geese on the cloud-track_
_Yet the pain is from your own heart._
Fourth poem:
_There may be another with thoughts like mine,_
_Who is gazing toward the sky of the morning moon._
Fifth poem:
_Although not together_
_You too were gazing at the moon_
_Believing that I went this morning to your gate,_
_Alas!_
O that gate hard to be opened!
So her writing had not been uselessly sent!
Towards the moon-hidden day she had another letter. After excusing
himself for his late neglect he wrote:
I have an awkward thing to ask you. There is a lady with
whom I have been secretly intimate. She is going away
to a distant province and I want to send her a poem
which will touch her heart deeply. Everything you write
touches me, so please compose a poem for me.
She was unwilling conceitedly to carry out his wishes, but she thought
it too prudish to refuse him, so she wrote with the words: "How can I
satisfy you?"
Her poem:
_In the tears of regret_
_Your image will linger long_
_Even after chilly Autumn has gone by._
It is painful for me to write a heartfelt letter in your
place.
And on the margin she wrote:
_Leaving you, where can she go?_
_For me no other life._
The Prince wrote back:
Very good poem is all that I can say. I cannot say that
you have expressed my heart. Forsaking me she wanders
away.
_So let it be._
_Let me think of you, the unexcelled one._
_There is not another._
Thus I can live on.
It was the Tenth month and more than ten days had passed before the
Prince came to her.
"The inner room is too dark and makes me restless. Let me sit here near
the veranda." He said many heart-touching and tender words. She could
not help being pleased. The moon was hidden and rain came pattering
down; the scene was in harmony with their feeling. Her heart was
disturbed with mingled emotions. The Prince perceived her feeling and
thought: "Why is she so much slandered by others? She is always here
alone sorrowing thus." He pitied her and startled the lady a little
whose head was bowed in distress on her hand by reciting a poem:
_It is not dripping rain nor morning dew_
_Yet here lying, strangely wet are the sleeves of the arm-pillow._
She was overwhelmed by feeling and could not speak, but he saw her
tears glistening in the moonlight. He was touched and said: "Why do you
not speak? Have my idle words displeased you?" She replied: "I do not
know why, but I feel that my heart is anguished, though your words are
in my ears. You will see," she went on lightly; "I shall never forget
your poem on the sleeves of the arm-pillow."
Thus the pitiful sad night was passed, and the Prince saw that she had
no other lover. He was sorry to go away from her in the early dawn, and
immediately sent a message: "How are you to-day? Are the tears dry this
morning?"
Her answer:
_In the morning they were dry,_
_For only in a dream_
_Were the sleeves of the arm-pillow wet._
He read it and smiled at the word "arm-pillow" which she had said she
should never forget.
His poem:
_You say it was only in a dream_
_That the sleeves were wet with tears:_
_Yet I cannot dry them--the sleeves of the arm-pillow._
I have never experienced so sorrow-sweet an autumnal
night. Was it the influence of the time?
After that he could not live without seeing her, and visited her
oftener. As he saw her more intimately he saw that she was not a
faithless woman. Her helpless situation touched his heart more and
more, and he became deeply sympathetic with her. Once he said to her:
"Even though you live on thus in solitude, I shall never forget you,
but it would be better to come to my palace. All these slanderous
rumours are due to your living alone. I for my part never met any men
[here]; is it because I come from time to time? Yet others tell me
very improper things about you which should not be heard; it made me
unspeakably sad to turn away from your shut gate. Remembering that
you are living in loneliness I sometimes have made a decision; yet
being old-fashioned in my ways I hesitated to tell you of it because
I anticipated the profound sadness with which you would hear these
rumours; nevertheless, I cannot continue our relations in this way. I
fear that the rumour might become true; then I should not be allowed
to come, and you would become for me like the moon in the Heavenly
way. If you really feel the loneliness you speak of, please come to
me. There are many persons living there [in his palace], yet you will
have no feeling of constraint. As I have been unhappy in my domestic
relations, I do not linger in that desolate region [the house of his
Princess]; but am always alone, performing religious services; I hope
that my loneliness may be lessened by talking with you whose mind is in
sympathy with mine."
[Illustration: "STRANGELY WET ARE THE SLEEVES OF THE ARM-PILLOW"]
Her feeling was opposed to such a thing; she had never told him about
the late Prince. Yet there was no mountain retreat to which she could
fly from World-troubles and her present condition seemed like a
never-ending night. There had been many men who had wanted her; hence
many strange reports were flying about. She could have confidence in no
one but the Prince, so she was much tempted.
She thought: "He has his wife, yet she lives in a detached house, the
nurse does all for him. If I show my affection and take pride in it, I
shall be much blamed; my wish is that he should hide me from the world."
"Though to be visited by you is a rare occurrence, such a time soothes
my heart; there is nothing else. So let anything happen, I will yield
to your every wish. Elsewhere they are saying ugly things about us; if
they see the fact accomplished, how much harder their words will be!"
"Those harsh words will be said about me, not you, at any rate. I will
find you a completely retired house where we can talk tranquilly." He
gave her much hope, and went away in the depths of night--the barred
door [outer strong gate of lattice work] had been left open [for that
purpose].
She thought within herself, being much troubled: "If I continue to live
alone, I can keep myself respected. If I were forsaken by him in his
palace, I should be laughed at."
After she retired this poem came:
_I went along the path when night was opening._
_Sodden were they,_
_The sleeves of the arm-pillow._
"That idle fancy of the sleeves he has not forgotten." This pleased her.
Her poem:
_Your sleeves are wet with the dews on the grass of the morning path._
_The sleeves of my arm-pillow are wet, but not with dew._
The next night the moon was very bright. Here and there people were
gazing at it. The next morning the Prince wanted to send her a poem and
was waiting for the page [to take it]. The lady, too, had noticed the
whiteness of the hoar-frost [and sent this poem]:
_There was frost on the sleeves of the arm-pillow,_
_And in the morning,_
_Lo! A frost-white world!_
The Prince was sorry the lady had got ahead of him. He said to himself:
"The night was passed yearning after the beloved and frost--"
Just then the page presented himself and His Highness said, with some
temper, handing his letter to the page: "Her messenger has already
come; I am beaten. I wish you had come earlier." The page ran to her,
and said: "I had been summoned before your messenger got there. I was
late and he is angry." The lady read the letter:
The moon last night was very bright,
_In a frosty morning_
_I await_
_With hope unwarranted_
_One who cannot be expected._
His letter seemed not to have been suggested by hers, and she was
pleased that His Highness had been in the same mood with herself.
Her poem:
_I did not sleep, gazing at the moon all night_
_But the dawning of the day_
_Was in whiteness of hoar-frost._
You are angry with the page. He is very sorry, and it
awakes my pity.
_The morning sun shines on the frost_
_So, like the sun, your face._
Two or three days passed without a word from him. Her heart was in his
promise which gave her hope, but she could not sleep for anxiety. While
lying awake in bed, she heard a knocking at the gate. It was just dawn.
"What can it be?" she wondered, and sent a servant to inquire. It was
the Prince's letter. It was an unusual hour for it and she wondered
sorrowfully whether the Prince had been conscious of her emotion. She
opened her shutter and read this letter in the moonlight:
_Do you see that the little night opens_[18]
_And on the ridge of the mountain, serenely bright,_
_Shines the moon of a night of Autumn?_
The bridge across the garden pond was clearly seen in the moonlight.
The door was shut, and she thought of the messenger outside the gate
and hastened her answer:.
_The night opens and I cannot sleep,_
_Yet I am dreaming dreams,_
_And, loving them, the moon I do not see._
The Prince thought the answer not invented, and that it would be
amusing to have her near him, to respond to his every fancy. After two
days he came quietly in a palanquin for women. It was the first time
she had shown herself to him in full[19] daylight, but it would be
unfriendly to creep away and hide, so she went to welcome him, creeping
a little nearer to the entrance. He excused himself for the absence of
those days and said: "Make up your mind quickly as to the thing I spoke
of the other day. I am always uneasy in these wanderings, yet more
uneasy when I cannot see you. O troublesome are the ways of this absurd
world!"
She replied: "I wish to yield to your mind, whatever it may be, yet
my thoughts are troubled when I anticipate my fate and see myself
neglected by you afterwards."
He said: "Try it, I can come very seldom." And he went away. On the
hedge there was a beautiful mayumi[20] and the Prince, leaning against
the balustrade:
_Our words are like these leaves,_
_Ever coloured deeper and deeper--_
And she took it up [completing the 31-syllable poem he had begun]:
_Although it is only the pearl dew that deepens them._
The Prince was pleased and thought her not without taste.
He seemed very elegant. He was attired as usual, his underdress
exquisite. Her eye was much charmed, and she thought that she was too
frivolous [to be thinking about it].
Next day he wrote:
Yesterday I was sorry that you were embarrassed, yet the
more attracted by it.
She answered:
_The Goddess of Mount Katuragi[21] would have felt so too--_
_There is no bridge across the way of Kumé._