The messenger came back with his poem:
_Were my devotion to be rewarded_
_How could I stop,_
_Though bridge were none at Katuragi San._
After that he came oftener, and her tiresome days were lightened.
But her old friends also sent letters and visited her, too, so she
wanted to go to the Prince's palace at once, lest some unlucky thing
should occur; yet her heart was anxious and hesitating.
One day he sent word: "Maple trees of the mountain are very beautiful.
Come! let us go together to see them." She answered, "I shall be glad
to do it." But the appointed day came and his Highness wrote: "To-day
I must confine myself for a religious service." But that night it
stormed, and the leaves were all gone from the trees. She waked and
wrote to the Prince how sorry she was that they could not have gone the
previous day.
His answer:
_In the Godless month[22] it stormed--_
_To-day I dream and dream_
_And wonder if the storm was within my heart._
She returned:
_Was it a rainstorm? How my sleeves are wet!_
_I cannot tell--but muse profoundly._
After the night storm there are no more maple leaves. O
that we could have gone to the mountain yesterday!
His Highness returned:
O that we might have gone to see the maple leaves, for
this morning it is useless to think of it.
And on the margin there was a poem:
_Though I believe_
_No maple leaves are hanging on the boughs,_
_Yet we may go to see_
_If scattering ones remain._
And she answered:
_Were the mountains of evergreens to change into red leaves,_
_Then we would go to see them_
_With tranquil, tranquil hearts._
My poem will make you laugh!
The night came and the Prince visited her. As her dwelling was in an
unlucky direction,[23] he came to take her out of it.
"For these forty-five days I shall stop at my cousin's, the
Lieutenant-General of the Third Rank, on account of the unlucky
direction [of my own house]. It is rather embarrassing to take you to
that unfamiliar place." Yet he dared to take her there. The palanquin
was drawn into its shelter [small house built for it]; the Prince got
out and walked away alone, and she felt very lonesome. When all were
asleep he came to take her in and talked about various things. The
guards, who were curious about it, were walking to and fro. Ukon-no-Zo
and the page waited near the Prince. His feeling for her was so intense
at this moment that all the past seemed dull. When day dawned he took
her back to her own home, and hurriedly returned himself to get back
before people woke up.
She could no longer disregard the earnest and condescending wish of His
Highness, and she could no more treat him with indifference. She made
up her mind to go to live with him. She received kind advice against
it, but did not listen. As she had been unhappy, she wanted to yield
herself to good fortune; yet when she thought of the court servitude
she hesitated and said to herself: "It is not my inmost wish. I yearn
for a retired religious life far away from worldly troubles. What
shall I do when I am forsaken by the Prince? People will laugh at my
credulity. Or shall I live on as I am? Then I can associate with my
parents and brothers; moreover, I can look after my child,[24] who
seems now like an encumbrance." Nevertheless, at last she wanted to go,
and she did not write her heart to the Prince, for she thought he would
know everything about her if they should live together. Her old friends
sent letters, yet she did not answer them saying [to herself]: "There
is nothing to write."
A letter from the Prince--in it was written: "I was a fool to believe
in you." His words were few. There was an old poem:
_You are faithless, yet I will not complain._
_As the silent sea_
_Deep is the hate in my heart._
Her heart was broken. There were many extraordinary rumours about her,
yet there were days when she believed that no harm could come of a
false rumour. Some one must have slandered her, suspecting that she
was yielding to the earnest desires of the Prince and going to live at
the palace.
She was sad, but could not write to him. She was ashamed to think of
what the Prince might have heard. The Prince, seeing that she did not
explain herself, wrote to her again:
Why do you not answer? Now I believe in the rumour. How
swiftly your heart changes! I heard something I did not
believe, and wrote to you that you might wipe away such
unpleasant thoughts from my mind.
These words opened [i.e. lightened] her bosom a little. She wanted to
know what he had heard and suddenly the wish to see him came to her.
O could you come to me this instant! I hunger to see
thee, but cannot go because I am buried in slander.
The Prince wrote back:
You are too afraid of slanders and I read your mind in
this caution. I am angry about it.
She thought he was teasing her, yet it saddened her, and she replied: