The Tale of Genji

The Safflower

1

Though the years might forget the evening face that had been with him such a short time and vanished like the dew, Genji could not. His other ladies were proud and aloof, and her pretty charms were unlike any others he had known. Forgetting that the affair had ended in disaster, he would ask himself if he might not find another girl, pretty and of not too high a place in the world, with whom he might be as happy. He missed no rumor, however obscure, of a well−favored lady, and (for he had not changed) he felt confident in each instance that a brief note from him would not be ignored. The cold and unrelenting ones seemed to have too grand a notion of their place in the world, and when their proud ambition began to fail it failed completely and in the end they made very undistinguished marriages for themselves. His inquiries usually ended after a note or two.

He continued to have bitter thoughts about the governor's wife, the lady of the locust shell. + As for her stepdaughter, he favored her with notes, it would seem, when suitable occasions arose. He would have liked to see her again as he had seen her then, in dishabille by lamplight. He was a man whose nature made it impossible for him to forget a woman.

2

One of his old nurses, of whom he was only less fond than of Kore−mitsu's mother, had a daughter named Tayu~, a very susceptible young lady who was in court service and from time to time did favors for Genji. Her father belonged to a cadet branch of the royal family. Because her mother had gone off to the provinces with her present husband, the governor of Chikuzen, Tayu~ lived in her father's house and went each day to court. She chanced to tell Genji that the late prince Hitachi had fathered a daughter in his old age. The princess had enjoyed every comfort while she had had him to dote upon her, but now she was living a sad, straitened life. Genji was much touched by the story and inquired further.

I am not well informed, I fear, about her appearance and disposition. She lives by herself and does not see many people. On evenings when I think I might not be intruding, I sometimes have a talk with her through curtains and we play duets together. We have the koto as a mutual friend, you might say.

That one of the poet's three friends is permitted to a lady, but not the next. * You must let me hear her play sometime. Her father was very good at the koto. It does not seem likely that she would be less than remarkable herself.

I doubt, sir, that she could please so demanding an ear.

That was arch of you. We will pick a misty moonlit night and go pay a visit. You can manage a night off from your duties.

Though she feared it would not be easy, they made their plans, choosing a quiet spring evening when little was happening at court. Tayu~ went on ahead to prince Hitachi's mansion. Her father lived elsewhere and visited from time to time.+ Not being on very good terms with her stepmother, she preferred the Hitachi mansion, and she and the princess had become good friends.

3

Genji arrived as planned. The moon was beautiful, just past full.

It seems a great pity, said Tayu~, that this should not be the sort of night when a koto sounds best.

Do go over and urge her to play something, anything. Otherwise I will have come in vain.

She showed him into her own rather cluttered room. She thought the whole adventure beneath his dignity, but went to the main hall even so. With the shutters still raised, a delicate fragrance of plum blossoms was wafted in.

She saw her chance. On beautiful nights like this I think of your koto and wish we might become better acquainted. It seems a pity that I always have to rush off.