He went on scolding me for some time, and then said: "Well, now you are here, you must make a poem. It is one of the days when the parent's[1] poem is always made by a substitute. You will do as well as anybody; so be quick about it. . . ." I was afraid at first that if I showed myself he would behave in such a way as to make me feel very uncomfortable. But it turned out that he was not so extraordinarily drunk after all; indeed, he was in a very charming mood and, in the light of the great lamp, looked particularly handsome.'
It has often been observed that whereas in her commonplace book (the Makura no Sōshi) Sei Shōnagon[2] scarcely so much as mentions the existence of the other ladies-in-waiting, Murasaki refers constantly to her companions, and to one of them at least she was evidently very strongly attached. Her great friend was Lady Saishō. 'On my way back from the Empress's rooms I peeped in at Saishō's door. I had forgotten that she had been on duty at night and would now be having her morning sleep. She had thrown over her couch various dresses with bright-coloured linings, and on top of them had spread a covering of beaten silk, lustrous and heavily scented with perfume. Her face was hidden under the clothes; but as she lay there, her head resting on a box-shaped writing-case, she looked so pretty that I could not help thinking of the little princesses in picture-books. I raised the clothes from her face and said to her: "You are like a girl in a story." She turned her head and said sharply: "You lunatic! Could you not see I was asleep? You are too inconsiderate. . . ." While she was saying this she half raised herself from her couch and looked up at me. Her face was flushed. I have never seen her so handsome. So it often is; even those
