but the people actually concerned.’ ‘So it is true!’ thought Genji, wondering whether Tō no Chūjō could have been so misled as to suppose that it was Yūgao’s child whom he had rediscovered. ‘There are so many of you in the family already,’ he said to Kōbai, ‘that I wonder your father should search the sky for one stray swallow that has not managed to keep pace with the flock. I, who nurture so small a brood, might be pardoned for such conduct; but in your father it seems somewhat grasping. Unfortunately, though I should feel proud to acknowledge my children, no one shows the slightest inclination to claim me as a father. However, it is no mere accident that Tō no Chūjō is more in request than I am. The moon’s image shows dimly in waters that are troubled at the bottom. Your father’s early adventures were of a most indiscriminate character, and if you know all your brothers and sisters, you would probably realize that, taken as a whole, you are a very queer family….’ Yūgiri, who knew a mass of stories which amply confirmed Genji’s last statement, could not help showing his amusement to an extent which Kōbai and his brothers thought to be in exceedingly bad taste. ‘It is all very well for you to laugh, Yūgiri,’ continued Genji; ‘but you would be much better employed in picking up some of those stray leaves than in making trouble for yourself by pressing in where you are not wanted. In so large a garland you might surely find some other flower with which to console yourself!’ All Genji’s remarks about Tō no Chūjō wore superficially the aspect of such friendly banter as one old friend commonly indulges in concerning another. But as a matter of fact there had for some while past been a real coolness between them, which was increased by Chūjō’s scornful refusal to accept Yūgiri as his son-in-law. He realized that he had just been somewhat spiteful; but so far from being uncomfortable lest these remarks should
