presently three figures appeared out of the darkness. ‘I should not have sent for you,’ he called to them, ‘had you not played “The Wind’s voice tells me….” It is a tune that I can never resist.’ So saying he brought out his own zithern. When he had played for a while, Yūgiri began to improvise on his flute in the Banshiki mode.[1] Kashiwagi attempted to join in, but his thoughts were evidently employed elsewhere,[2] for again and again he entered at the wrong beat. ‘Too late,’ cried Genji, and at last Kōbai was obliged to keep his brother in measure by humming the air in a low monotone like the chirping of a meditative grasshopper. Genji made them go through the piece twice, and then handed his zithern to Kashiwagi. It was some while since he had heard the boy play and he now observed with delight that his talent was not by any means confined to wind-instruments. ‘You could have given me no greater pleasure,’ he said, when the piece was over. ‘Your father is reckoned a fine performer on the zithern; but you have certainly more than overtaken him…. By the way, I should have cautioned you that there is some one seated just within who can probably hear all that is going on out in this portico. So to-night there had better not be too much drinking. Do not be offended, for I was really thinking more of myself than of you. Now that I am getting on in years I find wine far more dangerous than I used to. I am apt to say the most indiscreet things….’
Tamakatsura did, as a matter of fact, overhear every word of this, as indeed she was intended to, and was thankful that he at any rate saw the necessity of keeping himself in hand. The near presence of the two visitors could not fail to interest her extremely, if for no other reason than merely because they were, after all, though themselves
