to come here and see you as often as I wanted to. But in all the long time which has passed since I was last here, I have thought a great deal about you and wished that life did not force so many bitter partings upon us.”
So he spoke tenderly. The princely scent of the sleeve which he had raised to brush away his tears filled the low and narrow room, and even the young people, who had till now been irritated by their mother’s obvious pride at having been the nurse of so splendid a prince, found themselves in tears.
Having arranged for continual masses to be said on the sick woman’s behalf, he took his leave, ordering Koremitsu to light him with a candle. As they left the house he looked at the fan upon which the white flowers had been laid. He now saw that there was writing on it, a poem carelessly but elegantly scribbled: “The flower that puzzled you was but the yūgao, strange beyond knowing in its dress of shining dew.” It was written with a deliberate negligence which seemed to aim at concealing the writer’s status and identity. But for all that the hand showed a breeding and distinction which agreeably surprised him. “Who lives in the house on the left?” he asked. Koremitsu, who did not at all want to act as a go-between, replied that he had only been at his mother’s for five or six days and had been so much occupied by her illness that he had not asked any questions about the neighbors. “I want to know for a quite harmless reason,” said Genji. “There is something about this fan which raises a rather important point. I positively must settle it. You would oblige me by making inquiries from someone who knows the neighborhood.” Koremitsu went at once to the house next door and sent for the steward. “This house,” the man said, “belongs to a certain Titular Prefect. He is living in the country, but my lady is still here; and as she is young and loves company, her brothers who are in service at the court often come here to visit her.” “And that is about all one can expect a servant to know,” said Koremitsu when he repeated this information. It occurred at once to Genji that it was one of these courtiers who had written the poem. Yes, there was certainly a self-confident air in the writing. It was by someone whose rank entitled him to have a good opinion of himself. But he was
