lecting a thousand odds and ends, and thrusting them into the folds or his dress, or pulling in his overbelt—one begins to hate him.
I like to think of a bachelor—an adventurous disposition has left him single—returning at dawn from some amorous excursion. He looks a trifle sleepy; but, as soon as he is home, draws his writing case toward him, carefully grinds himself some ink and begins to write his next-morning letter—not simply dashing off whatever comes into his head, but spreading himself to the task and taking trouble to write the characters beautifully. He should be clad in an azalea-yellow or vermilion cloak worn over a white robe. Glancing from time to time at the dewdrops that still cling to the thin white fabric of his dress, he finishes his letter, but instead of giving it to one of the ladies who are in attendance upon him at the moment, he gets up and, choosing from among his page-boys one who seems to him exactly appropriate to such a mission, calls the lad to him, and whispering something in his ear puts the letter in his hand; then sits gazing after him as he disappears into the distance. While waiting for the answer he will perhaps quietly murmur to himself this or that passage from the Sutras. Presently he is told that his washing water and porridge are ready, and goes into the back room, where, seated at the reading table, he glances at some Chinese poems, now and then reciting out loud some passage that strikes his fancy. When he has washed and got into his court cloak, which he wears as a dressing gown (without trousers), he takes the sixth chapter of the Lotus Scripture and reads it silently. Precisely at the most solemn moment of his reading—the place being not far away—the messenger returns, and by his posture it is evident that he expects an instant reply. With an amusing if blasphemous rapidity the lover transfers his attention from the book he is reading to the business of framing his answer.
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From the beginning of the fifth month,[1] it had been dark, rainy weather all the time. I became so bored that at last I suggested we
- ↑ Of the year 995.
