had been off duty for some time and had got into easy clothes; but was now being helped into his court trousers. Wouldn’t we wait? We said we couldn’t do that, and were driving on to the Eastern Gate, when he suddenly appeared running after us down the road. He had certainly changed in a marvelously short space of time, but was still buckling his belt as he ran. Behind him, barefooted in their haste, panted several dressers and grooms. We called to the coachman to drive on and had already reached the gate when, hopelessly out of breath, he staggered up to us. It was only then that he saw how we were decorated. “This is a fairy chariot,” he laughed. “I do not believe there are real people in it. If there are, let them get down and show themselves.”
“But, Shōnagon, what poems did you make today? That’s what I should like to hear.” “We’re keeping them for Her Majesty,” I replied. Just then it once more began to rain in earnest. “I have always wondered,” he said, “why when all the other gates have arches, this Eastern Gate should have none. Today, for example, one badly needs it.” “What am I to do now?” he asked presently. “I was so determined to catch up with you that I rushed out without thinking what was to become of me afterward.” “Don’t be so ridiculous,” I said. “You can come with us to the palace.” “In an eboshi?”[1] he asked. “What can you be thinking of?” “Send someone to fetch your hat,” I suggested. But it was now raining badly and our men, who had no raincoats with them, were pulling in the carriage as quickly as they could.[2] One of his men presently arrived from his palace with an umbrella, and under its shelter he now, with a slow reluctance that contrasted oddly with his previous haste, made his way home, continually stopping to look back at us over his shoulder. With his umbrella in one hand and a bunch of white-flower in the other, he was an amusing sight.
When we were back in the palace, Her Majesty asked for an account of our adventures. The girls who had been left behind were at first inclined to be rather sulky; but when we described how the Captain had run after us down the Great Highway of the First
