Yet, I did not disobey her father's request, and she went to Court. There the Emperor showed her a kindness beyond our hopes. For the sake of that kindness she uncomplainingly endured all the cruel taunts of envious companions. But their envy ever deepening, and her troubles ever increasing, at last she passed away, worn out, as it were, with care. When I think of the matter in that light, the kindest favors seem to me fraught with misfortune. Ah! that the blind affection of a mother should make me talk in this way! "
"The thoughts of his Majesty may be even as your own," said the Miôbu. "Often when he alluded to his overpowering affection for her, he said that perhaps all this might have been because their love was destined not to last long. And that though he ever strove not to injure any subject, yet for Kiri-Tsubo, and for her alone, he had sometimes caused the ill-will of others; that when all this had been done, she was no more! All this he told me in deep gloom, and added that it made him ponder on their previous existence."
The night was now far advanced, and again the Miôbu rose to take leave. The moon was sailing down westward and the cool breeze was waving the herbage to and fro, in which numerous mushi were plaintively singing.[1] The messenger, being still somehow unready to start, hummed—
"Fain would one weep the whole night long,
As weeps the Sudu-Mushi's song,
Who chants her melancholy lay
Till night and darkness pass away."
As she still lingered, the lady took up the refrain—
"To the heath where the Sudu-Mushi sings,
From beyond the clouds[2] one comes from on high
And more dews on the grass around she flings,
And adds her own, to the night wind's sigh."
A Court dress and a set of beautiful ornamental hairpins, which had belonged to Kiri-Tsubo, were presented to the
