cloudless sky stretched over the wide sea, Genji stood looking out across the bay. He thought of the lakes and rivers of his native land. This featureless expanse of sea awakened in him only a vague and general yearning. There was no intimate mark round which his associations might gather, no bourne to which his eyes instinctively turned. In all the empty space before him only the island of Awaji stood out solidly and invited attention. ‘Awaji, from afar a speck of foam,’ he quoted, and recited the acrostic verse: ‘Oh, foam-flecked island that wast nothing to me, even such sorrow as mine is, on this night of flawless beauty thou hast power to heal!’
It was so long since he had touched his zithern that there was a considerable stir among his followers when they saw him draw it out of its bag and strike a few random notes. Presently he began trying that piece which they call the ‘Kōryō’[1] and played the greater part of it straight through. The sound of his zithern reached the house on the hillside near by, mingled with the sighing of pine-woods and the rustling of summer waves. The effect of all this upon the imagination of the impressionable young lady in the house above may well be guessed. Even gnarled old peasants, whom one would not have expected to make head or tail of this Chinese music, poked their noses out of their cottage-doors and presently came to take an airing along the shore. The Governor could not contain himself, and breaking off in the middle of his prayers, hastened to Genji’s rooms. ‘How this brings back to me the old days at Court, before I turned my back on all the pleasures of the world,’ he exclaimed: ‘But surely the enchantment of such music as this is not all earthly! Does it not turn our thoughts towards those celestial strains which will greet us
- ↑ Evidently a Chinese tune. Attempts to identify it have hitherto been very unconvincing.
