sympathetic. ‘These stormy nights are very disturbing,’ she said. ‘It is quite natural that you should have had bad dreams; the rain alone would have accounted for it. You must not allow such trifles to upset you.’ About this time the Emperor began to suffer from a pain in his eyes. Remembering his dream, he could not get out of his head the idea that this pain was in some way caused by the wrathful glance of the apparition which had rebuked him. His sufferings became more and more acute, despite the fact that continual services of intercession were held both in the Palace and at Kōkiden’s house.
Next came the death of Kōkiden’s father, the Grand Minister of the Right. There was nothing unexpected in this, for he had reached a very great age. But coming as it did on top of various other public calamities it caused widespread consternation. Kōkiden herself, though she had no definite malady, was also very far from well. As time went on she seemed gradually to lose strength. A general gloom spread over the Court. It was felt that if, as was alleged by his friends, Prince Genji had indeed been banished without any sufficient cause, the present misfortunes of the nation might well have been sent as punishment for this injustice. Again and again the Emperor thought of restoring Genji to his previous rank and appointments; but whenever he mentioned this project to Kōkiden, that lady would answer: ‘To do so would be to incur the public charge of inconsequence and frivolity. He was banished and if, when less than three years have elapsed, he is suddenly recalled to the Capital, a pretty figure you and I shall cut in history!’ She spoke with such fierce conviction that the Emperor was completely overawed. So the months went by, and meantime both he and Kōkiden were gradually sinking under the burden of their respective maladies.
