impression. Were Rokujō alive, with what solicitude would she be watching over that day’s momentous proceedings, thought Genji, as he saw the procession arrive; and remembering her singular gifts and lively intelligence, he felt how great a loss she was not to himself only, but to the whole life of the Court. So rare indeed (as it now seemed to him) was her perfection both of mind and person that he seldom encountered among his acquaintance talent or accomplishment of any kind without immediately recalling how slender these attainments would seem if set beside those of Lady Rokujō.
On the day of the Presentation Fujitsubo was at the Palace. When she told the Emperor that some one new was coming to see him, he listened very earnestly and attentively. He was an intelligent and lively child, very forward for his age. After telling him all about the princess, ‘So you see she is rather an important lady,’ Fujitsubo continued, ‘and when she comes this evening you must be very polite to her and not play any of your tricks….’ The Emperor said nothing, but he thought to himself that if the lady were indeed so grown up and so important, far from wanting to tease her he would be very frightened of her indeed. Great was his delight then when very late that evening there arrived at the Palace a very shy, shrinking girl, very small and fragile, not indeed looking like a grown-up person at all. He thought her very pretty; but he was much more at his ease with Chūjō’s little daughter, who had lived at the Palace for some while and was very sociable and affectionate, while the new princess was terribly silent and shy. Still, though he found her rather difficult to get on with, he felt, partly owing to the deference with which, as Prince Genji’s ward, she was treated by every one else at Court, and partly owing to the magnificence with which she was served and apparelled—he
