And with a mob of visitors pressing round him he was swept away to his carriage. At a window by which they had to pass, stationed there as though by accident, was the child's nurse with the infant in her arms. Stroking its face tenderly as he passed, Genji said to her: 'I should have been sorry not to see this child. But it has all been so hurried. . . . Better than nothing perhaps. . . . But "your village is so far away "'[1] . . . 'We shall expect rather more from your Highness than we did in the old days when we really were a long way off,' the nurse replied. The little princess stretched out her hand as though trying to hold him back. Pausing for a while he turned and said: 'It is terrible to have such a sentimental disposition as mine. I cannot bear to part from those I am fond of even if it be only for a single day. But where is your mistress? Why did not she too come to bid me good-bye? Tell her that it is barbarous. . . .' The nurse smiled and withdrawing into the house delivered the message. But so far from being unconcerned at his departure, the Lady of Akashi was so much agitated that she had sunk helpless upon her bed, and it was some while before she could muster enough strength to rise. At last, after Genji, not knowing what was amiss, had in his heart passed severe censure upon her coyness, she arrived in the front-room supported by her ladies and sank into a seat where, though she was partly hidden by a curtain, he got a fair view of her face. Such delicacy of feature, such distinction, such grace would not he thought have done discredit to an Emperor's daughter. He went up to the window, pulled aside the curtain and whispered a few words of farewell. Then he hastened to rejoin his companions; but looking back for an instant over his shoulder he saw that, though all this time she had
- ↑ Quoting the old song: 'Your village is so far away that I must go back almost as soon as I come. Yet short as our meetings are perhaps we should be still unhappier without them.'
