day,’ she explained ‘when he was pretending to drive out the Old Year’s demons, and I am mending them.’ She was evidently in great trouble. ‘What a tiresome child he is,’ said Genji. ‘I will get them mended for you. Come, you must not cry on New Year’s Day,’ and he went out. Many of the servants had collected at the end of the corridor to see him starting out for the Court in all his splendour. Murasaki too went out and watched him. When she came back she put a grand dress on one of her dolls and did a performance with it which she called ‘Prince Genji visiting the Emperor.’ ‘This year,’ said Shōnagon, looking on with disapproval, ‘you must really try not to be such a baby. It is time little girls stopped playing with dolls when they are ten years old, and now that you have got a kind gentleman wanting to be your husband you ought to try and show him that you can behave like a nice little grown-up lady or he will get tired of waiting.’ She said this because she thought that it must be painful for Genji to see the child still so intent upon her games and be thus reminded that she was a mere baby. Her admonishment had the effect of making Murasaki for the first time aware that Genji was to be her husband. She knew all about husbands. Many of the maid-servants had them, but such ugly ones! She was very glad that hers was so much younger and handsomer. Nevertheless the mere fact that she thought about the matter at all showed that she was beginning to grow up a little. Her childish ways and appearance were by no means so great a misfortune as Shōnagon supposed, for they went a long way towards allaying the suspicions which the child’s presence might otherwise have aroused in Genji’s somewhat puzzled household.
When he returned from Court he went straight to the Great Hall. Aoi was as perfect as ever, and just as unfriendly. This never failed to wound Genji. ‘If only
