tainly not that of any waiting-woman or common person was softly humming the last two lines of the Oborozuki-yo.[1] Was not the voice coming towards him? It seemed so, and stretching out his hand he suddenly found that he was grasping a lady’s sleeve. ‘Oh, how you frightened me?’ she cried. ‘Who is it?’ ‘Do not be alarmed,’ he whispered. ‘That both of us were not content to miss the beauty of this departing night is proof more clear than the half-clouded moon that we were meant to meet,’ and as he recited the words he took her gently by the hand and led her into the house, closing the door behind them. Her surprised and puzzled air fascinated him. ‘There is someone there,’ she whispered tremulously, pointing to the inner room. ‘Child’ he answered, ‘I am allowed to go wherever I please and if you send for your friends they will only tell you that I have every right to be here. But if you will stay quietly here. …’ It was Genji. She knew his voice and the discovery somewhat reassured her. She thought his conduct rather strange, but she was determined that he should not think her prudish or stiff. And so because he on his side was still somewhat excited after the doings of the evening, while she was far too young and pliant to offer any serious resistance, he soon got his own way with her.
Suddenly they saw to their discomfiture that dawn was creeping into the sky. She looked, thought Genji, as though many disquieting reflections were crowding into her mind. ‘Tell me your name’ he said. ‘How can I write to you unless you do? Surely this is not going to be our only meeting?’ She answered with a poem in which she said that names are of this world only and he would not care to know hers if he were resolved that their
- ↑ A famous poem by Ōye no Chisato (ninth century): ‘What so lovely as a night when the moon though dimly clouded is never wholly lost to sight.’
