than the Prince. And though she was sorely puzzled to know what was afoot, she dared not say a word. Had he been an ordinary person, she would soon have had him by the ears. ‘Nay’ she thought ‘even if he were not a Prince I should do best to keep my hands off him; for the more stir one makes, the more tongues wag. But if I should touch this fine gentleman…,’ and all in a flutter she found herself obediently following Genji to his room. Here he calmly closed the door upon her, saying as he did so ‘You will come back to fetch your mistress in the morning.’ Utsusemi herself was vexed beyond measure at being thus disposed of in the presence of her own waiting-maid, who could indeed draw but one conclusion from what she had seen. But to all her misgivings and anxieties Genji, who had the art of improvising a convincing reply to almost any question, answered with such a wealth of ingenuity and tender concern, that for awhile she was content. But soon becoming again uneasy, ‘This must all be a dream—that you, so great a Prince, should stoop to consider so humble a creature as I, and I am overwhelmed by so much kindness. But I think you have forgotten what I am. A Zuryō’s wife! there is no altering that, and you…!’ Genji now began to realize how deeply he had distressed and disquieted her by his wild behaviour, and feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself he answered: ‘I am afraid I know very little about these questions of rank and precedence. Such things are too confusing to carry in one’s head. And whatever you may have heard of me I want to tell you for some reason or other I have till this day cared nothing for gallantry nor ever practised it, and that even you cannot be more astonished at what I have done to-night than I myself am.’ With this and a score of other speeches he sought to win her confidence. But she, knowing that if once their talk became a jot less
