he made her very happy. But in the autumn of last year disquieting letters began to arrive from the Great Hall of the Right,[1] and being by nature prone to fits of unreasoning fear she now fell into a wild panic and fled to the western part of the town where she hid herself in the house of her old wet-nurse. Here she was very uncomfortable, and had planned to move to a certain village in the hills, when she discovered that it would be unlucky, owing to the position of the stars since the beginning of the year, to make a journey in that direction; and (though she never told me so) I think, Sir, it troubled her sorely that you should have come upon her when she was living in so wretched a place. But there was never anyone in the world like my lady for keeping things to herself; she could never bear that other people should know what was on her mind. I have no doubt, Sir, that she sometimes behaved very oddly to you and that you have seen all this for yourself.’
Yes, this was all just as Tō no Chūjō had described. ‘I think there was some mention of a child that Chūjō was vexed to have lost sight of’ said Genji more interested than ever; ‘am I right?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ she answered ‘it was born in the spring of last year, a girl, and a fine child it was.’ ‘Where is it now?’ asked Genji. ‘Could you get hold of it and bring it to me here without letting anyone know where you were taking it? It would be a great comfort to me in my present misery to have some remembrance of her near me;’ and he added, ‘I ought of course to tell Chūjō, but that would lead to useless and painful discussions about what has happened. Somehow or other I will manage to bring her up here in my palace. I think there can be no harm in that. And you will easily enough find some story to tell to whatever people are now looking after her.’ ‘I am
- ↑ From Tō no Chūjō’s wife, who was the daughter of the Minister of the Right.
