City of a Hundred Towers?’[1] She sent for her zithern; but her heart beat fast. What impression would her playing make upon this girl? Timidly she sounded a few notes. The effect was very agreeable. True, she was not a great performer; but the instrument was a particularly fine one and Genji found her playing by no means unpleasant to listen to.
Living in this lonely and half-ruined palace after such an upbringing (full no doubt of antiquated formalities and restrictions) as her father was likely to have given her it would be strange indeed if her life did not for the most part consist of memories and regrets. This was just the sort of place which in an old tale would be chosen as the scene for the most romantic happenings. His imagination thus stirred, he thought of sending her a message. But perhaps she would think this rather sudden. For some reason he felt shy, and hesitated.
‘It seems to be clouding over,’ said the astute Myōbu, who knew that Genji would carry away a far deeper impression if he heard no more for the present. ‘Someone was coming to see me’ she continued; ‘I must not keep him waiting. Perhaps some other time when I am not in such a hurry. … Let me close your window for you,’ and with that she rejoined Genji, giving the princess no encouragement to play any more. ‘She stopped so soon,’ he complained, ‘that it was hardly worth getting her to play at all. One had not time to catch the drift of what she was playing. Really it was a pity!’ That the princess was beautiful he made no doubt at all. ‘I should be very much obliged if you would arrange for me to hear her at closer quarters.’ But Myōbu, thinking that this would lead to disappointment, told him that the princess who led so hermit-like an existence and seemed always so depressed
- ↑ Evidently a quotation.
