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agitating position, and now despite her astonishment, after considering for a moment what had best be done with the intruder, she seized him by the back of his coat and with a practised though trembling hand pulled him away from the screen. Genji had still no idea that it was Chūjō. He had half a mind to show himself, but quickly remembered that he was oddly and inadequately clad, with his head-dress all awry. He felt that if he ran for it he would cut much too strange a figure as he left the room, and for a moment he hesitated. Wondering how much longer Genji would take to recognize him Chūjō did not say a word but putting on the most ferocious air imaginable drew his sword from the scabbard. Whereupon the lady crying ‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen!’ flung herself between them in an attitude of romantic supplication. They could hardly refrain from bursting into laughter. It was only by day when very carefully painted and bedizened that she still retained a certain superficial air of youth and charm. But now this woman of fifty-seven or eight, disturbed by a sudden brawl in the midst of her amours, created the most astonishing spectacle as she knelt at the feet of two young men in their teens beseeching them not to die for her. Chūjō however refrained from showing the slightest sign of amusement and continued to look as alarming and ferocious as he could. But he was now in full view and Genji realized in a moment that Chūjō had all the while known who he was and had been amusing himself at his expense. Much relieved at this discovery he grabbed at the scabbard from which Chūjō had drawn the sword and held it fast lest his friend should attempt to escape and then, despite his annoyance at having been followed, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. ‘Are you in your right mind?’ said Genji at last. ‘This is really a very poor sort of joke. Do you mind letting me get into my cloak?’ Whereupon Chūjō