lamenting over the girl’s deplorable oddity. At last the insect-lover could bear it no longer and said, “If you looked a little more below the surface of things you would not mind so much what other people thought about you. The world in which we live has no reality, it is a mirage, a dream. Suppose someone is offended by what we do or, for the matter of that, is pleased by it, does his opinion make any difference to us in the end? Before long both he and we shall no longer even appear to exist.”
Several of the younger servants had by now gathered round. They found her argument hard to answer, but secretly felt that this was a very dismal view of life. It was not thought likely that she would send an answer, but the Captain was still waiting at the gate and the little boys, who had now all been called back into the house, said the gentleman was looking very unhappy; upon which everyone urged her to write something, and very reluctantly she sent the poem, “By this you may know the strangeness of my mood. Had you not called me kawamushi,[1] I would not have replied.” To which he answered, “In all the world, I fear, exists no man so delicate that to the hairtips of a caterpillar’s brow he could attune his life.” Then he went back laughing to his home.
What happened next will be found in the second chapter![2]
Anonymous (Twelfth Century)
