Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/140

136 and helplessness, that may only have been a sign that she was not long for this world.” “She must have been nineteen,” said Ukon. “When my mother, who was her first wet nurse, died and left me an orphan, my lady’s father was pleased to notice me and reared me at my lady’s side. Ah, Sir, when I think of it, I do not know how I shall live without her; for kind as people here may be I do not seem to get used to them. I suppose it is that I knew her ways, poor lady, she having been my mistress for so many years.”

To Genji even the din of the cloth-beaters’ mallets had become dear through recollection, and as he lay in bed he repeated those verses of Po Chü-i.