Page:The Sacred Tree (Waley 1926).pdf/85

Rh kurobo, carried through the room by the fierce snow-wind which had blown since dusk; and with it mingled a faint remnant of the holy incense which the priests had that day been burning in the house. Add to this the princely scent which Genji wore and you may well imagine that the night air was fragrant as the winds of Paradise.

A messenger came from the Heir Apparent’s household. There rose before her mind the memory of the child’s pretty speeches and ways, that last morning in the Palace. It was more than she could bear, and lest she should break down altogether she left the message unanswered. Seeing the messenger go away empty-handed, Genji wrote a few words on her behalf. It was now time for him to take his leave; but both he and she were in a state of agitation which they could barely control, and he dared not utter the thoughts that were at that moment passing through his mind. Through Ōmyōbu he sent her this poem: ‘Though fain I too would seek that stainless tract whither the moon has climbed, yet how unguided in the darkness should those small feet not go astray?’ He spoke of his regret at the step she had taken, but only in formal terms, for he knew that she was not alone. Of the tumultuous thoughts which surged through his brain there was not one to which he could at such a time give vent. And answer came: ‘Though now upon life and all its sorrow I have looked my last, yet are there certain earthly things I shall not soon forget….’ ‘The stain of the world clings fast to me….’ This and much else was in the answer; but he guessed that a great part of it had been supplied by those who were about her.