picking out the most difficult paragraphs—just such parts indeed as the College Examiners were likely to hit upon—and made his pupil read them out loud. Yūgiri not only read without the slightest stumbling or hesitation but showed clearly in every doubtful or misleading passage that he understood the sense of what he was reading. Every one present was astonished at his proficiency and it was generally agreed that he had the makings of a first-rate scholar. ‘If only his poor grandfather could see him!’ said Tō no Chūjō with a sigh; and Genji, unable to restrain his feelings, exclaimed with tears in his eyes: ‘All this makes me feel very old! Before it has always been other people over whom one shook one’s head, saying that they were “getting on in life” or “not so active as they were.” But now that I have a grown-up child of my own, I feel (though I am still fortunately some way off my second childhood) that henceforward he will every day grow more intelligent, and I more stupid.’ The tutor listened attentively to this speech and felt much comforted by it. Tō no Chūjō had been helping him liberally to wine, and the learned man’s gaunt, rugged features were now suffused with smiles of joy and pride. He was a very unpractical man and his worldly success had never been proportionate to his great attainments. At the time when Genji first came across him he was without patronage or any means of subsistence. Then came this sudden stroke of good fortune; he of all people was singled out and summoned to this all-important task. Ever since his arrival he had enjoyed a degree of consideration far in excess of what, in his capacity of tutor, he had any right to expect, and now that the diligence of his pupil had procured for him this fresh ground for Genji’s esteem, he looked forward at last to a distinguished and prosperous career.
On the day of the actual examination the College court-
