hurt her feelings; and wishing to avoid any suggestion that Princess Ōmiya had been to blame, he used both at the Great Hall and at his own house the convenient excuse that Lady Chūjō was at home and needed a companion.
Soon after Tō no Chūjō left, Kumoi received a note from Princess Ōmiya: ‘Your father is going to take you home with him this evening. I hope you understand that this is entirely his doing. Nothing that happens will ever change my feelings towards you…. Come and see me at once….’
The child presented herself immediately. She was dressed in her smartest clothes and, though only eleven and still undeveloped, she had quite the gracious air of a little lady paying a farewell call. She felt very uncomfortable while Princess Ōmiya told her how lonely she would be without any one to play with, and how (though the houses were not far apart) it would seem as though she had gone to live a long, long way off. All this trouble, the child felt dimly, as she listened to the recital of Ōmiya’s woe, came from having made friends with that little boy, and hanging her head, she began to weep bitterly. At this moment Yūgiri’s old nurse happened to come in. ‘Well, I am sorry you are going away from us!’ she said to Kumoi. ‘I always thought of you as my lady, just as much as Prince Yūgiri was my little gentleman. We all know what his Excellency means by taking you away like this; but don’t you let him down you!’ The girl felt all the more wretched and ashamed, but did not know how to reply. ‘Don’t say such things to the child!’ cried Princess Ōmiya. ‘It may all come right in the end, without any need to upset the poor little thing like that!’ ‘The truth is,’ answered the nurse indignantly, ‘that all of you think my young gentleman is not good enough for her. You and his Excellency may take it from me that Yūgiri is going to be the finest gentleman in the land….’ Just as the out-
