between the children in any way, though Koremitsu’s and the Inspector’s were generally voted to have the best of it as regards good looks. But pretty as they all were, none of the others was handsome to anything like the same degree as the girl from Genji’s household.[1] She had been brought up in a far humbler way than the others and at any ordinary gathering would have been quite eclipsed by them. But now, when all were dressed for the same part, her real superiority became evident. They were all a little older than the Gosechi dancers usually are, which gave to this year’s ceremony a character of its own. Genji was present at the ceremony of Introduction, and the spectacle at once recalled to his mind that occasion, years ago, when he had so much admired one of the Gosechi maidens,—the daughter of the Provincial Secretary.[2] And now on the evening of the Festival Day he sent a messenger to her house with the poem: ‘Be thankful that upon the maidens of the Sky time leaves no mark; for upon me, to whom long since you waved your dancing-sleeve, age and its evils creep apace.’
She began to count the years. What a long time ago it had all happened! She knew that this letter did but betoken a brief moment of reminiscent tenderness; but it gave her pleasure that he had succumbed to this feeling, and she answered: ‘It needed but your word to bring them back, those winter days; though long since faded is the wreath that crowned them with delight.’ Her answer was written on a blue diapered paper in a boldly varied hand, heavy and light strokes being dashed in with an almost cursive sweep,—a somewhat mixed style but, considering the writer’s position in life, highly creditable, thought Genji as he examined the note.
Meanwhile with his Gosechi dancer Yūgiri made no
