her except on special occasions. I have no chance of introducing her to gentlemen such as you….’ ‘But a letter, surely you could manage a letter?’ and Yūgiri handed him a note. The boy had been brought up to consider this kind of thing very underhand; but Yūgiri was so insistent that, much against his will, he at last consented. The girl had more taste in such matters than is usual at her age, and the appearance of the note greatly delighted her. It was on a greenish paper, very thin and fine, laid down on a stout backing. The hand was naturally still somewhat unformed; but it did not promise ill for the future. With the letter was a poem: ‘Hidden though I was, surely the Maid of Heaven perceived with what enthralment I witnessed the waving of her feathery sleeves?’
Brother and sister were reading the note together when Koremitsu suddenly entered the room and snatched it out of their hands. The girl sat motionless, while the blood rushed to her cheeks. But her brother, indignant at Koremitsu’s high-handed manner of dealing with the situation, strode angrily out of the room. ‘Who sent this?’ Koremitsu called after him. ‘Prince Genji’s son,’ the boy answered, turning back; ‘the one who is studying for the College. At any rate it was he who gave me the note and asked me to bring it here.’ Koremitsu, who regarded Yūgiri as a mere child, burst into a hearty laugh. ‘Well, you have chosen a pretty little prince for your sweetheart,’ he said; ‘I thought this letter came from some grown-up person. Of course there can be no harm in fun of that sort…’, and showing the letter to his wife he proceeded to tell her what a nice child Yūgiri was. ‘If it ever should happen,’ he said to her in an aside, ‘that one of these young princes took a fancy to our daughter, we should do much better for her that way than by keeping her at the Palace, where she can never play more than a very humble part.
