of common report, together with the tales of her almost unbelievable beauty, soon induced a large number of suitors to seek her hand; which was precisely what he had anticipated. Those of them whose position in life entitled them to confidence had, through suitable channels, already gone so far as to make hints in this direction; while there were doubtless many petty courtiers the flame of whose love burned secretly as a camp fire buried under a pile of stones.[1]
Tō no Chūjō’s sons were, of course, like every one else, under the delusion that she was Genji’s child and took a considerable interest in her. But the principal suitor was Genji’s half-brother Prince Sochi no Miya. It so happened that he had been a widower for three years; he was tired of this comfortless state of life and had made it clear not only that he considered himself a suitable match for Lady Tamakatsura, but also that he should like the wedding to take place immediately. This morning he was still in a very emotional condition; with a wreath of wistaria flowers about his head, he was indulging in languorous airs which confirmed Genji’s previous suspicion that this prince had lately fallen seriously in love. Till now, however, Genji had deliberately pretended not to notice that anything was wrong. When the great tankard was handed round, Prince Sochi said in a doleful voice to Genji: ‘You know, if I were not so fond of you, I should long ago have left this entertainment. It has been a terrible night for me…’ and he recited the poem: ‘Because my heart is steeped in a dye too near to its own blood,[2] life do I prize no longer and in the surging stream shall shortly cast myself away.’
