prince, whom he regarded as rather unsuitable, should in the end turn out to be the strongest candidate for Tamakatsura’s favour.
He and the Lady from the Village of Falling Flowers had for years past been on terms merely of ordinary confidence and friendliness. It was assumed on this occasion as on others that they would presently retreat each to a separate resting-place. How and why had this assumption first begun? He could not remember, and felt that to-night he would very gladly have broken the rule. But she seemed to take for granted that he would presently wish to retire, and so far from resenting this or seeming to be at all depressed, she evidently felt highly gratified that her own quarters had been selected as the scene of a festivity the like of which she had not witnessed in person for a very great number of years. ‘The withered grass that even the woodland pony left untouched, to-day with the wild iris of the pool-side has been twisted in one wreath.’ Thus she expressed her gratitude and pride. He was touched that so small an event should mean so much to her, and answered with the verse: ‘The colt whose shadow falls upon the waters close where the wild-swan’s wing is mirrored in the lake, from iris and sweet marsh-marigold shall ne’er be far away.’ How easily was she now contented, and how vague had his own compliments become! ‘Though I so seldom manage to see you,’ he said, ‘I assure you I am never happier than when I am here.’ It would have been unlike her to take him to task for the insincerity of this last speech. She merely accepted it quietly and they parted for the night. He found that she had given up her own bed to him, and had all her things carried to another place. Had she not seemed so convinced that anything in the way of greatest intimacy was out of the question, he might have felt inclined on this occasion to suggest a different arrangement.
