and she can never play the part that would naturally have been taken by a child of my sister Lady Aoi or of his present wife, Lady Murasaki. All the same, I have reason to believe that his schemes for her subsequent career are of the most ambitious nature.
‘As for this newly-imported princess, it would not surprise me to discover that she is not his child at all. You know as well as I do what Genji’s failings are…. It is far more probable that she is merely some girl whom he is keeping.’ After other somewhat damaging remarks about Genji’s habits and character, he continued: ‘However, if he continues to give out that she is his daughter, it will soon be incumbent upon him to find her a husband. I imagine his choice will fall upon Prince Sochi, with whom he has always been on particularly good terms. She would certainly be fortunate in securing such a husband; he is a most distinguished character….’
Nothing more exasperated Tō no Chūjō at the present moment than the endless speculations concerning Lady Tamakatsura’s future which were now the staple of every conversation at Court. He was sick of hearing people ask ‘What are Prince Genji’s intentions?’ ‘Why has he changed his mind?’ and so on, while the future of his own daughter, Lady Kumoi, seemed for some reason not to arouse the slightest curiosity. Why should not a little of the energy which Genji expended in dangling this supposed daughter of his before the eyes of an expectant Court be used on Lady Kumoi’s behalf? A word whispered by Genji in the Emperor’s ear would suffice to secure her future; but that word, it was very evident, had never been spoken.
If Genji (and this seemed hardly credible) were waiting to secure Kumoi for his own son Yūgiri, let him raise the boy to a decent rank. Then, provided suitable overtures
