to her rooms, foreseen just such a contingency as had at this moment occurred. The boy, suddenly realizing the extreme insecurity of his hiding-place and at the same time overwhelmed with shame at the mere thought of being discovered in such a situation, was about to dart into safety, when a door on the left opened and Genji himself entered the room. ‘What a wind!’ he said as he surveyed the exposed condition of her daïs. ‘It would really be better just now if you left all the shutters closed. You probably do not realize that you and your ladies are at this moment exposing yourselves completely to the view of any gentleman who may happen to come this way….’ Yūgiri had already withdrawn his eye from the crack; but the sound of Genji’s voice aroused in him an invincible curiosity, and he returned to his former position. His father was bending over Murasaki and whispering something in her ear; now he was laughing. It seemed to Yūgiri very odd that this high-spirited, handsome, quite young-looking man should really be his father. As for Genji’s companion—he could not imagine that she could ever have been more beautiful than at this moment. He gazed spell-bound, and would certainly have crouched at his chink for hours to come, had not the door on the opposite side of the passage suddenly blown wide open, thus leaving his hiding-place embarrassingly exposed. Reluctantly he withdrew (as was now possible, for Murasaki’s attendants had all retired to the far end of the room), and working his way round to the verandah, he called to Genji as though he had just arrived from the Eastern Wing. His father answered the greeting and presently joined him, saying to Murasaki as he left the room something which evidently referred to the imperfectly fastened passage-door. ‘Look there!’ Genji was saying crossly; ‘is not that just what I told you? You must really be more careful….’
