And this despite the dangers into which she knew that ignorance might lead him.’[1] And they fell to talking of Lady Fujitsubo’s scrupulous respect for propriety, and how the fear of scandals and exposures which another woman would in the long run have grown to regard with indifference, had embittered her whole life.
For Lady Akikonomu he had done all and more than all that he led her to expect, and she had already become a prominent figure at Court. During the autumn, having been granted leave of absence from the Palace, she came to stay for a while at the Nijō-in. She was given the Main Hall, and found everything decked with the gayest colours in honour of her arrival. She assumed in the household the place of a favourite elder daughter, and it was entirely in this spirit that Genji entertained and amused her. One day when the autumn rain was falling steadily and the dripping flowers in the garden seemed to be washed to one dull tinge of grey, memories of long forgotten things came crowding one after another to Genji’s mind, and with eyes full of tears he betook himself to Lady Akikonomu’s rooms. Not a touch of colour relieved the dark of his mourner’s dress, and on pretext of doing penance for the sins of the nation during the recent disorders he carried a rosary under his cloak; yet he contrived to wear even this dour, penitential garb with perfect elegance and grace, and it was with a fine sweep of the cloak that he now entered the curtained alcove where she sat. He came straight to her side and, with only a thin latticed screen between them, began to address her without waiting to be announced: ‘What an unfortunate year this is! It is too bad that we should get weather like this just when everything in the garden is at its best. Look at the flowers. Are not you
- ↑ Into performing ceremonies at the grave of his supposed father which unless performed by a true son, were sacrilegious and criminal.
