from the room, and holding her back he said: ‘I see that you are terribly offended; well, I do not deny that you have good cause. I ought not to be so impetuous; I know that it is wrong. But, granted I spoke far too suddenly—it is all over now. Do not, I beg of you, go on being angry with me; for if you are unkind…’[1] And with that he retired to his own quarters. Even the scent of his richly perfumed garments had become unendurable to her; she summoned her maids and bade them open the window and door. ‘Just come over here and smell the cushion that his Highness was sitting on!’ one of them called to another. ‘What an exquisite fragrance! How he contrives to get hold of such scents I simply cannot imagine. “If the willow-tree had but the fragrance of the plum and the petals of the cherry!” So the old poet wished, and surely Prince Genji must be the answer to his prayer, for it seems that in him every perfection is combined.’
He went to the western wing; but instead of going straight into Murasaki’s room, he flung himself down upon a couch in the vestibule. Above the partition he could see the far-off flicker of a lamp; there Murasaki was sitting with her ladies, one of whom was reading her a story. He began to think about what had just occurred. It was a sad disappointment to discover that he was still by no means immune from a tendency which had already played such havoc with his own and other people’s happiness. Upon what more inappropriate object could his affections possibly have lighted? True, his chief offence in old days had been of far greater magnitude. But then he had the excuse of youth and ignorance, and it was possible that, taking this into consideration, Heaven might by this time have forgiven the offence. But on this occasion he could
- ↑ ‘If you are unkind, I too by unkindness will teach you the pain that unkindness can inflict.’ Anonymous poem.
