lustration ceremonies at Naniwa and sent a messenger to Sumiyoshi with thanks that he had come thus far and a promise to visit at a later date in fulfillment of his vows. His retinue had grown to an army and did not permit side excursions. He made his way directly back to the city. At Nijō the reunion was like a dream. Tears of joy flowed so freely as almost to seem inauspicious. Murasaki, for whom life had come to seem of as little value as her farewell poem had suggested it to be, shared in the joy. She had matured and was more beautiful than ever. Her hair had been almost too rich and thick. Worry and sorrow had thinned it somewhat and thereby improved it. And now, thought Genji, a deep peace coming over him, they would be together. And in that instant there came to him the image of the one whom he had not been ready to leave. It seemed that his life must go on being complicated.
He told Murasaki about the other lady. A pensive, dreamy look passed over his face, and she whispered, as if to dismiss the matter: “For myself I do not worry.”
He smiled. It was a charmingly gentle reproof. Unable to take his eyes from her now that he had her before him, he could not think how he had survived so many months and years without her. All the old bitterness came back. He was restored to his former rank and made a supernumerary councillor. All his followers were similarly rehabilitated. It was as if spring had come to a withered tree.
The emperor summoned him and as they made their formal greetings thought how exile had improved him. Courtiers looked on with curiosity, wondering what the years in the provinces would have done to him. For the elderly women who had been in service since the reign of his late father, regret gave way to noisy rejoicing. The emperor had felt rather shy at the prospect of receiving Genji and had taken great pains with his dress. He seemed pale and sickly, though he had felt somewhat better these last few days. They talked fondly of this and that, and presently it was night. A full moon flooded the tranquil scene. There were tears in the emperor’s eyes.
“We have not had music here of late,” he said, “and it has been a very long time since I last heard any of the old songs.”
Genji replied:
“Cast out upon the sea, I passed the years
As useless as the leech child of the gods.”
The emperor was touched and embarrassed.
“The leech child’s parents met beyond the pillar.
We meet again to forget the spring of parting.”
He was a man of delicate grace and charm.
Genji’s first task was to commission a grand reading of the Lotus Sutra in his father’s memory. He called on the crown prince, who had grown in his absence, and was touched that the boy should be so pleased to see him. He had done so well with his studies that there need be no misgivings about his competence to rule. It would seem that Genji also called on Fujitsubo, and managed to control himself sufficiently for a quiet and affectionate conversation.
I had forgotten: he sent a note with the retinue which, like a returning wave, returned to Akashi. Very tender, it had been composed when no one was watching.
“And how is it with you these nights when the waves roll in?
“I wonder, do the morning mists yet rise,
There at Akashi of the lonely nights?”
The Kyushu Gosechi dancer had had fond thoughts of the exiled Genji, and she was vaguely disappointed to learn that he was back in the city and once more in the emperor’s good graces. She sent a note, with instructions that the messenger was to say nothing of its origin:
“There once came tidings from a boat at Suma,
From one who now might show you sodden sleeves.”
Her hand had improved, though not enough to keep him from guessing whose it was.
“It is I, not you, from whom the complaints should come.
My sleeves have refused to dry since last you wrote.”
He had not seen enough of her, and her letter brought fond memories. But he was not going to embark upon new adventures.
To the lady of the orange blossoms he sent only a note, cause more for disappointment than for pleasure.
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