nd
made her stay in his mansion.

And whenever he felt better he had her near him, and conversed with
her about her dead mistress.

In the meantime, it might have been the result of his own energetic
efforts to realize the ardent hopes of the Emperor and his
father-in-law, that his condition became better, after a heavy trial
of some three weeks; and towards the end of September he became
convalescent. He now felt as though he had been restored to the world
to which he had formerly belonged. He was, however, still thin and
weak, and, for consolation, still resorted to talk with Ukon.

"How strange," he said to her, as they were conversing together one
fine autumn evening. "Why did she not reveal to me all her past life?
If she had but known how deeply I loved her, she might have been a
little more frank with me."

"Ah! no," replied Ukon; "she would not intentionally have concealed
anything from you; but it was, I imagine, more because she had no
choice. You at first conducted yourself in such a mysterious manner;
and she, on her part, regarded her acquaintance with you as something
like a dream. That was the cause of her reticence."

"What a useless reticence it was," exclaimed Genji. "I was not so
frank as, perhaps, I ought to have been; but you may be sure that made
no difference in my affection towards her. Only, you must remember,
there is my father, the Emperor, besides many others, whose vigilant
admonitions I am bound to respect. That was the reason why I had to be
careful. Nevertheless, my love to your mistress was singularly deep;
too deep, perhaps, to last long. Do tell me now all you know about
her; I do not see any reason why you should conceal it. I have
carefully ordered the weekly requiem for the dead; but tell me in
whose behalf it is, and what was her origin?"

"I have no intention of concealing anything from you. Why should I? I
only thought it would be blamable if one should reveal after death
what another had thought best to reserve," replied Ukon. "Her parents
died when she was a mere girl. Her father was called Sammi-Chiujio,
and loved her very dearly. He was always aspiring to better his
position, and wore out his life in the struggle. After his death, she
was left helpless and poor. She was however, by chance, introduced to
To-no-Chiujio, when he was still Shioshio, and not Chiujio. During
three years they kept on very good terms, and he was very kind to
her. But some wind or other attack