o suffer and put up with. I saw
personally the truth that 'care kills more than labor.'"

"Ah, then," thought Genji, "the little one is her daughter, and no
wonder that she resembles the one in the palace (because Prince
Hiobkio was the brother of the Princess Wistaria). How would it be if
I had free control over her, and had her brought up and educated
according to my own notions?" So thinking, he proceeded to say how sad
it was that she died! "Did she leave any offspring?"

"She gave birth to a child at her death, which was also a girl, and
about this girl the grandmother is always feeling very anxious."

"Then," said Genji, "let it not appear strange to you if I say this,
but I should be very happy to become the guardian of this girl. Will
you speak to her grandmother about it? It is true that there is one to
whom my lot is linked, but I care but little for her, and indeed
usually lead a solitary life."

"Your offer is very kind," replied the priest, "but she is extremely
young. However every woman grows up under the protecting care of some
one, and so I cannot say much about her, only it shall be mentioned to
my sister."

The priest said this with a grave and even a stern expression on his
countenance, which caused Genji to drop the subject.

He then asked the Prince to excuse him, for it was the hour for
vespers, and as he quitted the room to attend the service, said he
would return as soon as it was finished.

Genji was alone. A slight shower fell over the surrounding country,
and the mountain breezes blew cool. The waters of the torrent were
swollen, and the roar of them might be heard from afar. Broken and
indistinct, one might hear the melancholy sound of the sleepy
intonation of prayers. Even those people who have no sorrow of their
own often feel melancholy from the circumstances in which they are
placed. So Genji, whose mind was occupied in thought, could not
slumber here. The priest said he was going to vespers, but in reality
it was later than the proper time for them. Genji perceived that the
inmates had not yet retired to rest in the inner apartments of the
house. They were very quiet, yet the sound of the telling of beads,
which accidentally struck the lectern, was heard from time to time.
The room was not far from his own. He pulled the screen slightly
aside, and standing near the door, he struck his fan on his hand, to
summon some one.

"What can be the matter," said an attendant, and as she