the same path. She was richly dressed,
and seemed to be about eleven or twelve years old. It[=o] greeted her,
and said, "The sun will soon be setting, damsel, and this is rather a
lonesome place. May I ask if you have lost your way?" She looked up
at him with a bright smile, and answered deprecatingly: "Nay! I am
a _miya-dzukai_,[72] serving in this neighborhood; and I have only a
little way to go."

[Footnote 72: August-residence servant.]

By her use of the term _miya-dzukai_, It[=o] knew that the girl must
be in the service of persons of rank; and her statement surprised him,
because he had never heard of any family of distinction residing in
that vicinity. But he only said: "I am returning to Uji, where my home
is. Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you on the way, as this is
a very lonesome place." She thanked him gracefully, seeming pleased
by his offer; and they walked on together, chatting as they went. She
talked about the weather, the flowers, the butterflies, and the birds;
about a visit that she had once made to Uji, about the famous sights
of the capital, where she had been born;--and the moments passed
pleasantly for It[=o], as he listened to her fresh prattle. Presently,
at a turn in the road, they entered a hamlet, densely shadowed by a
grove of young trees.

* * * * *

[Here I must interrupt the story to tell you that, without having
actually seen them, you cannot imagine how dark some Japanese country
villages remain even in the brightest and hottest weather. In the
neighborhood of T[=o]ky[=o] itself there are many villages of this
kind. At a short distance from such a settlement you see no houses:
nothing is visible but a dense grove of evergreen trees. The grove,
which is usually composed of young cedars and bamboos, serves to
shelter the village from storms, and also to supply timber for various
purposes. So closely are the trees planted that there is no room to
pass between the trunks of them: they stand straight as masts, and
mingle their crests so as to form a roof that excludes the sun.
Each thatched cottage occupies a clear space in the plantation, the
trees forming a fence about it, double the height of the building.
Under the trees it is always twilight, even at high noon; and the
houses, morning or evening, are half in shadow. What makes the
first impression of such a village almost disquieting is, not the
transparent gloom, which has a certain weird