d, and looked pale. The people of the mansion noticed his sad
and haggard appearance.

Genji said nothing, but hurried straight away to his own private
apartment.

"Why did I not go with her?" he still vainly exclaimed. "What would
she think of me were she to return to life?" And these thoughts
affected him so deeply that he became ill, his head ached, his pulse
beat high, and his body burned with fever. The sun rose high, but he
did not leave his couch. His domestics were all perplexed. Rice gruel
was served up to him, but he would not touch it. The news of his
indisposition soon found its way out of the mansion, and in no time a
messenger arrived from the Imperial Palace to make inquiries. His
brother-in-law also came, but Genji only allowed To-no-Chiujio to
enter his room, saying to him, "My aged nurse has been ill since last
May, and has been tonsured, and received consecration; it was,
perhaps, from this sacrifice that at one time she became better, but
lately she has had a relapse, and is again very bad. I was advised to
visit her, moreover, she was always most kind to me, and if she had
died without seeing me it would have pained her, so I went to see her.
At this time a servant of her house, who had been ill, died suddenly.
Being rendered 'unclean' by this event, I am passing the time
privately. Besides, since the morning, I have become ill, evidently
the effects of cold. By the bye, you must excuse me receiving you in
this way."

"Well, sir," replied To-no-Chiujio, "I will represent these
circumstances to his Majesty. Your absence last night has given much
inquietude to the Emperor. He caused inquiries to be made for you
everywhere, and his humor was not very good." And thereupon
To-no-Chiujio took his leave, thinking as he went, "What sort of
'uncleanness' can this really be. I cannot put perfect faith in what
he tells me."

Little did To-no-Chiujio imagine that the dead one was no other than
his own long-lost Tokonatz (Pinks).

In the evening came Koremitz from the mountain, and was secretly
introduced, though all general visitors were kept excluded on the
pretext of the "uncleanness."

"What has become of her?" cried Genji, passionately, when he saw him.
"Is she really gone?"

"Her end has come," replied Koremitz, in a tone of sadness; "and we
must not keep the dead too long. To-morrow we will place her in the
grave: to-morrow 'is a good day.' I know a faithful old priest. I have
consulted with hi