ast one step higher. Once more several tokens
of disapprobation were manifested against the proceeding. But, in
other respects, the beauty of the departed, and her gracious bearing,
which had ever commanded admiration, made people begin to think of her
with sympathy. It was the excess of the Emperor's favor which had
created so many detractors during her lifetime; but now even rivals
felt pity for her; and if any did not, it was in the Koki-den. "When
one is no more, the memory becomes so dear," may be an illustration of
a case such as this.

Some days passed, and due requiem services were carefully performed.
The Emperor was still plunged in thought, and no society had
attractions for him. His constant consolation was to send messengers
to the grandmother of the child, and to make inquiries after them. It
was now autumn, and the evening winds blew chill and cold. The
Emperor--who, when he saw the first Prince, could not refrain from
thinking of the younger one--became more thoughtful than ever; and, on
this evening, he sent Yugei-no Miobu[10] to repeat his inquiries. She
went as the new moon just rose, and the Emperor stood and contemplated
from his veranda the prospect spread before him. At such moments he
had usually been surrounded by a few chosen friends, one of whom was
almost invariably his lost love. Now she was no more. The thrilling
notes of her music, the touching strains of her melodies, stole over
him in his dark and dreary reverie.

The Miobu arrived at her destination; and, as she drove in, a sense of
sadness seized upon her.

The owner of the house had long been a widow; but the residence, in
former times, had been made beautiful for the pleasure of her only
daughter. Now, bereaved of this daughter, she dwelt alone; and the
grounds were overgrown with weeds, which here and there lay prostrated
by the violence of the winds; while over them, fair as elsewhere,
gleamed the mild lustre of the impartial moon. The Miobu entered, and
was led into a front room in the southern part of the building. At
first the hostess and the messenger were equally at a loss for words.
At length the silence was broken by the hostess, who said:--

"Already have I felt that I have lived too long, but doubly do I feel
it now that I am visited by such a messenger as you." Here she paused,
and seemed unable to contend with her emotion.

"When Naishi-no-Ske returned from you," said the Miobu, "she reported
to the Emperor that wh