ed before that she always had a tender yearning for
Genji, and she was the only one of her family who entertained any
sympathy or good feeling towards him. She had seen, for some time, the
lack of consideration and the indifference with which he was treated
by her friends, and used to send messages of kind inquiry. Genji, on
his part also, had never forgotten her, and the sympathy which she
showed towards him excited in his heart the most lively appreciation.

These mutual feelings led at length to making appointments for meeting
during her retirement. Genji ran the risk of visiting her secretly in
her own apartments. This was really hazardous, more especially so
because her sister, the Empress-mother, was at this time staying in
the same mansion. We cannot regard either the lady or Genji as
entirely free from the charge of imprudence, which, on his part, was
principally the result of his old habits of wandering.

It was on a summer's evening that Genji contrived to see her in her
own apartment, and while they were conversing, a thunderstorm suddenly
broke forth, and all the inmates got up and ran to and fro in their
excitement. Genji had lost the opportunity of escape, and, besides,
the dawn had already broken.

When the storm became lighter and the thunder ceased, Udaijin went
first to the room of his royal daughter, and then to that of
Naishi-no-Kami. The noise of the falling rain made his footsteps
inaudible, and all unexpectedly he appeared at the door and said:
"What a storm it has been! Were you not frightened?"

This voice startled both Genji and the lady. The former hid himself on
one side of the room, and the latter stepped forth to meet her father.
Her face was deeply flushed, which he soon noticed. He said, "You seem
still excited; is your illness not yet quite passed?" While he was so
saying he caught sight of the sash of a man's cloak, twisted round her
skirt.

"How strange!" thought he. The next moment he noticed some papers
lying about, on which something had been scribbled. "This is more
strange!" he thought again; and exclaimed, "Whose writings are these?"
At this request she looked aside, and all at once noticed the sash
round her skirt, and became quite confused. Udaijin was a man of quiet
nature; so, without distressing her further, bent down to pick up the
papers, when by so doing he perceived a man behind the screen, who was
apparently in great confusion and was endeavoring to hide his face.