Knew he the secret of the past;
As yonder moon in clouded sky,
Looks o'er the scene mysteriously."

He returned to his mansion late in the night.

Early in the morning he sent a letter to O Miobu, the nurse of the
Heir-apparent, in which he said: "I at last leave the capital, to-day.
I know not when I may come and see the Prince again. On him my
thoughts and anxieties are concentrated, above all else. Realize these
feelings in your own mind, and tell them to him." He also sent the
following, fastened to a bough of cherry flowers, already becoming
thin:--

"When shall I see these scenes again,
And view the flowers of spring in bloom,
Like rustic from his mountain home,
A mere spectator shall I come?"

These were carefully read by O Miobu to the Prince, and when he was
asked what she should write in answer, he said: "Write that I said
that since I feel every longing to see him, when I do not see him for
a long time, how shall I feel when he goes away altogether?" Thereupon
she wrote an answer, in which she indefinitely stated that she had
shown the letter to the Prince, whose answer was simple, yet very
affectionate, and so on, with the following:--

"'Tis sad that fair blossoms so soon fade away,
In the darkness of winter no flower remains,
But let spring return with its sunshiny ray,
Then once more the flowers we look on again."

Now, with regard to the recent disgrace of Genji, the public in
general did not approve of the severity which the Court had shown to
him. Moreover, he had been constantly with the Emperor, his father,
since the age of seven, and his requests had been always cheerfully
listened to by the latter; hence there were very many, especially
among public servants of the ordinary class, who were much indebted to
him. However, none of them now came to pay their respects to him. It
seems that in a world of intrigue none dares do what is right for fear
of risking his own interests. Such being the state of things, Genji,
during the whole day, was unoccupied, and the time was entirely spent
with Violet. Then, at his usual late hour in the evening, he, in a
travelling dress of incognito, at length left the capital, where he
had passed five-and-twenty years of his life.

His attendants, Koremitz and Yoshikiyo being among them, were seven or
eight in number. He took with him but little luggage. All ostentatious
robes, all unnecessary articles of luxu