Read it through once

The next thing was to decide in what part of the house she was to live. In Murasaki’s southern wing there was not a room to spare. The Empress Akikonomu was obliged by her rank to live in considerable state. Etiquette forbade that she should ever appear without a numerous train of followers, and her suite had been designed to accommodate an almost indefinite number of gentlewomen. There was plenty of room for Tamakatsura here; but in such quarters she would tend to become lost amid the horde of Akikonomu’s gentlewomen, and to put her in such a place at all would indeed seem as though he expected her to assist in waiting upon the Empress. The only considerable free space in the house was the wing which he had built to contain his official papers. These had for the most part been handed over to Tō no Chūjō, and what was still left could easily be housed elsewhere. The advantage of those quarters was that Tamakatsura would here be the close neighbour of the Lady from the Village of Falling Flowers, whose sensible and affectionate nature would, he was sure, prove a great comfort to the new arrival. And now that all was ready, it seemed to him impossible to instal Tamakatsura in his household without revealing to Murasaki the whole truth about the girl’s identity and his own dealings with her mother. No sooner had he begun the story than he saw plainly enough that she was vexed with him for having made a mystery of the matter for so long. ‘I see that you are vexed,’ he said, ‘that I did not tell you about all this before. But you have always known quite well that I had many such attachments as this in the days before I knew you, and I have never seen that there was any point in mentioning them, unless some special circumstance made it necessary to do so. In the present case, it is essential that some one should be acquainted with all the facts, and I chose you rather than another merely because you are a thousand times dearer to me than any of the rest.’ Then he told her the whole story of his dealings with Yūgao. It was apparent to her that he was deeply moved, and at the same time that he took great pleasure in recalling every detail of their relationship. ‘Conversation turns often upon such matters,’ he said at last, ‘and I have heard innumerable stories of women’s blind devotion, even in cases where their love was in no degree reciprocated. Passion such as this is indeed rarely long withstood even by those who have gravely determined to rule out of their lives every species of romance; and I have seen many who have instantly succumbed. But such love as Yūgao’s, such utter self-forgetfulness, so complete a surrender of the whole being to one single and ever-present emotion—I have never seen or heard of, and were she alive she would certainly be occupying no less important a place in my palace than, for example, the Lady of Akashi is occupying to-day.... In many ways, of course, she fell short of perfection, as indeed is bound to be the case. She was not of great intelligence, nor was her beauty flawless. But she was a singularly lovable creature....’ ‘Were she as much in your good graces as the Lady of Akashi, she would have nothing to complain of ...’ broke in Murasaki suddenly; for the Akashi episode still rankled sore. The little princess,[109] who constantly visited Murasaki’s rooms, was playing with her toys not far away, and Murasaki seeing her look so innocent and pretty, in her childlessness forgave Genji the infidelity which had brought to her so charming a little playmate and companion.