Read it through once

He did indeed find his neighbour in the eastern wing sadly in need of a little support and encouragement. He managed however to convince her that the worst danger was over, and sending for some of his own carpenters had everything put to rights. He felt that he ought now to greet his father. But in the central hall everything was still locked and barred. He went to the end of the passage and leaning on the balustrade looked out into the Southern Garden. Even such trees as still stood were heeling over in the wind so that their tops almost touched the ground. Broken branches were scattered in every direction and what once had been flower-beds were now mere rubbish heaps, strewn with a promiscuous litter of thatch and tiles, with here and there a fragment of trellis-work or the top of a fence. There was now a little pale sunshine, that slanting through a break in the sky gleamed fitfully upon the garden’s woe-begone face; but sullen clouds packed the horizon, and as Yūgiri gazed on the desolate scene his eyes filled with tears. How came it, he asked himself, that he should be doomed time and again to long precisely for what it was impossible for him to obtain. He wiped away his tears, came close to Genji’s door and called. ‘That sounds like Yūgiri’s voice,’ he heard Genji say. ‘I had no notion it was so late....’ He heard his father rise. There was a pause, and then Genji laughed, perhaps at some remark that had been inaudible. ‘No indeed,’ he said. ‘You and I have fared better than most lovers. We have never known what it was to be torn from each other at the first streak of dawn, and I do not think that after all these years we should easily reconcile ourselves to such a fate.’ Even to overhear such a conversation as this gave Yūgiri a certain kind of pleasure. He could not make out a word of what Murasaki said in reply and judging from the laughter with which the conversation was constantly interrupted it was not of a very serious description. But he felt he could say to himself ‘That is what happens when they are alone together,’ and he went on listening. Now, however, there was a noise of swift footsteps. Evidently Genji was about to unbolt the door with his own hands. Conscious that he was standing far closer to it than was natural Yūgiri stepped back guiltily into the corridor. ‘Well,’ asked Genji, ‘was the Princess pleased to see you last night?’ ‘Yes, I think she was,’ answered Yūgiri. ‘She seems to be very much upset about something that has happened between her and my uncle Tō no Chūjō. She cried a great deal and I was very sorry for her.’ Genji smiled. ‘Oh, I know all about that business,’ he said. ‘She will soon get over it. You must persuade her not to brood upon such matters. He thinks she has been indiscreet, and is doing his best to make her feel uncomfortable about it. He cares immensely about the impression which his conduct makes on other people; and as regards his mother—he has always gone out of his way to convince the world that he is a paragon of filial devotion. So far as outward show is concerned, this is true enough. But I fancy that it is all done chiefly for the sake of appearances. The truth of the matter is that he has no very deep feelings towards anybody. This may seem a hard thing to say; but, on the other hand, I freely admit his good qualities. He is extremely well-informed and intelligent; he is musical to an extent which has become very rare in these days. In addition to all that, he is good-looking. As I have said, I think his feelings somewhat superficial. But we all have defects of one sort or another.... By the way, I ought to find out how the Empress has been getting on during this appalling hurricane. I wish you would find out if there is anything I can do for her ...’ and he gave Yūgiri a note in which he said: ‘I am afraid the wind prevented you from getting much sleep. I myself find it a great strain and am feeling rather shaky; otherwise I should have come round to see you long ago....’