Towards the end of the Second Month, the festival of the cherry blossoms took place in the Grand Hall. The empress and the crown prince were seated to the left and right of the throne. This arrangement of course displeased1 Kokiden, but she put in an appearance all the same, unable to let such an occasion pass. It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear, birds were singing. Adepts2 at Chinese poetry, princes and high courtiers and others, drew lots to fix the rhyme schemes for their poems.
“I have drawn3 ‘spring,’” said Genji, his voice finely resonant4 in even so brief a statement.
Tō no Chūjō might have been disconcerted at something in the eyes of the assembly as they turned from Genji to him, but he was calm and poised5, and his voice as he announced his rhyme was almost as distinguished6 as Genji’s. Several of the high courtiers seemed reluctant to follow the two, and the lesser7 courtiers were more reluctant still. They came stiffly out into the radiant garden, awed8 by the company in which they found themselves — for both the emperor and the crown prince were connoisseurs9 of poetry, and it was a time when superior poets were numerous. To produce a Chinese poem is never an easy task, but for them it seemed positive torture. Then there were the great professors who took such occasions in their stride, though their court dress may have been a little shabby. It was pleasant to observe the emperor’s interest in all these varied10 sorts of people.
The emperor had of course ordered the concert to be planned with the greatest care. “Spring Warbler,” which came as the sun was setting, was uncommonly11 fine. Remembering how Genji had danced at the autumn excursion, the crown prince himself presented a sprig of blossoms for his cap and pressed him so hard to dance that he could not refuse. Though he danced only a very brief passage, the quiet waving of his sleeves as he came to the climax12 was incomparable. The Minister of the Left forgot his anger at his negligent13 son-in-law. There were tears in his eyes.
“Where is Tō no Chūjō?” asked the emperor. “Have him come immediately.”
Tō no Chūjō, whose dance was “Garden of Willows14 and Flowers,” danced with more careful and deliberate art than had Genji, perhaps because he had been prepared for the royal summons. It was so interesting a performance that the emperor presented him with a robe — a most gratifying sign of royal approval, everyone agreed.
Other high courtiers danced, in no fixed15 order, but as it was growing dark one could not easily tell who were the better dancers. The poems were read. Genji’s was so remarkable16 that the reader paused to comment upon each line. The professors were deeply moved. Since Genji was for the emperor a shining light, the poem could not fail to move him too. As for the empress, she wondered how Kokiden could so hate the youth — and reflected on her own misfortune in being so strangely drawn to him.
“Could I see the blossom as other blossoms,
Then would there be no dew to cloud my heart.”
She recited it silently to herself. How then did it go the rounds and presently reach me?
The festivities ended late in the night.
The courtiers went their ways, the empress and the crown prince departed, all was quiet. The moon came out more brightly. It wanted proper appreciation18, thought Genji. The ladies in night attendance upon the emperor would be asleep. Expecting no visitors, his own lady might have left a door open a crack. He went quietly up to her apartments, but the door of the one whom he might ask to show him in was tightly closed. He sighed. Still not ready to give up, he made his way to the gallery by Kokiden’s pavilion. The third door from the north was open. Kokiden herself was with the emperor, and her rooms were almost deserted19. The hinged door at the far corner was open too. All was silent. It was thus, he thought, that a lady invited her downfall. He slipped across the gallery and up to the door of the main room and looked inside. Everyone seemed to be asleep.
“‘What can compare with a misty20 moon of spring?’” It was a sweet young voice, so delicate that its owner could be no ordinary serving woman.
She came (could he believe it?) to the door. Delighted, he caught at her sleeve.
“Who are you?” She was frightened.
“There is nothing to be afraid of.
“Late in the night we enjoy a Misty moon.
There is nothing misty about the bond between us.”
Quickly and lightly he lifted her down to the gallery and slid the door closed. Her surprise pleased him enormously.
Trembling, she called for help.
“It will do you no good. I am always allowed my way. Just be quiet, if you will, please.”
She recognized his voice and was somewhat reassured21. Though of course upset, she evidently did not wish him to think her wanting in good manners. It may have been because he was still a little drunk that he could not admit the possibility of letting her go; and she, young and irresolute22, did not know how to send him on his way. He was delighted with her, but also very nervous, for dawn was approaching. She was in an agony of apprehension23 lest they be seen.
“You must tell me who you are,” he said. “How can I write to you if you do not? You surely don’t think I mean to let matters stand as they are?”
“Were the lonely one to vanish quite away,
Would you go to the grassy24 moors26 to ask her name?”
Her voice had a softly plaintive27 quality.
“I did not express myself well.
“I wish to know whose dewy lodge28 it is
Ere winds blow past the bamboo-tangled moor25.
“Only one thing, a cold welcome, could destroy my eagerness to visit. Do you perhaps have some diversionary tactic29 in mind?”
They exchanged fans and he was on his way. Even as he spoke30 a stream of women was moving in and out of Kokiden’s rooms. There were women in his own rooms too, some of them still awake. Pretending to be asleep, they poked31 one another and exchanged whispered remarks about the diligence with which he pursued these night adventures.
He was unable to sleep. What a beautiful girl! One of Kokiden’s younger sisters, no doubt. Perhaps the fifth or sixth daughter of the family, since she had seemed to know so little about men? He had heard that both thy fourth daughter, to whom Tō no Chūjō was uncomfortably married, and Prince Hotaru’s wife were great beauties, and thought that the encounter might have been more interesting had the lady been one of the older sisters. He rather hoped she was not the sixth daughter, whom the minister had thoughts of marrying to the crown prince. The trouble was that he had no way of being sure. It had not seemed that she wanted the affair to end with but the one meeting. Why then had she not told him how he might write to her? These thoughts and others suggest that he was much interested. He thought too of Fujitsubo’s pavilion, and how much more mysterious and inaccessible32 it was, indeed how uniquely so.
He had a lesser spring banquet with which to amuse himself that day. He played the thirteen-stringed koto, his performance if anything subtler and richer than that of the day before. Fujitsubo went to the emperor’s apartments at dawn.
Genji was on tenterhooks33, wondering whether the lady he had seen in the dawn moonlight would be leaving the palace. He sent Yoshikiyo and Koremitsu, who let nothing escape them, to keep watch; and when, as he was leaving the royal presence, he had their report, his agitation34 increased.
“Some carriages that had been kept out of sight left just now by the north gate. Two of Kokiden’s brothers and several other members of the family saw them off; so we gathered that the ladies must be part of the family too. They were ladies of some importance, in any case — that much was clear. There were three carriages in all.”
How might he learn which of the sisters he had become friends with? Supposing her father were to learn of the affair and welcome him gladly into the family — he had not seen enough of the lady to be sure that the prospect35 delighted him. Yet he did want very much to know who she was. He sat looking out at the garden.
Murasaki would be gloomy and bored, he feared, for he had not visited her in some days. He looked at the fan he had received in the dawn moonlight. It was a “three-ply cherry.” The painting on the more richly colored side, a misty moon reflected on water, was not remarkable, but the fan, well used, was a memento36 to stir longing37. He remembered with especial tenderness the poem about the grassy moors.
He jotted38 down a poem beside the misty moon:
“I had not known the sudden loneliness
Of having it vanish, the moon in the sky of dawn.”
He had been neglecting the Sanjō mansion39 of his father-in-law for rather a long time, but Murasaki was more on his mind. He must go comfort her. She pleased him more, she seemed prettier and cleverer and more amiable40, each time he saw her. He was congratulating himself that his hopes of shaping her into his ideal might not prove entirely41 unrealistic. Yet he had misgivings42 — very unsettling ones, it must be said — lest by training her himself he put her too much at ease with men. He told her the latest court gossip and they had a music lesson. So he was going out again — she was sorry, as always, to see him go, but she no longer clung to him as she once had.
At Sanjō it was the usual thing: his wife kept him waiting. In his boredom43 he thought of this and that. pulling a koto to him, he casually44 plucked out a tune17. “No nights of soft sleep,” he sang, to his own accompaniment.
The minister came for a talk about the recent pleasurable events.
“I am very old, and I have served through four illustrious reigns45, but never have I known an occasion that has added so many years to my life. Such clever, witty46 poems, such fine music and dancing — you are on good terms with the great performers who so abound47 in our day, and you arrange things with such marvelous skill. Even we aged48 ones felt like cutting a caper49 or two.”
“The marvelous skill of which you speak, sir, amounts to nothing at all, only a word here and there. It is a matter of knowing where to ask. ‘Garden of Willows and Flowers’ was much the best thing, I thought, a performance to go down as a model for all the ages. And what a memorable50 day it would have been, what an honor for our age, if in the advancing spring of your life you had followed your impulse and danced for us.”
Soon Tō no Chūjō and his brothers, leaning casually against the veranda51 railings, were in fine concert on their favorite instruments.
The lady of that dawn encounter, remembering the evanescent dream, was sunk in sad thoughts. Her father’s plans to give her to the crown prince in the Fourth Month were a source of great distress52. As for Genji, he was not without devices for searching her out, but he did not know which of Kokiden’s sisters she was, and he did not wish to become involved with that unfriendly family.
Late in the Fourth Month the princes and high courtiers gathered at the mansion of the Minister of the Right, Kokiden’s father, for an archery meet. It was as followed immediately by a wisteria banquet. Though the cherry blossoms had for the most part fallen, two trees, perhaps having learned that mountain cherries do well to bloom 1ate, were at their belated best. The minister’s mansion had been rebuilt and beautifully refurnished for the initiation53 ceremonies of the princesses his granddaughters. It was in the ornate style its owner preferred, everything in the latest fashion.
Seeing Genji in the palace one day, the minister had invited him to the festivities. Genji would have preferred to stay away, but the affair seemed certain to languish54 without him. The minister sent one of his sons, a guards officer, with a message:
“If these blossoms of mine were of the common sort,
Would I press you so to come and look upon them?”
Genji showed the poem to his father.
“He seems very pleased with his flowers,” laughed the emperor. “But you must go immediately. He has, after all, sent a special invitation. It is use that the princesses your sisters are being reared. You are scarcely a stranger.”
Genji dressed with great care. It was almost dark when he finally presented himself. He wore a robe of a thin white Chinese damask with a red lining55 and under it a very long train of magenta56. Altogether the dashing young prince, he added something new to the assembly that so cordially received him, for the other guests were more formally clad. He quite overwhelmed the blossoms, in a sense spoiling the party, and played beautifully on several instruments. Late in the evening he got up, pretending to be drunk. The first and third princesses were living in the main hall. He went to the east veranda and leaned against a door. The shutters57 were raised and women were gathered at the southwest corner, where the wisteria was in bloom. Their sleeves were pushed somewhat ostentatiously out from under blinds, as at a New Year’s poetry assembly. All rather overdone58, he thought, and he could not help thinking too of Fujitsubo’s reticence59.
“I was not feeling well in the first place, and they plied60 me with drink. I know I shouldn’t, but might I ask you to hide me?” He raised the blind at the corner door.
“Please, dear sir, this will not do. It is for us beggars to ask such favors of you fine gentlemen.” Though of no overwhelming dignity, the women were most certainly not common.
Incense61 hung heavily in the air and the rustling62 of silk was bright and lively. Because the princesses seemed to prefer modern things, the scene may perhaps have been wanting in mysterious shadows.
The time and place were hardly appropriate for a flirtation63, and yet his interest was aroused. Which would be the lady of the misty moon?
“A most awful thing has happened,” he said playfully. “Someone has stolen my fan.” He sat leaning against a pillar.
“What curious things that Korean does do.” The lady who thus deftly64 returned his allusion65 did not seem to know about the exchange of fans.
Catching66 a sigh from another lady, he leaned forward and took her hand.
“I wander lost on Arrow Mount and ask:
May I not see the moon I saw so briefly67?
“Or must I continue to wander?”
It seemed that she could not remain silent:
“Only the flighty, the less than serious ones,
Are left in the skies when the longbow moon is gone.”
It was the same voice. He was delighted. And yet —
收听单词发音 |
1
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
adepts
|
|
| n.专家，能手( adept的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
resonant
|
|
| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
poised
|
|
| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
connoisseurs
|
|
| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
uncommonly
|
|
| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
negligent
|
|
| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
willows
|
|
| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
moor
|
|
| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
tactic
|
|
| n.战略，策略；adj.战术的，有策略的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
poked
|
|
| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
inaccessible
|
|
| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
tenterhooks
|
|
| n.坐立不安 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
memento
|
|
| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
jotted
|
|
| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
boredom
|
|
| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
reigns
|
|
| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
abound
|
|
| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
caper
|
|
| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
veranda
|
|
| n.走廊；阳台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
initiation
|
|
| n.开始 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
languish
|
|
| vi.变得衰弱无力，失去活力，（植物等）凋萎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
magenta
|
|
| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
overdone
|
|
| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
reticence
|
|
| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
incense
|
|
| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
flirtation
|
|
| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
deftly
|
|
| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |