The Pillow-Book of Sei Shōnagon Read Online Free PDF Page A

one had the strength of mind to tell her so. . . .
    Once, when the Empress said that Shikibu no Omoto and I were to sleep in her apartments instead of going back to our own room, we settled down for the night in the southern ante-room. After a while there was a tremendous banging on our door. We decided it would be a nuisance to have anyone coming in, and pretended to be asleep. But the knocking was followed by violent shouting, and I heard her Majesty say: “Go and wake her up, one of you. She is only pretending to be asleep.” The “Taira” girl then came in and tried to wake me; but she found that I was very fast asleep indeed, and saying that if I would not stir she must open the door herself, she went out and began a conversation with the visitor. I kept on thinking she would come back, but midnight came and still she did not appear. I was fairly certain that the visitor was my lord Narinobu. . . .
    Next morning she heard us talking in our ante-room, and joining us, said to me: “I do think that when a man comes through such storms of rain as there were last night, you ought to treat him better. I know that he has been behaving very badly lately, and that you had almost lost sight of him. But I think you ought to forgive anyone who arrives with his clothes as wet as that.”
    I cannot follow that line of argument. It seems to me that if a man who comes regularly every night is not put offeven by a heavy shower of rain, which is something to his credit. But if, after absenting himself for weeks on end, he is fool enough to choose such weather as this for coming back, then all I can say is I would rather he showed more sense and less devotion. But I suppose that is a matter of taste.
    The case is this. Narinobu likes sometimes to have dealings with a woman who has observed and reflected sufficiently to acquire a mind of her own. But he has many other attachments to keep up, not to mention his main responsibility, and it would be quite impossible for him to see me often. His object in choosing so atrocious a night for his visit was chiefly that other people might be impressed by his devotion and point out to me how much beholden I ought to feel. However, I suppose if he did not care for me at all, he would not think it worthwhile to indulge even in such stratagems as these.
    When it is raining I fall into complete gloom, and even if only a few hours ago the sun was shining brightly I cannot in the least remember what things looked like when it was fine. Everything looks equally disagreeable, so that it makes no difference to me whether I am in the loveliest corner of the Palace arcades or in the most ordinary of houses; so long as it is raining I can think of nothing else but how long the rain is going to last.
    But if anyone comes on a night when the moon is up and there is a clear sky, even if it is ten days, twenty days, a month, a year, yes, even seven or eight years since his last visit, I can look back with pleasure on his visit; and even if the place is not very convenient for meeting and one must be prepared for interruption at any moment—even if, at the worst, nothing more happens than a few remarks exchanged at a respectful distance— one feels that next time, if circumstances are favorable, one will allow him to stay the night.

STRAY NOTES
    One writes a letter, taking particular trouble to get it up as prettily as possible; then waits for the answer, making sure every moment that it cannot be much longer before something comes. At last, frightfully late, is brought in—one’s own note, still folded or tied exactly as one sent it, but so finger-marked and smudged that even the address is barely legible. “The family is not in residence,” the messenger says, giving one back the note. Or “It is his day of observance and they said they could not take any letters in.” Such experiences are dismally depressing.
    One has been expecting someone, and rather late at night there is a stealthy tapping at the