Michiko took a rolled-up reed mat from a shelf and spread it across the bare wooden floor. Then she set out dishes and cups which had been stored in a simple chest. They sat down. She placed the food in bowls and Tora poured the wine.

The girl was starved. Tora, who was full, watched her eat, passing her his own portion when she had finished hers. He liked a girl with a healthy appetite. Close up she was even prettier; her eyes began to sparkle as her hunger and tiredness vanished, and her moist lips looked full and inviting. Finally she stopped eating, burped in a ladylike fashion, and gave him a big smile. "Thank you, Tora," she said with feeling. "That was very good."

Touched, Tora reached into his sleeve and handed her the sash with the crane pattern. "Here," he said. "It's not much, but it's for you if you like it."

She spread it out on her lap. "Oh Tora!" she whispered, touching the fabric reverently. "It is so beautiful. I had no idea you bought me a present. Did you know I'd come back to you?"

Tora had the grace to blush, but thought that, on the whole, it would be kinder not to confess the truth. "I told you I had made a wish," he said.

Michiko flung her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his. "I'm so glad," she cried. Then she jumped up and started putting away the dishes. Tora got up to help.

"Do you happen to know a girl called Omaki?" he asked, handing her one of the shrimp bowls.

"Oh, yes. She used to be my friend."

"Used to?"

Michiko knelt, poured some water into a large bowl and rinsed the dishes. "She got snooty. Taking lessons from a professor who comes to the Willow a lot. He made her think she was better than the rest of us. Then she got sick to her stomach a lot, and when I asked her if there was something wrong, she snapped at me to mind my own business." She pointed to a neatly folded length of cheap cotton. "Do you mind drying?"

Tora obliged. "That wasn't very nice of her."

"No, and of course it made me think. She must be pregnant. And I bet that's why she wasn't working today. The auntie probably told her nobody wants to look at a pregnant musician."

"Any idea who the father is?" asked Tora, stacking the clean dishes on the chest.

"My guess is it's the professor's," said Michiko, pouring the dirty water out the window, and putting away the bowl. Then she turned, giving Tora a thoughtful look. "Why are you asking? Don't tell me you've fallen for her?"

"Never, my sweet!" Tora said fervently, stepping closer to stroke her cheek with his finger. "I don't even know the girl. Someone said she was a good lute player, and I thought Madame Sakaki was her. What a charming neck you have."

Michiko giggled and caught his hand in hers. "Omaki can't touch Madame's playing. She's the best. And she hates Omaki." She nuzzled Tora's hand, and said wistfully, "I'm sorry I can't play the lute, Tora, but I know lots of other games."

"Really?" Tora pretended ignorance. "Like what?"

"Like 'bamboo bridge to the pavilion,'" she whispered, tracing Tora's jaw with her finger and fluttering her eyes at him, "or 'cicadas clinging to a tree,' or 'monkey swinging from a branch' or 'bouncing the infant.'"

Tora's eyebrows shot up. " 'Monkey swinging from a branch'?" he asked, astonished. "What sort of game might that be?"

She moved quite close to him. "Silly! Don't you know anything? Haven't you ever visited the ladies of the Willow Quarter?"

Tora made a grab for her and pulled her down onto the mat. "No, you hussy," he muttered, fumbling for her sash. "And you shouldn't know such things either."

She giggled, twisting in his arms. "The girls tell us all about their work. They make good money, but I prefer to take my pick of the handsome fellows."

"Do you now?" asked Tora with a broad smile, tossing aside the sash and pushing her gown off her shoulders.

"Wait," she cried. "Let me make up a bed first!"

Tora stumbled up, cursing under his breath. He was taking off his robe, while she brought out her bedding and unrolled it on the floor. Her loose gown gaped enticingly, revealing glimpses of bare skin- a slender thigh, high breasts, a flash of well-rounded hip and… She slipped off the gown, folding it neatly away. Tora gasped and began to tear at his loincloth.

In a flash she was by his side to help. "Oh," she cried, "how large! It is truly like a tree for monkeys to climb." She gave a little screech. "This little monkey is afraid," she cried and jumped under the covers, giggling.

Tora dove under himself. "Forget the monkeys," he groaned. "This tree must be planted quickly before it dies."

Michiko was not only a compassionate girl, but also a very good teacher. Tora learned all about swinging monkeys and other entertaining games that night.

It was the hour of the cock, about two hours before sunset, when Akitada entered the Divine Spring Garden again. For the occasion of the contest the gate had been festively decorated with banners, and two foot soldiers from the imperial guard stood at attention on either side. Akitada presented his invitation and was waved through. Ahead of him he saw Nishioka walking side by side with the student Ishikawa, but he made no effort to catch up to them.

He had been downcast all day, and his depression deepened as he passed the spot where they had found the girl's body. When the imperial pavilion burst upon his eyes, filled with hundreds of elegant guests in colorful robes, the scene was almost painfully bright in the afternoon sunlight, a shocking contrast to his dark mood. Vermilion columns and balustrades, emerald roof tiles, gilded ornaments, many-hued silk cushions and colorful robes of contestants and guests, painted boats on the white sand of the lake which lay like molten gold in the setting sun- it all seemed for a moment completely unreal. Akitada felt that he had walked into a place quite separate and distant from the work-day world of normal people. It was certainly a world which was remote from that of the dead girl and the old beggar, and both had intruded into it at a cost.

Filled with an irrational anger at those who lived "above the clouds" like the very gods, Akitada climbed the steps to the veranda. It was already nearly filled with chattering and laughing guests. None of them, he thought, would care that a young woman had died only a short walk away.

At the top of the steps he paused briefly before the dais of the presiding judges to make his bow to Prince Atsuakira and the other imperial personages. Then he turned towards the left where he saw other members of the faculty and found his place somewhere in the back. After a moment, Hirata appeared by his side. He looked tired but smiled.

"I have not been home all day," he said, sitting down. "Did the ladies enjoy the procession?"

"I believe so." Akitada had to make an effort to smile back. "My mother invited Tamako to share their midday rice. I had to leave- a matter having to do with the murdered girl- but Tora was to take your daughter home in the hired carriage."

"That was most kind of you and your lady mother," said Hirata warmly. "Please express to her my deep gratitude for the honor she has done my insignificant daughter."

Insignificant? Honor? Kindness? The words of polite convention were as false as the ridiculous affair he was about to witness. Akitada nodded and turned away to look at the nobles and ranking members of the government seated to the right of the stairs. It suddenly struck him that even the cushions people sat on distinguished them by rank, as if a noble behind must not be insulted by an inappropriate support. The princes sat on purple brocade; the nobles had deep red, green or blue silk cushions; and he, along with the rest of the faculty and students, was provided with a gray cotton one. Never once forget your place in the hierarchy!