Prevod

There once lived a man in a place called Tsuruga, in the province of Echizen. By one means or another he managed to live without much hardship. He had no children but a single daughter, and he cherished her as something beyond all price. Hoping to see her securely settled while he was still alive, he found her a husband, but the man did not stay. He tried one man after another, four or five in all, yet none remained with her. At last, in despair, he gave up trying. Behind his house he built a chapel, installed an image of Kannon, and prayed, “Please protect this daughter of mine.” Not long after he had held the dedication and made his offerings, he died. While his daughter was still grieving for him, her mother died as well. She wept and mourned, but nothing could be done. With no estates to support her, she struggled to make her way in the world; yet what could a woman alone accomplish? While a little of her parents’ property remained, she had four or five servants, but when everything was gone, not one was left. Even food became difficult to obtain. Whenever she managed to find something, she prepared it with her own hands and ate, then turned toward Kannon and prayed through her tears, “Let my parents’ devotion not have been in vain. Please help me.” One night she dreamed that an aged monk came from the chapel behind the house and said, “I pity you deeply, and have decided to find you a husband. I summoned him last night, and he will reach this place tomorrow. You must do as he tells you.” Then she awoke. “Surely the holy one means to help me,” she thought. She bathed, went to the chapel, and prayed in tears. Trusting in the dream, she swept the house and waited for the man to come. The house had been built on a grand scale. Since her parents’ deaths she had had no means to keep it fit to live in, but the building itself was still large, and she occupied one corner. She did not even have a mat to spread beneath her. Toward evening that day, she heard the clatter of horses’ hooves as a large party entered the grounds. Men were peering in through the openings, and she realized that travelers were seeking lodging. “Go in at once,” someone said, and they all entered. “This is a good place. What a spacious house! And there is no host to ask who we are or tell us what to do. We can settle in just as we please,” they said to one another. Peeping out, she saw that their master was a very handsome man of about thirty. There were twenty or thirty armed retainers, and with the servants and other attendants, the company seemed to number seventy or eighty. Seeing them sit on the bare boards, she wished she could offer them mats, but she was too ashamed to show herself. They asked for their leather traveling chests and mats, spread the mats over the chests, and drew curtains around their quarters. While they were bustling about, night fell. Yet there was no sign of anyone eating, and she wondered whether they had no food. “If only I had anything, I would give it to them,” she thought. Late that night, someone from the travelers’ quarters called, “You who live here, please come closer. I have something to say to you.” “What can it be?” she answered, moving toward him on her knees. There was nothing to bar his way, and the man suddenly came in and took hold of her. “What are you doing?” she said, but there was little use in protesting. Besides, she remembered what she had seen in her dream and felt she could neither question nor oppose him. Now, in the province of Mino there had lived a mighty warrior, and this man was his only son. When his father died, he inherited all his possessions and became a man no less powerful than his father. But he had lost the wife he loved and had remained a widower. Many people wanted him as a son-in-law, and many women wished to marry him, but he had lived alone, thinking that he would take no one unless she resembled his former wife. Some business had now called him to Wakasa. When he stopped at this house, while it was still light, he noticed someone sitting in a corner where there was nothing to conceal her. Wondering who she might be, he peered in, and she seemed to him the very image of his dead wife. His sight grew dim and his heart raced. “If only it would grow dark quickly!” he thought. He wanted to approach her and discover whether she resembled his wife in other ways as well, and that was why he had come into her room. From the moment she spoke, he found not the slightest difference between them. “To think such a wonder could happen!” he said. “If I had never decided to go to Wakasa, would I ever have seen you? What a happy journey this has proved!” He had intended to spend some ten days in Wakasa, but he was so reluctant to leave her that he promised her again and again, “I shall go tomorrow morning and return the following day.” Seeing that she was cold, he gave her clothes to wear. He also left four or five retainers behind, with their servants and attendants, about twenty people in all. She had no way to feed them, nor any way to provide grass for their horses, and she was wondering in distress what she could do when a woman came to visit her. This woman was the daughter of someone who had worked in her parents’ kitchen. She had heard that the daughter was still alive, but they had never visited one another. All she knew was that the woman had married a good husband and was comfortably off. The visit was quite unexpected. Wondering who it could be, she asked, “Who has come?” “How sad!” the visitor replied. “Though it must be my own fault that you do not recognize me. I am the daughter of the woman who served in the kitchen when your late mother was alive. For years I have thought how I should like to come and see you, and today I put everything else aside and came. If you are living here with no one to turn to, then, humble though my home may be, you must visit us and stay four or five days at a time. I am devoted to you, but if I remain at a distance and fail to inquire after you morning and evening, you may well think that I care very little.” She spoke warmly and at length, then asked, “Who are all these people waiting here?” “A man who lodged here has gone on to Wakasa,” the lady answered. “He is to return tomorrow, and he left these men here until then. But he made no provision for their food, and I have nothing to give them either. The sun is already high, and I am distressed for them, but I have no idea what to do.” “Then he is someone whose needs you ought to look after?” “Not that I have any particular duty to him. But it would be dreadful to see people lodging under my roof go hungry and do nothing. And he is someone I cannot think of as a stranger.” “Then nothing could be simpler. How fortunate that I came today of all days! I shall go home and return with what is needed.” With that she rose and left. “Just when I was so troubled, someone I never expected has come and spoken so reassuringly,” the lady thought. “Surely all this must be Kannon’s guidance.” She pressed her palms together and prayed more fervently than ever. Before long the woman returned with people carrying supplies. There was food in abundance, and she had even arranged for grass to be brought for the horses. The lady’s joy was beyond words. The woman waited on the men, saw that they all had food and sake, and then came into the lady’s room. “What is this?” the lady cried. “It is as though my parents had come back to life! I was at my wits’ end, not knowing what to do, and so distressed for these men. You have saved me from shame.” She wept with gratitude, and the woman, weeping too, replied, “All these years I have wondered how you were living. But those of us who have our own way to make in the world find that life does not always go as we intend, and so the years have passed. Now that I have come to you at such a moment, how could I fail to do all I can? When will the gentleman who crossed over to Wakasa return? And how many people are traveling with him?” “Well, I do not know whether he will really come, but he said he would be here tomorrow evening. With the men who are staying here, there were seventy or eighty in all.” “Then I must see to the preparations for his return.” “Even what you have done already is an unexpected joy. How could I ask so much more of you?” “Whatever may be needed, how could I leave it undone from now on?” the woman said. She spoke with such assurance before leaving that the lady felt she could depend on her. She had already provided the men’s supper and their food for the following morning. Overwhelmed by these unforeseen wonders, the lady could do nothing but pray to Kannon, and so the day came to an end. The next day, the men who had stayed behind waited for their master, saying, “Surely our lord will be here today.” He arrived at about four in the afternoon. Scarcely had he come when the woman appeared with a great store of provisions and set about giving orders, much to everyone’s relief. The man hurried straight into the lady’s room and lay down beside her, telling her how he had longed to know that she was safe. He said that she must leave with him at dawn. She wondered what would become of her, but she trusted the holy one who had appeared in her dream and told her to leave everything in the man’s hands, and so she agreed to whatever he said. The woman was rushing about, seeing to the preparations for their early departure, and the lady felt such affection for her that she wished to give her something. Yet she had nothing to give. She did, however, have one pair of crimson silk hakama, which she had kept in case they might be needed someday. She decided to give these to the woman and put on a pair of silk hakama the man had taken off. Calling the woman to her, she said, “All these years I scarcely knew there was such a person as you, yet you came when I least expected it and saved me from what might have been a terrible humiliation. My joy is beyond anything in this world, and I have been wondering how I could show my gratitude. Please take these as a token of my feelings.” But the woman refused. “Oh, please do not! Now that a gentleman has come to know you, I have been distressed to see how poorly you are clothed, and I was thinking of bringing you something myself. How could I accept this from you?” “All these years I have wished for some stream to draw me out of this place,” the lady replied. “Now, quite unexpectedly, this man says he will take me with him. I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but I mean to go. Please keep these as a remembrance of me.” She continued to press the gift upon her. “I could never think lightly of your kindness,” the woman said at last. “And since you do me the honor of calling it a remembrance, I shall accept.” The room was small, and the man lay listening to everything they said. When the cocks crowed, they rose in haste, ate some of the food the woman had prepared, and had the horses saddled and led out. Just as the lady was about to mount, she said, “No one knows how long life may last. Perhaps I shall never have another chance to worship here.” Still dressed for the journey, she washed her hands and went to the chapel behind the house to pay her respects to Kannon. As she looked up at the image, she saw something red hanging from its shoulder. Wondering what it could be, she looked more closely. It was the pair of hakama she had given the woman. “What can this mean? Then the woman I thought I saw—all of it was Kannon’s doing!” At the thought, tears rained down her face. She tried to restrain herself, but fell to the floor and rolled about, sobbing. Hearing her, the man wondered what had happened and came running. “What is the matter?” he asked. Her weeping was so extraordinary that he looked about him, asking again what had happened. Then he saw the red hakama hanging from Kannon’s shoulder. “What can this mean?” he said, and asked her to explain. She told him in detail how the woman had appeared unexpectedly and all that she had done. “And the hakama I thought I gave her are hanging from Kannon’s shoulder—” Before she could finish, she broke into loud sobs. The man remembered what he had heard while pretending to sleep. “These must be the hakama she gave that woman,” he thought, and was so deeply moved that he too began to weep. Those among his retainers who understood what had happened also pressed their palms together and wept. They put the hakama reverently away and set out for Mino. From that time on, the two loved one another faithfully, neither ever casting a glance elsewhere. Children were born to them, and they often returned to Tsuruga, where they paid their devotions to Kannon again and again. As for the woman who had come to help, they made inquiries near and far to see whether such a person existed, but nowhere could they find her. Nor did she ever visit them again. It could only have been Kannon’s own work. Husband and wife prospered, and both lived into their seventies or eighties, with sons and daughters born to them. Only death at last parted them.