Prevod

Long ago, there lived a man named Kakuyū, the Great Bishop of Hōrin-in. His nephew Kunitoshi, the former governor of Mutsu, once went to visit him and sent word that he had arrived. “I shall see him directly. Ask him to wait there a little,” came the reply. Kunitoshi waited, but after some two hours the bishop had still not appeared. Growing rather annoyed, he decided to leave and called for the attendant who had accompanied him. When the man came, he said, “Bring my shoes.” He put on the shoes the attendant brought and was about to go when the man said, “His Reverence asked for your carriage. He said to bring it round, as he meant to leave by the little gate. Not knowing what else to do, I had the ox-driver bring it up. His Reverence told me, ‘Tell your master to wait. I shall only be a little while and will be back directly,’ and off he went in it. It must be more than an hour since then.” “What a witless fellow you are!” said Kunitoshi. “You should have come and told me he wanted my carriage, and asked whether he might borrow it. What a fool!” “His Reverence is not someone one can simply put off,” the attendant replied. “He was already wearing his short robe, and he said, ‘Come now, hurry! Tell him properly.’ There was nothing I could do.” The former governor went back upstairs and began turning over in his mind what he might do. Now the bishop had a settled habit. He would have a whole tubful of finely chopped straw put into his bath and a mat spread over it. Whenever he had been out walking, he would go straight to the bathhouse, strip naked, and cry, “Heigh-ho, here we go—a quilt of feathers!” Then he would flop backward into the tub. Kunitoshi went over and lifted the mat. Sure enough, the tub was filled with finely chopped straw. He took down the cloth hanging at the bathhouse entrance, gathered all the straw into it, and tied it into a neat bundle. Then he put a bath bucket in the bottom of the tub, set a go board upside down on top of it, and covered the whole thing with the mat, leaving everything looking just as it had before. He hid the bundle of straw beside the main gate and sat down to wait. More than two hours passed before he heard the bishop returning through the little gate. Kunitoshi slipped out through the main gate, called his returning carriage over, and put the bundle of straw in the back. He had himself driven home at a brisk pace, and when he got out, he handed the straw to the ox-driver’s boy. “Give this to the ox,” he said. “He must be tired after all that going back and forth.” Meanwhile, the bishop, following his usual custom, scarcely paused to take off his clothes before entering the bathhouse. “Heigh-ho, here we go—a quilt of feathers!” he cried, and leapt into the tub, throwing himself onto his back without a thought. His tailbone struck hard against one of the stout legs of the upturned go board. Being an elderly man, he fainted and lay there with his body arched backward. When no further sound came from the bathhouse, a monk who attended him closely went to see what was wrong. There he found the bishop lying unconscious, his eyes rolled upward. “What has happened?” he cried, but there was no reply. He went closer and sprinkled water on the bishop’s face. Only after some time could the old man manage a few faint words beneath his breath. Perhaps this prank was rather too cruel.