Murasaki comes dressed in travel costume from the direction where the
music had been earlier, with the flute tucked into her obi. She walks down
the corridor with the priestess of the shrine, looking sorrowful.
MURASAKI: I won’t mind even if I have to travel a thousand miles to
meet my father, the man I search for. But I thought if I became a priestess
here at Miyajima I would certainly meet him— that’s why I came.
PRIESTESS: (Apparently unable to comfort her) How very sad. It
sounds as though you’re from the capital— and you’re so beautiful. Even if
you hope to dance, it won’t be allowed.
MURASAKI: You were kind enough to show me that elegant dance—
even that was a comfort. This journey is so terrible, your dancing was a
positive joy.
Murasaki fusses with her clothes, as though unwilling to part with the
priestess.
Autumn drizzle on a mountain path snow on a road near the coast even
these breasts of mine freeze as I travel alone...
The samurai return. Seeing Murasaki, they draw near her.
FIRST SAMURAI: Wow, beautiful. I haven’t seen you around here,
young lady—are you a Genji firefly? SECOND SAMURAI: Or a Heike
bell cricket?
PRIESTESS: (Thrown into confusion, shielding Murasaki.) She has
asked to be made a priestess, she’s a guest... FIRST samurai: No, she’s not
the kind of girl to dance before a god. She looks like a dancer, like she
plays with men. Play your flute for us.
THIRD SAMURAI: Flute? . . . First that biwa, now this flute—these
travelers with their musical instruments seem a bit strange. And she’s too
beautiful—it’s suspicious.
He moves to catch hold of Murasaki.
