the nearest maid-in-waiting whispered. “It snows upon the castle.” Echiko sat huddled in a corner of the room, having crawled from her bedding some while before, trying to hide from haunted dreams and memories. Her once-beautiful face was thin and sallow. There were shadows around her eyes. At first she did not respond to the maidservant’s solicitous information. In a few moments, her head began to turn, slowly, painfully. She opened her mouth to reply, but said nothing. The maid-in-waiting draped a padded winter kimono around the sickly Lady Echiko and tried to get her to stand. Other young women moved about the dark room like shades, their moods habitually dour. The youngest maidservant, scarcely more than a child, found a huge umbrella in a cabinet. Another of Echiko’s companions opened a door onto night’s snowy garden. “Come and see the snow from your veranda,” the maid-in-waiting whispered, her voice edged more with resignation than concern, for concern had long proved unavailing.
