The white monkey

C h a p t e r XI

Venture

Tony Bicket, an unemployed Cockney, sells balloons. On impulse Soames Forsyte buys two of them, inflates , and then throws them away. Michael Mont, his son-in-law, finds one balloon on his way home, while he is thinking about his problems with Fleur, his wife.

At six o'clock, with a profit of three and elghtpence, to which Soames had contributed just half, he began to add the sighs of deflating balloons to his own; untying them with passionate care, he watched his coloured hopes one by one collapse, and stored them in the drawer of his tray. Taking it under his arm, he moved his tired legs in the direction of the Bridge. In a full day he might make four to five shillings - Well, it would just keep them alive, and something might turn up! He was his own master, anyway, accountable neither to employer nor to union. That knowledge gave him a curious lightness inside, together with the fact that he had eaten nothing since breakfast.

"Wonder if he was an alderman," he thought: "they say those aldermen live on turtle soup." Nearing home, he considered nervously what to do with the tray? How prevent Victorine from knowing that he had joined the ranks of Capital, and spent his day in the gutter? Ill luck! She was at the window! He must put a good face on it. And he went in whistling.

"What's that, Tony?" she said, pointing to the tray. "Ah! That Great stunt · - this! Look 'ere!"

Taking a balloon out from the tray, he blew. He blew with a desperation he had not yet put into the process. They said the things would swell to five feet in circumference. He felt somehow that if he could get it to attain those proportions, it would soften everything. Under his breath the thing blotted out Victorine, and the room, till there was just the globe of coloured air. Nipping its neck between thumb and finger, he held it up, and said:

"There you are; not bad value for sixpence, old girl!" and he peered round it. Lord, she was crying! He let the "blymed" thing go, it floated down, the air slowly evaporating till a little crinkled wreck rested on the carpet. Clasping her heaving shoulders, he said desperately:

"Cheerio, my dear, don't quarrel with bread and butter.I shall get a job, this is just to tide us over. I'd do a lot worse than that for you. Come on, and get my tea. I'm hungry, blowin' up those things."

C h a p t e r XIII

Tenterhooks

He came in sight of Westminster. Only half-past ten!

Suppose he took a cab to Wilfrid's rooms, and tried to have it out with him. It would be like trying to make the hands of a clock move backwards to its ticking. What use in saying: "You love Fleur - well, don't!" or in Wilfrid saying it to him? "After all, I was first with Fleur," he thought. Pure chance, perhaps, but fact! Ah! And wasn't that just the danger? He was no longer a novelty to her - nothing unexpected about him now! And he and she had agreed times without number that novelty was the salt of life, the essence of interest and drama. Novelty now lay with Wilfrid ! Lord! Lord! Possession appeared far from being nine points of the law! He rounded-in from the Embankment towards home - jolly part of London, jolly Square; everything jolly except just this internal complication. Something, soft as a large leaf, tapped twice against his ear. He turned, astonished; he was in empty space, no tree near. Floating in the darkness, a round thing - he grabbed, it bobbed. What! A child's balloonl He secured it between his hands, took it beneath a lamppost - green, he judged. Queer! He looked up. Two windows lighted, one of them Fleur's! Was this the bubble of his own happiness expelled? Morbid! Silly ass! Some gust of wind - a child's plaything lodged and loosened! He held the balloon gingerly. He would take it in and show it to her. He put his latchkey in the door. Dark in the hall- gone up! He mounted, swinging the balloon on his finger. Fleur was standing before a mirror.

"What on earth's that?" she said.

The blood returned to Michael's heart. Curious how he had dreaded its having anything to do with her! "Don't know, darling; fell on my hat - must belong to heaven."

to add the sighs of deflating balloons to his own – the sound of deflating baloons is likened to a sigh

alderman – member of the City Council. Such was Bicket’s impression of Soames.

stunt- here: a difficult or unusual task

QUESTIONS AND TASKS

1.Pick out the realistic details of the scene of selling balloons.Name the words used to describe the balloons.

2.Comment on the following devices of style: a)the sighs of deflating balloons;b)his coloured hopes;c)the bubble of his own happiness .What is their stylistic value?

3.What is the balloon for Tony Bicket - the reality of his life or a symbol? Motivate your answer.

4. Is the the balloon a symbol for Michael Mont?Why is he superstitious about it?

5.What is the significance of coloured balloons in Chapter XIII?

6.Define different tenors of the image of coloured balloons .