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Файл:The Forsyte Saga. Indian Summer of a Forsyte & In Chancery. Volume II
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INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE IN CHANCERY
Nicholas, were silent for a moment round the map. Then
Francie said:
"Really, I think he's right, you know. After all, what is the
Army for? They ought to have known. It's only encouraging
them."
"My dear!" cried Aunt Juley, "but they've been so progres-
sive. Think of their giving up their scarlet. They were always
so proud of it. And now they all look like convicts. Hester and
I were saying only yesterday we were sure they must feel it
very much. Fancy what the Iron Duke would have said!"
"The new colour's very smart," said Winifred; "Val looks
quite nice in his."
Aunt Juley sighed.
"I do so wonder what Jolyon's boy is like. To think we've
never seen him! His father must be so proud of him."
"His father's in Paris," said Winifred.
Aunt Hester's shoulder was seen to mount suddenly, as if
to ward off her sister's next remark, for Juley's crumpled
cheeks had gushed.
"We had dear little Mrs. MacAnder here yesterday, just
back from Paris. And whom d'you think she saw there in the
street? You'll never guess."
"We shan't try, Auntie," said Euphemia.
"Irene! Imagine! After all this time; walking with a fair
beard...."
"Auntie! you'll kill me! A fair beard...."
"I was going to say," said Aunt Juley severely, "a fair-beard-
ed gentleman. And not a day older; she was always so pretty,"
she added, with a sort of lingering apology.
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JOHN GALSWORTHY
"Oh! tell us about her, Auntie," cried Imogen; "I can just
remember her. She's the skeleton in the family cupboard, isn't
she? And they're such fun."
Aunt Hester sat down. Really, Juley had done it now!
"She wasn't much of a skeleton as I remember her," mur-
mured Euphemia, "extremely well-covered."
"My dear!" said Aunt Juley, "what a peculiar way of putting
it – not very nice."
"No, but what was she like?" persisted Imogen.
"I'll tell you, my child," said Francie; "a kind of modern
Venus, very well-dressed."
Euphemia said sharply: "Venus was never dressed, and she
had blue eyes of melting sapphire."
At this juncture Nicholas took his leave.
"Mrs. Nick is awfully strict," said Francie with a laugh.
"She has six children," said Aunt Juley; "it's very proper
she should be careful."
"Was Uncle Soames awfully fond of her?" pursued the inex-
orable Imogen, moving her dark luscious eyes from face to face.
Aunt Hester made a gesture of despair, just as Aunt Juley
answered:
"Yes, your Uncle Soames was very much attached to her."
"I suppose she ran off with someone?"
"No, certainly not; that is – not precisely.'
"What did she do, then, Auntie?"
"Come along, Imogen," said Winifred, "we must be getting
back."
But Aunt Juley interjected resolutely: "She – she didn't
behave at all well."
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INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE IN CHANCERY
"Oh, bother!" cried Imogen; "that's as far as I ever get."
"Well, my dear," said Francie, "she had a love affair which
ended with the young man's death; and then she left your uncle. I always rather liked her."
"She used to give me chocolates," murmured Imogen, "and
smell nice."
"Of course!" remarked Euphemia.
"Not of course at all!" replied Francie, who used a particu-
larly expensive essence of gillyflower herself.
"I can't think what we are about," said Aunt Juley, raising
her hands, "talking of such things!"
"Was she divorced?" asked Imogen from the door.
"Certainly not," cried Aunt Juley; "that is – certainly
not."
A sound was heard over by the far door. Timothy had re-
entered the back drawing-room. "I've come for my map," he
said. "Who's been divorced?"
"No one, Uncle," replied Francie with perfect truth.
Timothy took his map off the piano.
"Don't let's have anything of that sort in the family," he
said. "All this enlistin's bad enough. The country's breakin'
up; I don't know what we're comin' to." He shook a thick finger at the room: "Too many women nowadays, and they don't
know what they want."
So saying, he grasped the map firmly with both hands, and
went out as if afraid of being answered.
The seven women whom he had addressed broke into
a subdued murmur, out of which emerged Francie's, "Really,
the Forsytes!" and Aunt Juley's: "He must have his feet in mus-
323
JOHN GALSWORTHY
tard and hot water to-night, Hester; will you tell Jane? The
blood has gone to his head again, I'm afraid...."
That evening, when she and Hester were sitting alone af-
ter dinner, she dropped a stitch in her crochet, and looked up:
"Hester, I can't think where I've heard that dear Soames
wants Irene to come back to him again. Who was it told us
that George had made a funny drawing of him with the words,
'He won't be happy till he gets it'?"
"Eustace," answered Aunt Hester from behind The Times;
"he had it in his pocket, but he wouldn't show it us."
Aunt Juley was silent, ruminating. The clock ticked, The
Times crackled, the fire sent forth its rustling purr. Aunt Juley
dropped another stitch.
"Hester," she said, "I have had such a dreadful thought."
"Then don't tell me," said Aunt Hester quickly.
"Oh! but I must. You can't think how dreadful!" Her voice
sank to a whisper:
"Jolyon – Jolyon, they say, has a – has a fair beard, now."
CHAPTER XII
PROGRESS OF THE CHASE
Two days after the dinner at James', Mr. Polteed provided
Soames with food for thought.
"A gentleman," he said, consulting the key concealed in
his left hand, "47 as we say, has been paying marked attention to 17 during the last month in Paris. But at present there
seems to have been nothing very conclusive. The meetings
have all been in public places, without concealment – restaurants, the Opera, the Comique, the Louvre, Luxembourg
Gardens, lounge of the hotel, and so forth. She has not yet
been traced to his rooms, nor vice versa. They went to Fontainebleau – but nothing of value. In short, the situation is
promising, but requires patience." And, looking up suddenly,
he added:
"One rather curious point – 47 has the same name as –
er – 31!"
'The fellow knows I'm her husband,' thought Soames.
"Christian name – an odd one – Jolyon," continued Mr.
Polteed. "We know his address in Paris and his residence here.
We don't wish, of course, to be running a wrong hare."
"Go on with it, but be careful," said Soames doggedly.
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JOHN GALSWORTHY
Instinctive certainty that this detective fellow had fath-
omed his secret made him all the more reticent.
"Excuse me," said Mr. Polteed, "I'll just see if there's any-
thing fresh in."
He returned with some letters. Relocking the door, he
glanced at the envelopes.
"Yes, here's a personal one from 19 to myself."
"Well?" said Soames.
"Um!" said Mr. Polteed, "she says: '47 left for England to-
day. Address on his baggage: Robin Hill. Parted from 17 in
Louvre Gallery at 3.30; nothing very striking. Thought it best
to stay and continue observation of 17. You will deal with 47
in England if you think desirable, no doubt.'" And Mr. Polteed
lifted an unprofessional glance on Soames, as though he
might be storing material for a book on human nature after
he had gone out of business. "Very intelligent woman, 19, and
a wonderful make-up. Not cheap, but earns her money well.
There's no suspicion of being shadowed so far. But after a time,
as you know, sensitive people are liable to get the feeling of it,
without anything definite to go on. I should rather advise letting-up on 17, and keeping an eye on 47. We can't get at correspondence without great risk. I hardly advise that at this
stage. But you can tell your client that it's looking up very
well." And again his narrowed eyes gleamed at his taciturn
customer.
"No," said Soames suddenly, "I prefer that you should keep
the watch going discreetly in Paris, and not concern yourself
with this end."
"Very well," replied Mr. Polteed, "we can do it."
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INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE IN CHANCERY
"What – what is the manner between them?"
"I'll read you what she says," said Mr. Polteed, unlocking
a bureau drawer and taking out a file of papers; "she sums it
up somewhere confidentially. Yes, here it is! '17 very attractive – conclude 47, longer in the tooth' (slang for age, you
know) – 'distinctly gone – waiting his time – 17 perhaps
holding off for terms, impossible to say without knowing
more. But inclined to think on the whole – doesn't know
her mind – likely to act on impulse some day. Both have
style.'"
"What does that mean?" said Soames between close lips.
"Well," murmured Mr. Polteed with a smile, showing ma-
ny white teeth, "an expression we use. In other words, it's not
likely to be a weekend business – they'll come together seriously or not at all."
"H'm!" muttered Soames, "that's all, is it?"
"Yes," said Mr. Polteed, "but quite promising."
'Spider!' thought Soames. "Good-day!"
He walked into the Green Park that he might cross to Vic-
toria Station and take the Underground into the City. For so
late in January it was warm; sunlight, through the haze, sparkled on the frosty grass – an illumined cobweb of a day.
Little spiders – and great spiders! And the greatest spinner
of all, his own tenacity, for ever wrapping its cocoon of threads
round any clear way out. What was that fellow hanging round
Irene for? Was it really as Polteed suggested? Or was Jolyon
but taking compassion on her loneliness, as he would call it –
sentimental radical chap that he had always been? If it were,
indeed, as Polteed hinted! Soames stood still. It could not be!
327
JOHN GALSWORTHY
The fellow was seven years older than himself, no better looking! No richer! What attraction had he?
'Besides, he's come back,' he thought; 'that doesn't look –
I'll go and see him!' and, taking out a card, he wrote:
"If you can spare half an hour some afternoon this week,
I shall be at the Connoisseurs any day between 5.30 and 6, or
I could come to the Hotch Potch if you prefer it. I want to see
you. – S. F."
He walked up St. James's Street and confided it to the por-
ter at the Hotch Potch.
"Give Mr. Jolyon Forsyte this as soon as he comes in," he
said, and took one of the new motor cabs into the City....
Jolyon received that card the same afternoon, and turned
his face towards the Connoisseurs. What did Soames want
now? Had he got wind of Paris? And stepping across St. James's
Street, he determined to make no secret of his visit. 'But it won't
do,' he thought, 'to let him know she's there, unless he knows
already.' In this complicated state of mind he was conducted to
where Soames was drinking tea in a small bay-window.
"No tea, thanks," said Jolyon, "but I'll go on smoking if
I may."
The curtains were not yet drawn, though the lamps out-
side were lighted; the two cousins sat waiting on each other.
"You've been in Paris, I hear," said Soames at last.
"Yes; just back."
"Young Val told me; he and your boy are going off, then?"
Jolyon nodded.
"You didn't happen to see Irene, I suppose. It appears she's
abroad somewhere."
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INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE IN CHANCERY
Jolyon wreathed himself in smoke before he answered:
"Yes, I saw her."
"How was she?"
"Very well."
There was another silence; then Soames roused himself in
his chair.
"When I saw you last," he said, "I was in two minds. We
talked, and you expressed your opinion. I don't wish to reopen
that discussion. I only wanted to say this: My position with her
is extremely difficult. I don't want you to go using your influence against me. What happened is a very long time ago. I'm
going to ask her to let bygones be bygones."
"You have asked her, you know," murmured Jolyon.
"The idea was new to her then; it came as a shock. But the
more she thinks of it, the more she must see that it's the only
way out for both of us."
"That's not my impression of her state of mind," said
Jolyon with particular calm. "And, forgive my saying, you
misconceive the matter if you think reason comes into it at
all."
He saw his cousin's pale face grow paler – he had used,
without knowing it, Irene's own words.
"Thanks," muttered Soames, "but I see things perhaps
more plainly than you think. I only want to be sure that you
won't try to influence her against me."
"I don't know what makes you think I have any influence,"
said Jolyon; "but if I have I'm bound to use it in the direction
of what I think is her happiness. I am what they call a 'feminist,' I believe."
329
JOHN GALSWORTHY
"Feminist!" repeated Soames, as if seeking to gain time.
"Does that mean that you're against me?"
"Bluntly," said Jolyon, "I'm against any woman living with
any man whom she definitely dislikes. It appears to me rotten."
"And I suppose each time you see her you put your opin-
ions into her mind."
"I am not likely to be seeing her."
"Not going back to Paris?"
"Not so far as I know," said Jolyon, conscious of the intent
watchfulness in Soames' face.
"Well, that's all I had to say. Anyone who comes between
man and wife, you know, incurs heavy responsibility."
Jolyon rose and made him a slight bow.
"Good-bye," he said, and, without offering to shake hands,
moved away, leaving Soames staring after him. 'We Forsytes,'
thought Jolyon, hailing a cab, 'are very civilised. With simpler
folk that might have come to a row. If it weren't for my boy
going to the war....' The war! A gust of his old doubt swept over
him. A precious war! Domination of peoples or of women! Attempts to master and possess those who did not want you! The
negation of gentle decency! Possession, vested rights; and anyone 'agin' 'em – outcast! 'Thank Heaven!' he thought, 'I always felt "agin" 'em, anyway!' Yes! Even before his first disastrous marriage he could remember fuming over the
bludgeoning of Ireland, or the matrimonial suits of women
trying to be free of men they loathed. Parsons would have it
that freedom of soul and body were quite different things!
Pernicious doctrine! Body and soul could not thus be separated. Free will was the strength of any tie, and not its weakness.
330
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