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Файл:Сага о Форсайтах. В петле. Книга для чтения на английском языке
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He took his way to her hotel on a bright day
with a feeling such as he had often had going to
visit an adored picture. No woman, so far as he
remembered, had ever inspired in him this special
sensuous and yet impersonal sensation. He was
going to sit and feast his eyes, and come away
knowing her no better, but ready to go and feast
his eyes again tomorrow. Such was his feeling,
when in the tarnished and ornate little lounge of
a quiet hotel near the river she came to him pre
ceded by a small pageboy who uttered the word,
“Madame,” and vanished. Her face, her smile, the
poise of her figure, were just as he had pictured, and
the expression of her face said plainly: ‘A friend!’
“Well,” he said, “what news, poor exile?”
“None.”
“Nothing from Soames?”
“Nothing.”
“I have let the flat for you, and like a good
steward I bring you some money. How do you
like Paris?”
While he put her through this catechism, it
seemed to him that he had never seen lips so fine
and sensitive, the lower lip curving just a little
upwards, the upper touched at one corner by the
least conceivable dimple. It was like discovering a
woman in what had hitherto been a sort of soft and
breathedon statue, almost impersonally admired.
She owned that to be alone in Paris was a little
PART II
231
difficult; and yet, Paris was so full of its own life
that it was often, she confessed, as innocuous as a
desert. Besides, the English were not liked just
now!
“That will hardly be your case,” said Jolyon;
IN CHANCERY
“you should appeal to the French.”
“It has its disadvantages.”
Jolyon nodded. “Well, you must let me take you
about while I’m here. We’ll start tomorrow. Come
and dine at my pet restaurant; and we’ll go to the
OpéraComique.”
It was the beginning of daily meetings. Jolyon
soon found that for those who desired a static con
dition of the affections, Paris was at once the first
and last place in which to be friendly with a pretty
woman. Revelation was alighting like a bird in his
heart, singing: ‘Elle est ton rêve! Elle est ton rêve!
Sometimes this seemed natural, sometimes ludi
crous — a bad case of elderly rapture. Having once
been ostracised by Society, he had never since had
any real regard for conventional morality; but the
idea of a love which she could never return —
and how could she at his age? — hardly mounted
beyond his subconscious mind. He was full, too, of
resentment, at the waste and loneliness of her life.
Aware of being some comfort to her, and of the
1
232
1
Elle est ton rêve! Elle est ton rêve! — (фр.) Она — твоя
мечта!
pleasure she clearly took in their many little out
ings, he was amiably desirous of doing and saying
nothing to destroy that pleasure. It was like watch
ing a starved plant draw up water, to see her drink
in his companionship. So far as they could tell, no
one knew her address except himself; she was un
known in Paris, and he but little known, so that
discretion seemed unnecessary in those walks,
talks, visits to concerts, picturegalleries, theatres,
little dinners, expeditions to Versailles, St. Cloud,
even Fontainebleau. And time fled — one of those
full months without past to it or future. What in
his youth would certainly have been headlong pas
sion, was now perhaps as deep a feeling, but far
gentler, tempered to protective companionship by
admiration, hopelessness, and a sense of chivalry —
arrested in his veins at least so long as she was
there, smiling and happy in their friendship, and
always to him more beautiful and spiritually re
sponsive: for her philosophy of life seemed to march
in admirable step with his own, conditioned by
emotion more than by reason, ironically mistrust
ful, susceptible to beauty, almost passionately hu
mane and tolerant, yet subject to instinctive rigidi
ties of which as a mere man he was less capable. And
during all this companionable month he never quite
lost that feeling with which he had set out on the
first day as if to visit an adored work of art, a well
nigh impersonal desire. The future — inexorable
PART II
233
pendant to the present he took care not to face,
for fear of breaking up his untroubled manner; but
he made plans to renew this time in places still
more delightful, where the sun was hot and there
were strange things to see and paint. The end came
IN CHANCERY
swiftly on the 20th of January with a telegram:
“Have enlisted in Imperial Yeomanry. JOLLY.”
Jolyon received it just as he was setting out
to meet her at the Louvre. It brought him up
with a round turn. While he was lotuseating
here, his boy, whose philosopher and guide he
ought to be, had taken this great step towards
danger, hardship, perhaps even death. He felt dis
turbed to the soul, realising suddenly how Irene
had twined herself round the roots of his being.
Thus threatened with severance, the tie between
them — for it had become a kind of tie — no longer
had impersonal quality. The tranquil enjoyment
of things in common, Jolyon perceived, was gone
for ever. He saw his feeling as it was, in the na
ture of an infatuation. Ridiculous, perhaps, but
so real that sooner or later it must disclose itself.
And now, as it seemed to him, he could not, must
not, make any such disclosure. The news of Jolly
1
1
while he was lotuseating — (разг.) пока он пытался
забыться (лотос — цветок забвения)
234
stood inexorably in the way. He was proud of this
enlistment; proud of his boy for going off to fight
for the country; for on Jolyon’s proBoerism, too,
Black Week had left its mark. And so the end
was reached before the beginning! Well, luckily
he had never made a sign!
When he came into the Gallery she was stand
1
ing before the ‘Virgin of the Rocks
,’ graceful, ab
sorbed, smiling and unconscious. ‘Have I to give
up seeing that?’ he thought. ‘It’s unnatural, so long
as she’s willing that I should see her.’ He stood,
unnoticed, watching her, storing up the image of
her figure, envying the picture on which she was
bending that long scrutiny. Twice she turned her
head towards the entrance, and he thought: ‘That’s
for me!’ At last he went forward. “Look!” he said.
She read the telegram, and he heard her sigh.
That sigh, too, was for him! His position was real
ly cruel! To be loyal to his son he must just shake
her hand and go. To be loyal to the feeling in his
heart he must at least tell her what that feeling
was. Could she, would she understand the silence
in which he was gazing at that picture?
“I’m afraid I must go home at once,” he said at
last. “I shall miss all this awfully.”
“So shall I; but, of course, you must go.”
PART II
1
Virgin of the Rocks — «Мадонна в скалах», картина
Леонардо да Винчи
235
“Well!” said Jolyon holding out his hand. Meeting
her eyes, a flood of feeling nearly mastered him. “Such
is life!” he said. “Take care of yourself, my dear!”
He had a stumbling sensation in his legs and feet,
as if his brain refused to steer him away from her.
IN CHANCERY
From the doorway, he saw her lift her hand and
touch its fingers with her lips. He raised his hat sol
emnly, and did not look back again.
Chapter VII
DARTIE VERSUS DARTIE
The suit — Dartie versus Dartie — for restitu
tion of those conjugal rights concerning which
Winifred was at heart so deeply undecided, fol
lowed the laws of subtraction towards day of
judgment. This was not reached before the Courts
rose for Christmas, but the case was third on the
list when they sat again. Winifred spent the
Christmas holidays a thought more fashionably
than usual, with the matter locked up in her low
cut bosom. James was particularly liberal to her
that Christmas, expressing thereby his sympathy,
and relief, at the approaching dissolution of her
marriage with that ‘precious rascal,’ which his old
heart felt but his old lips could not utter.
The disappearance of Dartie made the fall in
Consols a comparatively small matter; and as to
236
the scandal — the real animus he felt against that
fellow, and the increasing lead which property was
attaining over reputation in a true Forsyte about
to leave this world, served to drug a mind from
which all allusions to the matter (except his own)
were studiously kept. What worried him as a law
yer and a parent was the fear that Dartie might
suddenly turn up and obey the Order of the Court
when made. That would be a pretty howdedo!
The fear preyed on him in fact so much that, in
presenting Winifred with a large Christmas cheque,
he said: “It’s chiefly for that chap out there; to keep
him from coming back.” It was, of course, to pitch
away good money, but all in the nature of insur
ance against that bankruptcy which would no
longer hang over him if only the divorce went
through; and he questioned Winifred rigorously
until she could assure him that the money had
been sent. Poor woman! — it cost her many a pang
to send what must find its way into the vanitybag
of ‘that creature!’ Soames, hearing of it, shook his
head. They were not dealing with a Forsyte, reason
ably tenacious of his purpose. It was very risky with
out knowing how the land lay out there. Still, it
would look well with the Court; and he would see
that Dreamer brought it out. “I wonder,” he said
PART II
1
1
That would be a pretty howdedo! — (разг.) Хоро
шенькая получится встреча!
237
suddenly, “where that ballet goes after the Argen
tine”; never omitting a chance of reminder; for he
knew that Winifred still had a weakness, if not for
Dartie, at least for not laundering him in public.
Though not good at showing admiration, he admit
IN CHANCERY
ted that she was behaving extremely well, with all
her children at home gaping like young birds for
news of their father — Imogen just on the point of
coming out, and Val very restive about the whole
thing. He felt that Val was the real heart of the
matter to Winifred, who certainly loved him be
yond her other children. The boy could spoke the
wheel of this divorce yet if he set his mind to it.
And Soames was very careful to keep the proxim
ity of the preliminary proceedings from his nephew’s
ears. He did more. He asked him to dine at the Re
move, and over Val’s cigar introduced the subject
which he knew to be nearest to his heart. “I hear,”
he said, “that you want to play polo up at Oxford.”
Val became less recumbent in his chair. “Rather!”
he said.
“Well,” continued Soames, “that’s a very expen
sive business. Your grandfather isn’t likely to con
sent to it unless he can make sure that he’s not got
any other drain on him.” And he paused to see
whether the boy understood his meaning.
Val’s thick dark lashes concealed his eyes, but
a slight grimace appeared on his wide mouth, and
he muttered: “I suppose you mean my Dad!”
238
“Yes,” said Soames; “I’m afraid it depends on
whether he continues to be a drag or not;” and said
no more, letting the boy dream it over.
But Val was also dreaming in those days of a sil
verroan palfrey and a girl riding it. Though Crum
was in town and an introduction to Cynthia Dark to
1
be had for the asking
, Val did not ask; indeed, he
shunned Crum and lived a life strange even to him
self, except in so far as accounts with tailor and liv
ery stable were concerned. To his mother, his sisters,
his young brother, he seemed to spend this Vacation
in ‘seeing fellows,’ and his evenings sleepily at home.
They could not propose anything in daylight that
did not meet with the one response: “Sorry; I’ve got
to see a fellow”; and he was put to extraordinary
shifts to get in and out of the house unobserved in
riding clothes; until, being made a member of the
Goat’s Club, he was able to transport them there,
where he could change unregarded and slip off on his
hack to Richmond Park. He kept his growing senti
ment religiously to himself. Not for a world would he
breathe to the ‘fellows,’ whom he was not ‘seeing,’
anything so ridiculous from the point of view of their
creed and his. But he could not help its destroying
his other appetites. It was coming between him and
the legitimate pleasures of youth at last on its own in
PART II
1
to be had for the asking — (разг.) можно было полу
чить, не затрачивая никаких усилий
239
a way which must, he knew, make him a milksop in
the eyes of Crum. All he cared for was to dress in his
lastcreated riding togs, and steal away to the Robin
Hill Gate, where presently the silver roan would
come demurely sidling with its slim and darkhaired
IN CHANCERY
rider, and in the glades bare of leaves they would go
off side by side, not talking very much, riding races
sometimes, and sometimes holding hands. More
than once of an evening, in a moment of expansion,
he had been tempted to tell his mother how this shy
sweet cousin had stolen in upon him and wrecked his
‘life.’ But bitter experience, that all persons above
thirtyfive were spoilsports, prevented him. After
all, he supposed he would have to go through with
College, and she would have to ‘come out,’ before
they could be married; so why complicate things, so
long as he could see her? Sisters were teasing and
unsympathetic beings, a brother worse, so there was
no one to confide in. Ah! And this beastly divorce
business! What a misfortune to have a name which
other people hadn’t! If only he had been called Gor
don or Scott or Howard or something fairly com
mon! But Dartie — there wasn’t another in the di
rectory! One might as well have been named Morkin
1
for all the covert it afforded
! So matters went on,
till one day in the middle of January the silverroan
же успехом
240
1
for all the covert it afforded — (разг., ирон.) с таким
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