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‘He’s not the same,’ she thought. He would never
be quite the same again! But what would he be?
“All right!” he said, and went towards the door.
He even moved differently, like a man who has lost
illusion and doubts whether it is worth while to
move at all.
When he was gone, and she heard the water in
the bath running, she put out a complete set of gar
ments on the bed in his dressingroom, then went
downstairs and fetched up the biscuit box and
whisky. Putting on her coat again, and listening a
moment at the bathroom door, she went down and
out. In the street she hesitated. Past seven o’clock!
Would Soames be at his Club or at Park Lane? She
turned towards the latter. Back!
Soames had always feared it — she had sometimes
hoped it… Back! So like him — clown that he was —
with this: ‘Here we are again!’ to make fools of them
all — of the Law, of Soames, of herself!
Yet to have done with the Law, not to have that
murky cloud hanging over her and the children!
What a relief! Ah! but how to accept his return?
That ‘woman’ had ravaged him, taken from him
passion such as he had never bestowed on herself,
such as she had not thought him capable of. There
was the sting! That selfish, blatant ‘clown’ of hers,
whom she herself had never really stirred, had been
swept and ungarnished by another woman! Insult
ing! Too insulting! Not right, not decent to take
PART II
301
him back! And yet she had asked for him; the Law
perhaps would make her now! He was as much her
husband as ever — she had put herself out of court!
And all he wanted, no doubt, was money — to keep
him in cigars and lavenderwater! That scent! ‘Af
IN CHANCERY
ter all, I’m not old,’ she thought, ‘not old yet!’ But
that woman who had reduced him to those words:
‘I’ve been through it. I’ve been frightened — fright
ened, Freddie!’ She neared her father’s house,
driven this way and that, while all the time the
Forsyte undertow was drawing her to deep conclu
sion that after all he was her property, to be held
against a robbing world. And so she came to James’.
“Mr. Soames? In his room? I’ll go up; don’t say
I’m here.”
Her brother was dressing. She found him before
a mirror, tying a black bow with an air of despis
ing its ends. “Hullo!” he said, contemplating her
in the glass; “what’s wrong?”
“Monty!” said Winifred stonily.
Soames spun round. “What!”
“Back!”
“Hoist,” muttered Soames, “with our own petard.
Why the deuce didn’t you let me try cruelty? I al
ways knew it was too much risk this way.”
“Oh! Don’t talk about that! What shall I do?”
Soames answered, with a deep, deep sound.
“Well?” said Winifred impatiently.
“What has he to say for himself?”
302
“Nothing. One of his boots is split across the
toe.”
Soames stared at her. “Ah!” he said, “of course!
1
On his beam ends.
So — it begins again! This’ll
about finish father.”
“Can’t we keep it from him?”
“Impossible. He has an uncanny flair for any
thing that’s worrying.”
And he brooded, with fingers hooked into his
blue silk braces. “There ought to be some way in
law,” he muttered, “to make him safe.”
“No,” cried Winifred, “I won’t be made a fool
of again; I’d sooner put up with him.”
The two stared at each other. Their hearts were
full of feeling, but they could give it no expres
sion — Forsytes that they were.
“Where did you leave him?”
“In the bath,” and Winifred gave a little bitter
laugh. “The only thing he’s brought back is laven
derwater.”
“Steady!” said Soames, “you’re thoroughly up
set. I’ll go back with you.”
“What’s the use?”
“We ought to make terms with him.”
“Terms! It’ll always be the same. When he re
covers — cards and betting, drink and..!” She was
PART II
1
On his beam ends. — (разг.) В безвыходном положе
нии.
303
silent, remembering the look on her husband’s face.
The burnt child — the burnt child. Perhaps..!
“Recovers?” replied Soames: “Is he ill?”
“No; burnt out; that’s all.”
Soames took his waistcoat from a chair and put
IN CHANCERY
it on, he took his coat and got into it, he scented
his handkerchief with eaudeCologne, threaded
his watchchain, and said: “We haven’t any luck.”
And in the midst of her own trouble Winifred
was sorry for him, as if in that little saying he had
revealed deep trouble of his own. “I’d like to see
mother,” she said.
“She’ll be with father in their room. Come down
quietly to the study. I’ll get her.”
Winifred stole down to the little dark study,
1
chiefly remarkable for a Canaletto
too doubtful to
be placed elsewhere, and a fine collection of Law
Reports unopened for many years. Here she stood,
with her back to marooncoloured curtains close
drawn, staring at the empty grate, till her mother
came in followed by Soames.
“Oh! my poor dear!” said Emily: “How miserable
you look in here! This is too bad of him, really!”
As a family they had so guarded themselves from
the expression of all unfashionable emotion that
it was impossible to go up and give her daughter a
1
Canaletto — Антонио Каналетто (1697–1768), извест
ный венецианский пейзажист
304
good hug. But there was comfort in her cushioned
voice, and her still dimpled shoulders under some
rare black lace. Summoning pride and the desire not
to distress her mother, Winifred said in her most off
hand voice: “It’s all right, Mother; no good fussing.”
“I don’t see,” said Emily, looking at Soames,
“why Winifred shouldn’t tell him that she’ll pros
ecute him if he doesn’t keep off the premises. He
took her pearls; and if he’s not brought them back,
that’s quite enough.”
Winifred smiled. They would all plunge about
with suggestions of this and that, but she knew al
ready what she would be doing, and that was —
nothing. The feeling that, after all, she had won a
sort of victory, retained her property, was every
moment gaining ground in her. No! if she wanted
to punish him, she could do it at home without the
world knowing.
“Well,” said Emily, “come into the diningroom
comfortably — you must stay and have dinner with
us. Leave it to me to tell your father.” And, as Win
ifred moved towards the door, she turned out the
light. Not till then did they see the disaster in the
corridor.
There, attracted by light from a room never
lighted, James was standing with his duncoloured
camelhair shawl folded about him, so that his arms
were not free and his silvered head looked cut off
from his fashionably trousered legs as if by an ex
PART II
305
panse of desert. He stood, inimitably storklike,
with an expression as if he saw before him a frog
too large to swallow. “What’s all this?” he said.
“Tell your father? You never tell me anything.”
The moment found Emily without reply. It was
IN CHANCERY
Winifred who went up to him, and, laying one hand
on each of his swathed, helpless arms, said: “Monty’s
not gone bankrupt, Father. He’s only come back.”
They all three expected something serious to
happen, and were glad she had kept that grip of
his arms, but they did not know the depth of root
in that shadowy old Forsyte. Something wry oc
curred about his shaven mouth and chin, some
thing scratchy between those long silvery whiskers.
Then he said with a sort of dignity: “He’ll be the
death of me. I knew how it would be.”
“You mustn’t worry, Father,” said Winifred
calmly. “I mean to make him behave.”
“Ah!” said James. “Here, take this thing off, I’m
hot.” They unwound the shawl. He turned, and
walked firmly to the diningroom.
“I don’t want any soup,” he said to Warmson,
and sat down in his chair. They all sat down too,
Winifred still in her hat, while Warmson laid the
1
fourth place
. When he left the room, James said:
“What’s he brought back?”
1
laid the fourth place — (зд.) поставил четвертый обе
денный прибор
306
“Nothing, Father.”
James concentrated his eyes on his own image
in a tablespoon. “Divorce!” he muttered; “rubbish!
What was I about? I ought to have paid him an
allowance to stay out of England. Soames! you go
and propose it to him.”
It seemed so right and simple a suggestion that
even Winifred was surprised when she said: “No,
I’ll keep him now he’s back; he must just behave —
that’s all.”
They all looked at her. It had always been known
that Winifred had pluck.
“Out there!” said James elliptically, “who knows
what cutthroats! You look for his revolver! Don’t
go to bed without. You ought to have Warmson to
sleep in the house. I’ll see him myself tomorrow.”
They were touched by this declaration, and
Emily said comfortably: “That’s right, James, we
won’t have any nonsense.”
“Ah!” muttered James darkly, “I can’t tell.”
The advent of Warmson with fish diverted con
versation.
When, directly after dinner, Winifred went
over to kiss her father goodnight, he looked up
with eyes so full of question and distress that she
put all the comfort she could into her voice.
“It’s all right, Daddy, dear; don’t worry. I shan’t
need anyone — he’s quite bland. I shall only be up
set if you worry. Goodnight, bless you!”
PART II
307
James repeated the words, “Bless you!” as if he
did not quite know what they meant, and his eyes
followed her to the door.
She reached home before nine, and went straight
upstairs. Dartie was lying on the bed in his dressing
IN CHANCERY
room, fully redressed in a blue serge suit and pumps;
his arms were crossed behind his head, and an ex
tinct cigarette drooped from his mouth.
Winifred remembered ridiculously the flowers
in her windowboxes after a blazing summer day;
the way they lay, or rather stood — parched, yet
rested by the sun’s retreat. It was as if a little dew
had come already on her burntup husband.
He said apathetically: “I suppose you’ve been to
Park Lane. How’s the old man?”
Winifred could not help the bitter answer: “Not
dead.” He winced, actually he winced.
“Understand, Monty,” she said, “I will not have
him worried. If you aren’t going to behave your
self, you may go back, you may go anywhere. Have
you had dinner?”
“No.”
“Would you like some?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Imogen offered me
some. I didn’t want any.”
Imogen! In the plenitude of emotion Winifred
had forgotten her. “So you’ve seen her? What did
she say?”
“She gave me a kiss.”
308
With mortification Winifred saw his dark sar
donic face relaxed. ‘Yes!’ she thought, ‘he cares for
her, not for me a bit.’
Dartie’s eyes were moving from side to side.
“Does she know about me?” he said.
It flashed through Winifred that here was the
weapon she needed. He minded their knowing!
“No. Val knows. The others don’t; they only
know you went away.”
She heard him sigh with relief. “But they shall
know,” she said firmly, “if you give me cause.”
“All right!” he muttered, “hit me! I’m down!”
Winifred went up to the bed. “Look here,
Monty! I don’t want to hit you. I don’t want to
hurt you. I shan’t allude to anything. I’m not
going to worry. What’s the use?” She was silent
a moment. “I can’t stand any more, though, and I
won’t! You’d better know. You’ve made me suf
fer. But I used to be fond of you. For the sake of
that…” She met the heavylidded gaze of his
brown eyes with the downward stare of her green
grey eyes; touched his hand suddenly, turned her
back, and went into her room.
She sat there a long time before her glass, fin
gering her rings, thinking of this subdued dark
man, almost a stranger to her, on the bed in the
other room; resolutely not ‘worrying,’ but gnawed
by jealousy of what he had been through, and now
and again just visited by pity.
PART II
309
Chapter XIV
OUTLANDISH NIGHT
Soames doggedly let the spring come — no easy
task for one conscious that time was flying, his birds
IN CHANCERY
in the bush no nearer the hand
1
, no issue from the
web anywhere visible. Mr. Polteed reported noth
ing, except that his watch went on — costing a lot of
money. Val and his cousin were gone to the war,
whence came news more favourable; Dartie was
2
behaving himself so far
; James had retained his
health; business prospered almost terribly — there
was nothing to worry Soames except that he was
‘held up,’ could make no step in any direction.
He did not exactly avoid Soho, for he could not
afford to let them think that he had ‘piped off,’ as
James would have put it — he might want to ‘pipe on’
again at any minute. But he had to be so restrained
and cautious that he would often pass the door of the
Restaurant Bretagne without going in, and wander
out of the purlieus of that region which always gave
him the feeling of having been possessively irregular.
He wandered thus one May night into Regent
Street and the most amazing crowd he had ever seen;
1
his birds in the bush no nearer the hand — перифраза
английской пословицы A bird in the hand is worth two in
the bush
2
was behaving himself so far — (разг.) пока вел себя
прилично
310
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