Добавил:
ivanov666
Опубликованный материал нарушает ваши авторские права? Сообщите нам.
Вуз:
Предмет:
Файл:Сага о Форсайтах. В петле. Книга для чтения на английском языке
.pdf
denly that such history was not for those young
ears. His face, in fact, became whimsical perplex
ity incarnate while he journeyed towards the
study.
Standing by the frenchwindow, looking out
across the terrace at the oak tree, were two figures,
middleaged and young, and he thought: ‘Who’s
that boy? Surely they never had a child.’
The elder figure turned. The meeting of those
two Forsytes of the second generation, so much
more sophisticated than the first, in the house built
for the one and owned and occupied by the other,
was marked by subtle defensiveness beneath dis
tinct attempt at cordiality. ‘Has he come about his
wife?’ Jolyon was thinking; and Soames, ‘How shall
I begin?’ while Val, brought to break the ice, stood
negligently scrutinising this ‘bearded pard’ from
under his dark, thick eyelashes.
“This is Val Dartie,” said Soames, “my sister’s
son. He’s just going up to Oxford. I thought I’d
like him to know your boy.”
“Ah! I’m sorry Jolly’s away. What college?”
1
“B.N.C.
,” replied Val.
“Jolly’s at the ‘House,’ but he’ll be delighted to
look you up.”
“Thanks awfully.”
PART I
1
B.N.C. — Brazenose College, один из колледжей Окс
форда
81
“Holly’s in — if you could put up with a female
relation, she’d show you round. You’ll find her in
the hall if you go through the curtains. I was just
painting her.”
With another “Thanks, awfully!” Val vanished,
IN CHANCERY
leaving the two cousins with the ice unbroken.
“I see you’ve some drawings at the ‘Water Co
lours,’” said Soames.
Jolyon winced. He had been out of touch with
the Forsyte family at large for twentysix years,
but they were connected in his mind with Frith’s
1
‘Derby Day’
and Landseer prints2. He had heard
from June that Soames was a connoisseur, which
made it worse. He had become aware, too, of a
curious sensation of repugnance.
“I haven’t seen you for a long time,” he said.
“No,” answered Soames between close lips, “not
since — as a matter of fact, it’s about that I’ve
come. You’re her trustee, I’m told.”
Jolyon nodded.
“Twelve years is a long time,” said Soames rap
idly: “I — I’m tired of it.”
Jolyon found no more appropriate answer than:
“Won’t you smoke?”
“No, thanks.”
1
Frith’s ‘Derby Day’ — огромная картина «Скачки в
Эпсоме» Вильяма Фритта (1819–1909)
2
Landseer prints — репродукции картин художника
анималиста Эдвина Ландсира (1802–1873)
82
Jolyon himself lit a cigarette.
“I wish to be free,” said Soames abruptly.
“I don’t see her,” murmured Jolyon through the
fume of his cigarette.
“But you know where she lives, I suppose?”
Jolyon nodded. He did not mean to give her ad
dress without permission. Soames seemed to divine
his thought. “I don’t want her address,” he said;
“I know it.”
“What exactly do you want?”
“She deserted me. I want a divorce.”
1
“Rather late in the day, isn’t it?
”
“Yes,” said Soames. And there was a silence.
“I don’t know much about these things — at
least, I’ve forgotten,” said Jolyon with a wry smile.
He himself had had to wait for death to grant him
a divorce from the first Mrs. Jolyon. “Do you wish
me to see her about it?”
Soames raised his eyes to his cousin’s face. “I sup
pose there’s someone,” he said.
A shrug moved Jolyon’s shoulders.
“I don’t know at all. I imagine you may have
both lived as if the other were dead. It’s usual in
these cases.”
Soames turned to the window. A few early fallen
oakleaves strewed the terrace already, and were
PART I
1
Rather late in the day, isn’t it? — (разг.) Не поздно
вато ли?
83
rolling round in the wind. Jolyon saw the figures
of Holly and Val Dartie moving across the lawn
towards the stables. ‘I’m not going to run with
1
the hare and hunt with the hounds
‘I must act for her. The Dad would have wished
IN CHANCERY
,’ he thought.
that.’ And for a swift moment he seemed to see his
father’s figure in the old armchair, just beyond
Soames, sitting with knees crossed, The Times in
his hand. It vanished.
“My father was fond of her,” he said quietly.
“Why he should have been I don’t know,”
Soames answered without looking round. “She
brought trouble to your daughter June; she brought
trouble to everyone. I gave her all she wanted.
I would have given her even — forgiveness — but
she chose to leave me.”
In Jolyon compassion was checked by the tone
of that close voice. What was there in the fellow
that made it so difficult to be sorry for him?
“I can go and see her, if you like,” he said. “I sup
pose she might be glad of a divorce, but I know
nothing.”
Soames nodded. “Yes, please go. As I say, I
know her address; but I’ve no wish to see her.” His
tongue was busy with his lips, as if they were very
dry.
1
to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds — (разг.)
служить и нашим и вашим
84
“You’ll have some tea?” said Jolyon, stifling the
words: ‘And see the house.’ And he led the way
into the hall. When he had rung the bell and or
dered tea, he went to his easel to turn his drawing
to the wall. He could not bear, somehow, that his
work should be seen by Soames, who was stand
ing there in the middle of the great room which
had been designed expressly to afford wall space
for his own pictures. In his cousin’s face, with its
unseizable family likeness to himself, and its chinny,
narrow, concentrated look, Jolyon saw that which
moved him to the thought: ‘That chap could never
forget anything — nor ever give himself away. He’s
pathetic!’
Chapter VII
THE COLT AND THE FILLY
When young Val left the presence of the last
generation he was thinking: ‘This is jolly dull!
1
Uncle Soames does take the bun
. I wonder what
this filly’s like?’ He anticipated no pleasure from
her society; and suddenly he saw her standing
there looking at him. Why, she was pretty! What
luck!
PART I
1
does take the bun — (разг.) лучше всех; просто потря
сающий
85
“I’m afraid you don’t know me,” he said. “My
name’s Val Dartie — I’m once removed, second
cousin, something like that, you know. My mother’s
name was Forsyte.”
Holly, whose slim brown hand remained in
IN CHANCERY
his because she was too shy to withdraw it, said:
“I don’t know any of my relations. Are there
many?”
“Tons. They’re awful — most of them. At least,
I don’t know — some of them. One’s relations al
ways are, aren’t they?”
“I expect they think one awful too,” said Holly.
“I don’t know why they should. No one could
think you awful, of course.”
Holly looked at him — the wistful candour in
those grey eyes gave young Val a sudden feeling
that he must protect her.
“I mean there are people and people,” he added
astutely. “Your dad looks awfully decent, for in
stance.”
“Oh yes!” said Holly fervently; “he is.”
A flush mounted in Val’s cheeks — that scene
in the Pandemonium promenade — the dark man
with the pink carnation developing into his own
father! “But you know what the Forsytes are,” he
said almost viciously. “Oh! I forgot; you don’t.”
“What are they?”
“Oh! fearfully careful; not sportsmen a bit. Look
at Uncle Soames!”
86
“I’d like to,” said Holly.
Val resisted a desire to run his arm through
hers. “Oh! no,” he said, “let’s go out. You’ll see him
quite soon enough. What’s your brother like?”
Holly led the way on to the terrace and down
to the lawn without answering. How describe Jol
ly, who, ever since she remembered anything, had
been her lord, master, and ideal?
1
“Does he sit on you?
” said Val shrewdly. “I shall
be knowing him at Oxford. Have you got any horses?”
Holly nodded. “Would you like to see the
stables?”
“Rather!”
They passed under the oak tree, through a thin
shrubbery, into the stableyard. There under a
clocktower lay a fluffy brownandwhite dog, so
old that he did not get up, but faintly waved the
tail curled over his back.
“That’s Balthasar,” said Holly; “he’s so old —
awfully old, nearly as old as I am. Poor old boy!
He’s devoted to Dad.”
“Balthasar! That’s a rum name. He isn’t pure
bred you know.”
“No! but he’s a darling,” and she bent down to
stroke the dog. Gentle and supple, with dark covered
head and slim browned neck and hands, she seemed
PART I
1
Does he sit on you? — (разг.) Он давит на вас? Он
вами командует?
87
to Val strange and sweet, like a thing slipped be
tween him and all previous knowledge.
“When grandfather died,” she said, “he wouldn’t
eat for two days. He saw him die, you know.”
“Was that old Uncle Jolyon? Mother always
IN CHANCERY
says he was a topper.”
“He was,” said Holly simply, and opened the
stable door.
In a loosebox stood a silver roan of about fif
teen hands, with a long black tail and mane. “This
is mine — Fairy.”
“Ah!” said Val, “she’s a jolly palfrey. But you
ought to bang her tail. She’d look much smarter.”
Then catching her wondering look, he thought
suddenly: ‘I don’t know — anything she likes!’ And
he took a long sniff of the stable air. “Horses are
ripping, aren’t they? My Dad...” he stopped.
“Yes?” said Holly.
An impulse to unbosom himself almost over
came him — but not quite. “Oh! I don’t know he’s
often gone a mucker over them. I’m jolly keen on
them too — riding and hunting. I like racing
awfully, as well; I should like to be a gentleman
rider.” And oblivious of the fact that he had but
one more day in town, with two engagements, he
1
plumped out: “I say, if I hire a gee
tomorrow,
will you come a ride in Richmond Park?”
88
1
gee — (разг.) лошадка
Holly clasped her hands.
“Oh yes! I simply love riding. But there’s Jol
ly’s horse; why don’t you ride him? Here he is. We
could go after tea.”
Val looked doubtfully at his trousered legs.
He had imagined them immaculate before her eyes
in high brown boots and Bedford cords. “I don’t much
like riding his horse,” he said. “He mightn’t like it. Be
sides, Uncle Soames wants to get back, I expect. Not
that I believe in buckling under to him, you know.
You haven’t got an uncle, have you? This is rather a
good beast,” he added, scrutinising Jolly’s horse, a
dark brown, which was showing the whites of its eyes.
“You haven’t got any hunting here, I suppose?”
“No; I don’t know that I want to hunt. It must
be awfully exciting, of course; but it’s cruel, isn’t
it? June says so.”
“Cruel?” ejaculated Val. “Oh! that’s all rot.
Who’s June?”
“My sister — my halfsister, you know — much
older than me.” She had put her hands up to both
cheeks of Jolly’s horse, and was rubbing her nose
against its nose with a gentle snuffling noise which
seemed to have an hypnotic effect on the animal.
Val contemplated her cheek resting against the
horse’s nose, and her eyes gleaming round at him.
‘She’s really a duck,’ he thought.
They returned to the house less talkative, fol
lowed this time by the dog Balthasar, walking
PART I
89
more slowly than anything on earth, and clearly
expecting them not to exceed his speed limit.
“This is a ripping place,” said Val from under
the oak tree, where they had paused to allow the
dog Balthasar to come up.
IN CHANCERY
“Yes,” said Holly, and sighed. “Of course I want
to go everywhere. I wish I were a gipsy.”
“Yes, gipsies are jolly,” replied Val, with a con
viction which had just come to him; “you’re rather
like one, you know.”
Holly’s face shone suddenly and deeply, like
dark leaves gilded by the sun. “To go madrabbit
ing everywhere and see everything, and live in the
open — oh! wouldn’t it be fun?”
“Let’s do it!” said Val.
“Oh yes, let’s!”
“It’d be grand sport, just you and I.” Then Hol
ly perceived the quaintness and gushed.
“Well, we’ve got to do it,” said Val obstinately,
but reddening too.
“I believe in doing things you want to do. What’s
down there?”
“The kitchengarden, and the pond and the cop
pice, and the farm.”
“Let’s go down!”
Holly glanced back at the house. “It’s teatime,
I expect; there’s Dad beckoning.”
Val, uttering a growly sound, followed her to
wards the house.
90
Соседние файлы в предмете [НЕСОРТИРОВАННОЕ]