man of property-第32章

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d；　〃do　you　think　ought　to　be　done？〃

Aunt　Hester　again　rustled　the　sheet；　her　voice　was　heard　faintly　pleading：　〃Done？　　How　should　I　know？〃

Aunt　Juley　turned　away　satisfied；　and　closing　the　door　with　extra　gentleness　so　as　not　to　disturb　dear　Hester；　let　it　slip　through　her　fingers　and　fall　to　with　a　'crack。'

Back　in　her　own　room；　she　stood　at　the　window　gazing　at　the　moon　over　the　trees　in　the　Park；　through　a　chink　in　the　muslin　curtains；　close　drawn　lest　anyone　should　see。　　And　there；　with　her　face　all　round　and　pouting　in　its　pink　cap；　and　her　eyes　wet；　she　thought　of　'dear　Jolyon；'　so　old　and　so　lonely；　and　how　she　could　be　of　some　use　to　him；　and　how　he　would　come　to　love　her；　as　she　had　never　been　loved　sincesince　poor　Septimus　went　away。




CHAPTER　VIII

DANCE　AT　ROGER'S


Roger's　house　in　Prince's　Gardens　was　brilliantly　alight。　　Large　numbers　of　wax　candles　had　been　collected　and　placed　in　cut…glass　chandeliers；　and　the　parquet　floor　of　the　long；　double　drawing…room　reflected　these　constellations。　　An　appearance　of　real　spaciousness　had　been　secured　by　moving　out　all　the　furniture　on　to　the　upper　landings；　and　enclosing　the　room　with　those　strange　appendages　of　civilization　known　as　'rout'　seats。　In　a　remote　corner；　embowered　in　palms；　was　a　cottage　piano；　with　a　copy　of　the　'Kensington　Coil'　open　on　the　music…stand。

Roger　had　objected　to　a　band。　　He　didn't　see　in　the　least　what　they　wanted　with　a　band；　he　wouldn't　go　to　the　expense；　and　there　was　an　end　of　it。　　Francie　（her　mother；　whom　Roger　had　long　since　reduced　to　chronic　dyspepsia；　went　to　bed　on　such　occasions）；　had　been　obliged　to　content　herself　with　supplementing　the　piano　by　a　young　man　who　played　the　cornet；　and　she　so　arranged　with　palms　that　anyone　who　did　not　look　into　the　heart　of　things　might　imagine　there　were　several　musicians　secreted　there。　　She　made　up　her　mind　to　tell　them　to　play　loudthere　was　a　lot　of　music　in　a　cornet；　if　the　man　would　only　put　his　soul　into　it。

In　the　more　cultivated　American　tongue；　she　was　'through'　at　lastthrough　that　tortuous　labyrinth　of　make…shifts；　which　must　be　traversed　before　fashionable　display　can　be　combined　with　the　sound　economy　of　a　Forsyte。　　Thin　but　brilliant；　in　her　maize…coloured　frock　with　much　tulle　about　the　shoulders；　she　went　from　place　to　place；　fitting　on　her　gloves；　and　casting　her　eye　over　it　all。

To　the　hired　butler　（for　Roger　only　kept　maids）　she　spoke　about　the　wine。　　Did　he　quite　understand　that　Mr。　Forsyte　wished　a　dozen　bottles　of　the　champagne　from　Whiteley's　to　be　put　out？　But　if　that　were　finished　（she　did　not　suppose　it　would　be；　most　of　the　ladies　would　drink　water；　no　doubt）；　but　if　it　were；　there　was　the　champagne　cup；　and　he　must　do　the　best　he　could　with　that。

She　hated　having　to　say　this　sort　of　thing　to　a　butler；　it　was　so　infra　dig。；　but　what　could　you　do　with　father？　　Roger；　indeed；　after　making　himself　consistently　disagreeable　about　the　dance；　would　come　down　presently；　with　his　fresh　colour　and　bumpy

forehead；　as　though　he　had　been　its　promoter；　and　he　would　smile；　and　probably　take　the　prettiest　woman　in　to　supper；　and　at　two　o'clock；　just　as　they　were　getting　into　the　swing；　he　would　go　up　secretly　to　the　musicians　and　tell　them　to　play　'God　Save　the　Queen；'　and　go　away。

Francie　devoutly　hoped　he　might　soon　get　tired；　and　slip　off　to　bed。

The　three　or　four　devoted　girl　friends　who　were　staying　in　the　house　for　this　dance；　had　partaken　with　her；　in　a　small；　abandoned　room　upstairs；　of　tea　and　cold　chicken…legs；　hurriedly　served；　the　men　had　been　sent　out　to　dine　at　Eustace's　Club；　it　being　felt　that　they　must　be　fed　up。

Punctually　on　the　stroke　of　nine　arrived　Mrs。　Small　alone。　　She　made　elaborate　apologies　for　the　absence　of　Timothy；　omitting　all　mention　of　Aunt　Hester；　who；　at　the　last　minute；　had　said　she　could　not　be　bothered。　　Francie　received　her　effusively；　and　placed　her　on　a　rout　seat；　where　she　left　her；　pouting　and　solitary　in　lavender…coloured　satinthe　first　time　she　had　worn　colour　since　Aunt　Ann's　death。

The　devoted　maiden　friends　came　now　from　their　rooms；　each　by　magic　arrangement　in　a　differently　coloured　frock；　but　all　with　the　same　liberal　allowance　of　tulle　on　the　shoulders　and　at　the　bosomfor　they　were；　by　some　fatality；　lean　to　a　girl。　　They　were　all　taken　up　to　Mrs。　Small。　　None　stayed　with　her　more　than　a　few　seconds；　but　clustering　together　talked　and　twisted　their　programmes；　looking　secretly　at　the　door　for　the　first　appearance　of　a　man。

Then　arrived　in　a　group　a　number　of　Nicholases；　always　punctual　the　fashion　up　Ladbroke　Grove　way；　and　close　behind　them　Eustace　and　his　men；　gloomy　and　smelling　rather　of　smoke。

Three　or　four　of　Francie's　lovers　now　appeared；　one　after　the　other；　she　had　made　each　promise　to　come　early。　　They　were　all　clean…shaven　and　sprightly；　with　that　peculiar　kind　of　young…man　sprightliness　which　had　recently　invaded　Kensington；　they　did　not　seem　to　mind　each　other's　presence　in　the　least；　and　wore　their　ties　bunching　out　at　the　ends；　white　waistcoats；　and　socks　with　clocks。　　All　had　handkerchiefs　concealed　in　their　cuffs。　　They　moved　buoyantly；　each　armoured　in　professional　gaiety；　as　though　he　had　come　to　do　great　deeds。　　Their　faces　when　they　danced；　far　from　wearing　the　traditional　solemn　look　of　the　dancing；　English…　man；　were　irresponsible；　charming；　suave；　they　bounded；　twirling　their　partners　at　great　pace；　without　pedantic　attentionto　the　rhythm　of　the　music。

At　other　dancers　they　looked　with　a　kind　of　airy　scornthey；　the　light　brigade；　the　heroes　of　a　hundred　Kensington　'hops'from　whom　alone　could　the　right　manner　and　smile　and　step　be　hoped。

After　this　the　stream　came　fast；　chaperones　silting　up　along　the　wall　facing　the　entrance；　the　volatile　element　swelling　the　eddy　in　the　larger　room。

Men　were　scarce；　and　wallflowers　wore　their　peculiar；　pathetic　expression；　a　patient；　sourish　smile　which　seemed　to　say：　〃Oh；　no！　don't　mistake　me；　I　know　you　are　not　coming　up　to　me。　　I　can　hardly　expect　that！〃　　And　Francie　would　plead　with　one　of　her　lovers；　or　with　some　callow　youth：　〃Now；　to　please　me；　do　let　me　introduce　you　to　Miss　Pink；　such　a　nice　girl；　really！〃　and　she　would　bring　him　up；　and　say：　〃Miss　PinkMr。　Gathercole。　　Can　you　spare　him　a　dance？〃　　Then　Miss　Pink；　smiling　her　forced　smile；　colouring　a　little；　answered：　〃Oh！　I　think　so！〃　and　screening　her　empty　card；　wrote　on　it　the　name　of　Gathercole；　spelling　it　passionately　in　the　district　that　he　proposed；　about　the　second　extra。

But　when　the　youth　had　murmured　that　it　was　hot；　and　passed；　she　relapsed　into　her　attitude　of　hopeless　expectation；　into　her　patient；　sourish　smile。

Mothers；　slowly　fanning　their　faces；　watched　their　daughters；　and　in　their　eyes　could　be　read　all　the　story　of　those　daughters'　fortunes。　　As　for　themselves；　to　sit　hour　after　hour；　dead　tired；　silent；　or　talking　spasmodicallywhat　did　it　matter；　so　long　as　the　girls　were　having　a　good　time！　　But　to　see　them　neglected　and　passed　by！　　Ah！　they　smiled；　but　their　eyes　stabbed　like　the　eyes　of　an　offended　swan；　they　longed　to　pluck　young；　Gathercole　by　the　slack　of　his　dandified　breeches；　and　drag　him　to　their　daughtersthe　jackanapes！

And　all　the　cruelties　and　hardness　of　life；　its　pathos　and　unequal　chances；　its　conceit；　self…forgetfulness；　and　patience；　were　presented　on　the　battle…field　of　this　Kensington　ball…room。

Here　and　there；　too；　loversnot　lovers　like　Francie's；　a　peculiar　breed；　but　simply　loverstrembling；　blushing；　silent；　sought　each　other　by　flying　glances；　sought　to　meet　and　touch　in　the　mazes　of　the　dance；　and　now　and　again　dancing　together；　struck　some　beholder　by　the　light　in　their　eyes。

Not　a　second　before　ten　o'clock　came　the　JamesesEmily；　Rachel；　Winifred　（Dartie　had　been　left　behind；　having　on　a　former　occasion　drunk　too　much　of　Roger's　champagne）；　and　Cicely；　the　youngest；　making　her　debut；　behind　them；　following　in　a　hansom　from　the　paternal　mansion　where　they　had　dined；　Soames　and　Irene。

All　these　ladies　had　shoulder…straps　and　no　tullethus　showing　at　once；　by　a　bolder　exposure　of　flesh；　that　they　came　from　the　more　fashionable　side　of　the　Park。

Soames；　sidling　back　from　the　contact　of　the　dancers；　took　up　a　position　against　the　wall。　　Guarding　himself　with　his　pale　smile；　he　stood　watching。　　Waltz　after　waltz　began　and　ended；　couple　after　couple　brushed　by　with　smiling　lips；　laughter；　and　snatches　of　talk；　or　with　set　lips；　and　eyes　searching　the　throng；　or　again；　with　silent；　parted　lips；　and　eyes　on　each　other。　　And　the　scent　of　festivity；　the　odour　of　flowers；　and　hair；　of　essences　that　women　love；　rose　suffocatingly　in　the　heat　of　the　summer　night。

Silent；　with　something　of　scorn　in　his　smile；　Soames　seemed　to　notice　nothing；　but　now　and　again　his　eyes；　finding　that　which　they　sought；　would　fix　themselves　on　a　point　in　the　shifting　throng；　and　the　smile　die　off　his　lips。

He　danced　with　no　one。　　Some　fellows　danced　with　their　wives；　his　sense　of　'form'　had　never　permitted　him　to　dance　with　Irene　since　their　marriage；　and　the　God　of　the　Forsytes　alone　can　tell　whether　this　was　a　relief　to　him　or　not。

She　passed；　dancing　with　other　men；　her　dress；　iris…coloured；　floating　away　from　her　feet。　　She　danced　well；　he　was　tired　of　hearing　women　say　with　an　acid　smile：　〃How　beautifully　your　wife　dances；　Mr。　Forsyteit's　quite　a　pleasure　to　watch　her！〃　　Tired　of　answering　them　with　his　sidelong　glance：　〃You　think　so？〃

A　young　couple　close　by　flirted　a　fan　by　turns；　making　an　unpleasant　draught。　　Francie　and　one　of　her　lovers　stood　near。　They　were　talking　of　love。

He　heard　Roger's　voice　behind；　giving　an　order　about　supper　to　a　servant。　　Everything　was　very　second…class！　　He　wished　that　he　had　not　come！　　He　had　asked　Irene　whether　she　wanted　him；　she　had　answered　with　that　maddening　smile　of　hers　〃Oh；　no！〃

Why　had　he　come？　　For　the　last　quarter　of　an　hour　he　had　not　even　seen　her。　　Here　was　George　advancing　with　his　Quilpish　face；　it　was　too　late　to　get　out　of　his　way。

〃Have　you　seen　'The　Buccaneer'？〃　said　this　licensed　wag；　〃he's　on　the　warpathhair　cut　and　everything！〃

Soames　said　he　had　not；　and　crossing　the　room；　half…empty　in　an　interval　of　the　dance；　he　went　out　on　the　balcony；　and　looked　down　into　the　street。

A　carriage　had　driven　up　with　late　arrivals；　and　round　the　door　hung　some　of　those　patient　watchers　of　the　London　streets　who　spring　up　to　the　call　of　light　or　music；　their　faces；　pale　and　upturned　above　their　black　and　rusty　figures；　had　an　air　of　stolid　watching　that　annoyed　Soames。　　Why　were　they　allowed　to　hang　about；　why　didn't　the　bobby　move　them　on？

But　the　policeman　took　no　notice　of　them；　his　feet　were　planted　apart　on　the　strip　of　crimson　carpet　stretched　across　the　pavement；　his　face；　under　the　helmet；　wore　the　same　stolid；　watching　look　as　theirs。

Across　the　road；　through　the　railings；　Soames　could　see　the　branches　of　trees　shining；　faintly　stirring　in　the　breeze；　by　the　gleam　of　the　street　lamps；　beyond；　again；　the　upper　lights　of　the　houses　on　the　other　side；　so　many　eyes　looking　down　on　the　quiet　blackness　of　the　garden；　and　over　all；　the　sky；　that　wonderful　London　sky；　dusted　with　the　innumerable　reflection　of　countless　lamps；　a　dome　woven　over　between　its　star