man of property-第7章

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〃Mr。　Jolyon　Forsyte　still　a　member　here？〃

〃Yes；　sir；　in　the　Club　now；　sir。　　What　name？〃

Old　Jolyon　was　taken　aback。

〃His　father；〃　he　said。

And　having　spoken；　he　took　his　stand；　back　to　the　fireplace。

Young　Jolyon；　on　the　point　of　leaving　the　Club；　had　put　on　his　hat；　and　was　in　the　act　of　crossing　the　hall；　as　the　porter　met　him。　　He　was　no　longer　young；　with　hair　going　grey；　and　facea　narrower　replica　of　his　father's；　with　the　same　large　drooping　moustachedecidedly　worn。　　He　turned　pale。　　This　meeting　was　terrible　after　all　those　years；　for　nothing　in　the　world　was　so　terrible　as　a　scene。　　They　met　and　crossed　hands　without　a　word。　Then；　with　a　quaver　in　his　voice；　the　father　said：

〃How　are　you；　my　boy？〃

The　son　answered：

〃How　are　you；　Dad？〃

Old　Jolyon's　hand　trembled　in　its　thin　lavender　glove。

If　you're　going　my　way；〃　he　said；　〃I　can　give　you　a　lift。〃

And　as　though　in　the　habit　of　taking　each　other　home　every　night　they　went　out　and　stepped　into　the　cab。

To　old　Jolyon　it　seemed　that　his　son　had　grown。　　'More　of　a　man　altogether；'　was　his　comment。　　Over　the　natural　amiability　of　that　son's　face　had　come　a　rather　sardonic　mask；　as　though　he　had　found　in　the　circumstances　of　his　life　the　necessity　for　armour。　The　features　were　certainly　those　of　a　Forsyte；　but　the　expression　was　more　the　introspective　look　of　a　student　or　philosopher。　He　had　no　doubt　been　obliged　to　look　into　himself　a　good　deal　in　the　course　of　those　fifteen　years。

To　young　Jolyon　the　first　sight　of　his　father　was　undoubtedly　a　shockhe　looked　so　worn　and　old。　　But　in　the　cab　he　seemed　hardly　to　have　changed；　still　having　the　calm　look　so　well　remembered；　still　being　upright　and；　keen…eyed。

〃You　look　well；　Dad。〃

〃Middling；〃　old　Jolyon　answered。

He　was　the　prey　of　an　anxiety　that　he　found　he　must　put　into　words。　　Having　got　his　son　back　like　this；　he　felt　he　must　know　what　was　his　financial　position。

〃Jo；〃　he　said；　〃I　should　like　to　hear　what　sort　of　water　you're　in。　　I　suppose　you're　in　debt？〃

He　put　it　this　way　that　his　son　might　find　it　easier　to　confess。

Young　Jolyon　answered　in　his　ironical　voice：

〃No！　　I'm　not　in　debt！〃

Old　Jolyon　saw　that　he　was　angry；　and　touched　his　hand。　　He　had　run　a　risk。　　It　was　worth　it；　however；　and　Jo　had　never　been　sulky　with　him。　　They　drove　on；　without　speaking　again；　to　Stanhope　Gate。　　Old　Jolyon　invited　him　in；　but　young　Jolyon　shook　his　head。

〃June's　not　here；〃　said　his　father　hastily：　〃went　of　to…day　on　a　visit。　　I　suppose　you　know　that　she's　engaged　to　be　married？〃

〃Already？〃　murmured　young　Jolyon'。

Old　Jolyon　stepped　out；　and；　in　paying　the　cab　fare；　for　the　first　time　in　his　life　gave　the　driver　a　sovereign　in　mistake　for　a　shilling。

Placing　the　coin　in　his　mouth；　the　cabman　whipped　his　horse　secretly　on　the　underneath　and　hurried　away。

Old　Jolyon　turned　the　key　softly　in　the　lock；　pushed　open　the　door；　and　beckoned。　　His　son　saw　him　gravely　hanging　up　his　coat；　with　an　expression　on　his　face　like　that　of　a　boy　who　intends　to　steal　cherries。

The　door　of　the　dining…room　was　open；　the　gas　turned　low；　a　spirit…urn　hissed　on　a　tea…tray；　and　close　to　it　a　cynical　looking　cat　had　fallen　asleep　on　the　dining…table。　　Old　Jolyon　'shoo'd'　her　off　at　once。　　The　incident　was　a　relief　to　his　feelings；　he　rattled　his　opera　hat　behind　the　animal。

〃She's　got　fleas；〃　he　said；　following　her　out　of　the　room。　Through　the　door　in　the　hall　leading　to　the　basement　he　called　〃Hssst！〃　several　times；　as　though　assisting　the　cat's　departure；　till　by　some　strange　coincidence　the　butler　appeared　below。

〃You　can　go　to　bed；　Parfitt；〃　said　old　Jolyon。　　〃I　will　lock　up　and　put　out。〃

When　he　again　entered　the　dining…room　the　cat　unfortunately　preceded　him；　with　her　tail　in　the　air；　proclaiming　that　she　had　seen　through　this　manouevre　for　suppressing　the　butler　from　the　first。。。。

A　fatality　had　dogged　old　Jolyon's　domestic　stratagems　all　his　life。

Young　Jolyon　could　not　help　smiling。　　He　was　very　well　versed　in　irony；　and　everything　that　evening　seemed　to　him　ironical。　　The　episode　of　the　cat；　the　announcement　of　his　own　daughter's　engagement。　　So　he　had　no　more　part　or　parcel　in　her　than　he　had　in　the　Puss！　　And　the　poetical　justice　of　this　appealed　to　him。

〃What　is　June　like　now？〃　he　asked。

〃She's　a　little　thing；〃　returned　old　Jolyon；　they　say　she's　like　me；　but　that's　their　folly。　　She's　more　like　your　motherthe　same　eyes　and　hair。〃

〃Ah！　　and　she　is　pretty？〃

Old　Jolyon　was　too　much　of　a　Forsyte　to　praise　anything　freely；　especially　anything　for　which　he　had　a　genuine　admiration。

〃Not　bad　lookinga　regular　Forsyte　chin。　　It'll　be　lonely　here　when　she's　gone；　Jo。〃

The　look　on　his　face　again　gave　young　Jolyon　the　shock　he　had　felt　on　first　seeing　his　father。

〃What　will　you　do　with　yourself；　Dad？　　I　suppose　she's　wrapped　up　in　him？〃

〃Do　with　myself？〃　repeated　old　Jolyon　with　an　angry　break　in　his　voice。　　〃It'll　be　miserable　work　living　here　alone。　　I　don't　know　how　it's　to　end。　　I　wish　to　goodness。。。。〃　　He　checked　himself；　and　added：　〃The　question　is；　what　had　I　better　do　with　this　house？〃

Young　Jolyon　looked　round　the　room。　　It　was　peculiarly　vast　and　dreary；　decorated　with　the　enormous　pictures　of　still　life　that　he　remembered　as　a　boysleeping　dogs　with　their　noses　resting　on　bunches　of　carrots；　together　with　onions　and　grapes　lying　side　by　side　in　mild　surprise。　　The　house　was　a　white　elephant；　but　he　could　not　conceive　of　his　father　living　in　a　smaller　place；　and　all　the　more　did　it　all　seem　ironical。

In　his　great　chair　with　the　book…rest　sat　old　Jolyon；　the　figurehead　of　his　family　and　class　and　creed；　with　his　white　head　and　dome…like　forehead；　the　representative　of　moderation；　and　order；　and　love　of　property。　　As　lonely　an　old　man　as　there　was　in　London。

There　he　sat　in　the　gloomy　comfort　of　the　room；　a　puppet　in　the　power　of　great　forces　that　cared　nothing　for　family　or　class　or　creed；　but　moved；　machine…like；　with　dread　processes　to　inscrutable　ends。　　This　was　how　it　struck　young　Jolyon；　who　had　the　impersonal　eye。

The　poor　old　Dad！　　So　this　was　the　end；　the　purpose　to　which　he　had　lived　with　such　magnificent　moderation！　　To　be　lonely；　and　grow　older　and　older；　yearning　for　a　soul　to　speak　to！

In　his　turn　old　Jolyon　looked　back　at　his　son。　　He　wanted　to　talk　about　many　things　that　he　had　been　unable　to　talk　about　all　these　years。　　It　had　been　impossible　to　seriously　confide　in　June　his　conviction　that　property　in　the　Soho　quarter　would　go　up　in　value；　his　uneasiness　about　that　tremendous　silence　of　Pippin；

the　superintendent　of　the　New　Colliery　Company；　of　which　he　had　so　long　been　chairman；　his　disgust　at　the　steady　fall　in　American　Golgothas；　or　even　to　discuss　how；　by　some　sort　of　settlement；　he　could　best　avoid　the　payment　of　those　death　duties　which　would　follow　his　decease。　　Under　the　influence；　however；　of　a　cup　of　tea；　which　he　seemed　to　stir　indefinitely；　he　began　to　speak　at　last。　　A　new　vista　of　life　was　thus　opened　up；　a　promised　land　of　talk；　where　he　could　find　a　harbour　against　the　waves　of　anticipation　and　regret；　where　he　could　soothe　his　soul　with　the　opium　of　devising　how　to　round　off　his　property　and　make　eternal　the　only　part　of　him　that　was　to　remain　alive。

Young　Jolyon　was　a　good　listener；　it　was　his　great　quality。　　He　kept　his　eyes　fixed　on　his　father's　face；　putting　a　question　now　and　then。

The　clock　struck　one　before　old　Jolyon　had　finished；　and　at　the　sound　of　its　striking　his　principles　came　back。　　He　took　out　his　watch　with　a　look　of　surprise：

〃I　must　go　to　bed；　Jo；〃　he　said。

Young　Jolyon　rose　and　held　out　his　hand　to　help　his　father　up。　The　old　face　looked　worn　and　hollow　again；　the　eyes　were　steadily　averted。

〃Good…bye；　my　boy；　take　care　of　yourself。〃

A　moment　passed；　and　young　Jolyon；　turning　on　his；　heel；　marched　out　at　the　door。　　He　could　hardly　see；　his　smile　quavered。　　Never　in　all　the　fifteen　years　since　he　had　first　found　out　that　life　was　no　simple　business；　had　he　found　it　so　singularly　complicated。




CHAPTER　III


DINNER　AT　SWITHIN'S


In　Swithin's　orange　and　light…blue　dining…room；　facing　the　Park；　the　round　table　was　laid　for　twelve。

A　cut…glass　chandelier　filled　with　lighted　candles　hung　like　a　giant　stalactite　above　its　centre；　radiating　over　large　gilt…framed　mirrors；　slabs　of　marble　on　the　tops　of　side…tables；　and　heavy　gold　chairs　with　crewel　worked　seats。　　Everything　betokened　that　love　of　beauty　so　deeply　implanted　in　each　family　which　has　had　its　own　way　to　make　into　Society；　out　of　the　more　vulgar　heart　of　Nature。　　Swithin　had　indeed　an　impatience　of　simplicity；　a　love　of　ormolu；　which　had　always　stamped　him　amongst　his　associates　as　a　man　of　great；　if　somewhat　luxurious　taste；　and　out　of　the　knowledge　that　no　one　could　possibly　enter　his　rooms　without　perceiving　him　to　be　a　man　of　wealth；　he　had　derived　a　solid　and　prolonged　happiness　such　as　perhaps　no　other　circumstance　in　life　had　afforded　him。

Since　his　retirement　from　land　agency；　a　profession　deplorable　in　his　estimation；　especially　as　to　its　auctioneering　department；　he　had　abandoned　himself　to　naturally　aristocratic　tastes。

The　perfect　luxury　of　his　latter　days　had　embedded　him　like　a　fly　in　sugar；　and　his　mind；　where　very　little　took　place　from　morning　till　night；　was　the　junction　of　two　curiously　opposite　emotions；　a　lingering　and　sturdy　satisfaction　that　he　had　made　his　own　way　and　his　own　fortune；　and　a　sense　that　a　man　of　his　distinction　should　never　have　been　allowed　to　soil　his　mind　with　work。

He　stood　at　the　sideboard　in　a　white　waistcoat　with　large　gold　and　onyx　buttons；　watching　his　valet　screw　the　necks　of　three　champagne　bottles　deeper　into　ice…pails。　　Between　the　points　of　his　stand…up　collar；　whichthough　it　hurt　him　to　movehe　would　on　no　account　have　had　altered；　the　pale　flesh　of　his　under　chin　remained　immovable。　　His　eyes　roved　from　bottle　to　bottle。　　He　was　debating；　and　he　argued　like　this：　Jolyon　drinks　a　glass；　perhaps　two；　he's　so　careful　of　himself。　　James；　he　can't　take　his　wine　nowadays。　　NicholasFanny　and　he　would　swill　water　he　shouldn't　wonder！　　Soames　didn't　count；　these　young　nephews　Soames　was　thirty…onecouldn't　drink！　　But　Bosinney？

Encountering　in　the　name　of　this　stranger　something　outside　the　range　of　his　philosophy；　Swithin　paused。　　A　misgiving　arose　within　him！　　It　was　impossible　to　tell！　　June　was　only　a　girl；　in　love　too！　　Emily　（Mrs。　James）　liked　a　good　glass　of　champagne。　It　was　too　dry　for　Juley；　poor　old　soul；　she　had　no　palate。　　As　to　Hatty　Chessman！　　The　thought　of　this　old　friend　caused　a　cloud　of　thought　to　obscure　the　perfect　glassiness　of　his　eyes：　He　shouldn't　wonder　if　she　drank　half　a　bottle！

But　in　thinking　of　his　remaining　guest；　an　expression　like　that　of　a　cat　who　is　just　going　to　purr　stole　over　his　old　face：　Mrs。　Soames！　　She　mightn't　take　much；　but　she　would　appreciate　what　she　drank；　it　was　a　pleasure　to　give　her　good　wine！　　A　pretty　womanand　sympathetic　to　him！

The　thought　of　her　was　like　champagne　itself！　　A　pleasure　to　give　a　good　wine　to　a　young　woman　who　looked　so　well；　who　knew　how　to　dress；　with　charming　manners；　quite　distinguisheda　pleasure　to　entertain　her。　　Between　the　points　of　his　collar　he　gave