five tales-第40章

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〃Where　are　you　living　now？〃

〃I　have　a　little　flat　in　Chelsea。〃

He　did　not　want　to　hear　what　she　was　doing；　did　not　want　to　hear　anything；　but　the　perverse　word　came　out：

〃Alone？〃

She　nodded。　　It　was　a　relief　to　know　that。　　And　it　came　into　his　mind　that；　but　for　a　twist　of　fate；　she　would　have　been　mistress　of　this　coppice；　showing　these　cow…houses　to　him；　a　visitor。

〃All　Alderneys；〃　he　muttered；　〃they　give　the　best　milk。　　This　one's　a　pretty　creature。　　Woa；　Myrtle！〃

The　fawn…coloured　cow；　with　eyes　as　soft　and　brown　as　Irene's　own；　was　standing　absolutely　still；　not　having　long　been　milked。　　She　looked　round　at　them　out　of　the　corner　of　those　lustrous；　mild；　cynical　eyes；　and　from　her　grey　lips　a　little　dribble　of　saliva　threaded　its　way　towards　the　straw。　　The　scent　of　hay　and　vanilla　and　ammonia　rose　in　the　dim　light　of　the　cool　cow…house；　and　old　Jolyon　said：

〃You　must　come　up　and　have　some　dinner　with　me。　　I'll　send　you　home　in　the　carriage。〃

He　perceived　a　struggle　going　on　within　her；　natural；　no　doubt；　with　her　memories。　　But　he　wanted　her　company；　a　pretty　face；　a　charming　figure；　beauty！　　He　had　been　alone　all　the　afternoon。　　Perhaps　his　eyes　were　wistful；　for　she　answered：　〃Thank　you；　Uncle　Jolyon。　　I　should　like　to。〃

He　rubbed　his　hands；　and　said：

〃Capital！　Let's　go　up；　then！〃　And；　preceded　by　the　dog　Balthasar；　they　ascended　through　the　field。　　The　sun　was　almost　level　in　their　faces　now；　and　he　could　see；　not　only　those　silver　threads；　but　little　lines；　just　deep　enough　to　stamp　her　beauty　with　a　coin…like　finenessthe　special　look　of　life　unshared　with　others。　　〃I'll　take　her　in　by　the　terrace；　〃he　thought：　〃I　won't　make　a　common　visitor　of　her。〃

〃What　do　you　do　all　day？〃　he　said。

〃Teach　music；　I　have　another　interest；　too。〃

〃Work！〃　said　old　Jolyon；　picking　up　the　doll　from　off　the　swing；　and　smoothing　its　black　petticoat。　　〃Nothing　like　it；　is　there？　　I　don't　do　any　now。　　I'm　getting　on。　　What　interest　is　that？〃

〃Trying　to　help　women　who've　come　to　grief。〃　　Old　Jolyon　did　not　quite　understand。　　〃To　grief？〃　he　repeated；　then　realised　with　a　shock　that　she　meant　exactly　what　he　would　have　meant　himself　if　he　had　used　that　expression。　　Assisting　the　Magdalenes　of　London！　　What　a　weird　and　terrifying　interest！　　And；　curiosity　overcoming　his　natural　shrinking；　he　asked：

〃Why？　What　do　you　do　for　them？〃

〃Not　much。　　I've　no　money　to　spare。　　I　can　only　give　sympathy　and　food　sometimes。〃

Involuntarily　old　Jolyon's　hand　sought　his　purse。　　He　said　hastily：　〃How　d'you　get　hold　of　them？〃

〃I　go　to　a　hospital。〃

〃A　hospital！　Phew！〃

〃What　hurts　me　most　is　that　once　they　nearly　all　had　some　sort　of　beauty。〃

Old　Jolyon　straightened　the　doll。　　〃Beauty！〃　he　ejaculated：　〃Ha！　Yes！　A　sad　business！〃　and　he　moved　towards　the　house。　　Through　a　French　window；　under　sun…blinds　not　yet　drawn　up；　he　preceded　her　into　the　room　where　he　was　wont　to　study　'The　Times'　and　the　sheets　of　an　agricultural　magazine；　with　huge　illustrations　of　mangold　wurzels；　and　the　like；　which　provided　Holly　with　material　for　her　paint　brush。

〃Dinner's　in　half　an　hour。　　You'd　like　to　wash　your　hands！　　I'll　take　you　to　June's　room。〃

He　saw　her　looking　round　eagerly；　what　changes　since　she　had　last　visited　this　house　with　her　husband；　or　her　lover；　or　both　perhaps　he　did　not　know；　could　not　say！　　All　that　was　dark；　and　he　wished　to　leave　it　so。　　But　what　changes！　　And　in　the　hall　he　said：

〃My　boy　Jo's　a　painter；　you　know。　　He's　got　a　lot　of　taste。　　It　isn't　mine；　of　course；　but　I've　let　him　have　his　way。〃

She　was　standing　very　still；　her　eyes　roaming　through　the　hall　and　music　room；　as　it　now　wasall　thrown　into　one；　under　the　great　skylight。　　Old　Jolyon　had　an　odd　impression　of　her。　　Was　she　trying　to　conjure　somebody　from　the　shades　of　that　space　where　the　colouring　was　all　pearl…grey　and　silver？　He　would　have　had　gold　himself；　more　lively　and　solid。　　But　Jo　had　French　tastes；　and　it　had　come　out　shadowy　like　that；　with　an　effect　as　of　the　fume　of　cigarettes　the　chap　was　always　smoking；　broken　here　and　there　by　a　little　blaze　of　blue　or　crimson　colour。　　It　was　not　his　dream！　Mentally　he　had　hung　this　space　with　those　gold…framed　masterpieces　of　still　and　stiller　life　which　he　had　bought　in　days　when　quantity　was　precious。　　And　now　where　were　they？　　Sold　for　a　song！　　That　something　which　made　him；　alone　among　Forsytes；　move　with　the　times　had　warned　him　against　the　struggle　to　retain　them。　　But　in　his　study　he　still　had　'Dutch　Fishing　Boats　at　Sunset。'

He　began　to　mount　the　stairs　with　her；　slowly；　for　he　felt　his　side。

〃These　are　the　bathrooms；〃　he　said；　〃and　other　arrangements。　　I've　had　them　tiled。　　The　nurseries　are　along　there。　　And　this　is　Jo's　and　his　wife's。　　They　all　communicate。　　But　you　remember；　I　expect。〃

Irene　nodded。　　They　passed　on；　up　the　gallery　and　entered　a　large　room　with　a　small　bed；　and　several　windows。

〃This　is　mine；〃　he　said。　　The　walls　were　covered　with　the　photographs　of　children　and　watercolour　sketches；　and　he　added　doubtfully：

〃These　are　Jo's。　　The　view's　first…rate。　　You　can　see　the　Grand　Stand　at　Epsom　in　clear　weather。〃

The　sun　was　down　now；　behind　the　house；　and　over　the　'prospect'　a　luminous　haze　had　settled；　emanation　of　the　long　and　prosperous　day。　Few　houses　showed；　but　fields　and　trees　faintly　glistened；　away　to　a　loom　of　downs。

〃The　country's　changing；〃　he　said　abruptly；　〃but　there　it'll　be　when　we're　all　gone。　　Look　at　those　thrushesthe　birds　are　sweet　here　in　the　mornings。　　I'm　glad　to　have　washed　my　hands　of　London。〃

Her　face　was　close　to　the　window　pane；　and　he　was　struck　by　its　mournful　look。　　'Wish　I　could　make　her　look　happy！'　he　thought。　　'A　pretty　face；　but　sad！'　　And　taking　up　his　can　of　hot　water　he　went　out　into　the　gallery。

〃This　is　June's　room；〃　he　said；　opening　the　next　door　and　putting　the　can　down；　〃I　think　you'll　find　everything。〃　And　closing　the　door　behind　her　he　went　back　to　his　own　room。　　Brushing　his　hair　with　his　great　ebony　brushes；　and　dabbing　his　forehead　with　eau　de　Cologne；　he　mused。　　She　had　come　so　strangelya　sort　of　visit…ation；　mysterious；　even　romantic；　as　if　his　desire　for　company；　for　beauty；　had　been　fulfilled　by　whatever　it　was　which　fulfilled　that　sort　of　thing。　　And　before　the　mirror　he　straightened　his　still　upright　figure；　passed　the　brushes　over　his　great　white　moustache；　touched　up　his　eyebrows　with　eau　de　Cologne；　and　rang　the　bell。

〃I　forgot　to　let　them　know　that　I　have　a　lady　to　dinner　with　me。　　Let　cook　do　something　extra；　and　tell　Beacon　to　have　the　landau　and　pair　at　half…past　ten　to　drive　her　back　to　Town　to…night。　　Is　Miss　Holly　asleep？〃

The　maid　thought　not。　　And　old　Jolyon；　passing　down　the　gallery；　stole　on　tiptoe　towards　the　nursery；　and　opened　the　door　whose　hinges　he　kept　specially　oiled　that　he　might　slip　in　and　out　in　the　evenings　without　being　heard。

But　Holly　was　asleep；　and　lay　like　a　miniature　Madonna；　of　that　type　which　the　old　painters　could　not　tell　from　Venus；　when　they　had　completed　her。　　Her　long　dark　lashes　clung　to　her　cheeks；　on　her　face　was　perfect　peaceher　little　arrangements　were　evidently　all　right　again。　　And　old　Jolyon；　in　the　twilight　of　the　room；　stood　adoring　her！　　It　was　so　charming；　solemn；　and　lovingthat　little　face。　　He　had　more　than　his　share　of　the　blessed　capacity　of　living　again　in　the　young。　　They　were　to　him　his　future　lifeall　of　a　future　life　that　his　fundamental　pagan　sanity　perhaps　admitted。　　There　she　was　with　everything　before　her；　and　his　bloodsome　of　itin　her　tiny　veins。　　There　she　was；　his　little　companion；　to　be　made　as　happy　as　ever　he　could　make　her；　so　that　she　knew　nothing　but　love。　　His　heart　swelled；　and　he　went　out；　stilling　the　sound　of　his　patent…leather　boots。　　In　the　corridor　an　eccentric　notion　attacked　him：　To　think　that　children　should　come　to　that　which　Irene　had　told　him　she　was　helping！　　Women　who　were　all；　once；　little　things　like　this　one　sleeping　there！　　'I　must　give　her　a　cheque！'　he　mused；　'Can't　bear　to　think　of　them！'　　They　had　never　borne　reflecting　on；　those　poor　outcasts；　wounding　too　deeply　the　core　of　true　refinement　hidden　under　layers　of　conformity　to　the　sense　of　propertywounding　too　grievously　the　deepest　thing　in　hima　love　of　beauty　which　could　give　him；　even　now；　a　flutter　of　the　heart；　thinking　of　his　evening　in　the　society　of　a　pretty　woman。　　And　he　went　downstairs；　through　the　swinging　doors；　to　the　back　regions。　　There；　in　the　wine…cellar；　was　a　hock　worth　at　least　two　pounds　a　bottle；　a　Steinberg　Cabinet；　better　than　any　Johan…nisberg　that　ever　went　down　throat；　a　wine　of　perfect　bouquet；　sweet　as　a　nectarinenectar　indeed！　He　got　a　bottle　out；　handling　it　like　a　baby；　and　holding　it　level　to　the　light；　to　look。　　Enshrined　in　its　coat　of　dust；　that　mellow　coloured；　slender　necked　bottle　gave　him　deep　pleasure。　　Three　years　to　settle　down　again　since　the　move　from　Townought　to　be　in　prime　condition！　Thirty…five　years　ago　he　had　bought　itthank　God　he　had　kept　his　palate；　and　earned　the　right　to　drink　it。　　She　would　appreciate　this；　not　a　spice　of　acidity　in　a　dozen。　　He　wiped　the　bottle；　drew　the　cork　with　his　own　hands；　put　his　nose　down；　inhaled　its　perfume；　and　went　back　to　the　music　room。

Irene　was　standing　by　the　piano；　she　had　taken　off　her　hat　and　a　lace　scarf　she　had　been　wearing；　so　that　her　gold…coloured　hair　was　visible；　and　the　pallor　of　her　neck。　　In　her　grey　frock　she　made　a　pretty　picture　for　old　Jolyon；　against　the　rosewood　of　the　piano。

He　gave　her　his　arm；　and　solemnly　they　went。　　The　room；　which　had　been　designed　to　enable　twenty…four　people　to　dine　in　comfort；　held　now　but　a　little　round　table。　　In　his　present　solitude　the　big　dining…table　oppressed　old　Jolyon；　he　had　caused　it　to　be　removed　till　his　son　came　back。　　Here　in　the　company　of　two　really　good　copies　of　Raphael　Madonnas　he　was　wont　to　dine　alone。　　It　was　the　only　disconsolate　hour　of　his　day；　this　summer　weather。　　He　had　never　been　a　large　eater；　like　that　great　chap　Swithin；　or　Sylvanus　Heythorp；　or　Anthony　Thornworthy；　those　cronies　of　past　times；　and　to　dine　alone；　overlooked　by　the　Madonnas；　was　to　him　but　a　sorrowful　occupation；　which　he　got　through　quickly；　that　he　might　come　to　the　more　spiritual　enjoyment　of　his　coffee　and　cigar。　　But　this　evening　was　a　different　matter！　His　eyes　twinkled　at　her　across　the　little　table　and　he　spoke　of　Italy　and　Switzerland；　telling　her　stories　of　his　travels　there；　and　other　experiences　which　he　could　no　longer　recount　to　his　son　and　grand…daughter　because　they　knew　them。　　This　fresh　audience　was　precious　to　him；　he　had　never　become　one　of　those　old　men　who　ramble　round　and　round　the　fields　of　reminiscence。　Himself　quickly　fatigued　by　the　insensitive；　he　instinctively　avoided　fatiguing　others；　and　his　natural　flirtatiousness　towards　beauty　guarded　him　specially　in　his　relations　with　a　woman。　　He　would　have　liked　to　draw　her　out；　but　though　she　murmured　and　smiled　and　seemed　to　be　enjoying　what　he　told　her；　he　remained　conscious　of　that　mysterious　remoteness　which　constituted　half　her　fascination。　　He　could　not　bear　women　who　threw　their　shoulders　and　eyes　at　you；　and　chattered　away；　or　hard…mouthed　women　who　laid　down　the　law　and　knew　more　than　you　did。　　There　was　only　one　qu