five tales-第44章

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〃You　said　June　had　forgiven　me；　but　she　could　never　forget；　Uncle　Jolyon。〃

Forget！　She　must　forget；　if　he　wanted　her　to。

But　as　if　answering；　Irene　shook　her　head。　　〃You　know　she　couldn't；　one　doesn't　forget。〃

Always　that　wretched　past！　And　he　said　with　a　sort　of　vexed　finality：

〃Well；　we　shall　see。〃

He　talked　to　her　an　hour　or　more；　of　the　children；　and　a　hundred　little　things；　till　the　carriage　came　round　to　take　her　home。　　And　when　she　had　gone　he　went　back　to　his　chair；　and　sat　there　smoothing　his　face　and　chin；　dreaming　over　the　day。

That　evening　after　dinner　he　went　to　his　study　and　took　a　sheet　of　paper。　　He　stayed　for　some　minutes　without　writing；　then　rose　and　stood　under　the　masterpiece　'Dutch　Fishing　Boats　at　Sunset。'　　He　was　not　thinking　of　that　picture；　but　of　his　life。　　He　was　going　to　leave　her　something　in　his　Will；　nothing　could　so　have　stirred　the　stilly　deeps　of　thought　and　memory。　　He　was　going　to　leave　her　a　portion　of　his　wealth；　of　his　aspirations；　deeds；　qualities；　workall　that　had　made　that　wealth；　going　to　leave　her；　too；　a　part　of　all　he　had　missed　in　life；　by　his　sane　and　steady　pursuit　of　wealth。　　All！　What　had　he　missed？　　'Dutch　Fishing　Boats'　responded　blankly；　he　crossed　to　the　French　window；　and　drawing　the　curtain　aside；　opened　it。　　A　wind　had　got　up；　and　one　of　last　year's　oak　leaves　which　had　somehow　survived　the　gardener's　brooms；　was　dragging　itself　with　a　tiny　clicking　rustle　along　the　stone　terrace　in　the　twilight。　　Except　for　that　it　was　very　quiet　out　there；　and　he　could　smell　the　heliotrope　watered　not　long　since。　　A　bat　went　by。　　A　bird　uttered　its　last　'cheep。'　　And　right　above　the　oak　tree　the　first　star　shone。　　Faust　in　the　opera　had　bartered　his　soul　for　some　fresh　years　of　youth。　Morbid　notion！　　No　such　bargain　was　possible；　that　was　real　tragedy！　No　making　oneself　new　again　for　love　or　life　or　anything。　　Nothing　left　to　do　but　enjoy　beauty　from　afar　off　while　you　could；　and　leave　it　something　in　your　Will。　　But　how　much？　And；　as　if　he　could　not　make　that　calculation　looking　out　into　the　mild　freedom　of　the　country　night；　he　turned　back　and　went　up　to　the　chimney…piece。　There　were　his　pet　bronzesa　Cleopatra　with　the　asp　at　her　breast；　a　Socrates；　a　greyhound　playing　with　her　puppy；　a　strong　man　reining　in　some　horses。　　'They　last！'　he　thought；　and　a　pang　went　through　his　heart。　　They　had　a　thousand　years　of　life　before　them！

'How　much？'　Well！　enough　at　all　events　to　save　her　getting　old　before　her　time；　to　keep　the　lines　out　of　her　face　as　long　as　possible；　and　grey　from　soiling　that　bright　hair。　　He　might　live　another　five　years。　　She　would　be　well　over　thirty　by　then。　　'How　much？'　　She　had　none　of　his　blood　in　her！　　In　loyalty　to　the　tenor　of　his　life　for　forty　years　and　more；　ever　since　he　married　and　founded　that　mysterious　thing；　a　family；　came　this　warning　thoughtNone　of　his　blood；　no　right　to　anything！　　It　was　a　luxury　then；　this　notion。　　An　extravagance；　a　petting　of　an　old　man's　whim；　one　of　those　things　done　in　dotage。　　His　real　future　was　vested　in　those　who　had　his　blood；　in　whom　he　would　live　on　when　he　was　gone。　　He　turned　away　from　the　bronzes　and　stood　looking　at　the　old　leather　chair　in　which　he　had　sat　and　smoked　so　many　hundreds　of　cigars。　　And　suddenly　he　seemed　to　see　her　sitting　there　in　her　grey　dress；　fragrant；　soft；　dark…eyed；　graceful；　looking　up　at　him。　　Why！　She　cared　nothing　for　him；　really；　all　she　cared　for　was　that　lost　lover　of　hers。　　But　she　was　there；　whether　she　would　or　no；　giving　him　pleasure　with　her　beauty　and　grace。　　One　had　no　right　to　inflict　an　old　man's　company；　no　right　to　ask　her　down　to　play　to　him　and　let　him　look　at　herfor　no　reward！　　Pleasure　must　be　paid　for　in　this　world。　　'How　much？'　After　all；　there　was　plenty；　his　son　and　his　three　grandchildren　would　never　miss　that　little　lump。　　He　had　made　it　himself；　nearly　every　penny；　he　could　leave　it　where　he　liked；　allow　himself　this　little　pleasure。　　He　went　back　to　the　bureau。　　'Well；　I'm　going　to；'　he　thought；　'let　them　think　what　they　like。　　I'm　going　to！'　　And　he　sat　down。

'How　much？'　Ten　thousand；　twenty　thousandhow　much？　If　only　with　his　money　he　could　buy　one　year；　one　month　of　youth。　　And　startled　by　that　thought；　he　wrote　quickly：


'DEAR　HERRING；Draw　me　a　codicil　to　this　effect：　〃I　leave　to　my　niece　Irene　Forsyte；　born　Irene　Heron；　by　which　name　she　now　goes；　fifteen　thousand　pounds　free　of　legacy　duty。〃　'Yours　faithfully；　'JOLYON　FORSYTE。'


When　he　had　sealed　and　stamped　the　envelope；　he　went　back　to　the　window　and　drew　in　a　long　breath。　　It　was　dark；　but　many　stars　shone　now。




IV


He　woke　at　half…past　two；　an　hour　which　long　experience　had　taught　him　brings　panic　intensity　to　all　awkward　thoughts。　　Experience　had　also　taught　him　that　a　further　waking　at　the　proper　hour　of　eight　showed　the　folly　of　such　panic。　　On　this　particular　morning　the　thought　which　gathered　rapid　momentum　was　that　if　he　became　ill；　at　his　age　not　improbable；　he　would　not　see　her。　　From　this　it　was　but　a　step　to　realisation　that　he　would　be　cut　off；　too；　when　his　son　and　June　returned　from　Spain。　　How　could　he　justify　desire　for　the　company　of　one　who　had　stolenearly　morning　does　not　mince　words　June's　lover？　　That　lover　was　dead；　but　June　was　a　stubborn　little　thing；　warm…hearted；　but　stubborn　as　wood；　andquite　truenot　one　who　forgot！　　By　the　middle　of　next　month　they　would　be　back。　　He　had　barely　five　weeks　left　to　enjoy　the　new　interest　which　had　come　into　what　remained　of　his　life。　　Darkness　showed　up　to　him　absurdly　clear　the　nature　of　his　feeling。　　Admiration　for　beautya　craving　to　see　that　which　delighted　his　eyes。

Preposterous；　at　his　age！　And　yetwhat　other　reason　was　there　for　asking　June　to　undergo　such　painful　reminder；　and　how　prevent　his　son　and　his　son's　wife　from　thinking　him　very　queer？　　He　would　be　reduced　to　sneaking　up　to　London；　which　tired　him；　and　the　least　indisposition　would　cut　him　off　even　from　that。　　He　lay　with　eyes　open；　setting　his　jaw　against　the　prospect；　and　calling　himself　an　old　fool；　while　his　heart　beat　loudly；　and　then　seemed　to　stop　beating　altogether。　　He　had　seen　the　dawn　lighting　the　window　chinks；　heard　the　birds　chirp　and　twitter；　and　the　cocks　crow；　before　he　fell　asleep　again；　and　awoke　tired　but　sane。　　Five　weeks　before　he　need　bother；　at　his　age　an　eternity！　　But　that　early　morning　panic　had　left　its　mark；　had　slightly　fevered　the　will　of　one　who　had　always　had　his　own　way。　　He　would　see　her　as　often　as　he　wished！　　Why　not　go　up　to　town　and　make　that　codicil　at　his　solicitor's　instead　of　writing　about　it；　she　might　like　to　go　to　the　opera！　　But；　by　train；　for　he　would　not　have　that　fat　chap　Beacon　grinning　behind　his　back。　Servants　were　such　fools；　and；　as　likely　as　not；　they　had　known　all　the　past　history　of　Irene　and　young　Bosinneyservants　knew　everything；　and　suspected　the　rest。　　He　wrote　to　her　that　morning：


〃MY　DEAR　IRENE；I　have　to　be　up　in　town　to…morrow。　　If　you　would　like　to　have　a　look　in　at　the　opera；　come　and　dine　with　me　quietly　。。。。〃

But　where？　　It　was　decades　since　he　had　dined　anywhere　in　London　save　at　his　Club　or　at　a　private　house。　　Ah！　that　new…fangled　place　close　to　Covent　Garden。。。。

〃Let　me　have　a　line　to…morrow　morning　to　the　Piedmont　Hotel　whether　to　expect　you　there　at　7　o'clock。〃　〃Yours　affectionately；　〃JOLYON　FORSYTE。〃


She　would　understand　that　he　just　wanted　to　give　her　a　little　pleasure；　for　the　idea　that　she　should　guess　he　had　this　itch　to　see　her　was　instinctively　unpleasant　to　him；　it　was　not　seemly　that　one　so　old　should　go　out　of　his　way　to　see　beauty；　especially　in　a　woman。

The　journey　next　day；　short　though　it　was；　and　the　visit　to　his　lawyer's；　tired　him。　　It　was　hot　too；　and　after　dressing　for　dinner　he　lay　down　on　the　sofa　in　his　bedroom　to　rest　a　little。　　He　must　have　had　a　sort　of　fainting　fit；　for　he　came　to　himself　feeling　very　queer；　and　with　some　difficulty　rose　and　rang　the　bell。　　Why！　it　was　past　seven！　　And　there　he　was　and　she　would　be　waiting。　　But　suddenly　the　dizziness　came　on　again；　and　he　was　obliged　to　relapse　on　the　sofa。　　He　heard　the　maid's　voice　say：

〃Did　you　ring；　sir？〃

〃Yes；　come　here〃；　he　could　not　see　her　clearly；　for　the　cloud　in　front　of　his　eyes。　　〃I'm　not　well；　I　want　some　sal　volatile。〃

〃Yes；　sir。〃　　Her　voice　sounded　frightened。

Old　Jolyon　made　an　effort。

〃Don't　go。　　Take　this　message　to　my　niecea　lady　waiting　in　the　halla　lady　in　grey。　　Say　Mr。　Forsyte　is　not　wellthe　heat。　　He　is　very　sorry；　if　he　is　not　down　directly；　she　is　not　to　wait　dinner。〃

When　she　was　gone；　he　thought　feebly：　'Why　did　I　say　a　lady　in　grey　she　may　be　in　anything。　　Sal　volatile！'　　He　did　not　go　off　again；　yet　was　not　conscious　of　how　Irene　came　to　be　standing　beside　him；　holding　smelling　salts　to　his　nose；　and　pushing　a　pillow　up　behind　his　head。　　He　heard　her　say　anxiously：　〃Dear　Uncle　Jolyon；　what　is　it？〃　was　dimly　conscious　of　the　soft　pressure　of　her　lips　on　his　hand；　then　drew　a　long　breath　of　smelling　salts；　suddenly　discovered　strength　in　them；　and　sneezed。

〃Ha！〃　he　said；　〃it's　nothing。　　How　did　you　get　here？　Go　down　and　dinethe　tickets　are　on　the　dressing…table。　　I　shall　be　all　right　in　a　minute。〃

He　felt　her　cool　hand　on　his　forehead；　smelled　violets；　and　sat　divided　between　a　sort　of　pleasure　and　a　determination　to　be　all　right。

〃Why！　You　are　in　grey！〃　he　said。　　〃Help　me　up。〃　　Once　on　his　feet　he　gave　himself　a　shake。

〃What　business　had　I　to　go　off　like　that！〃　　And　he　moved　very　slowly　to　the　glass。　　What　a　cadaverous　chap！　　Her　voice；　behind　him；　murmured：

〃You　mustn't　come　down；　Uncle；　you　must　rest。〃

〃Fiddlesticks！　　A　glass　of　champagne'll　soon　set　me　to　rights。　　I　can't　have　you　missing　the　opera。〃

But　the　journey　down　the　corridor　was　troublesome。　　What　carpets　they　had　in　these　newfangled　places；　so　thick　that　you　tripped　up　in　them　at　every　step！　In　the　lift　he　noticed　how　concerned　she　looked；　and　said　with　the　ghost　of　a　twinkle：

〃I'm　a　pretty　host。〃

When　the　lift　stopped　he　had　to　hold　firmly　to　the　seat　to　prevent　its　slipping　under　him；　but　after　soup　and　a　glass　of　champagne　he　felt　much　better；　and　began　to　enjoy　an　infirmity　which　had　brought　such　solicitude　into　her　manner　towards　him。

〃I　should　have　liked　you　for　a　daughter；〃　he　said　suddenly；　and　watching　the　smile　in　her　eyes；　went　on：

〃You　mustn't　get　wrapped　up　in　the　past　at　your　time　of　life；　plenty　of　that　when　you　get　to　my　age。　　That's　a　nice　dressI　like　the　style。〃

〃I　made　it　myself。〃

Ah！　A　woman　who　could　make　herself　a　pretty　frock　had　not　lost　her　interest　in　life。

〃Make　hay　while　the　sun　shines；〃　he　said；　〃and　drink　that　up。　　I　want　to　see　some　colour　in　your　cheeks。　　We　mustn't　waste　life；　it　doesn't　do。　　There's　a　new　Marguerite　to…night；　let's　hope　she　won't　be　fat。　And　Mephistoanything　more　dreadful　than　a　fat　chap　playing　the　Devil　I　can't　imagine。〃

But　they　did　not　go　to　the　opera　after　all；　for　in　getting　up　from　dinner　the　dizziness　came　over　him　again；　and　she　insisted　on　his　staying　quiet　and　going　to　bed　early。　　When　he　parted　from　her　at　the　door　of　the　hotel；　having　paid　the　cabman　to　drive　her　to　Chelsea；　he　sat　down　again　for　a　moment　to　enjoy　the　memory　of　her　words：　〃You　are　such　a　darling　to　me