five tales-第52章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


e　infection　of　his　new　ardour。　　And　he　felt　unsteady；　fearfully　unsteady　with　the　desire　to　say　it　all　as　it　should　be　said：　swiftly；　quietly；　with　the　truth　and　fervour　of　his　feeling。

The　hall　was　not　lit　up；　for　daylight　still　lingered　under　the　new　arrangement。　　He　went　towards　the　drawing…room；　but　from　the　very　door　shied　off　to　his　study　and　stood　irresolute　under　the　picture　of　a　〃Man　catching　a　flea〃　（Dutch　school）；　which　had　come　down　to　him　from　his　father。　　The　governess　would　be　in　there　with　his　wife！　　He　must　wait。　　Essential　to　go　straight　to　Kathleen　and　pour　it　all　out；　or　he　would　never　do　it。　　He　felt　as　nervous　as　an　undergraduate　going　up　for　his　viva'　voce。　　This　thing　was　so　big；　so　astoundingly　and　unexpectedly　important。　　He　was　suddenly　afraid　of　his　wife；　afraid　of　her　coolness　and　her　grace；　and　that　something　Japanese　about　herof　all　those　attributes　he　had　been　accustomed　to　admire　most；　afraid；　as　it　were；　of　her　attraction。　　He　felt　young　to…night；　almost　boyish；　would　she　see　that　he　was　not　really　fifteen　years　older　than　herself；　and　she　not　really　a　part　of　his　collection；　of　all　the　admirable　appointments　of　his　home；　but　a　companion　spirit　to　one　who　wanted　a　companion　badly。　　In　this　agitation　of　his　soul　he　could　keep　still　no　more　than　he　could　last　night　in　the　agitation　of　his　senses；　and　he　wandered　into　the　dining…room。　　A　dainty　supper　was　set　out　there；　sandwiches；　and　cake；　whisky　and　the　cigarettes…　even　an　early　peach。　Mr。　Bosengate　looked　at　this　peach　with　sorrow　rather　than　disgust。　　The　perfection　of　it　was　of　a　piece　with　all　that　had　gone　before　this　new　and　sudden　feeling。　　Its　delicious　bloom　seemed　to　heighten　his　perception　of　the　hedge　around　him；　that　hedge　of　the　things　he　so　enjoyed；　carefully　planted　and　tended　these　many　years。　　He　passed　it　by　uneaten；　and　went　to　the　window。　　Out　there　all　was　darkening；　the　fountain；　the　lime　tree；　the　flower…　beds；　and　the　fields　below；　with　the　Jersey　cows　who　would　come　to　your　call；　darkening　slowly；　losing　form；　blurring　into　soft　blackness；　vanishing；　but　there　none　the　lessall　therethe　hedge　of　his　possessions。　　He　heard　the　door　of　the　drawing…room　open；　the　voices　of　his　wife　and　the　governess　in　the　hall；　going　up　to　bed。　If　only　they　didn't　look　in　here！　　If　only！　　The　voices　ceased。　　He　was　safe　nowhad　but　to　follow　in　a　few　minutes；　to　make　sure　of　Kathleen　alone。　　He　turned　round　and　stared　down　the　length　of　the　dark　dining…room；　over　the　rosewood　table；　to　where　in　the　mirror　above　the　sideboard　at　the　far　end；　his　figure　bathed；　a　stain；　a　mere　blurred　shadow；　he　made　his　way　down　to　it　along　the　table　edge；　and　stood　before　himself　as　close　as　he　could　get。　　His　throat　and　the　roof　of　his　mouth　felt　dry　with　nervousness；　he　put　out　his　finger　and　touched　his　face　in　the　glass。　　'You're　an　ass！'　he　thought。　　'Pull　yourself　together；　and　get　it　over。　　She　will　see；　of　course　she　will！'　　He　swallowed；　smoothed　his　moustache；　and　walked　out。　　Going　up　the　stairs；　his　heart　beat　painfully；　but　he　was　in　for　it　now；　and　marched　straight　into　her　room。　Dressed　only　in　a　loose　blue　wrapper；　she　was　brushing　her　dark　hair　before　the　glass。　　Mr。　Bosengate　went　up　to　her　and　stood　there　silent；　looking　down。　　The　words　he　had　thought　of　were　like　a　swarm　of　bees　buzzing　in　his　head；　yet　not　one　would　fly　from　between　his　lips。　　His　wife　went　on　brushing　her　hair　under　the　light　which　shone　on　her　polished　elbows。　　She　looked　up　at　him　from　beneath　one　lifted　eyebrow。

〃Well；　deartired？〃

With　a　sort　of　vehemence　the　single　word　〃No〃　passed　out。　　A　faint；　a　quizzical　smile　flitted　over　her　face；　she　shrugged　her　shoulders　ever　so　gently。　　That　gesturehe　had　seen　it　before！　　And　in　desperate　desire　to　make　her　understand；　he　put　his　hand　on　her　lifted　arm。

〃Kathleen；　stoplisten　to　me！〃　　His　fingers　tightened　in　his　agitation　and　eagerness　to　make　his　great　discovery　known。　　But　before　he　could　get　out　a　word　he　became　conscious　of　that　cool　round　arm；　conscious　of　her　eyes　half…closed；　sliding　round　at　him；　of　her　half…smiling　lips；　of　her　neck　under　the　wrapper。　　And　he　stammered：

〃I　wantI　mustKathleen；　I…〃

She　lifted　her　shoulders　again　in　that　little　shrug。　　〃YesI　know；　all　right！〃

A　wave　of　heat　and　shame；　and　of　God　knows　what　came　over　Mr。　Bosengate；　he　fell　on　his　knees　and　pressed　his　forehead　to　her　arm；　and　he　was　silent；　more　silent　than　the　grave。　　Nothingnothing　came　from　him　but　two　long　sighs。　　Suddenly　he　felt　her　hand　stroke　his　cheekcompassionately；　it　seemed　to　him。　　She　made　a　little　movement　towards　him；　her　lips　met　his；　and　he　remembered　nothing　but　that。。。。

In　his　own　room　Mr。　Bosengate　sat　at　his　wide　open　window；　smoking　a　cigarette；　there　was　no　light。　　Moths　went　past；　the　moon　was　creeping　up。　　He　sat　very　calm；　puffing　the　smoke　out　in　to　the　night　air。　　Curious　thing…life！　　Curious　world！　　Curious　forces　in　it　making　one　do　the　opposite　of　what　one　wished；　alwaysalways　making　one　do　the　opposite；　it　seemed！　　The　furtive　light　from　that　creeping　moon　was　getting　hold　of　things　down　there；　stealing　in　among　the　boughs　of　the　trees。　　'There's　something　ironical；'　he　thought；　'which　walks　about。　　Things　don't　come　off　as　you　think　they　will。　　I　meant；　I　tried　but　one　doesn't　change　like　that　all　of　a　sudden；　it　seems。　　Fact　is；　life's　too　big　a　thing　for　one！　　All　the　same；　I'm　not　the　man　I　was　yesterdaynot　quite！'　　He　closed　his　eyes；　and　in　one　of　those　flashes　of　vision　which　come　when　the　senses　are　at　rest；　he　saw　himself　as　it　were　far　down　belowdown　on　the　floor　of　a　street　narrow　as　a　grave；　high　as　a　mountain；　a　deep　dark　slit　of　a　street　walking　down　there；　a　black　midget　of　a　fellow；　among　other　black　midgetshis　wife；　and　the　little　soldier；　the　judge；　and　those　jury　chapsfantoches　straight　up　on　their　tiny　feet；　wandering　down　there　in　that　dark；　infinitely　tall；　and　narrow　street。　　'Too　much　for　one！'　he　thought；　'Too　high　for　oneno　getting　on　top　of　it。　We've　got　to　be　kind；　and　help　one　another；　and　not　expect　too　much；　and　not　think　too　much。　　That'sall！'　　And；　squeezing　out　his　cigarette；　he　took　six　deep　breaths　of　the　night　air；　and　got　into　bed。







INDIAN　SUMMER　OF　A　FORSYTE

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃And　Summer's　lease　hath　all　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　too　short　a　date。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Shakespeare


I

In　the　last　day　of　May　in　the　early　'nineties；　about　six　o'clock　of　the　evening；　old　Jolyon　Forsyte　sat　under　the　oak　tree　below　the　terrace　of　his　house　at　Robin　Hill。　　He　was　waiting　for　the　midges　to　bite　him；　before　abandoning　the　glory　of　the　afternoon。　　His　thin　brown　hand；　where　blue　veins　stood　out；　held　the　end　of　a　cigar　in　its　tapering；　long…nailed　fingersa　pointed　polished　nail　had　survived　with　him　from　those　earlier　Victorian　days　when　to　touch　nothing；　even　with　the　tips　of　the　fingers；　had　been　so　distinguished。　　His　domed　forehead；　great　white　moustache；　lean　cheeks；　and　long　lean　jaw　were　covered　from　the　westering　sunshine　by　an　old　brown　Panama　hat。　　His　legs　were　crossed；　in　all　his　attitude　was　serenity　and　a　kind　of　elegance；　as　of　an　old　man　who　every　morning　put　eau　de　Cologne　upon　his　silk　handkerchief。　　At　his　feet　lay　a　woolly　brown…and…white　dog　trying　to　be　a　Pomeranianthe　dog　Balthasar　between　whom　and　old　Jolyon　primal　aver…sion　had　changed　into　attachment　with　the　years。　　Close　to　his　chair　was　a　swing；　and　on　the　swing　was　seated　one　of　Holly's　dolls　called　'Duffer　Alice'…　…with　her　body　fallen　over　her　legs　and　her　doleful　nose　buried　in　a　black　petticoat。　　She　was　never　out　of　disgrace；　so　it　did　not　matter　to　her　how　she　sat。　　Below　the　oak　tree　the　lawn　dipped　down　a　bank；　stretched　to　the　fernery；　and；　beyond　that　refinement；　became　fields；　dropping　to　the　pond；　the　coppice；　and　the　prospect　'Fine；　remarkable'at　which　Swithin　Forsyte；　from　under　this　very　tree；　had　stared　five　years　ago　when　he　drove　down　with　Irene　to　look　at　the　house。　　Old　Jolyon　had　heard　of　his　brother's　exploitthat　drive　which　had　become　quite　celebrated　on　Forsyte　'Change。'　Swithin！　And　the　fellow　had　gone　and　died；　last　November；　at　the　age　of　only　seventy…nine；　renewing　the　doubt　whether