man of property-第54部分

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e　soft　darkness。

To　fresh…comers　along　the　paths；　these　forerunners　formed　but　part　of　that　passionate　dusk；　whence　only　a　strange　murmur；　like　the　confused　beating　of　hearts；　came　forth。　　But　when　that　murmur　reached　each　couple　in　the　lamp…light　their　voices　wavered；　and　ceased；　their　arms　enlaced；　their　eyes　began　seeking；　searching；　probing　the　blackness。　　Suddenly；　as　though　drawn　by　invisible　hands；　they；　too；　stepped　over　the　railing；　and；　silent　as　shadows；　were　gone　from　the　light。

The　stillness；　enclosed　in　the　far；　inexorable　roar　of　the　town；　was　alive　with　the　myriad　passions；　hopes；　and　loves　of　multitudes　of　struggling　human　atoms；　for　in　spite　of　the　disapproval　of　that　great　body　of　Forsytes；　the　Municipal　Councilto　whom　Love　had　long　been　considered；　next　to　the　Sewage　Question；　the　gravest　danger　to　the　communitya　process　was　going　on　that　night　in　the　Park；　and　in　a　hundred　other　parks；　without　which　the　thousand　factories；　churches；　shops；　taxes；　and　drains；　of　which　they　were　custodians；　were　as　arteries　without　blood；　a　man　without　a　heart。

The　instincts　of　self…forgetfulness；　of　passion；　and　of　love；　hiding　under　the　trees；　away　from　the　trustees　of　their　remorseless　enemy；　the　'sense　of　property；'　were　holding　a　stealthy　revel；　and　Soames；　returning　from　Bayswater　for　he　had　been　alone　to　dine　at　Timothy's　walking　home　along　the　water；　with　his　mind　upon　that　coming　lawsuit；　had　the　blood　driven　from　his　heart　by　a　low　laugh　and　the　sound　of　kisses。　　He　thought　of　writing　to　the　Times　the　next　morning；　to　draw　the　attention　of　the　Editor　to　the　condition　of　our　parks。　　He　did　not；　however；　for　he　had　a　horror　of　seeing　his　name　in　print。

But　starved　as　he　was；　the　whispered　sounds　in　the　stillness；　the　half…seen　forms　in　the　dark；　acted　on　him　like　some　morbid　stimulant。　　He　left　the　path　along　the　water　and　stole　under　the　trees；　along　the　deep　shadow　of　little　plantations；　where　the　boughs　of　chestnut　trees　hung　their　great　leaves　low；　and　there　was　blacker　refuge；　shaping　his　course　in　circles　which　had　for　their　object　a　stealthy　inspection　of　chairs　side　by　side；　against　tree…trunks；　of　enlaced　lovers；　who　stirred　at　his　approach。

Now　he　stood　still　on　the　rise　overlooking　the　Serpentine；　where；　in　full　lamp…light；　black　against　the　silver　water；　sat　a　couple　who　never　moved；　the　woman's　face　buried　on　the　man's　necka　single　form；　like　a　carved　emblem　of　passion；　silent　and　unashamed。

And；　stung　by　the　sight；　Soames　hurried　on　deeper　into　the　shadow　of　the　trees。

In　this　search；　who　knows　what　he　thought　and　what　he　sought？　Bread　for　hungerlight　in　darkness？　　Who　knows　what　he　expected　to　findimpersonal　knowledge　of　the　human　heartthe　end　of　his　private　subterranean　tragedyfor；　again；　who　knew；　but　that　each　dark　couple；　unnamed；　unnameable；　might　not　be　he　and　she？

But　it　could　not　be　such　knowledge　as　this　that　he　was　seeking　the　wife　of　Soames　Forsyte　sitting　in　the　Park　like　a　common　wench！　　Such　thoughts　were　inconceivable；　and　from　tree　to　tree；　with　his　noiseless　step；　he　passed。

Once　he　was　sworn　at；　once　the　whisper；　〃If　only　it　could　always　be　like　this！〃　sent　the　blood　flying　again　from　his　heart；　and　he　waited　there；　patient　and　dogged；　for　the　two　to　move。　　But　it　was　only　a　poor　thin　slip　of　a　shop…girl　in　her　draggled　blouse　who　passed　him；　clinging　to　her　lover's　arm。

A　hundred　other　lovers　too　whispered　that　hope　in　the　stillness　of　the　trees；　a　hundred　other　lovers　clung　to　each　other。

But　shaking　himself　with　sudden　disgust；　Soames　returned　to　the　path；　and　left　that　seeking　for　he　knew　not　what。




CHAPTER　III

MEETING　AT　THE　BOTANICAL


Young　Jolyon；　whose　circumstances　were　not　those　of　a　Forsyte；　found　at　times　a　difficulty　in　sparing　the　money　needful　for　those　country　jaunts　and　researches　into　Nature；　without　having　prosecuted　which　no　watercolour　artist　ever　puts　brush　to　paper。

He　was　frequently；　in　fact；　obliged　to　take　his　colour…box　into　the　Botanical　Gardens；　and　there；　on　his　stool；　in　the　shade　of　a　monkey…puzzler　or　in　the　lee　of　some　India…rubber　plant；　he　would　spend　long　hours　sketching。

An　Art　critic　who　had　recently　been　looking　at　his　work　had　delivered　himself　as　follows

〃In　a　way　your　drawings　are　very　good；　tone　and　colour；　in　some　of　them　certainly　quite　a　feeling　for　Nature。　　But；　you　see；　they're　so　scattered；　you'll　never　get　the　public　to　look　at　them。　　Now；　if　you'd　taken　a　definite　subject；　such　as　'London　by　Night；'　or　'The　Crystal　Palace　in　the　Spring；'　and　made　a　regular　series；　the　public　would　have　known　at　once　what　they　were　looking　at。　　I　can't　lay　too　much　stress　upon　that。　　All　the　men　who　are　making　great　names　in　Art；　like　Crum　Stone　or　Bleeder；　are　making　them　by　avoiding　the　unexpected；　by　specializing　and　putting　their　works　all　in　the　same　pigeon…hole；　so　that　the　public　know　pat　once　where　to　go。　　And　this　stands　to　reason；　for　if　a　man's　a　collector　he　doesn't　want　people　to　smell　at　the　canvas　to　find　out　whom　his　pictures　are　by；　he　wants　them　to　be　able　to　say　at　once；　'A　capital　Forsyte！'　　It　is　all　the　more　important　for　you　to　be　careful　to　choose　a　subject　that　they　can　lay　hold　of　on　the　spot；　since　there's　no　very　marked　originality　in　your　style。〃

Young　Jolyon；　standing　by　the　little　piano；　where　a　bowl　of　dried　rose　leaves；　the　only　produce　of　the　garden；　was　deposited　on　a　bit　of　faded　damask；　listened　with　his　dim　smile。

Turning　to　his　wife；　who　was　looking　at　the　speaker　with　an　angry　expression　on　her　thin　face；　he　said：

〃You　see；　dear？〃

〃I　do　not；〃　she　answered　in　her　staccato　voice；　that　still　had　a　little　foreign　accent；　〃your　style　has　originality。〃

The　critic　looked　at　her；　smiled'　deferentially；　and　said　no　more。　　Like　everyone　else；　he　knew　their　history。

The　words　bore　good　fruit　with　young　Jolyon；　they　were　contrary　to　all　that　he　believed　in；　to　all　that　he　theoretically　held　good　in　his　Art；　but　some　strange；　deep　instinct　moved　him　against　his　will　to　turn　them　to　profit。

He　discovered　therefore　one　morning　that　an　idea　had　come　to　him　for　making　a　series　of　watercolour　drawings　of　London。　　How　the　idea　had　arisen　he　could　not　tell；　and　it　was　not　till　the　following　year；　when　he　had　completed　and　sold　them　at　a　very　fair　price；　that　in　one　of　his　impersonal　moods；　he　found　himself　able　to　recollect　the　Art　critic；　and　to　discover　in　his　own　achievement　another　proof　that　he　was　a　Forsyte。

He　decided　to　commence　with　the　Botanical　Gardens；　where　he　had　already　made　so　many　studies；　and　chose　the　little　artificial　pond；　sprinkled　now　with　an　autumn　shower　of　red　and　yellow　leaves；　for　though　the　gardeners　longed　to　sweep　them　off；　they　could　not　reach　them　with　their　brooms。　　The　rest　of　the　gardens　they　swept　bare　enough；　removing　every　morning　Nature's　rain　of　leaves；　piling　them　in　heaps；　whence　from　slow　fires　rose　the　sweet；　acrid　smoke　that；　like　the　cuckoo's　note　for　spring；　the　scent　of　lime　trees　for　the　summer；　is　the　true　emblem　of　the　fall。　　The　gardeners'　tidy　souls　could　not　abide　the　gold　and　green　and　russet　pattern　on　the　grass。　　The　gravel　paths　must　lie　unstained；　ordered；　methodical；　without　knowledge　of　the　realities　of　life；　nor　of　that　slow　and　beautiful　decay　which　flings　crowns　underfoot　to　star　the　earth　with　fallen　glories；　whence；　as　the　cycle　rolls；　will　leap　again　wild　spring。

Thus　each　leaf　that　fell　was　marked　from　the　moment　when　it　fluttered　a　good…bye　and　dropped；　slow　turning；　from　its　twig。

But　on　that　little　pond　the　leaves　floated　in　peace；　and　praised　Heaven　with　their　hues；　the　sunlight　haunting　over　them。

And　so　young　Jolyon　found　them。

Coming　there　one　morning　in　the　middle　of　October；　he　was　disconcerted　to　find　a　bench　about　twenty　paces　from　his　stand　occupied；　for　he　had　a　proper　horror　of　anyone　seeing　him　at　work。

A　lady　in　a　velvet　jacket　was　sitting　there；　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　ground。　　A　flowering　laurel；　however；　stood　between；　and；　taking　shelter　behind　this；　young　Jolyon　prepared　his　easel。

His　preparations　were　leisurely；　he　caught；　as　every　true　artist　should；　at　anything　that　might　delay　for　a　moment　the　effort　of　his　work；　and　he　found　himself　looking　furtively　at　this　unknown　dame。

Like　his　father　before　him；　he　had　an　eye　for　a　face。　　This　face　was　charming！

He　saw　a　rounded　chin　nestling　in　a　cream　ruffle；　a　delicate　face　with　large　dark　eyes　and　soft　lips。　　A　black　'picture'　hat　concealed　the　hair；　her　figure　was　lightly　poised　against　the　back　of　the　bench；　her　knees　were　crossed；　the　tip　of　a　patent…leather　shoe　emerged　beneath　her　skirt。　　There　was　something；　indeed；　inexpressibly　dainty　about　the　person　of　this　lady；　but　young　Jolyon's　attention　was　chiefly　riveted　by　the　look　on　her　face；　which　reminded　him　of　his　wife。　　It　was　as　though　its　owner　had　come　into　contact　with　forces　too　strong　for　her。　　It　troubled　him；　arousing　vague　feelings　of　attraction　and　chivalry。　　Who　was　she？　　And　what　doing　there；　alone？

Two　young　gentlemen　of　that　peculiar　breed；　at　once　forward　and　shy；　found　in　the　Regent's　Park；　came　by　on　their　way　to　lawn　tennis；　and　he　noted　with　disapproval　their　furtive　stares　of　admiration。　　A　loitering　gardener　halted　to　do