第7章

Fleurhavingdeclaredthatitwas"simplytoowonderfultostayindoors，"theyallwentout。Moonlightwasfrostingthedew，andanoldsundialthrewalongshadow。Twoboxhedgesatrightangles，darkandsquare，barredofftheorchard。Fleurturnedthroughthatangledopening。

"Comeon！"shecalled。Jonglancedattheothers，andfollowed。Shewasrunningamongthetreeslikeaghost。Allwaslovelyandfoamlikeaboveher，andtherewasascentofoldtrunks，andofnettles。Shevanished。Hethoughthehadlosther，thenalmostranintoherstandingquitestill。

"Isn’titjolly？"shecried，andJonanswered:

"Rather！"

Shereachedup，twistedoffablossomand，twirlingitinherfingers，said:

"IsupposeIcancallyouJon？"

"Ishouldthinksojust。"

"Allright！Butyouknowthere’safeudbetweenourfamilies？"

Jonstammered:"Feud？Why？"

"It’seversoromanticandsilly。That’swhyIpretendedwehadn’tmet。Shallwegetupearlyto—morrowmorningandgoforawalkbeforebreakfastandhaveitout？Ihatebeingslowaboutthings，don’tyou？"

Jonmurmuredarapturousassent。

"Sixo’clock，then。Ithinkyourmother’sbeautiful"

Jonsaidfervently:"Yes，sheis。"

"Iloveallkindsofbeauty，"wentonFleur，"whenit’sexciting。I

don’tlikeGreekthingsabit。"

"What！NotEuripides？"

"Euripides？Oh！no，Ican’tbearGreekplays;they’resolong。I

thinkbeauty’salwaysswift。Iliketolookatonepicture，forinstance，andthenrunoff。Ican’tbearalotofthingstogether。

Look！"Sheheldupherblossominthemoonlight。"That’sbetterthanalltheorchard，Ithink。"

And，suddenly，withherotherhandshecaughtJon’s。

"Ofallthingsintheworld，don’tyouthinkcaution’sthemostawful？Smellthemoonlight！"

Shethrusttheblossomagainsthisface;Jonagreedgiddilythatofallthingsintheworldcautionwastheworst，andbendingover，kissedthehandwhichheldhis。

"That’sniceandold—fashioned，"saidFleurcalmly。"You’refrightfullysilent，Jon。StillIlikesilencewhenit’sswift。"Sheletgohishand。"DidyouthinkIdroppedmyhandkerchiefonpurpose？"

"No！"criedJon，intenselyshocked。

"Well，Idid，ofcourse。Let’sgetback，orthey’llthinkwe’redoingthisonpurposetoo。"Andagainsheranlikeaghostamongthetrees。Jonfollowed，withloveinhisheart，Springinhisheart，andoverallthemoonlitwhiteunearthlyblossom。Theycameoutwheretheyhadgonein，Fleurwalkingdemurely。

"It’squitewonderfulinthere，"shesaiddreamilytoHolly。

Jonpreservedsilence，hopingagainsthopethatshemightbethinkingitswift。

Shebadehimacasualanddemuregood—night，whichmadehimthinkhehadbeendreaming……

InherbedroomFleurhadflungoffhergown，and，wrappedinashapelessgarment，withthewhiteflowerstillinherhair，shelookedlikeamousme，sittingcross—leggedonherbed，writingbycandlelight。

"DEARESTCHERRY，"IbelieveI’minlove。I’vegotitintheneck，onlythefeelingisreallylowerdown。He’sasecondcousin—suchachild，aboutsixmonthsolderandtenyearsyoungerthanIam。Boysalwaysfallinlovewiththeirseniors，andgirlswiththeirjuniorsorwitholdmenofforty。Don’tlaugh，buthiseyesarethetruestthingsIeversaw;andhe’squitedivinelysilent！WehadamostromanticfirstmeetinginLondonundertheVospovitchJuno。Andnowhe’ssleepinginthenextroomandthemoonlight’sontheblossom;andto—morrowmorning，beforeanybody’sawake，we’regoingtowalkoffintoDownfairyland。There’safeudbetweenourfamilies，whichmakesitreallyexciting。Yes！andImayhavetousesubterfugeandcomeonyouforinvitations——ifso，you’llknowwhy！Myfatherdoesn’twantustoknoweachother，butIcan’thelpthat。Life’stooshort。

He’sgotthemostbeautifulmother，withlovelysilveryhairandayoungfacewithdarkeyes。I’mstayingwithhissister——whomarriedmycousin;it’sallmixedup，butImeantopumpherto—morrow。

We’veoftentalkedaboutlovebeingaspoil—sport;well，that’salltosh，it’sthebeginningofsport，andthesooneryoufeelit，mydear，thebetterforyou。

"Jon（notsimplifiedspelling，butshortforJolyon，whichisanameinmyfamily，theysay）isthesortthatlightsupandgoesout;

aboutfivefeetten，stillgrowing，andIbelievehe’sgoingtobeapoet。IfyoulaughatmeI’vedonewithyouforever。Iperceiveallsortsofdifficulties，butyouknowwhenIreallywantathingIgetit。Oneofthechiefeffectsofloveisthatyouseetheairsortofinhabited，likeseeingafaceinthemoon;andyoufeel——youfeeldanceyandsoftatthesametime，withafunnysensation——likeacontinualfirstsniffoforange——blossom——Justaboveyourstays。

Thisismyfirst，andIfeelasifitweregoingtobemylast，whichisabsurd，ofcourse，byallthelawsofNatureandmorality。IfyoumockmeIwillsmiteyou，andifyoutellanybodyIwillneverforgiveyou。Somuchso，thatIalmostdon’tthinkI’llsendthisletter。Anyway，I’llsleepoverit。Sogood—night，myCherry——oh！

"Your，"FLEUR。"

VIII

IDYLLONGRASS

WhenthosetwoyoungForsytesemergedfromthechinelane，andsettheirfaceseasttowardthesun，therewasnotacloudinheaven，andtheDownsweredewy。Theyhadcomeatagoodbatuptheslopeandwerealittleoutofbreath;iftheyhadanythingtosaytheydidnotsayit，butmarchedintheearlyawkwardnessofunbreakfastedmorningunderthesongsofthelarks。Thestealingouthadbeenfun，butwiththefreedomofthetopsthesenseofconspiracyceased，andgaveplacetodumbness。

"We’vemadeonebloomingerror，"saidFleur，whentheyhadgonehalfamile。"I’mhungry。"

Jonproducedastickofchocolate。Theyshareditandtheirtongueswereloosened。Theydiscussedthenatureoftheirhomesandpreviousexistences，whichhadakindoffascinatingunrealityuponthatlonelyheight。ThereremainedbutonethingsolidinJon’spast——hismother;butonethingsolidinFleur’s——herfather;andofthesefigures，asthoughseeninthedistancewithdisapprovingfaces，theyspokelittle。

TheDowndippedandroseagaintowardChanctonburyRing;asparkleoffarseacameintoview，asparrow—hawkhoveredinthesun’seyesothattheblood—nourishedbrownofhiswingsgleamednearlyred。Jonhadapassionforbirds，andanaptitudeforsittingverystilltowatchthem;keen—sighted，andwithamemoryforwhatinterestedhim，onbirdshewasalmostworthlisteningto。ButinChanctonburyRingtherewerenone——itsgreatbeechtemplewasemptyoflife，andalmostchillyatthisearlyhour;theycameoutwillinglyagainintothesunonthefarside。ItwasFleur’sturnnow。Shespokeofdogs，andthewaypeopletreatedthem。Itwaswickedtokeepthemonchains！

Shewouldliketoflogpeoplewhodidthat。Jonwasastonishedtofindhersohumanitarian。Sheknewadog，itseemed，whichsomefarmernearherhomekeptchainedupattheendofhischickenrun，inallweathers，tillithadalmostlostitsvoicefrombarking！

"Andthemiseryis，"shesaidvehemently，"thatifthepoorthingdidn’tbarkateveryonewhopassesitwouldn’tbekeptthere。Idothinkmenarecunningbrutes。I’veletitgotwice，onthesly;it’snearlybittenmebothtimes，andthenitgoessimplymadwithjoy;

butitalwaysrunsbackhomeatlast，andtheychainitupagain。IfIhadmyway，I’dchainthatmanup。"Jonsawherteethandhereyesgleam。"I’dbrandhimonhisforeheadwiththeword’Brute’;thatwouldteachhim！"

Jonagreedthatitwouldbeagoodremedy。

"It’stheirsenseofproperty，"hesaid，"whichmakespeoplechainthings。Thelastgenerationthoughtofnothingbutproperty;andthat’swhytherewastheWar。"

"Oh！"saidFleur，"Ineverthoughtofthat。Yourpeopleandminequarrelledaboutproperty。Andanywaywe’veallgotit——atleast，I

supposeyourpeoplehave。"

"Oh！yes，luckily;Idon’tsupposeIshallbeanygoodatmakingmoney。"

"Ifyouwere，Idon’tbelieveIshouldlikeyou。

Jonslippedhishandtremulouslyunderherarm。Fleurlookedstraightbeforeherandchanted:

"Jon，Jon，thefarmer’sson，Stoleapig，andawayherun！"

Jon’sarmcreptroundherwaist。

"Thisisrathersudden，"saidFleurcalmly;"doyouoftendoit？"

Jondroppedhisarm。Butwhenshelaughedhisarmstolebackagain;

andFleurbegantosing:

"Owhowilloerthedownssofree，Owhowillwithmeride？

Owhowillupandfollowme———"

Sing，Jon！"

Jonsang。Thelarksjoinedin，sheep—bells，andanearlymorningchurchfarawayoverinSteyning。Theywentonfromtunetotune，tillFleursaid:

"MyGod！Iamhungrynow！"

"Oh！Iamsorry！"

Shelookedroundintohisface。

"Jon，you’reratheradarling。"

Andshepressedhishandagainstherwaist。Jonalmostreeledfromhappiness。Ayellow—and—whitedogcoursingaharestartledthemapart。Theywatchedthetwovanishdowntheslope，tillFleursaidwithasigh:"He’llnevercatchit，thankgoodness！What’sthetime？

Mine’sstopped。Ineverwoundit。"

Jonlookedathiswatch。"ByJove！"hesaid，"mine’sstopped;too。"

Theywalkedonagain，butonlyhandinhand。

"Ifthegrassisdry，"saidFleur，"let’ssitdownforhalfaminute。"

Jontookoffhiscoat，andtheysharedit。

"Smell！Actuallywildthyme！"

Withhisarmroundherwaistagain，theysatsomeminutesinsilence。

"Wearegoats！"criedFleur，jumpingup;"weshallbemostfearfullylate，andlooksosilly，andputthemontheirguard。Lookhere，JonWeonlycameouttogetanappetiteforbreakfast，andlostourway。

See？"

"Yes，"saidJon。

"It’sserious;there’llbeastopperputonus。Areyouagoodliar？"

"Ibelievenotvery;butIcantry。"

Fleurfrowned。

"Youknow，"shesaid，"Irealizethattheydon’tmeanustobefriends。"

"Whynot？"

"Itoldyouwhy。"

"Butthat’ssilly。"

"Yes;butyoudon’tknowmyfather！"

"Isupposehe’sfearfullyfondofyou。"

"Yousee，I’manonlychild。Andsoareyou——ofyourmother。Isn’titabore？There’ssomuchexpectedofone。Bythetimethey’vedoneexpecting，one’sasgoodasdead。"

"Yes，"mutteredJon，"life’sbeastlyshort。Onewantstoliveforever，andknoweverything。"

"Andloveeverybody？"

"No，"criedJon;"Ionlywanttoloveonce——you。"

"Indeed！You’recomingon！Oh！Look！There’sthechalk—pit;wecan’tbeveryfarnow。Let’srun。"

Jonfollowed，wonderingfearfullyifhehadoffendedher。

Thechalk—pitwasfullofsunshineandthemurmurationofbees。

Fleurflungbackherhair。

"Well，"shesaid，"incaseofaccidents，youmaygivemeonekiss，Jon，"andshepushedhercheekforward。Withecstasyhekissedthathotsoftcheek。

"Now，remember！Welostourway;andleaveittomeasmuchasyoucan。I’mgoingtoberatherbeastlytoyou;it’ssafer;tryandbebeastlytome！"

Jonshookhishead。"That’simpossible。"

"Justtopleaseme;tillfiveo’clock，atallevents。"

"Anybodywillbeabletoseethroughit，"saidJongloomily。

"Well，doyourbest。Look！Theretheyare！Waveyourhat！Oh！youhaven’tgotone。Well，I’llcooee！Getalittleawayfromme，andlooksulky。"

Fiveminuteslater，enteringthehouseanddoinghisutmosttolooksulky，Jonheardherclearvoiceinthedining—room:

"Oh！I’msimplyravenous！He’sgoingtobeafarmer——andheloseshisway！Theboy’sanidiot！"

IX

GOYA

LunchwasoverandSoamesmountedtothepicture—galleryinhishousenearMapleduram。HehadwhatAnnettecalled"agrief。"Fleurwasnotyethome。ShehadbeenexpectedonWednesday;hadwiredthatitwouldbeFriday;andagainonFridaythatitwouldbeSundayafternoon;andherewereheraunt，andhercousinstheCardigans，andthisfellowProfond，andeverythingflatasapancakeforthewantofher。HestoodbeforehisGauguin——sorestpointofhiscollection。

HehadboughttheuglygreatthingwithtwoearlyMatissesbeforetheWar，becausetherewassuchafussaboutthosePost—Impressionistchaps。HewaswonderingwhetherProfondwouldtakethemoffhishands——thefellowseemednottoknowwhattodowithhismoney——whenheheardhissister’svoicesay:"Ithinkthat’sahorridthing，Soames，"andsawthatWinifredhadfollowedhimup。

"Oh！youdo？"hesaiddryly;"Igavefivehundredforit。"

"Fancy！Womenaren’tmadelikethateveniftheyareblack。"

Soamesutteredaglumlaugh。"Youdidn’tcomeuptotellmethat。"

"No。DoyouknowthatJolyon’sboyisstayingwithValandhiswife？"

Soamesspunround。

"What？"

"Yes，"drawledWinifred;"he’sgonetolivewiththemtherewhilehelearnsfarming。"

Soameshadturnedaway，buthervoicepursuedhimashewalkedupanddown。"IwarnedValthatneitherofthemwastobespokentoaboutoldmatters。"

"Whydidn’tyoutellmebefore？"

Winifredshruggedhersubstantialshoulders。

"Fleurdoeswhatshelikes。You’vealwaysspoiledher。Besides，mydearboy，what’stheharm？"

"Theharm！"mutteredSoames。"Why，she——"hecheckedhimself。TheJuno，thehandkerchief，Fleur’seyes，herquestions，andnowthisdelayinherreturn——thesymptomsseemedtohimsosinisterthat，faithfultohisnature，hecouldnotpartwiththem。

"Ithinkyoutaketoomuchcare，"saidWinifred。"IfIwereyou，I

shouldtellherofthatoldmatter。It’snogoodthinkingthatgirlsinthesedaysareastheyusedtobe。WheretheypickuptheirknowledgeIcan’ttell，buttheyseemtoknoweverything。"

OverSoames’face，closelycomposed，passedasortofspasm，andWinifredaddedhastily:

"Ifyoudon’tliketospeakofit，Icouldforyou。"

Soamesshookhishead。Unlesstherewasabsolutenecessitythethoughtthathisadoreddaughtershouldlearnofthatoldscandalhurthispridetoomuch。

"No，"hesaid，"notyet。NeverifIcanhelpit。

"Nonsense，mydear。Thinkwhatpeopleare！"

"Twentyyearsisalongtime，"mutteredSoames。"Outsideourfamily，who’slikelytoremember？"

Winifredwassilenced。SheinclinedmoreandmoretothatpeaceandquietnessofwhichMontagueDartiehaddeprivedherinheryouth。

And，sincepicturesalwaysdepressedher，shesoonwentdownagain。

Soamespassedintothecornerwhere，sidebyside，hunghisrealGoyaandthecopyofthefresco"LaVendimia。"HisacquisitionoftherealGoyaratherbeautifullyillustratedthecobwebofvestedinterestsandpassionswhichmeshthebright—wingedflyofhumanlife。TherealGoya’snobleowner’sancestorhadcomeintopossessionofitduringsomeSpanishwar——itwasinawordloot。ThenobleownerhadremainedinignoranceofitsvalueuntilintheninetiesanenterprisingcriticdiscoveredthataSpanishpainternamedGoyawasagenius。ItwasonlyafairGoya，butalmostuniqueinEngland，andthenobleownerbecameamarkedman。Havingmanypossessionsandthataristocraticculturewhich，independentofmeresensuousenjoyment，isfoundedonthesounderprinciplethatonemustknoweverythingandbefearfullyinterestedinlife，hehadfullyintendedtokeepanarticlewhichcontributedtohisreputationwhilehewasalive，andtoleaveittothenationafterhewasdead。

FortunatelyforSoames，theHouseofLordswasviolentlyattackedin1909，andthenobleownerbecamealarmedandangry。’If，’hesaidtohimself，’theythinktheycanhaveitbothwaystheyareverymuchmistaken。Solongastheyleavemeinquietenjoymentthenationcanhavesomeofmypicturesatmydeath。Butifthenationisgoingtobaitme，androbmelikethis，I’mdamnedifIwon’tsellthelot。

Theycan’thavemyprivatepropertyandmypublicspirit—both。’Hebroodedinthisfashionforseveralmonthstillonemorning，afterreadingthespeechofacertainstatesman，hetelegraphedtohisagenttocomedownandbringBodkin。OngoingoverthecollectionBodkin，thanwhoseopiniononmarketvaluesnonewasmoresought，pronouncedthatwithafreehandtoselltoAmerica，Germany，andotherplaceswheretherewasaninterestinart，alotmoremoneycouldbemadethanbysellinginEngland。Thenobleowner’spublicspirit——hesaid——waswellknownbutthepictureswereunique。Thenobleownerputthisopinioninhispipeandsmokeditforayear。

Attheendofthattimehereadanotherspeechbythesamestatesman，andtelegraphedtohisagents:"GiveBodkinafreehand。"ItwasatthisjuncturethatBodkinconceivedtheideawhichsalvedtheGoyaandtwootheruniquepicturesforthenativecountryofthenobleowner。WithonehandBodkinprofferedthepicturestotheforeignmarket，withtheotherheformedalistofprivateBritishcollectors。Havingobtainedwhatheconsideredthehighestpossiblebidsfromacrosstheseas，hesubmittedpicturesandbidstotheprivateBritishcollectors，andinvitedthem，oftheirpublicspirit，tooutbid。Inthreeinstances（includingtheGoya）outoftwenty—onehewassuccessful。Andwhy？Oneoftheprivatecollectorsmadebuttons——hehadmadesomanythathedesiredthathiswifeshouldbecalledLady"Buttons。"Hethereforeboughtauniquepictureatgreatcost，andgaveittothenation。Itwas"part，"hisfriendssaid，"ofhisgeneralgame。"ThesecondoftheprivatecollectorswasanAmericophobe，andboughtanuniquepictureto"spitethedamnedYanks。"ThethirdoftheprivatecollectorswasSoames，who——moresoberthaneitherofthe，others——boughtafteravisittoMadrid，becausehewascertainthatGoyawasstillontheupgrade。Goyawasnotboomingatthemoment，buthewouldcomeagain;and，lookingatthatportrait，Hogarthian，Manetesqueinitsdirectness，butwithitsownqueersharpbeautyofpaint，hewasperfectlysatisfiedstillthathehadmadenoerror，heavythoughthepricehadbeen——heaviesthehadeverpaid。Andnexttoitwashangingthecopyof"LaVendimia。"Thereshewas——thelittlewretch—lookingbackathiminherdreamymood，themoodhelovedbestbecausehefeltsomuchsaferwhenshelookedlikethat。

Hewasstillgazingwhenthescentofacigarimpingedonhisnostrils，andavoicesaid:

"Well，Mr。Forsyde，whatyougoin’todowiththissmalllot？"

ThatBelgianchap，whosemother—asifFlemishbloodwerenotenough——

hadbeenArmenian！Subduinganaturalirritation，hesaid:

"Areyouajudgeofpictures？"

"Well，I’vegotafewmyself。"

"AnyPost—Impressionists？"

"Ye—es，Iratherlikethem。"

"Whatdoyouthinkofthis？"saidSoames，pointingtotheGauguin。

MonsieurProfondprotrudedhislowerlipandshortpointedbeard。

"Ratherfine，Ithink，"hesaid;"doyouwanttosellit？"

Soamescheckedhisinstinctive"Notparticularly"——hewouldnotchafferwiththisalien。

"Yes，"hesaid。

"Whatdoyouwantforit？"

"WhatIgave。"

"Allright，"saidMonsieurProfond。"I’llbegladtotakethatsmallpicture。Post—Impressionists——they’reawfuldead，butthey’reamusin’。Idon’careforpicturesmuch，butI’vegotsome，justasmalllot。"

"Whatdoyoucarefor？"

MonsieurProfondshruggedhisshoulders。

"Life’sawfullikealotofmonkeysscramblin’foremptynuts。"

"You’reyoung，"saidSoames。Ifthefellowmustmakeageneralization，heneedn’tsuggestthattheformsofpropertylackedsolidity！

"Idon’worry，"repliedMonsieurProfondsmiling;"we’reborn，andwedie。Halftheworld’sstarvin’。Ifeedasmalllotofbabiesoutinmymother’scountry;butwhat’stheuse？Mightaswellthrowmymoneyintheriver。"

Soameslookedathim，andturnedbacktowardhisGoya。Hedidn’tknowwhatthefellowwanted。

"WhatshallImakemychequefor？"pursuedMonsieurProfond。

"Fivehundred，"saidSoamesshortly;"butIdon’twantyoutotakeitifyoudon’tcareforitmorethanthat。"

"That’sallright，"saidMonsieurProfond;"I’llbe’appyto’avethatpicture。"

Hewroteachequewithafountain—penheavilychasedwithgold。

Soameswatchedtheprocessuneasily。Howonearthhadthefellowknownthathewantedtosellthatpicture？MonsieurProfondheldoutthecheque。

"TheEnglishareawfulfunnyaboutpictures，"hesaid。"SoaretheFrench，soaremypeople。They’reallawfulfunny。"

"Idon’tunderstandyou，"saidSoamesstiffly。

"It’slikehats，"saidMonsieurProfondenigmatically，"smallorlarge，turnin’upordown—justthefashion。Awfulfunny。"And，smiling，hedriftedoutofthegalleryagain，blueandsolidlikethesmokeofhisexcellentcigar。

Soameshadtakenthecheque，feelingasiftheintrinsicvalueofownershiphadbeencalledinquestion。’He’sacosmopolitan，’hethought，watchingProfondemergefromundertheverandahwithAnnette，andsaunterdownthelawntowardtheriver。Whathiswifesawinthefellowhedidn’tknow，unlessitwasthathecouldspeakherlanguage;andtherepassedinSoameswhatMonsieurProfondwouldhavecalleda"smalldoubt"whetherAnnettewasnottoohandsometobewalkingwithanyoneso"cosmopolitan。"EvenatthatdistancehecouldseethebluefumesfromProfond’scigarwreathoutinthequietsunlight;andhisgreybuckskinshoes，andhisgreyhat——thefellowwasadandy！Andhecouldseethequickturnofhiswife’shead，soverystraightonherdesirableneckandshoulders。Thatturnofherneckalwaysseemedtohimalittletooshowy，andinthe"QueenofallIsurvey"manner——notquitedistinguished。Hewatchedthemwalkalongthepathatthebottomofthegarden。Ayoungmaninflannelsjoinedthemdownthere——aSundaycallernodoubt，fromuptheriver。

HewentbacktohisGoya。HewasstillstaringatthatreplicaofFleur，andworryingoverWinifred’snews，whenhiswife’svoicesaid:

"Mr。MichaelMont，Soames。Youinvitedhimtoseeyourpictures。"

TherewasthecheerfulyoungmanoftheGalleryoffCorkStreet！

"Turnedup，yousee，sir;IliveonlyfourmilesfromPangbourne。

Jollyday，isn’tit？"

Confrontedwiththeresultsofhisexpansiveness，Soamesscrutinizedhisvisitor。Theyoungman’smouthwasexcessivelylargeandcurly——

heseemedalwaysgrinning。Whydidn’thegrowtherestofthoseidioticlittlemoustaches，whichmadehimlooklikeamusic—hallbuffoon？Whatonearthwereyoungmenabout，deliberatelyloweringtheirclasswiththesetooth—brushes，orlittleslugwhiskers？Ugh！

Affectedyoungidiots！Inotherrespectshewaspresentable，andhisflannelsveryclean。