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 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