Chapter 10 Chapter 10 Soames Welcomes New Year...

Autumn is deep on the river, but the weather is still fine; under the yellow leaves, summer still lingers.Soames had many times that Sunday morning in his garden by the river, near Merbordurum, to watch the weather.He took fresh flowers with his own hands and planted them here and there on his anchor boat, packed up the barge as well, prepared to have lunch, and proposed to take them for a walk on the river.He put those Chinese-style cushions on the pleasure boat, and he didn't know whether he was eager to take Annette on the boat alone.She was so beautiful—could he keep himself from saying something he couldn't get back?The roses on the porch were still in bloom, and the hedges were still green; the scene in front of him could be said to be without the slightest hint of autumnal mood; It's a bit weird to worry about whether I can do it properly.The purpose of inviting them down this time was to give Annette and her mother a proper idea of ​​his property, so that they would not disregard him later when he wanted to advise them.He dressed with great care so that he looked neither too young nor too old, and his hair was still thick and smooth, without any graying.He went up three times to look at his gallery.If they were any better at it, they would have seen at a glance that his collection was worth at least thirty thousand pounds.He also took a good look at the bedroom overlooking the river, where they were going to take off their hats.If—if it happened, Annette was his wife, and this would be her bedroom.He walked up to the dressing table and touched the lavender needle sac with all kinds of needles inserted in it; a pot of assorted spices gave off a scent that made him turn his head slightly when he smelled it .his wife!It would be great if this matter could be resolved by hand, lest I be unable to let go of my thoughts.The divorce formalities had to be done first, he frowned and looked out to the roses and the bright river outside the grass field.Mrs. Lamotte was determined not to refuse such an opportunity to her daughter; nor was Annette to her mother.As long as he is free!He went up to the station in a carriage to meet them.French women really know how to dress!Madame Lamotte's black dress with touches of lavender.Annette wore lavender-grey linen, cream gloves and hat; her face was a little pale, and quite London; her blue eyes were demure.Soames stood by one of the open French windows in the drawing-room, waiting for them to come down to lunch; the sun, the flowers, and the woods outside the window filled his senses with delight; a pleasure which he could only fully enjoy when youth and beauty were with him.The lunch had been ordered with great care; the wine was a special Saudon, everything was ordered to perfection; the coffee in the verandah was to die for.Madame Lamotte drank mint wine, but Annette refused to drink it.Her manner is very charming, but there is only a little "pretty" taste in the invisible. It will go bad."

Madame Lamotte was radiant in the French way, with a calmness in her joy. "It's so lovely! The sun is so beautiful! Everything is so beautiful, isn't it, Annette? Monsieur is really the Count of Monte Cristo." Annette murmured something agreeable, looking at Soames from time to time. He couldn't guess what she meant.He proposed to take a boat to the river for a walk.But to row in front of two men, one of them reclining on those Chinese cushions, was so ecstatic that there was only a pang of lost time; so they rowed only in the direction of Pangbon. After walking for a short distance, he slowly swung back along the river, seeing an autumn leaf fall on the fat black body of Annette or her mother from time to time.Soames was unhappy, and was thinking: "How—when—where—what?" These thoughts troubled him.They didn't know he was married yet.Telling them that he was married might ruin all his chances; but if they didn't know for sure that he wanted to marry Annette, the flower might be picked before he was free.

When drinking tea, both mother and daughter put only lemons.Soames spoke of the situation in the Transvaal. "There's going to be a war," he said. Madame Lamotte was very disapproving. "Those poor shepherds!" Why must they interfere with their affairs?Soames laughed--it seemed to him a very absurd question. My wife is a person in the business world, so of course she understands that the British cannot give up their legitimate trade interests. "Oh! Here it is!" But Mrs. Lamotte thought the English were a little hypocritical.They always talk about justice, about "outsiders", not business.Mr. was the first to talk about business with her.

"These Boers are only half-civilized," said Soames; "they are a hindrance to progress. Our suzerainty must not be relinquished." "What does that mean? Suzerainty! What a strange word!" These threats to the law of private interests aroused Soames, and Annette's eyes upon him; and he spoke eloquently.Happily, Annette soon said, "I think sir is right. These Boers ought to be taught a lesson." She was sensible. "Of course," he said, "we should do our best. I am not advocating aggression. We must act resolutely, but never rashly. Go upstairs and see my paintings, will you?" Zhang walked over, and he soon saw that they didn't understand anything.His last photo of Mao Fu, the masterpiece of "The Straw Cart Going Home", they just looked at it casually like a lithograph.This Israel is the pearl in his collection of paintings; he has noticed that the price of Israel has been rising, and now he is almost sure that it has reached the end, so it is better to give it away again.He was almost anxiously waiting to see what they thought of the painting.They didn't even look at it.This horrified him; but a blank sheet of paper like Annette's could slowly develop her eyesight, which was more bearable than those stupid, half-baked English middle-class hobbies.At the far end of the gallery was a Missonnier; he felt a little ashamed of it—Missonnier's prices were falling all the time.Madame Lamotte stopped before the picture.

"Methonier! Ah! what a treasure!" She had heard the name before; and Soames, seizing the moment, touched Annette's arm lightly, and said: "Do you like my place, Annette?" She didn't flinch, didn't react; she looked straight at him, eyes downcast, and said in a low voice: "Who doesn't like it? It's so beautiful!" "Perhaps some day—" said Soames, and fell silent. She was so beautiful, and so at ease--it frightened him.Those pale-green blue eyes, that milky-white neck, that slender line—ever a temptation to the evil thoughts of men!No!No!One must stand on one's feet--much more sure of that! "If I procrastinate," he thought, "I'll starve her to death." He went over to Madame Lamotte; she was still standing in front of the Misonnier.

"By the way, this is a pretty good one of his later works. You must come again next time, ma'am, to see these paintings under the light. You must come down and stay here for a night." Wonderful, these pictures must look beautiful in the light.And this river is under the moonlight, so it must be very loving! Annette whispered: "You are so affectionate, mother!" passionate!This pleasing-looking, worldly fat Frenchwoman in black is amorous!Suddenly he became very sure that neither of them could be called affectionate.This is even better!What's the use of being passionate?However--!

He accompanied them to the station in the carriage, and escorted them to the train.Annette's fingers seemed to have a little reaction in his tightly clenched hand, and a face smiled at him in the night. He returned to the carriage, brooding. "Go back, Jordan," he said to the coachman, "I want to walk." He strode up the dimmed side streets, vigilance and possessiveness recurring in his heart. "Good-bye, monsieur!" she said so tenderly in French.Want to know what's on her mind?These Frenchmen - they're all foxes - you can't tell a thing!But—how beautiful!How wonderful to hold such a young beauty in your arms!Get such a mother for your heir!He thought of his family, and their surprise at seeing him take a French wife, and thought of their curiosity, and how he would play with it, how he would fight it, and he couldn't help smiling—these people were bastards!The poplars sighed in the dark; an owl hooted; the shadows on the water grew thicker. "I must be free,"

He thought to himself, "I can't stay like this any longer. I'm going to see Irene. To make things work, I have to do it myself; I must live again--live, move, and remain." Like a verse from the Holy Bible, the church bells sounded the call to vespers.