Chapter 20 Chapter 6: Jolyon's heart hangs on both ends

Jolyon's favorite place in Paris was a small private hotel above a famous hotel near the Gare Saint-Lasalle.He hated his fellow Forsytes who had gone abroad—slumped like fish out of water in the well-trodden troughs—the Opera, the Rue de Rijoli, and the Moulin Rouge.That kind of style, as if he came here to go somewhere else quickly, made him angry when he saw it.It was a place, however, which no Forsyte, save Jolyon, had ever come near; here he could build a fire with wood in his bedroom, and the coffee was excellent.In his eyes, winter in Paris is always more lovely.The pungent smoke from the firewood and roasted chestnuts, the sunny weather and the bright winter sun, the open-air cafes regardless of the harsh winter weather, and the leisurely and active crowd on the main road all seem to tell He, in Paris in winter, has a soul like a migratory bird, who flies away in the hot summer.

He spoke French well, had acquaintances, knew where to eat in small restaurants, and saw some queer people.In Paris, he felt, he became philosophic, his irony sharpened; life took on a delicate, aimless meaning, and became a fragrant bouquet of flowers, pierced by shifting lights. of darkness. When he decided to come to Paris in the first week of December, he would never admit that Irene's presence in Paris had influenced him.Within two days of arriving in Paris, he admitted that he still wanted to see Irene for the most part.When I was in England, people refused to admit that it was a natural thing.It had occurred to him that he might as well tell her about the apartment rental and other things, but once he got to Paris he knew better.Paris seems to be covered with a layer of glory.On the third day he wrote her a letter and felt a thrill of joy in his nerves when he received the reply:

The day he went to her hotel was a very fine day, and he felt as he always does when looking at a beloved painting.In his memory, there has never been a woman who could make him feel this kind of excitement, which is particularly strong but does not involve personal feelings.He was going to sit there, eat his eyes, and walk away knowing her a little better, and going to eat it again tomorrow.The little hotel was near the Seine; that was how he felt when he entered its beautiful faded little drawing-room.At this moment, a small servant said "Ma'am" and disappeared, and she came towards him.Her face, her smile and her waist were exactly the same as what he had just pictured in his mind, and the expression on his face clearly said: "It's my family!"

"Well?" he said. "Anything new, poor exile?" "Not at all," "Is Soames all right?" "No," "I rented out the flat for you, and like a man in charge, I sent you some money. What do you think of Paris?" When he asked her this series of questions, he felt like such beautiful and sensual lips, the lower lip was slightly curved upwards, and the corner of the upper lip touched a barely noticeable dimple, which he had never seen before. .It was like discovering that what had once been just a soft, freckled statue of a woman, for whom an almost impersonal fascination had been, had suddenly become alive.She admitted that living in Paris was a bit hard for one; but Paris was so full of life that it was sometimes like a desert, which, she confessed honestly, was not harmful.Moreover, the British are not popular at the moment!

"That has nothing to do with you," said Jolyon; "you ought to be popular in the eyes of the French." "There are also inconveniences." Jolyon nodded. "Then you must let me take you out while I'm in Paris. We'll be moving tomorrow. You come to my little hotel for dinner, and we'll go to the comedy theater together." This is how we meet every day. Jolyon soon discovered that it was not so easy for one to just keep one's relationship the way it was.Paris is the best and worst place to be with a beautiful woman.Revelation rests in your heart like a little bird, singing, "She is your dream! She is your dream!" Sometimes it seems natural, sometimes it is ridiculous—a The worst example of an old school teenager.Because he once received the indifference of society, he has never really paid attention to traditional virtues since then; but the idea of ​​love only occupies his subconscious mind at most, and he loves her, and she will never Love him—how could she fall in love with someone his age?His life for her is so boring and lonely, full of injustice.He felt that he could give her a comfort, and that she was so obviously pleased with her on many outings, so he was more at ease, and he would not behave or say anything inappropriate, destroy this happiness.It was like watching a withered plant absorb water, seeing her absorb friendship when she was with him.As far as he knew, no one but him knew where she lived; In the theater, going to small restaurants, going to the Palace of Versailles, Saint-Cloud and Fontaine-Béroulin, it seems that there is no need to check it out. Time flies so fast—a whole month, there is no past or future month— — passed.If it had been in his youth, this emotion would have become a desperate passion; now, although perhaps equally affectionate, it is much softer, with admiration, without hope, and a kind of chivalry. Indignation, tempered—at least as long as she was there, smiling and happy in the atmosphere of friendship, and always so beautiful to him, so connected—he preferred to confine his feelings to Protective companionship; because her philosophy of life seems to be at the same pace as his, always more easily influenced by emotions than by reason, a distrust of many things The ironic attitude, the sensitivity to the beautiful, the almost ardent humanity and tolerance, and yet a kind of strength in nature which a simple man was not quite capable of; all this struck him with admiration.Also, during the whole month of companionship, he never got rid of the feeling when he went out on the first day, as if he was looking at a beloved work of art, that is, a kind of feeling that is almost irrelevant to personal gains and losses. desire.The future—always relentlessly threatening the present—he was careful not to face it, for fear of disturbing his peace of mind; Quirky things to see and paint, to re-enjoy.The end came so quickly, that on January 20, he received a telegram:

Jolyon was going out to meet Irene at the Louvre Museum.Just then the telegram was received.It was like a bolt from the blue to him.He was supposed to be the boy's counselor and guide, and now, while he was wandering here for years, the boy suddenly took a big step toward danger, hardship (and perhaps death); Suddenly realized that Erin was like a vine, tightly entangled with the roots of his existence.With the threat of a breakup, the relationship between him and Irene—for it was a fact—was no longer impersonal.Jolyon saw that the quiet joy of traveling together was gone forever.He knew what he was feeling, it was a kind of indulgence, it might look funny, but it was very real, sooner or later he had to show it.But at the moment, he feels that he must not show a little bit, and he must not show a little trace.Jory's affair was mercilessly in the middle.He was proud that Jolyon had joined the army; proud that his son had gone out to fight for his country; and it turned out that Black Week had left scars on Jolyon's pro-Boerism.That's it, it's over before it begins!Fortunately, he didn't express it at all!

When he walked into the gallery, she was standing in front of the "Virgin of the Rocks," personable, absorbed, smiling, unaware that anyone was looking at her. "Must I give up watching this?" thought Jolyon. "As long as she wants me to see her, it is against nature to give up like this." He stood there unnoticed, watching her carefully, while imposing the image of her figure in his mind, while jealous of the famous painting that made her look at it for so long.Twice she turned and looked towards the door, and he thought, "This is for me!" Finally he went up.

"Look!" he said. Irene read the telegram, and he heard her sigh. The sigh was also for him.His situation was brutal.In order to be worthy of his son, he should hold hands with her and leave.In order to be worthy of his inner feelings, he should at least tell her how he feels.Could she feel, would she feel the silence when he stared at the painting? "I'm afraid I must go home at once," he said at last. "I'm so happy in front of me, I really don't want to leave!" "Me too; but, of course, you must go back." "Well!" said Jolyon, holding out his hand.

When he met her eyes, he could hardly contain the emotion that surged in his heart. "That's the way life is!" he said. "take care!" His legs felt very stiff, as if his mind would not take him.At the door he saw her raise her hand and touch her lips with her finger.He raised his hat solemnly, and looked back no more.