Chapter 40 Chapter XII The Birth of a Forsyte

Soames went out of the gate, crossed the meadow, stood for a moment on the path by the river, then turned and walked towards the gate again, without ever feeling that he had moved.The rumble of the carriage wheels on the drive made him aware of the passing of time and the fact that the doctor was gone.What did the doctor just say? "That's the way it is, Mr. Forsyte. I'm sure I can save the mother if I do it, but not the baby. If I don't do it, the baby will probably live, but the mother will run a very great risk—a great risk. Surgery or no surgery, she will never have another child. Of course she can't make up her mind in her current state, but we can't wait for her mother. Now you make up your mind, I'm going to get the necessary equipment. An hour Just come back."

make a decision!Make up your mind in this situation!It's too late to ask a specialist doctor for a consultation!It's too late! The sound of the wheels of the carriage died away, but Soames stood absorbed; then, plugging his ears suddenly, he walked back to the river.In this way, she will give birth before the full term, and there is no time to prevent it, and it is too late to connect with her mother!Her mother was going to get the idea, but she couldn't get there from Paris until tonight!It would be great if he could understand the doctor's gossip and the medical details, so that he would be more confident in weighing the pros and cons of having the operation or not; It's like listening to people talk about legal issues.But he has to make up his mind!He took his hand from his forehead, although the air was cold, his palm was already covered with sweat.These voices from her room!Going back to the room only makes people more clueless.He has to be calm and sober.One situation is to save his young wife, which can almost be saved, but the child must not be saved; and - there will be no more children in the future!Another situation is that his wife may not be saved, but the child is almost sure to be saved; and - there will be no more children in the future!Which of the two to choose?It had been raining for two weeks—the river was swollen; his private anchorage was moored against a small pier he had built, and there were many fallen leaves around the anchorage, blown from the trees by a cold spell.The leaves of the tree fall, and life goes with the flow!This is death!He wants to decide to die!And no one can help him.Life is gone forever!Don't let go of what you can keep; once you let go, you will never get it back.Death makes you empty, like the vacant branches of those trees that lose their leaves; at last they become more and more empty, and even you die and fall.At this time, his thoughts suddenly turned around inexplicably; the sun was shining on the window pane, and Annette was sleeping behind the window, but what he saw in his eyes seemed to be no longer Annette, but sixteen years ago Irene slept in the bedroom of her square house at Montberger, as fate might have her.If at that time, would he hesitate?Not all at once!Cut it, cut it!Keep her alive!Don't decide at all--just an instinctive cry for help, even though even then he knew Irene didn't love him!But this one in front of me!what!There was nothing irresistible in his affection for Annette!He hadn't figured it out many times in recent months, especially since she had started to feel scared.She has her own agenda, she has her French selfishness.However - it is so beautiful!What was she willing to do—a risk? "I know she wants this baby," he thought to himself. "If born to die, and never to be born again--she'll be very sad. There's no more hope! It's all gone! Married to her year after year, and never a child. Not a single thing Settle her down! And she's too young: make her hopeless--make me! make me!" He beat his breast!Why did he bring himself in as soon as he thought about it—couldn't he put himself aside and see what he should do?This thought made him very painful, and then he became like a breastplate, and he no longer felt the edge.Get rid of yourself!impossible!It is equivalent to entering a vacuum that is soundless, odorless, colorless, and touchless!The very thought itself is terrible and futile!Soames's mind rested a little on reaching the bottom of the river of reality, that is, the bottom of Forsyte's spirit.When a person stops, the world also stops; it may continue to move, but there is nothing in it!

He looked at his watch. The doctor would be back in half an hour.He must decide!If he opposed the operation and caused her to die, what face would he have to see her mother, and what face would he have to see this doctor?How can I live with my own conscience?After all, she gave birth to his child.If it is in favor of the operation-that is to punish both of them as childless.But why should he marry her, except to have a legal heir?And his father - dying imminently, still waiting for news! "It's cruel," he thought; "it shouldn't be decided by one person! It's cruel!" He turned and walked towards the house.Think of a subtle, simple way to decide!He took out a coin and put it back; he knew he wouldn't do what it turned out!He went into the dining room, which was furthest from the room from which the sound had come.The doctor said it's still possible.Here the possibility seems to increase; here the river does not flow, and the leaves do not fall.A fire was lit inside.Soames opened the wine cabinet.He never drank strong alcohol, but now he poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it down, hoping the blood would flow faster. "That fellow Jolyon,"

He thought: "He has sons and daughters already. He has the woman I love; and a son by him! And I—I am compelled to destroy my only child! Annette Won't die; impossible. She's very strong!" When he was standing next to the wine cabinet and feeling restless, he heard the doctor's carriage arriving, so he came out to meet him.He had to wait for the doctor to come down from upstairs before asking him. "How is it, doctor?" "The situation remains the same. Have you made up your mind?" "It's decided," said Soames; "no operation!"

"No surgery? The danger is great—you know that?" Soames kept a serious face, only his lips moved. "Didn't you say there is still a possibility?" "Yes, but not much." "Didn't you say that the child will not be able to save the child after surgery?" "yes." "You still think it's impossible for her to have another one?" "It's impossible to say it's absolutely impossible, but it's unlikely." "She's strong," Soames said. "Let's take a chance." The doctor looked at him very severely. "You're responsible," he said; "it's my own wife, and I can't do it."

Soames lifted his chin as if he had been punched. "Can I be of any use up there?" he asked. "No. You don't come." "Then I'll wait in the gallery; you know the place." The doctor nodded and went upstairs. Soames remained where he had been, listening intently. "This time to-morrow," he thought, "I might have her blood on my hands. No! It's not fair--it's a terrible thing to say!" The waking mood came again; he went upstairs and entered the gallery, standing at the window.The north wind is blowing outside; the air is very cold and clear; the sky is blue, with thick white clouds chasing past, and the river is also blue when seen from the rows of trees that are beginning to be golden in color; The burning fire is like polished copper-a scene of early autumn!If it was his own life, would he be willing to take such a risk? "But she'd rather lose me," he thought, "than lose the child! She doesn't really love me!" A girl, and a Frenchman—what can you expect?For the two of them, for their marriage and their future, the most important thing is a child! "I've had a lot of trouble with this," he thought, "and I'll never let it go—never let it go. It might be possible to keep both—it's possible!" One never lets go, Hold it until you take it out of his hands—it's not in human nature to let go!He starts to circle around the gallery.He recently bought a painting, which seemed to him a small fortune, so he stood before it—a girl with dark blond hair that looked like a head of wire, her eyes fixed on her hands A little golden monster in his hand.Even in this pain, he can still feel a little bit that this is a huge bargain—and he can appreciate the table, floor, chair, girl's figure, focused expression on the face, and dark gold thread on the painting. The bright golden color of the hair, the little monster; what a hand!Collect oil paintings; people are getting richer and richer!What good is it, if—!He turned around suddenly, turned his back to the painting, and walked to the window. Some of the pigeons he raised had already taken off from the pigeon trees around the dovecote and were flying in the north wind.The snow-white feathers are dazzling in the bright sunlight.The pigeon flew away, writing in the sky.These pigeons were fed by Annette himself!She looks so beautiful when she feeds the pigeons.The pigeons ate from her hand; they all knew she was straight.His throat suddenly felt blocked.She will not die - cannot die!She was--so sensible; and strong, strong indeed, like her mother, though fair and beautiful!

By the time he opened the door and stood listening, it was almost dark.No sound at all!Milky dusk crept up the stairs and the landing below.He was about to turn around when he heard a sound in his ear; looking down, he saw a dark figure moving.Heart picked up.what is this?Is it the Grim Reaper?The shape of Grim Reaper coming out of her room?no!Just a maid without hat or apron.The maid came down to the stairs and said out of breath: "The doctor wants to see you, sir." He flew downstairs.The maid leaned against the wall to let him pass; she said: "Master! It's over."

"It's over!?" said Soames, threateningly; "what do you mean?" "It was born, sir." He went up the stairs in two steps, and suddenly met the doctor in the dark corridor.The doctor is wiping his forehead. "How is it?" he said; "Quick!" "Both big and small are alive; there's nothing more to do, I think." Soames stood still, with his hands over his eyes. "Congratulations," he heard the doctor say; "it was almost over." Soames dropped one blindfolded hand. "Thank you," he said; "thank you very much. Male or female?"

"Female—fortunately, if it is a son, she will be ruined—the head can't come out!" female? "Be careful of adults and children," he heard the doctor say, "that's all. When will her mother come?" "I think it was about nine or ten o'clock this evening." "Then, I'll wait until she comes. Do you want to see their mother and daughter?" "I will not go now," said Soames; "I will have supper brought up before you go." After speaking, I went downstairs. Indescribably lighthearted, yet—a daughter!He felt so unfair.So great a risk--after such a torment! — Only one daughter left!There was a great wood fire in the hall, and he stood in front of it, touching it with the tip of his toe, trying to readjust himself to the situation. "My father!" he thought.Needless to say for him, it will be an extreme disappointment!Life will never be full of satisfaction!And there won't be any regeneration below - even if there is, it won't help, at least!

He stood in the hall while the servant delivered a telegram. He read the telegram and burst into sobs.After the few hours of agony just now, one would think that he would not be moved by anything, but this incident moved him.It was seven-thirty, and there was a nine o'clock train from Reading, which Mrs Lamotte would arrive at eight-forty, if she could make it in time--he went to meet it and go.He ordered the carriage to be ready, ate a bit of supper in a daze, and then came upstairs.The doctor came out to see him. "Both are asleep." "I won't go in," said Soames, relieved. "My father is very ill; I must go to London. Does it matter?"

The doctor's face showed an expression that seemed to be both puzzled and admired.It seemed to say, "If they were all as cold as you." "Okay, I think you can go at ease. Are you coming back?" "To-morrow," said Soames. "This is my address in London." The doctor seemed to teeter on the edge of sympathy. "Good-bye!" said Soames without thinking, and turned away.He puts on his fur coat.die!What a grim thing!He lit a cigarette in the carriage--his expensive cigarettes.The wind is strong at night, like the flapping of dark wings; the lights of the carriage explore and move forward.his father!Such an old man!But on such an uncomfortable night—death! When he arrived at the station, the train from London had just pulled into the station. Mrs. Lamotte, with her fat body, was dressed in black, and the light was yellow, and she was walking towards the exit with a small suitcase. "Is that all you have?" asked Soames. "No; how could I have time. How is my little darling?" "Everything is fine. A daughter is born!" "Daughter! Overjoyed, overjoyed! Crossing the Straits sucks!" Madame Lamotte's dark, plump figure--not thin at all, in spite of the terrible experience of the Channel--climbed into the carriage. "You're not coming up, dear?" "My father is very ill," said Soames with pain. "I'm going to London. Kiss Annette for me." "Really!" said Madame Lamotte; "what a pity!" Soames removed his hat, and went to his train. "The French!" he thought to himself.