Chapter 13 CHAPTER FOUR JAMES GOES TO THE COUNTRY TO SEE

Those who were not acquainted with the Forsyte Exchange probably did not expect the commotion caused by Irene's going down to look at the house. Ever since Swissing had told the whole story of his feat of outing at Timothy's, his words had been told to Joan in the same vein; not at all out of curiosity, and perhaps a touch of mischief, but sincerely. . "And how bad it is to say that, my dear!" concluded Aunt Jolie; "says she doesn't want to come home. What does she mean?" This passage sounds very abrupt to Joan.She blushed and listened in pain, then suddenly shook hands hastily and left.

"It's just rude!" said Mrs. Small to Aunt Hester, after Joan had gone. Judging from her expression and behavior when she heard the news, everyone came to a correct conclusion.She was troubled to hear that.So there must be something wrong here.Blame it!She and Irene were still on top of each other! This matter is also very consistent with the discussions behind people's backs and some words caught in their ears in the past not long ago.Remembering that scene Euphemia saw at the theater--and Mr. Bosinney always at Soames' house, wasn't it?Oh, really!Yes, of course he'll be there—to talk about the house!Of course the words are not explicit.In the Forsyte Exchange, however annoying, a thing that was not the greatest and most important did not need to be stated so blatantly.The machine was too delicate; a hint, a whisper of regret or doubt, was enough to shake the soul of the family--such a sympathetic soul.No one intended that these shocks would hurt anyone—far from it; the whole purpose of these shocks was for the best, that everyone in the family was closely related to the soul of the family.

And in these behind-the-scenes discussions, in the final analysis, there is still good intentions; it is often because of these discussions that prompt sympathy visits, so that those who are suffering are really blessed, and those who are safe will feel that at least It is also a happy thing that some people are suffering from things that have nothing to do with them.In fact, it was nothing more than an exchange of voices, just like the spirit of the press, as James communicated with Mrs. Small, Mrs. Small communicated with Nicholas' two daughters, and Nicholas' two daughters. Which one does the daughter talk to, and so on, it's all the same.The class to which they have climbed, and to which they now belong, demands a certain candor, and an even greater degree of reticence.It is the combination of the two that guarantees their class status.

Many of the young Forsytes would, of course, openly profess their reluctance to be prying into their private affairs; but gossip among the race is like a powerful current invisible to the eye, and it is imperative that they know everything.So everyone felt that there was nothing to do. One of them (Little Roger) once called Timothy an "old fox" in order to liberate the next generation, which was really a heroic attempt.But retribution fell on him; and the words came round and round to Aunt Jurie's ears, and Aunt Jurie told Mrs Roger in horrified tones, and so the words came back to little Roger.

After all, it was only those who felt bad when they had done wrong; like George, who was to blame for running out of money playing billiards; It is said that he has married a woman who has a natural relationship; another example is Erin, it is because everyone feels, not said, that she is in a dangerous situation. The argument behind all of this is not only gratifying, but also beneficial.It made for many hours to pass lightly and cheerfully at Timothy's house in Baywater Road; which would have been dreary to the three of them who lived there; and Timothy's house was but a thousand in the city One of those families--these are families of carefree, impartial people who have removed themselves from the struggle and who, in order to find a reason to live, have to be concerned with the struggles of others.

If it weren't for these gratifying family members who gossip and gossip, it would have become very lonely here.Gossip and hearsay, reports, suspicions—are they not like the little ones at home?Although the three brothers and sisters have never had a boy or girl in their life, aren't these rumors and rumors as painful and precious as those chattering babies?Their soft hearts are longing for children, and talking about these gossips is almost tantamount to having children and grandchildren around their knees.Whether or not Timothy desired children was not quite certain, but it was always indisputable that he would be unhappy for a while whenever the Forsytes had a new house.

So it was no use if little Roger called "Old Fox," or Euphemia raised her hands and cried, "Ah! Those three!" and laughed silently at first, and then screamed.Useless, and not very honest. Some people may find it strange that things have developed to this stage, especially in the eyes of a Forsyte person, not only will they find it strange, but they will even think it is "unreasonable"-but according to certain facts, it is not true. How strange. It turned out that there were some things that they hadn't seen. First of all, in the comforts cultivated by so many blissful marriages, people tend to forget that love is not a flower in a hothouse, but a weed that grows after a night of spring rain and a moment of sunshine; Blows along the way; and if it happens to get inside our garden fence, we call it flower; if it blows outside the fence, we call it weed; but flower or weed, it's still wild in scent and color !

Also, the Forsyte family generally did not see--the way and the content of their individual lives did not allow them to see this truth--when this weed came up, the men and women who were involved were only around it. A moth to the flower of the pale flame. Years had elapsed since little Jolyon's original escapades--and now the traditional commandment was threatened again; the commandment was that a man of wealth never climbed a fence to pick wild flowers; Love, like the measles, will then, like a measles patient, ride out comfortably in the arms of marriage with a mixture of butter and honey, and never be contagious again.

When this strange story of Bosinney and Mrs. Soames reached the ears of many, James was the most moved.He had long forgotten his face when he proposed. He was long, thin, pale, with chestnut whiskers, and he was always by Emily's side.He had long since forgotten the little house in the outskirts of Mayfia where he lived in his early married life, or rather, he had long forgotten his early married life, but the little house had not, because a Fore The Sai family never forgot a house--even though he sold it afterwards for a net profit of four hundred pounds. He had long since forgotten those days: days in which he had been full of hope and anxiety, doubting the rightness of the marriage at the same time (it turned out that Emily, beautiful as she was, had no money, and he was barely earning a year a thousand pounds), but that woman, with her hair so neatly coiled back, her white arms jutting out of her tight bodice, her beautiful waist so solemnly encased in a sheer voluminous skirt, was a thing of wonder to him. His irresistible attraction made him sink deeper and deeper, and finally made him feel that if he could not marry this woman, he must die; he had long forgotten those days!

James once came from the fire, but he also passed through the river of time and drowned the fire; he experienced the most tragic experience in life-completely forgot how he felt when he fell in love. forgotten!Forgot for so long that he even forgot that he had forgotten.Now this rumor reached his ears, this rumor about his daughter-in-law; vague, like a shadow, dodging over the tangible and unobstructed surfaces of things, as ethereal as a ghost, as incomprehensible, yet also like a ghost Same, bringing indescribable terror. He tried to give the matter serious thought, but it was no more possible than to give serious thought to the social tragedies he read every day in the evening papers.He just can't do it.Probably nothing.It's all nonsense from those people.She might not be as well off with Soames as she had hoped, but she was a good little woman--a good little woman!

Like many people, James had a fondness for talking about innocuous anecdotes, and would often sip his lips in a matter-of-fact tone and say, "Yes, yes—she and little Dyson; Tell me they live in Monte Carlo now!" But he had never grasped the true meaning of this anecdote—its past, present, and future.What it was, and what pains and joys it had been brought into being, in the facts which his eyes could see--bare facts, sometimes unpalatable, but generally pleasant--these What devious but irresistible fate lurks in the facts, he has never thought about it.He has never condemned, praised, inferred, or played on such things; he has always just listened rather greedily, and then repeated what others have said to others, and it is very rewarding to do so, just like before eating. As good as a glass of sherry laced with bitters. But now such a thing—or a little rumor or hearsay about it—had become intimately connected with him personally; I can't even breathe. A scandal!Quite possibly a scandal! Repeating this over and over was the only way he could concentrate his thoughts or make the thing conceivable.He has already forgotten the mood of his youth, which made him understand the progress, destination and meaning of such things; he simply doesn't understand that men and women will do indecent things for love. As far as he knew, among the many people he knew—people who went to the business district every day, did their own business there, bought some stocks, real estate, had dinner, played cards or played sports in their free time—among these people, To imagine who would do such indiscreet things for such a ethereal and illusory thing as love, in his opinion, it would be too ridiculous. love!Although he seemed to have heard it before, there was still firmly in his mind the rule, "Young men and women must not be placed lightly together," like parallel latitudes drawn on a map (all Forsytes Hard facts can be appreciated like a realist); but otherwise—oh, he can only understand it through the common saying of "ugliness." what!But there is no fact here—impossible.He wasn't afraid; she was really a kind little woman.But you still can't let it go in your head.James is such a nervous person again-everything is annoying, and whenever there is something, he is worried and indecisive.He was deeply afraid that he would suffer losses if he didn't make up his mind, so he was so annoyed that he honestly couldn't come up with any ideas, until finally, he saw that if he didn't make up his mind, he would definitely suffer losses, and then he had an idea. But there were a lot of things in his life where he couldn't even make up his mind, and this was no different. What should he do?A word with Soames?This will only make matters worse.And, in the final analysis, there was nothing going on here, he was sure of that. It's all about that house.He was worried about doing this from the beginning.What was Soames living in the country for?And, even if he had to spend a lot of money to build himself a house, why didn't he get a first-rate builder, why did he get someone like Bosinney Jr. who nobody could tell?He had told them it was going to suck.He had also heard that Soames had spent considerable sums on the house, far beyond his original budget. This fact, more than any other, reminded James of the real danger here.It's always like this with these "artists"; a sensible person should never talk too much about them.He had also warned Irene.You see, what it looks like now! James suddenly had an idea that he should go down and see for himself.His mind was originally shrouded in a fog of hesitation and anxiety, but now thinking that he can go down and have a look, it is like seeing the sun through the clouds, and he feels indescribable comfort.In fact he felt better perhaps simply because he could decide to do something--more likely because he could see a house. He felt that seeing the big house built by the suspect, seeing the bricks, mud, wood and stones, was equivalent to seeing the truth of the rumor about Erin. So, without talking to anyone, he took a cab to the station, and took a train to Robin Hill; and from the moment he got off--there were never any cabs in this part of the world--he had to walk. He walked slowly up the hill, his thin legs were bent, his shoulders were hunched, he was so tired that he almost cried out, his eyes were fixed on his feet, but even so, his appearance was still very neat, his top hat and frock coat were neatly tidied up dust.Emily was thoughtful; of course, that didn't mean she did it herself--no rich man does other people's clothes, and Emily is rich--but she looked after the housekeeper. He had to ask for directions three times; and each time he repeated what he was told to do, asked them to repeat it, and then repeated it himself, for he was born to be very chatty. Temper, and one has to be extra careful when one is in a new place. He told people over and over that he was looking for a new house; but it wasn't until he was shown the roof protruding from the bushes that he really felt relieved that there was nothing wrong with the way he was pointed out. The sky was gloomy, like a ceiling painted with white powder, covering the earth with gray.The air was neither fresh nor fragrant.In such weather, not even an English artisan would be bothered to do more than his share of work; they moved about in silence, and the croaks, which usually amended their toil, could not be heard. In the middle of the open space of the unfinished house, many people in short shirts were slowly working, and various sounds rose among them-the occasional hammering, the scraping of copper and iron, and the sound of sawing wood. , the wheelbarrow rattled along the planks; and now and then the foreman's dog, tied to the branch of the oak with a rope, uttered a feeble whine, like that of a kettle when it boils. that sound. The newly installed windows, with a patch of white plaster between each pane, stared at James like a blind dog. The building's chorus continued, sounding harsh and depressing against the gray sky.But the thrushes picking up worms among the freshly turned earth were silent. James made his way through the rubble -- the driveway was being paved -- until he came to the gate.Here he stopped and raised his eyes.You can't see much from this angle, so it's clear at a glance; but he has stood in this place for a long time, God knows what he is thinking! Under his two angular white eyebrows, a pair of magnetic blue eyes did not move; between the two thin white beards, there was a wide mouth, and the long upper lip twisted once or twice; The expression in which Soames sometimes wore an expression of embarrassment--from which it was easy to see.James was probably saying to himself at this point: "I can't tell—it's not an easy life to be alive." It was at this point that Bosinney startled him. His eyes, which might have been searching the sky for some bird's nest, fell on Bosinney's face; there was a humorous contempt in that face. "How are you, Mr. Forsyte? Come down and see for yourself!" As far as we know, that's exactly what James came down for, and that made him uncomfortable.But he still held out his hand and said: "How are you?" Eyes were not on Bosinney. Bosinney made way for him with a sarcastic smile. James could not help being suspicious of his politeness. "I want to take a walk outside first," He said, "Look how you made it!" From the southeast corner to the southwest corner, the outside of the house has been trimmed with stone slabs and a corridor that is slightly lower outside than the inside; along the corridor is a slope that extends into the mud.Dirt is being prepared for turf.James walked down the hallway. He saw that the corridor was built all the way to the corner and turned around again, so he asked, "I said, how much will this cost?" "How much do you think it will cost?" Bosinney asked him back. "How should I know?" James replied, a little embarrassed; "Two or three hundred pounds, I dare say!" "Not bad at all!" James gave him a hard look, but the architect didn't seem to think that James must have heard wrong. At the gate of the garden, he stood down to look at the scenery. "This should be cut down," he said, pointing to the oak tree. "Do you think it's going to be cut down? Do you think it's not worth your money to spend this tree blocking the view?" James looked at him again suspiciously—this kid's speech is very special: "Oh," he said emphatically, with confusion and panic in his tone, "I don't understand what you want a tree for." "Tomorrow it will be chopped up," Bosinney said. James panicked. "Oh," he said, "don't tell me I said I'd cut it off! I don't understand anything!" "Don't understand?" James said in embarrassment: "Why, what should I know? This matter has nothing to do with me! If you want to cut it, you will be responsible for it if you cut it wrong." "You can always allow me to mention you!" James was getting more and more panicked: "I don't know what you're going to do with my name," he said; "you'd better not touch this tree. It's not your tree!" He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.The two entered the house.Like Switzing, James saw the inner courtyard with admiration. He stared at those pillars and corridors for a long time; "You must have spent a lot of money here," he said, "tell me, how much did it cost to build these pillars?" "I can't tell you right away," said Bosinney thoughtfully, "but I know it's going to cost a fortune!" "I say so," said James, "I say—" He caught eyes with the architect and broke off.From then on, when he encountered something and wanted to know the price, he suppressed his curiosity. Bosinney seemed intent on making him see everything, and he would have been led around the house by him had it not been for James' natural finesse.Bosinney also seemed eager for him to ask questions, which made him feel compelled to be on his guard.He was beginning to feel the strain, for he was such a tall, sturdy man at seventy-five after all. He became discouraged; he seemed to be making no progress, and the visit had not brought him any knowledge which he had secretly hoped for.He was only more unhappy, more uneasy with the kid; the guy, who was so respectful on the outside, was secretly teasing him exhausted, and in his manner, he must say now, a little mocking. The guy was more cunning than he had imagined, and more handsome than he had hoped for.He has a kind of "non-caring" demeanor; this is not appreciated by James, who regards "risk" as the most intolerable person; he also has a special smile, come when you least expect it ; a pair of strange eyes.He reminded James - he said afterwards - of a hungry cat.That was the best he could describe to Emily about Bosinney's manner--special, irritating, gentle, stern, tinged with sarcasm. At last, having seen all there was to see, he came out by the same door he had gone in; feeling that much time, energy, and money had been wasted and gained nothing, he summoned Forsyte's courage, Stretching his hands, he looked at Bosinney fiercely and said: "I dare say you see my daughter-in-law often; what do you say she thinks of the house? But she hasn't seen it, I suppose?" After he said this, he knew everything about Irene’s coming down—of course, it wasn’t that something happened when she came down that time, it was just because she said the strange thing about “I don’t want to go home”—and other people Tell him what it was like when Joan heard the news! He told himself in his stomach that he was bringing the issue up because he was determined to give the kid a chance. Bosinney didn't answer right away, but stared at him for a long time, which made him uncomfortable. "She's seen the house, but I can't tell you what she thinks of it." James was flustered, but he just wouldn't let go; that's what he was. "Oh," said he, "has she seen it? Soames brought her down, I suppose?" Bosinney smiled and replied, "Ah, no!" "Why—did she come down alone?" "Ah, no!" "Then—who brought her down?" "I really don't know if I should tell you who brought her down." James knew it was Sweatshin, so he couldn't understand what he said. "What!" he muttered, "You know—" But suddenly he saw that he was going to be tricked, so he stopped talking. "Well," said he, "if you won't tell me, I don't think I can help! No one tells me anything." Bosinney surprised him with a question. "And," he said, "is anyone else from your house coming down? I'd love to be there!" "Who else?" James asked blankly. "Who else? I don't know anyone else. Good-bye." Keeping his eyes on the ground, he reached out to touch Bosinney's palms, took up the parasol, and, clutching the top part of its silk, walked away along the corridor. Before he turned the corner, he looked back and saw Bosinney ambling after him—"like a big cat," as he said to himself, "creeping along the wall." When he lifted his hat, he ignored it. He walked even more slowly when out of sight in the driveway.He took the road and walked towards the station, walking very slowly, thinner and thinner than when he came, hungry and frustrated. Seeing him go home with his head downcast, the "pirate" probably felt a little sorry for treating an elderly man like this.