Chapter 30 Chapter 7 Joan's Triumph

Joan had been waiting for her chance, reading the dull columns of the papers from morning till night, with an insatiability which at first surprised old Jolyon; Action, that extreme quickness and resolute air is exactly like her person. That morning she finally saw Forsyth v. Bosinney under Judge Bentham, Court of Thirteenth, in the Openings column of the trusty Times; it was a day she would never forget. Like a gambler, she was already ready to put everything she had on this desperate gamble; her natural character prevented her from thinking of failure.How she knew that Bosinney would lose the case, no one could say, either a woman in love had an instinct to know--but she set her steps on this assumption, As if absolutely sure.

At eleven-thirty we saw her watching from the loft of the Thirteenth Court until the conclusion of the Forsyte v. Bosinney trial.Bosinney's absence did not worry her; she felt instinctively that Bosinney would not defend herself.When the sentence was over, she hurried downstairs, called a cab, and drove up to his lodgings. She went unnoticed as she entered the open door and the office three floors below; her troubles did not begin until she reached the top floor. There was no answer to the bell; and now she had to decide whether to go downstairs and ask the ground-floor caretaker to come up and let her in, or to wait patiently outside the door when Mr. Bosinney came back, taking care not to be caught. Others come up to see.She decided to take the latter step.

A quarter of an hour passed, and she had been standing on the stairs watching by Dong, and then she suddenly remembered that Bosinney used to put the key of the door under the door blanket.She opened it and saw that it was right below.For a moment she could not make up her mind, and took the key to open the door; at last she opened the door and went in, leaving it open, when any one who came would see that she was on business. Joan was completely separate from her visit five months ago; she was shaking then; months of pain and restraint had made her less sensitive than she had been; she had considered For a long time, and with such careful planning, all threats were ignored long ago.This time, she was determined not to fail. If she failed, no one would be able to help her.

Just like a mother beast guarding her young, Joan's small and lively body never stays still in the room; she walks from wall to wall, from window to door, touching this and touching each other for a while. touch that.There was dust everywhere and the house hadn't been cleaned in months.Anything that would arouse her hopes, she soon saw, showed that Bosinney had been compelled to dismiss the servants in order to save money. She made a picture of his bedroom, and the bed was roughly arranged, as if it was made by a man.She listened, then rushed into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe.A few shirts, a few ties, a pair of dirty shoes—there was so little clothing in the room.

She quietly went back to the sitting room, and only then did she notice that all the little things he cherished on weekdays were gone.A clock that turned out to be his mother's, the telescope hanging on the couch; two really valuable early printed Harrow views from where his father went to school, and finally the piece of Japanese pottery she herself had given him , is also his joy.They were all gone; and her sense of justice, not expecting the world to be so cruel to him, could not help inflaming, but nonetheless their absence happily foretold the success of her plans. While looking at the place where the Japanese pottery had been, she had a strange feeling that someone must be watching her; and turning, she saw Irene standing in the doorway.

The two looked at each other in silence for a while; then Joan moved to Irene and held out her hand, but Irene did not shake it. Seeing her refusal to shake hands, Joan put her hands behind her back; anger grew in her eyes; she waited for Irene to speak first; The friend's face, clothes and figure are all carefully watched.Irene wore her long gray fur coat; the traveling cap left a lock of golden curls on her forehead.The large and soft fur coat lined her face like a child's. Irene's cheeks, unlike Joan's, were not red at all, but pale, and seemed terribly frozen.A dark circle around the eye.In one hand holds a bouquet of violets.

She looked back at Joan, without a hint of a smile on her lips. Joan was staring at her with those big dark brown eyes. Although she was shocked and angry, she felt a little of her old charm again. Joan finally spoke first. "What are you here for?" But the question was asking itself, and then: "It's a bad case. I'll tell him—he lost." Erin didn't speak, her eyes were fixed on Joan's face, and Joan cried out: "You stand there as if you were made of stone!" Erin laughed: "I hope so!" But Joan turned away: "Shut up!" she cried, "Don't tell me! I don't want to hear! I don't want to hear what you're doing. I don't want to hear!" .Suddenly he said:

"I came first. The two of us can't be together!" A little smile appeared on Irene's face, and it seemed like a spark had been extinguished for a moment.She didn't move a step.Only then did Joan see that the gentle stone man had given up everything, and had come with a determination that nothing could stop, and that was terrible.She took off her hat and brushed back a large section of blond hair from her forehead, pressing her hands to it. "You have no right to be here!" Joan said harshly. Irene replied, "I'm not qualified anywhere—" "What do you mean?"

"I have left Soames. You have been persuading me!" Joan covered her ears with both hands. "Don't talk! I don't want to hear anything--I don't want to know anything. I can't resist you! What are you doing standing still like this! Why don't you go?" Irene moved her lips as if to say, "Where can I go?" Joan turned and looked out the window.She could see the clock down the street.It was almost four o'clock.He'll be back any minute!She looked back at Erin with an angry look on her face. But Irene didn't move, and her two gloved hands kept twisting the little bunch of violets.

Tears of anger and disappointment rolled down Joan's cheeks. "How can you come?" she said. "I regard you as a friend, you have done something that I am sorry for!" Erin laughed again.Joan saw that the move was wrong, and could hardly help herself. "Why did you come," she whimpered. "You ruined my life, and now you're ruining his!" Irene's mouth shuddered; her eyes met Joan's, and there was a very sad expression in them; Joan whimpered and cried, "No, no!" But Irene's head drooped down to her chest.She turned and walked quickly out, covering her mouth with the little bouquet of violets.

Joan ran to the door.She heard footsteps coming down.She shouted: "Come back, Irene! Come back!" The footsteps died away. Joan stood on the landing, dazed and agitated.Why did Yilin leave and leave her to dominate the battlefield?What does it mean?Did she really give him back to her?Or is she—?In her heart, she was in such ups and downs of pain.Bosinney has not returned.Old Jolyon came back from Westalia Avenue about six o'clock that afternoon; he was now going to kill a few hours almost every day, asking as soon as he came in if his granddaughter was upstairs.The servant told him that as soon as Joan came home, he sent someone up to ask her to come down and have something to say to her. He had made up his mind to tell her that he and her father were reconciled.In the future, the past is the past.He wasn't going to live in this big house alone, or almost alone; he was going to sell the house and buy his son a house in the country, so we could all move in and live together.If Joan is not willing to do this, she can take part of the monthly allowance and live alone.It didn't matter to her because she hadn't shown any emotion to him for a long time. But when Joan came downstairs, she looked cold and pitiful; her eyes looked tense and sad.She leaned against him, as usual, on the arm of his arm-chair; and old Jolyon, who had taken pains to think up a whole series of clear, dignified, and sad things to say, was worse than what he had planned. far away.His heart was aching, as the great heart of a mother bird is when she sees her young fly up and hurt her wings.His words were often cut short, as if in apology, for at last he had strayed from the path of justice, and surrendered to his own nature in spite of all normal reason. He felt uneasy, lest he would set a bad example for his granddaughter if he said his intentions, and he had already touched on the subject, implying that if she didn't want to, she could live alone and let her do; In the above, his wording was extremely euphemistic. "And if you, boy," he said, "find out that you can't get along with them, it's all right. I can do it. You can do what you like. We can rent a little flat in London and you live in it." , I can often run up too. But those children," he continued, "are really annoying little guys!" The explanation for changing the policy was quite serious and explicit; at this moment, a smile appeared in his eyes. "With Timothy's weakened nerves, it must have terrified him. That spoiled little fellow must have something to say about it, or call me a fool!" Joan hadn't spoken yet.She was squatting on the arm of the chair, her head was higher than his, so she couldn't see her face.But soon he felt her warm cheeks touching his, and knew in his heart that her attitude towards this matter was fine, at least there was nothing alarming.His courage grew. "You'll like your father," he said--"a very gentle man. Never aggressive, but easy to get along with. You'll find he knows art, and all that." Old Jolyon remembered the dozen or so water-colours he had kept discreetly locked away in his bedroom; The pictures aren't all that bad either. "As for your--your step-mother," said he, which was a rather strained word for him, "I think she's a nice lady--something like Mrs. Gummecki, I'll say--but very fond of little Jo. As for that Two children," he repeated--indeed, the words sounded like music to this stream of solemn self-justification--"such lovely little things!" If Joan understood, his words expressed the kind of love for children, for the young and the weak; it was this love that made him give up his son for the sake of the weak Joan, and now, in turn, put Old Jolyon pulled her away. But seeing her silent, he started to panic and couldn't help asking her: "Uh, what do you say?" Joan slid off the arm of the chair and snuggled into his lap; she had a speech, too, and now it was her turn.Everything seemed to her to be well arranged; she saw no difficulty, and she felt that she did not care what people thought. Old Jolyon writhed uneasily.Hmph, then people will still have opinions!At first he thought that after so many years, those people might not exist!Well, he can't help it either!But he disapproved of his granddaughter's tone—she should pay attention to other people's opinions! But he didn't say anything.His feelings were too complicated and contradictory to express. No need--Joan went on--she didn't care; none of their business, did it?Only one thing—she put her cheek on old Jolyon's knee now, and old Jolyon knew at once that it was a big deal; since he was going to buy a house in the country, could he—for her sake—buy What about Lower Soames' fine house on Robin Hill?The house is finished and gorgeous, and no one lives in it now; everyone must have enjoyed themselves in that house! Old Jolyon was instantly alert.So, isn't that "man of property" ready to live in his new house?He never referred to Soames by his name now, but always by that title. "No more,"--Joan said--"he won't, and I know he won't!" How could she know? She couldn't tell him, but she knew.She's pretty much sure of it!Never going to live; circumstances have changed!Irene's words were still in her ears: "I have left Soames. Where can I go?" But she kept it a secret. If only her grandfather would buy the house and pay off that goddamn debt that Fili owed for no reason!This is the best thing for everyone, it's all right. Having said this, Joan pressed her lips to his forehead, pressing hard against it. But old Jolyon broke away from her caresses, and put on the serious countenance he used when he was doing business.What did he mean by asking her?There was something in her words—had she seen Bosinney?Joan replied, "No; but I have been to his lodgings." "Have you been to his apartment? Who took you there?" Joan looked at him calmly. "I went alone. He lost his case. I don't give a damn. I'll help him; I will!" "Did you see him?" asked old Jolyon again. He seemed to look from his granddaughter's eyes into her very soul! Joan answered again, "No; he wasn't home, and I waited a while, but he didn't come back." Old Jolyon moved a little, relieved.Joan was already on her feet, looking down at him; so thin, and light, and young, and yet so resolute; old Jolyon, though disturbed and troubled, with such a deep frown, could not blot out her countenance. That determined look.He felt deeply that he had lost the battle, that the reins had slipped from his hands, that he was old. "Ah!" he said at last, "I think you'll get yourself out of your way someday. You'll get everything you want." His queer philosophy of life flared up again, and he added: "You were born so; so you will die when you grow old!" And yet hadn't he himself always been free in his dealings with the business men, and the boards, and the various Forsytes, and the non-Forsytes?Thinking of this, he looked melancholy at his stubborn granddaughter—feeling that she also had this kind of quality that he unconsciously valued above everything else. "You know what they gossip about?" he said slowly. Joan flushed. "I know—don't know—and don't care!" She stamped her foot. "I suppose," said old Jolyon, with his eyes downcast, "you'd want him if he died!" There was a long silence, and then he said: "But when it comes to buying this house—you know how easy it is!" Joan said she knew.She knew that as long as he was willing to buy it, he could buy it.He only needs to pay according to the cost. "At the cost! You don't know a thing. I don't want to go to Soames—I'll never have anything to do with that boy again." "But you needn't go to him; you can go to Grandpa James. If you can't buy the house, can you pay the compensation? I know he's very embarrassed--I just saw it. You can Take it from my share of the money!" Old Jolyon rolled his eyes. "Deducted from your money! That's a good idea! Then, what will you do if you don't have any money?" But the idea of ​​taking the house from James and his son secretly moved him.He had heard quite a few things about the house in the Forsyte Exchange in the past, and there were many compliments that were rather dubious. "It's too artistic", but the house is really good.It would be his greatest victory over James to take away from the hands of the "property man" what he loved so much. Restored to its original normal status, and never to be shaken again.For those who dared to regard his son as a poor boy, as a worthless wretch, this was finally complete revenge!He wants to see, see!Perhaps there was no need to think about it; he wouldn't come if he had to pay a good price, but if the price was right, why, maybe he would buy it! And in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't say no to Joan. But he showed no sign of it.Think about it again—he told Joan.