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had to give up thought of finding them; but made the coachman turn

round and round again。  All day he drove about; far into the country;

and kept urging the driver to use greater speed。  He was in a strange

state of hurry and elation。  Finally; he dined at a little country

inn; and this gave the measure of his disturbancethe dinner was

atrocious。



Returning late in the evening he found a note written by Traquair。

〃Are you in your senses; man?〃 it asked; 〃we have no more time to

waste idling about here。  If you want to rejoin us; come on to

Danielli's Hotel; Venice。〃  Swithin chuckled when he read it; and

feeling frightfully tired; went to bed and slept like a log。









VI



Three weeks later he was still in Salzburg; no longer at the Goldene

Alp; but in rooms over a shop near the Boleskeys'。  He had spent a

small fortune in the purchase of flowers。  Margit would croon over

them; but Rozsi; with a sober 〃Many tanks!〃 as if they were her

right; would look long at herself in the glass; and pin one into her

hair。  Swithin ceased to wonder; he ceased to wonder at anything they

did。  One evening he found Boleskey deep in conversation with a pale;

dishevelled…looking person。



〃Our friend Mr。 ForsyteCount D。。。。;〃 said Boleskey。



Swithin experienced a faint; unavoidable emotion; but looking at the

Count's trousers; he thought: 'Doesn't look much like one!'  And with

an ironic bow to the silent girls; he turned; and took his hat。  But

when he had reached the bottom of the dark stairs he heard footsteps。

Rozsi came running down; looked out at the door; and put her hands up

to her breast as if disappointed; suddenly with a quick glance round

she saw him。  Swithin caught her arm。  She slipped away; and her face

seemed to bubble with defiance or laughter; she ran up three steps;

stopped; looked at him across her shoulder; and fled on up the

stairs。  Swithin went out bewildered and annoyed。



'What was she going to say to me?' he kept thinking。  During these

three weeks he had asked himself all sorts of questions: whether he

were being made a fool of; whether she were in love with him; what he

was doing there; and sometimes at night; with all his candles burning

as if he wanted light; the breeze blowing on him through the window;

his cigar; half…smoked; in his hand; he sat; an hour or more; staring

at the wall。  'Enough of this!' he thought every morning。  Twice he

packed fullyonce he ordered his travelling carriage; but

countermanded it the following day。  What definitely he hoped;

intended; resolved; he could not have said。  He was always thinking

of Rozsi; he could not read the riddle in her faceshe held him in a

vice; notwithstanding that everything about her threatened the very

fetishes of his existence。  And Boleskey!  Whenever he looked at him

he thought; 'If he were only clean?' and mechanically fingered his

own well…tied cravatte。  To talk with the fellow; too; was like being

forced to look at things which had no place in the light of day。

Freedom; equality; self…sacrifice!



'Why can't he settle down at some business;' he thought; 'instead of

all this talk?' Boleskey's sudden diffidences; self…depreciation;

fits of despair; irritated him。  〃Morbid beggar!〃 he would mutter;

〃thank God I haven't a thin skin。〃  And proud too!  Extraordinary!

An impecunious fellow like that!  One evening; moreover; Boleskey had

returned home drunk。  Swithin had hustled him away into his bedroom;

helped him to undress; and stayed until he was asleep。  'Too much of

a good thing!' he thought; 'before his own daughters; too!'  It was

after this that he ordered his travelling carriage。  The other

occasion on which he packed was one evening; when not only Boleskey;

but Rozsi herself had picked chicken bones with her fingers。



Often in the mornings he would go to the Mirabell Garden to smoke his

cigar; there; in stolid contemplation of the statuesrows of half…

heroic men carrying off half…distressful femaleshe would spend an

hour pleasantly; his hat tilted to keep the sun off his nose。  The

day after Rozsi had fled from him on the stairs; he came there as

usual。  It was a morning of blue sky and sunlight glowing on the old

prim garden; on its yew…trees; and serio…comic statues; and walls

covered with apricots and plums。  When Swithin approached his usual

seat; who should be sitting there but Rozsi



〃Good…morning;〃 he stammered; 〃you knew this was my seat then?〃



Rozsi looked at the ground。  〃Yes;〃 she answered。



Swithin felt bewildered。  〃Do you know;〃 he said; 〃you treat me very

funnily?〃



To his surprise Rozsi put her little soft hand down and touched his;

then; without a word; sprang up and rushed away。  It took him a

minute to recover。  There were people present; he did not like to

run; but overtook her on the bridge; and slipped her hand beneath his

arm。



〃You shouldn't have done that;〃 he said; 〃you shouldn't have run away

from me; you know。〃



Rozsi laughed。  Swithin withdrew his arm; a desire to shake her

seized him。  He walked some way before he said; 〃Will you have the

goodness to tell me what you came to that seat for?〃



Rozsi flashed a look at him。  〃To…morrow is the fete;〃 she answered。



Swithin muttered; 〃Is that all?〃



〃If you do not take us; we cannot go。〃



〃Suppose I refuse;〃 he said sullenly; 〃there are plenty of others。〃



Rozsi bent her head; scurrying along。  〃No;〃 she murmured; 〃if you do

not goI do not wish。〃



Swithin drew her hand back within his arm。  How round and soft it

was!  He tried to see her face。  When she was nearly home he said

goodbye; not wishing; for some dark reason; to be seen with her。  He

watched till she had disappeared; then slowly retraced his steps to

the Mirabell Garden。  When he came to where she had been sitting; he

slowly lighted his cigar; and for a long time after it was smoked out

remained there in the silent presence of the statues。









VII



A crowd of people wandered round the booths; and Swithin found

himself obliged to give the girls his arms。  'Like a little Cockney

clerk!' he thought。  His indignation passed unnoticed; they talked;

they laughed; each sight and sound in all the hurly…burly seemed to

go straight into their hearts。  He eyed them ironicallytheir eager

voices; and little coos of sympathy seemed to him vulgar。  In the

thick of the crowd he slipped his arm out of Margit's; but; just as

he thought that he was free; the unwelcome hand slid up again。  He

tried again; but again Margit reappeared; serene; and full of

pleasant humour; and his failure this time appeared to him in a comic

light。  But when Rozsi leaned across him; the glow of her round

cheek; her curving lip; the inscrutable grey gleam of her eyes; sent

a thrill of longing through him。  He was obliged to stand by while

they parleyed with a gipsy; whose matted locks and skinny hands

inspired him with a not unwarranted disgust。  〃Folly!〃 he muttered;

as Rozsi held out her palm。  The old woman mumbled; and shot a

malignant look at him。  Rozsi drew back her hand; and crossed

herself。  ' Folly!' Swithin thought again; and seizing the girls'

arms; he hurried them away。



〃What did the old hag say?〃 he asked。



Rozsi shook her head。



〃You don't mean that you believe?〃



Her eyes were full of tears。  〃The gipsies are wise;〃 she murmured。



〃Come; what did she tell you?〃



This time Rozsi looked hurriedly round; and slipped away into the

crowd。  After a hunt they found her; and Swithin; who was scared;

growled: 〃You shouldn't do such thingsit's not respectable。〃



On higher ground; in the centre of a clear space; a military band was

playing。  For the privilege of entering this charmed circle Swithin

paid three kronen; choosing naturally the best seats。  He ordered

wine; too; watching Rozsi out of the corner of his eye as he poured

it out。  The protecting tenderness of yesterday was all lost in this

medley。  It was every man for himself; after all!  The colour had

deepened again in her cheeks; she laughed; pouting her lips。

Suddenly she put her glass aside。  〃Thank you; very much;〃 she said;

〃it is enough!〃



Margit; whose pretty mouth was all smiles; cried; 〃Lieber Gott! is it

not good…life?〃  It was not a question Swithin could undertake to

answer。  The band began to play a waltz。  〃Now they will dance。

Lieber Gott! and are the lights not wonderful?〃  Lamps were

flickering beneath the trees like a swarm of fireflies。  There was a

hum as from a gigantic beehive。  Passers…by lifted their faces; then

vanished into the crowd; Rozsi stood gazing at them spellbound; as if

their very going and coming were a delight。



The space was soon full of whirling couples。  Rozsi's head began to

beat time。  〃O Margit!〃 she whispered。



Swithin's face had assumed a solemn; uneasy expression。  A man

raising his hat; offered his arm to Margit。  She glanc

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