Джон Фаулз – The French Lieutenant's Woman / Любовница французского лейтенанта (страница 7)

She had moved on before he could answer; but her eyes made it clear that she made an offer.

What she did not know was that she had touched a sensitive place in Charles's soul; his feeling that life was passing him by, that he was being lazy, selfish… and worse. He had not traveled abroad those last two years; and he had realized that previously traveling had been a substitute for not having a wife. It allowed him to take an occasional woman into his bed, a pleasure he strictly forbade himself, perhaps remembering what his first test in that field had caused, in England.

Traveling no longer attracted him; but women did, and he was therefore in a state of extreme sexual frustration. He passed a very thoughtful week. Then one morning he woke up.

Everything had become simple. He loved Ernestina. He thought of the pleasure of waking up on just such a cold, gray morning, and seeing that sweet little face asleep beside him. A few minutes later he startled the sleepy Sam by saying: “Sam! I am an absolute one hundred per cent heaven forgive me damned fool[94]!”

A day or two afterwards the fool had an interview with Ernestina's father. It was brief, and very satisfactory. He went down to the drawing room, where Ernestina's mother sat. Unable to speak to Charles, she pointed in the direction of the conservatory. Charles opened the white doors to it and stood in the hot, fragrant air. He had to search for Ernestina, but at last he found her in one of the farthest corners. She glanced at him, and then looked hastily down and away. She held a pair of silver scissors, and was pretending to snip off some of the dead blooms of the heavily scented plant. Charles stood close behind her; coughed.

“I have come to bid my adieux. I have decided to leave England. For the rest of my life I shall travel. How else can an old bachelor spend his days?”

He was ready to go on in this vein[95]. But then he saw that Ernestina's head was bowed and that her knuckles were drained white by the force with which she was gripping the table. He understood that it came from a deep emotion she felt for him.

“But if I believed that someone cared for me to share…”

He could not go on, for she had turned, her eyes full of tears. Their hands met, and he drew her to him. They did not kiss. They could not, for she burst into tears.

A few minutes later Charles led Tina to the door back to the drawing room. But he stopped a moment at a plant of jasmine and picked a sprig and held it playfully over her head.

“It isn't mistletoe[96], but it will do, will it not?”

And so they kissed, with lips as asexual as children's. Ernestina began to cry again; then dried her eyes, and allowed Charles to lead her back into the drawing room, where her mother and father stood. No words were needed. Ernestina ran into her mother's opened arms. Meanwhile the two men stood smiling at each other; the one as if he had just concluded an excellent business deal, the other as if he was not quite sure which planet he had just landed on, but sincerely hoped the natives were friendly.

12

Charles walked for a mile or more through the woods of Ware Commons. Soon he was on the cart track[97] back to Lyme. Ahead moved the black figure of the girl; she walked not quickly, but with an even pace, like one used to covering long distances. Charles set out to catch up, and after a hundred yards or so he came close behind her. She must have heard the sound of his boots, but she did not turn. He noticed that the coat was a little too large for her, and that the heels of her shoes were mudstained. He hesitated only a moment, then:

“Madam!”

She turned, to see him hatless, smiling; and once again that face had an extraordinary effect on him. It seemed to both envelop and reject him.

“I owe you two apologies. I did not know yesterday that you were Mrs. Poulteney's secretary. I fear I addressed you in a most impolite manner.”

She stared down at the ground. “It's no matter, sir.”

“And just now when I seemed… I was afraid you had been taken ill.”

Still without looking at him, she inclined her head and turned to walk on.

“May I not accompany you?[98] Since we walk in the same direction?”

She stopped, but did not turn. “I prefer to walk alone.”

“Mrs. Tranter told me who you are. I am – ”

“I know who you are, sir.”

“Then.”

Her eyes were suddenly on his.

“Kindly allow me to go on my way alone.” His smile stopped. He bowed and stepped back. But instead of continuing on her way, she stared at the ground a moment. “And please tell no one you have seen me in this place.”

Then, without looking at him again, she turned and went. Standing in the center of the road, Charles watched her black back moving away. All he was left with[99] was the after-image of those eyes – they were abnormally large, as if able to see more and suffer more.

He looked round, trying to imagine why she should not wish it known that she came among these innocent woods. But then he remembered her story.

When Charles finally arrived in Broad Street, he decided to call at Mrs. Tranter's on his way to the White Lion. She brought him into the little drawing room, where he met Ernestina and kissed her fingers. She took her hand away. “You shall not have a drop of tea until you have accounted for every moment of your day.”

He described everything that had happened to him; or almost everything, for Ernestina had now twice made it clear that the subject of the French Lieutenant's Woman was unpleasant to her.

Charles produced the piece of rock he had brought for Ernestina. “It is a most fascinating wilderness, the Undercliff. I had no idea such places existed in England.”

“Now confess, Charles, you have been dallying with the wood nymphs.”

Charles showed here surprise, which he covered with a smile. It was on the tip of his tongue[100] to tell her about the girl; and yet seemed a sort of treachery, both to the girl and to himself.

Sarah found Mrs. Poulteney sitting in wait for her when she returned from her walk that evening. I said “in wait”; but “in state[101]” would have been a more appropriate term. Sarah appeared in the private drawing room for the evening Bible-reading, and found herself as if faced with the muzzle of a cannon. It was very clear that any moment Mrs. Poulteney might go off, and with a very loud bang indeed.

Sarah went towards the lectern in the corner of the room, where the large “family” Bible had laid. But she saw that all was not well.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Poulteney?”

“Something is very wrong,” said the abbess. “I have been told something I can hardly believe.”

“To do with me?”

“I should never have listened to the doctor. I should have listened to my own common sense[102].”

“What have I done?”

“I do not think you are mad at all. You are a cunning, wicked creature. You know very well what you have done.”

“I will swear on the Bible – ”

But Mrs. Poulteney gave her a look of indignation. “You will do nothing of the sort![103] That is blasphemy.”

Sarah came forward, and stood in front of her mistress. “I must insist on knowing of what I am accused.” Mrs. Poulteney told her.

To her amazement Sarah showed not the least sign of shame.

“But what is the sin in walking on Ware Commons?”

'The sin! You, a young woman, alone, in such a place!”

“But ma'm, it is nothing but a large wood.”

“I know very well what it is. And what goes on there. And the sort of person who frequents it.”

“No one frequents it. That is why I go there – to be alone.”

“Do you contradict me, miss! Am I not to know what I speak of?[104]”

Having said all, Mrs. Poulteney began to change her tack.

“You have distressed me deeply.”

“But how was I to tell? I am not to go to the sea[105]. Very well, I don't go to the sea. I wish for solitude. That is all. That is not a sin. I will not be called a sinner for that.”

“Have you never heard speak of Ware Commons?”

“As a place of the kind you mean – never.”

Mrs. Poulteney looked somewhat confused: she recalled that Sarah had not lived in Lyme until recently; and that she could be ignorant of the bad reputation of the place.

“Very well. But let it be plainly understood. I permit no one to go or to be seen near that place. You will walk to where it is decent. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. I am to walk in the paths of righteousness.” For one moment Mrs. Poulteney thought she had been the subject of a sarcasm; but Sarah's eyes were down.

“Then let us hear no more of this foolishness. I do this for your own good.”

Sarah murmured, “I know.” Then, “I thank you, ma'm.”

No more was said. She turned to the Bible and read the passage Mrs. Poulteney had marked.

Later that night Sarah might have been seen standing at the open window of her unlit bedroom. The house was silent, and the town as well, for people went to bed by nine in those days before electricity and television. It was now one o'clock. Sarah was in her nightgown, with her hair loose; and she was staring out to sea.

14