The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Old Jolyon disposed of his second Meeting--an ordinary Board--summarily.

He was so dictatorial that his fellow directors were left in cabal over

the increasing domineeringness of old Forsyte, which they were far from

intending to stand much longer, they said.

He went out by Underground to Portland Road Station, whence he took a

cab and drove to the Zoo.

He had an assignation there, one of those assignations that had lately

been growing more frequent, to which his increasing uneasiness about

June and the 'change in her,' as he expressed it, was driving him.

She buried herself away, and was growing thin; if he spoke to her he got

no answer, or had his head snapped off, or she looked as if she would

burst into tears. She was as changed as she could be, all through this

Bosinney. As for telling him about anything, not a bit of it!

And he would sit for long spells brooding, his paper unread before him,

a cigar extinct between his lips. She had been such a companion to him

ever since she was three years old! And he loved her so!

Forces regardless of family or class or custom were beating down his

guard; impending events over which he had no control threw their shadows

on his head. The irritation of one accustomed to have his way was roused

against he knew not what.

Chafing at the slowness of his cab, he reached the Zoo door; but, with

his sunny instinct for seizing the good of each moment, he forgot his

vexation as he walked towards the tryst.

From the stone terrace above the bear-pit his son and his two

grandchildren came hastening down when they saw old Jolyon coming, and

led him away towards the lion-house. They supported him on either side,

holding one to each of his hands,--whilst Jolly, perverse like his

father, carried his grandfather's umbrella in such a way as to catch

people's legs with the crutch of the handle.

Young Jolyon followed.

It was as good as a play to see his father with the children, but such

a play as brings smiles with tears behind. An old man and two small

children walking together can be seen at any hour of the day; but the

sight of old Jolyon, with Jolly and Holly seemed to young Jolyon a

special peep-show of the things that lie at the bottom of our hearts.

The complete surrender of that erect old figure to those little figures

on either hand was too poignantly tender, and, being a man of an

habitual reflex action, young Jolyon swore softly under his breath. The

show affected him in a way unbecoming to a Forsyte, who is nothing if

not undemonstrative.