Лучшее из «Саги о Форсайтах» / The Best of The Forsyte Saga. Джон Голсуорси

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      “I believe I am in order, Mr. Chairman – I ask whether this amount paid, or proposed to be paid, by the Board to the er – deceased – is for services which might have been rendered to the Company – had he not committed suicide?”

      “It is in recognition of past services, which we all know – you as well as any of us – to have been of vital value.”

      “Then, sir, all I have to say is that the services being past, the amount is too much.”

      The shareholder sat down.

      Old Jolyon waited a second and said: “I now propose that the report and – ”

      The shareholder rose again: “May I ask if the Board realizes that it is not their money which – I don’t hesitate to say that if it were their money….”

      A second shareholder, with a round, dogged face, whom Soames recognised as the late superintendent’s brother-in-law, got up and said warmly: “In my opinion, sir, the sum is not enough!”

      The Rev. Mr. Boms now rose to his feet. “If I may venture to express myself,” he said, “I should say that the fact of the – er – deceased having committed suicide should weigh very heavily – very heavily with our worthy chairman. I have no doubt it has weighed with him, for – I say this for myself and I think for everyone present (hear, hear) – he enjoys our confidence in a high degree. We all desire, I should hope, to be charitable. But I feel sure” (he-looked severely at the late superintendent’s brother-in-law) “that he will in some way, by some written expression, or better perhaps by reducing the amount, record our grave disapproval that so promising and valuable a life should have been thus impiously removed from a sphere where both its own interests and – if I may say so – our interests so imperatively demanded its continuance. We should not – nay, we may not – countenance so grave a dereliction of all duty, both human and divine.”

      The reverend gentleman resumed his seat. The late superintendent’s brother-in-law again rose: “What I have said I stick to,” he said; “the amount is not enough!”

      The first shareholder struck in: “I challenge the legality of the payment. In my opinion this payment is not legal. The Company’s solicitor is present; I believe I am in order in asking him the question.”

      All eyes were now turned upon Soames. Something had arisen!

      He stood up, close-lipped and cold; his nerves inwardly fluttered, his attention tweaked away at last from contemplation of that cloud looming on the horizon of his mind.

      “The point,” he said in a low, thin voice, “is by no means clear. As there is no possibility of future consideration being received, it is doubtful whether the payment is strictly legal. If it is desired, the opinion of the court could be taken.”

      The superintendent’s brother-in-law frowned, and said in a meaning tone: “We have no doubt the opinion of the court could be taken. May I ask the name of the gentleman who has given us that striking piece of information? Mr. Soames Forsyte? Indeed!” He looked from Soames to old Jolyon in a pointed manner.

      A flush coloured Soames’ pale cheeks, but his superciliousness did not waver. Old Jolyon fixed his eyes on the speaker.

      “If,” he said, “the late superintendent’s brother-in-law has nothing more to say, I propose that the report and accounts….”

      At this moment, however, there rose one of those five silent, stolid shareholders, who had excited Soames’ sympathy. He said:

      “I deprecate the proposal altogether. We are expected to give charity to this man’s wife and children, who, you tell us, were dependent on him. They may have been; I do not care whether they were or not. I object to the whole thing on principle. It is high time a stand was made against this sentimental humanitarianism. The country is eaten up with it. I object to my money being paid to these people of whom I know nothing, who have done nothing to earn it. I object in toto[30]; it is not business. I now move that the report and accounts be put back, and amended by striking out the grant altogether.”

      Old Jolyon had remained standing while the strong, silent man was speaking. The speech awoke an echo in all hearts, voicing, as it did, the worship of strong men, the movement against generosity, which had at that time already commenced among the saner members of the community.

      The words ‘it is not business’ had moved even the Board; privately everyone felt that indeed it was not. But they knew also the chairman’s domineering temper and tenacity. He, too, at heart must feel that it was not business; but he was committed to his own proposition. Would he go back upon it? It was thought to be unlikely.

      All waited with interest. Old Jolyon held up his hand; dark-rimmed glasses depending between his finger and thumb quivered slightly with a suggestion of menace.

      He addressed the strong, silent shareholder.

      “Knowing, as you do, the efforts of our late superintendent upon the occasion of the explosion at the mines, do you seriously wish me to put that amendment, sir?”

      “I do.”

      Old Jolyon put the amendment.

      “Does anyone second this?” he asked, looking calmly round.

      And it was then that Soames, looking at his uncle, felt the power of will that was in that old man. No one stirred. Looking straight into the eyes of the strong, silent shareholder, old Jolyon said:

      “I now move, ‘That the report and accounts for the year 1886 be received and adopted.’ You second that? Those in favour signify the same in the usual way. Contrary – no. Carried. The next business, gentlemen….”

      Soames smiled. Certainly Uncle Jolyon had a way with him!

      But now his attention relapsed upon Bosinney.

      Odd how that fellow haunted his thoughts, even in business hours.

      Irene’s visit to the house – but there was nothing in that, except that she might have told him; but then, again, she never did tell him anything. She was more silent, more touchy, every day. He wished to God the house were finished, and they were in it, away from London. Town did not suit her; her nerves were not strong enough. That nonsense of the separate room had cropped up again!

      The meeting was breaking up now. Underneath the photograph of the lost shaft Hemmings was buttonholed by the Rev. Mr. Boms. Little Mr. Booker, his bristling eyebrows wreathed in angry smiles, was having a parting turn-up with old Scrubsole. The two hated each other like poison. There was some matter of a tar-contract between them, little Mr. Booker having secured it from the Board for a nephew of his, over old Scrubsole’s head. Soames had heard that from Hemmings, who liked a gossip, more especially about his directors, except, indeed, old Jolyon, of whom he was afraid.

      Soames awaited his opportunity. The last shareholder was vanishing through the door, when he approached his uncle, who was putting on his hat.

      “Can I speak to you for a minute, Uncle Jolyon?”

      It is uncertain what Soames expected to get out of this interview.

      Apart from that somewhat mysterious awe in which Forsytes СКАЧАТЬ