The French Lieutenant's Woman / Любовница французского лейтенанта. Джон Фаулз

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

      When Mrs. Tranter, Ernestina and Charles were announced on the morning following that woodland meeting, Sarah rose at once to leave the room. But Mrs. Poulteney asked her to stay. The visitors were ushered in. Mrs. Tranter came forward, expansive and kind. Sarah stood shyly in the background; Charles and Ernestina stood behind the two elder ladies. Then Ernestina was presented.

      “How are you, Mrs. Poulteney? You look exceedingly well.”

      “At my age, Miss Freeman, spiritual health is all that counts[106].”

      “Then I have no fears for you.”

      She turned to present Charles, who bent over the old lady's hand.

      “Great pleasure, ma'm. Charming house.”

      “It is too large for me. I keep it on for my dear husband's sake[107]. I know he would have wished it so.”

      And she stared past Charles at an oil painting done of Frederick only two years before he died in 1851, in which it was clear that he was a wise, Christian, dignified, good-looking sort of man. Actually, Mr. Poulteney had been a total, though very rich, nonentity; and the only really significant act of his life had been his leaving it. Charles respectfully looked at the portrait.

      “Ah. Indeed. I understand. Most natural[108].”

      Mrs.

98

Нельзя ли мне вас сопровождать?

99

Всё, что у него осталось

100

Он чуть было не

101

наизготове

102

здравый смысл

103

Вы не посмеете это сделать!

104

Я что, не знаю, о чём я говорю?

105

Я не должна ходить к морю

106

духовное здоровье важнее всего

107

ради дорогого мужа

108

Естественно