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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Who were those?" Jon asked, on the stairs. "I didn't quite " "Old George Forsyte is a first cousin of your father's and of my Uncle Soames. He's always been here. The other chap, Profond, is a queer fish. I think he's hanging round Soames' wife, if you ask me!" Jon looked at him, startled. "But that's awful," he said: "I mean for Fleur."
He alone, perhaps, of painters would have done justice to the sunlight filtering through a screen of creeper, to the lovely pallor of brass, the old cut glasses, the thin slices of lemon in pale amber tea; justice to Annette in her black lacey dress; there was something of the fair Spaniard in her beauty, though it lacked the spirituality of that rare type; to Winifred's grey-haired, corseted solidity; to Soames, of a certain grey and flat-cheeked distinction; to the vivacious Michael Mont, pointed in ear and eye; to Imogen, dark, luscious of glance, growing a little stout; to Prosper Profond, with his expression as who should say, "Well, Mr.
Monsieur Profond, in fact, made the mood too plain in a country which decently veiled such realities. When Fleur, after her hurried return from Robin Hill, came down to dinner that evening, the mood was standing at the window of Winifred's little drawing-room, looking out into Green Street, with an air of seeing nothing in it.
Val grinned, to hide the sudden feeling that the bottom had fallen out of breeding. They believed in nothing over here, not even in horses. George Forsyte, Prosper Profond! The devil himself was not more disillusioned than those two. "Didn't know you were a racing man," he said to Monsieur Profond. "I'm not. I don't care for it. I'm a yachtin' man.
He was curiously still, and Winifred saw at once what was dictating his immobility. To his right was George Forsyte, to his left Annette and Prosper Profond. He could not move without either seeing those two together, or the reflection of them in George Forsyte's japing eyes. He was quite right not to be taking notice. "They say Timothy's sinking," he said glumly.
Iberville returned to Placentia, to prepare for completing his conquest, when his plans were broken by the arrival of his brother Serigny, with orders to proceed at once against the English at Hudson's Bay. It was the nineteenth of May, when Serigny appeared with five ships of war, the "Pelican," the "Palmier," the "Wesp," the "Profond," and the "Violent."
He told her his age, twenty-four; his weight, ten stone eleven; his place of residence, not far away; described his sensations under fire, and what it felt like to be gassed; criticized the Juno, mentioned his own conception of that goddess; commented on the Goya copy, said Fleur was not too awfully like it; sketched in rapidly the condition of England; spoke of Monsieur Profond or whatever his name was as "an awful sport"; thought her father had some "ripping" pictures and some rather "dug-up"; hoped he might row down again and take her on the river because he was quite trustworthy; inquired her opinion of Tchekov, gave her his own; wished they could go to the Russian ballet together some time considered the name Fleur Forsyte simply topping; cursed his people for giving him the name of Michael on the top of Mont; outlined his father, and said that if she wanted a good book she should read "Job"; his father was rather like Job while Job still had land.
"I'm wondering," Holly murmured, "whether she is the modern young woman. One feels at sea coming home into all this." "You? You get the hang of things so quick." Holly slid her hand into his coat-pocket. "You keep one in the know," said Val encouraged. "What do you think of that Belgian fellow, Profond?" "I think he's rather 'a good devil." Val grinned.
"Well, that makes me a bit un'appy." "I should have thought nothing could ever make you happy or unhappy." "I don't like to annoy other people. I'm goin' on my yacht." Fleur looked at him, startled. "Where?" "Small voyage to the South Seas or somewhere," said Monsieur Profond. Fleur suffered relief and a sense of insult. Clearly he meant to convey that he was breaking with her mother.
Val looked at the fellow with renewed suspicion, but the good humour in his eyes was such that he really could not take offence. "I made a small lot of money in the War," began Monsieur Profond in answer to that look. "I 'ad armament shares. I like to give it away. I'm always makin' money. I want very small lot myself. I like my friends to 'ave it."
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