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As one looks on some American river, quiet and pleasant, knowing that an alligator perhaps is lying in the mud with his snout just raised and indistinguishable from a snag of wood so Soames looked on the river of his own existence, subconscious of Monsieur Profond, refusing to see more than the suspicion of his snout.
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.
"That's the great discovery of the War. We all thought we were progressing now we know we're only changing." "For the worse," said Monsieur Profond genially. "How you are cheerful, Prosper!" murmured Annette. "You come and play tennis!" said Jack Cardigan; "you've got the hump. We'll soon take that down. D'you play, Mr. Mont?" "I hit the ball about, sir."
As one looks on some American river, quiet and pleasant, knowing that an alligator perhaps is lying in the mud with his snout just raised and indistinguishable from a snag of wood so Soames looked on the river of his own existence, subconscious of Monsieur Profond, refusing to see more than the suspicion of his snout.
La poésie britannique nous révéla le doute incarné sous la figure de Byron; puis la littérature allemande, quoique plus mystique, nous conduisit au même résultat par un sentiment de rêverie plus profond. The day of recollection has not yet come.
"I'll buy her of you at the price you gave," said Val with sudden resolution. "No," said Monsieur Profond. "You take her. I don' want her." "Hang it! one doesn't " "Why not?" smiled Monsieur Profond. "I'm a friend of your family." "Seven hundred and fifty guineas is not a box of cigars," said Val impatiently. "All right; you keep her for me till I want her, and do what you like with her."
"So long as she's yours," said Val. "I don't mind that." "That's all right," murmured Monsieur Profond, and moved away. Val watched; he might be "a good devil," but then again he might not. He saw him rejoin George Forsyte, and thereafter saw him no more. He spent those nights after racing at his mother's house in Green Street.
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."
The Iseeum, comfortable and unpretentious, did not move, could not, so long as George Forsyte sat on its Committee, where his culinary acumen was almost the controlling force. The Club had made a stand against the newly rich, and it had taken all George Forsyte's prestige, and praise of him as a "good sportsman," to bring in Prosper Profond.
"How are you?" murmured Val. "I'm very well," replied Monsieur Profond, smiling with a certain inimitable slowness. "A good devil," Holly had called him. Well! He looked a little like a devil, with his dark, clipped, pointed beard; a sleepy one though, and good-humoured, with fine eyes, unexpectedly intelligent. "Here's a gentleman wants to know you cousin of yours Mr. George Forsyde."
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