The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(267)

‘Mr Forsyte? Yes. My grandfather bought it from the painter. There’s a note on the back. I don’t want to part with it, but these are lean days. Would you like to see the back?’

‘Yes,’ said Soames; ‘I always look at their backs.’

‘Sometimes,’ said the Marquess, detaching the Morland with difficulty, ‘the best pare of the picture.’

Soames smiled down the further side of his mouth; he did not wish the old fellow to receive a false impression that he was ‘kow-towing’, or anything of that sort.

‘Something in the hereditary principle, Mr Forsyte,’ the Marquess went on, with his head on one side, ‘when it comes to the sale of heirlooms.’

‘Oh! I can see it’s genuine,’ said Soames, ‘without looking at the back.’

‘Then, if you want to buy, we can have a simple transaction between gentlemen. You know all about values, I hear.’

Soames put his head to the other side, and looked at the back of the picture. The old fellow’s words were so disarming, that for the life of him he could not tell whether or not to be disarmed.

‘ “George Morland to Lord George Ferrar,” ’ he heard, ’ “for value received – £80.1797.” ’

‘He came into the title later,’ said the Marquess. ‘I’m glad Morland got his money – great rips, our grandfathers, Mr Forsyte; days of great rips, those.’

Subtly flattered by the thought that ‘Superior Dosset’ was a great rip, Soames expanded slightly.

‘Great rip, Morland,’ he said. ‘But there were real painters then, people could buy with confidence – they can’t now.’

‘I’m not sure,’ said the Marquess, ‘I’m not sure. The electrification of art may be a necessary process. We’re all in a movement, Mr Forsyte.’

‘Yes,’ said Soames, glumly; ‘but we can’t go on at this rate – it’s not natural. We shall be standing-pat again before long.’

‘I wonder. We must keep out minds open, mustn’t we?’

‘The pace doesn’t matter so much,’ said Soames, astonished at himself, ‘so long as it leads somewhere.’

The Marquess resigned the picture to the sideboard, and putting his foot up on a chair, leaned his elbow on his knee.

‘Did your son-in-law tell you for what I wanted the money? He has a scheme for electrifying slum kitchens. After all, we are cleaner and more humane than our grandfathers, Mr Forsyte. Now, what do you think would be a fair price?’

‘Why not get Dumetrius’s opinion?’

‘The Haymarket man? Is his opinion better than yours?’

‘That I can’t say,’ said Soames, honestly. ‘But if you mentioned my name, he’d value the picture for five guineas, and might make you an offer himself.’

‘I don’t think I should care for it to be known that I was selling pictures.’

‘Well,’ said Soames. ‘I don’t want you to get less than perhaps you could. But if I told Dumetrius to buy me a Morland, five hundred would be my limit. Suppose I give you six.’

The Marquess tilted up his beard. ‘That would be too generous, perhaps. Shall we say five-fifty?’

Soames shook his head.

‘We won’t haggle,’ he said. ‘Six. You can have the cheque now, and I’ll take it away. It will hang in my gallery at Maple-durham.’

The Marquess took his foot down, and sighed.

‘Really, I’m very much obliged to you. I’m delighted to think it will go to a good home.’

‘If you care to come and see it at any time –’ Soames checked himself. An old fellow with one foot in the House of Lords and one in the grave, and no difference between them, to speak of – as if he’d want to come!

‘That would be delightful,’ said the Marquess, with his eyes wandering, as Soames had suspected they would. ‘Have you your own electric plant there?’

‘Yes,’ and Soames took out his cheque-book. ‘May I have a taxi called? If you hang the still-lifes a little closer together, this won’t be missed.’

With that doubtful phrase in their ears, they exchanged’ goods, and Soames, with the Morland, returned to Green Street in a cab. He wondered a little on the way whether or not the Marquess had done him, by talking about a transaction between gentlemen. Agreeable old chap in his way, but as quick as a bird, looking through his thumb and finger like that!…

And now, in his daughter’s ‘parlour’ he said :

‘What’s this about Michael electrifying slum kitchens?’

Fleur smiled, and Soames did not approve of its irony.