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Because he was old and deaf； he spoke to no one； and no one spoke to
him。 The club gossip； an Irishman； said to each newcomer： 〃Old
Forsyte！ Look at 'um！ Must ha' had something in his life to sour
'um！〃 But Swithin had had nothing in his life to sour him。
For many days now he had lain in bed in a room exuding silver；
crimson； and electric light； smelling of opopanax and of cigars。 The
curtains were drawn； the firelight gleamed； on a table by his bed
were a jug of barley…water and the Times。 He made an attempt to
read； failed； and fell again to thinking。 His face with its square
chin； looked like a block of pale leather bedded in the pillow。 It
was lonely！ A woman in the room would have made all the difference！
Why had he never married？ He breathed hard； staring froglike at the
ceiling； a memory had come into his mind。 It was a long time ago
forty odd yearsbut it seemed like yesterday。。。。
It happened when he was thirty…eight； for the first and only time in
his life travelling on the Continent； with his twin…brother James and
a man named Traquair。 On the way from Germany to Venice； he had
found himself at the Hotel Goldene Alp at Salzburg。 It was late
August； and weather for the gods： sunshine on the walls and the
shadows of the vine…leaves； and at night； the moonlight； and again on
the walls the shadows of the vine…leaves。 Averse to the suggestions
of other people； Swithin had refused to visit the Citadel； he had
spent the day alone in the window of his bedroom； smoking a
succession of cigars； and disparaging the appearance of the passers…
by。 After dinner he was driven by boredom into the streets。 His
chest puffed out like a pigeon's； and with something of a pigeon's
cold and inquiring eye； he strutted； annoyed at the frequency of
uniforms； which seemed to him both needless and offensive。 His
spleen rose at this crowd of foreigners； who spoke an unintelligible
language； wore hair on their faces； and smoked bad tobacco。 'A queer
lot！' he thought。 The sound of music from a cafe attracted him； he
walked in； vaguely moved by a wish for the distinction of adventure；
without the trouble which adventure usually brought with it； spurred
too； perhaps； by an after…dinner demon。 The cafe was the bier…halle
of the 'Fifties； with a door at either end； and lighted by a large
wooden lantern。 On a small dais three musicians were fiddling。
Solitary men； or groups； sat at some dozen tables； and the waiters
hurried about replenishing glasses； the air was thick with smoke。
Swithin sat down。 〃Wine！〃 he said sternly。 The astonished waiter
brought him wine。 Swithin pointed to a beer glass on the table。
〃Here！〃 he said； with the same ferocity。 The waiter poured out the
wine。 'Ah！' thought Swithin； 'they can understand if they like。' A
group of officers close by were laughing； Swithin stared at them
uneasily。 A hollow cough sounded almost in his ear。 To his left a
man sat reading； with his elbows on the corners of a journal； and his
gaunt shoulders raised almost to his eyes。 He had a thin； long nose；
broadening suddenly at the nostrils； a black…brown beard； spread in a
savage fan over his chest； what was visible of the face was the
colour of old parchment。 A strange； wild； haughty…looking creature！
Swithin observed his clothes with some displeasurethey were the
clothes of a journalist or strolling actor。 And yet he was
impressed。 This was singular。 How could he be impressed by a fellow
in such clothes！ The man reached out a hand； covered with black
hairs； and took up a tumbler that contained a dark…coloured fluid。
'Brandy！' thought Swithin。 The crash of a falling chair startled
himhis neighbour had risen。 He was of immense height； and very
thin； his great beard seemed to splash away from his mouth； he was
glaring at the group of officers； and speaking。 Swithin made out two
words： 〃Hunde！ Deutsche Hunde！〃 'Hounds！ Dutch hounds！' he thought：
'Rather strong！' One of the officers had jumped up； and now drew his
sword。 The tall man swung his chair up； and brought it down with a
thud。 Everybody round started up and closed on him。 The tall man
cried out； 〃To me； Magyars！〃
Swithin grinned。 The tall man fighting such odds excited his
unwilling admiration； he had a momentary impulse to go to his
assistance。 'Only get a broken nose！' he thought； and looked for a
safe corner。 But at that moment a thrown lemon struck him on the
jaw。 He jumped out of his chair and rushed at the officers。 The
Hungarian； swinging his chair； threw him a look of gratitudeSwithin
glowed with momentary admiration of himself。 A sword blade grazed
hisarm； he felt a sudden dislike of the Hungarian。 'This is too
much；' he thought； and； catching up a chair； flung it at the wooden
lantern。 There was a crashfaces and swords vanished。 He struck a
match； and by the light of it bolted for the door。 A second later he
was in the street。
II
A voice said in English； 〃God bless you； brother！〃
Swithin looked round； and saw the tall Hungarian holding out his
hand。 He took it； thinking； 'What a fool I've been！' There was
something in the Hungarian's gesture which said； 〃You are worthy of
me！'
It was annoying； but rather impressive。 The man seemed even taller
than before； there was a cut on his cheek； the blood from which was
trickling down his beard。 〃You English！〃 he said。 〃I saw you stone
HaynauI saw you cheer Kossuth。 The free blood of your people cries
out to us。〃 He looked at Swithin。 〃You are a big man； you have a
big souland strong； how you flung them down！ Ha！〃 Swithin had an
impulse to take to his heels。 〃My name；〃 said the Hungarian； 〃is
Boleskey。 You are my friend。〃 His English was good。
'Bulsh…kai…ee； Burlsh…kai…ee；' thought Swithin； 'what a devil of a
name！' 〃Mine；〃 he said sulkily； 〃is Forsyte。〃
The Hungarian repeated it。
〃You've had a nasty jab on the cheek；〃 said Swithin； the sight of the
matted beard was making him feel sick。 The Hungarian put his fingers
to his cheek； brought them away wet； stared at them； then with an
indifferent air gathered a wisp of his beard and crammed it against
the cut。
〃Ugh！〃 said Swithin。 〃Here！ Take my handkerchief！〃
The Hungarian bowed。 〃Thank you！〃 he said； 〃I couldn't think of it！
Thank you a thousand times！〃
〃Take it！〃 growled Swithin； it seemed to him suddenly of the first
importance。 He thrust the handkerchief into the Hungarian's hand；
and felt a pain in his arm。 'There！' he thought； 'I've strained a
muscle。'
The Hungarian kept muttering； regardless of passers…by； 〃Swine！ How
you threw them over！ Two or three cracked heads； anywaythe
cowardly swine！〃
〃Look here！〃 said Swithin suddenly； 〃which is my way to the Goldene
Alp？〃
The Hungarian replied； 〃But you are coming with me； for a glass of
wine？〃
Swithin looked at the ground。 'Not if I know it！' he thought。
〃Ah！〃 said the