{"product_id":"2940013684256","title":"Swan Song","description":"In Washington, District of Columbia, the \"Fall\" sun shone, and all\u003cbr\u003ethat was not evergreen or stone in Rock Creek Cemetery was glowing.\u003cbr\u003eBefore the Saint Gaudens statue Soames Forsyte sat on his overcoat,\u003cbr\u003ewith the marble screen to his back, enjoying the seclusion and a\u003cbr\u003estreak of sunlight passaging between the cypresses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith his daughter and her husband he had been up here already, the\u003cbr\u003eafternoon before, and had taken a fancy to the place.  Apart from\u003cbr\u003ethe general attraction of a cemetery, this statue awakened the\u003cbr\u003econnoisseur within him.  Though not a thing you could acquire, it\u003cbr\u003ewas undoubtedly a work of art, and produced a very marked effect.\u003cbr\u003eHe did not remember a statue that made him feel so thoroughly at\u003cbr\u003ehome.  That great greenish bronze figure of seated woman within the\u003cbr\u003ehooding folds of her ample cloak seemed to carry him down to the\u003cbr\u003ebottom of his own soul.  Yesterday, in the presence of Fleur,\u003cbr\u003eMichael, and other people, all gaping like himself, he had not so\u003cbr\u003emuch noted the mood of the thing as its technical excellence, but\u003cbr\u003enow, alone, he could enjoy the luxury of his own sensations.  Some\u003cbr\u003ecalled it \"Grief,\" some \"The Adams Memorial.\"  He didn't know, but\u003cbr\u003ein any case there it was, the best thing he had come across in\u003cbr\u003eAmerica, the one that gave him the most pleasure, in spite of all\u003cbr\u003ethe water he had seen at Niagara and those skyscrapers in New York.\u003cbr\u003eThree times he had changed his position on that crescent marble\u003cbr\u003eseat, varying his sensations every time.  From his present position\u003cbr\u003ethe woman had passed beyond grief.  She sat in a frozen acceptance\u003cbr\u003edeeper than death itself, very remarkable!  There was something\u003cbr\u003eabout death!  He remembered his own father, James, a quarter of an\u003cbr\u003ehour after death, as if--as if he had been told at last!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA red-oak leaf fell on to his lapel, another on to his knee; Soames\u003cbr\u003edid not brush them off.  Easy to sit still in front of that thing!\u003cbr\u003eThey ought to make America sit there once a week!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rose, crossed towards the statue, and gingerly touched a fold in\u003cbr\u003ethe green bronze, as if questioning the possibility of everlasting\u003cbr\u003enothingness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Got a sister living in Dallas--married a railroad man down there\u003cbr\u003eas a young girl.  Why!  Texas is a wonderful State.  I know my\u003cbr\u003esister laughs at the idea that the climate of Texas isn't about\u003cbr\u003eright.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoames withdrew his hand from the bronze, and returned to his seat.\u003cbr\u003eTwo tall thin elderly figures were entering the sanctuary.  They\u003cbr\u003emoved into the middle and stood silent.  Presently one said \"Well!\"\u003cbr\u003eand they moved out again at the other end.  A little stir of wind\u003cbr\u003efluttered some fallen leaves at the base of the statue.  Soames\u003cbr\u003eshifted along to the extreme left.  From there the statue was once\u003cbr\u003emore woman--very noble!  And he sat motionless in his attitude of a\u003cbr\u003ethinker, the lower part of his face buried in his hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eConsiderably browned and distinctly healthy-looking, he was\u003cbr\u003eaccustomed to regard himself as worn out by his long travel, which,\u003cbr\u003eafter encircling the world, would end, the day after tomorrow, by\u003cbr\u003eembarkation on the Adelphic.  This three-day run to Washington was\u003cbr\u003ethe last straw, and he was supporting it very well.  The city was\u003cbr\u003epleasing; it had some fine buildings and a great many trees with\u003cbr\u003ethe tints on; there wasn't the rush of New York, and plenty of\u003cbr\u003ehouses that people could live in, he should think.  Of course the\u003cbr\u003eplace was full of Americans, but that was unavoidable.  He was\u003cbr\u003ehappy about Fleur too; she had quite got over that unpleasant\u003cbr\u003eFerrar business, seemed on excellent terms with young Michael, and\u003cbr\u003ewas looking forward to her home and her baby again.  There was,\u003cbr\u003eindeed, in Soames a sense of culmination and of peace--a feeling of\u003cbr\u003evirtue having been its own reward, and beyond all, the thought that\u003cbr\u003ehe would soon be smelling English grass and seeing again the river\u003cbr\u003eflowing past his cows.  Annette, even, might be glad to see him--he\u003cbr\u003ehad bought her a really nice emerald bracelet in New York.  To such\u003cbr\u003egeneral satisfaction this statue of \"Grief\" was putting the\u003cbr\u003efinishing touch.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Here we are, Anne.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn English voice, and two young people at the far end--going to\u003cbr\u003echatter, he supposed!  He was preparing to rise when he heard the\u003cbr\u003egirl say, in a voice American, indeed, but soft and curiously\u003cbr\u003eprivate:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"John, it's terribly great.  It makes me sink here.\"  From the\u003cbr\u003egesture of her hand, Soames saw that it was where the thing had\u003cbr\u003emade HIM sink, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Everlasting stillness.  It makes me sad, John.\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47070242898160,"sku":"2940013684256","price":1.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013684256_p0.jpg?v=1763584340","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013684256","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}