the titan-第25节
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was doing or was going to do。 When Ella saw him； and saw that he was still young…looking； with the love of beauty in his eyes and a force of presence which was not at all hard where she was concerned； she was charmed； and when Aileen was not looking her glance kept constantly wandering to his with a laughing signification of friendship and admiration。 It was the most natural thing in the world for him to say to her； when they had adjourned to the drawing…room； that if she were in the neighborhood of his office some day she might care to look in on him。 The look he gave her was one of keen understanding； and brought a look of its own kind； warm and flushing； in return。 She came； and there began a rather short liaison。 It was interesting but not brilliant。 The girl did not have sufficient temperament to bind him beyond a period of rather idle investigation。
There was still； for a little while； another woman； whom he had knowna Mrs。 Josephine Ledwell； a smart widow； who came primarily to gamble on the Board of Trade； but who began to see at once； on introduction； the charm of a flirtation with Cowperwood。 She was a woman not unlike Aileen in type； a little older； not so good…looking； and of a harder； more subtle commercial type of mind。 She rather interested Cowperwood because she was so trig； self…sufficient； and careful。 She did her best to lure him on to a liaison with her； which finally resulted； her apartment on the North Side being the center of this relationship。 It lasted perhaps six weeks。 Through it all he was quite satisfied that he did not like her so very well。 Any one who associated with him had Aileen's present attractiveness to contend with； as well as the original charm of his first wife。 It was no easy matter。
It was during this period of social dullness； however； which somewhat resembled； though it did not exactly parallel his first years with his first wife； that Cowperwood finally met a woman who was destined to leave a marked impression on his life。 He could not soon forget her。 Her name was Rita Sohlberg。 She was the wife of Harold Sohlberg； a Danish violinist who was then living in Chicago； a very young man； but she was not a Dane； and he was by no means a remarkable violinist； though he had unquestionably the musical temperament。
You have perhaps seen the would…be's； the nearly's； the pretenders in every fieldinteresting people alldevoted with a kind of mad enthusiasm to the thing they wish to do。 They manifest in some ways all the externals or earmarks of their professional traditions； and yet are as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals。 You would have had to know Harold Sohlberg only a little while to appreciate that he belonged to this order of artists。 He had a wild； stormy； November eye； a wealth of loose； brownish…black hair combed upward from the temples； with one lock straggling Napoleonically down toward the eyes； cheeks that had almost a babyish tint to them； lips much too rich； red； and sensuous； a nose that was fine and large and full； but only faintly aquiline； and eyebrows and mustache that somehow seemed to flare quite like his errant and foolish soul。 He had been sent away from Denmark （Copenhagen） because he had been a never…do…well up to twenty…five and because he was constantly falling in love with women who would not have anything to do with him。 Here in Chicago as a teacher； with his small pension of forty dollars a month sent him by his mother； he had gained a few pupils； and by practising a kind of erratic economy； which kept him well dressed or hungry by turns； he had managed to make an interesting showing and pull himself through。 He was only twenty…eight at the time he met Rita Greenough； of Wichita； Kansas； and at the time they met Cowperwood Harold was thirty…four and she twenty…seven。
She had been a student at the Chicago Fine Arts School； and at various student affairs had encountered Harold when he seemed to play divinely； and when life was all romance and art。 Given the spring； the sunshine on the lake； white sails of ships； a few walks and talks on pensive afternoons when the city swam in a golden haze； and the thing was done。 There was a sudden Saturday afternoon marriage； a runaway day to Milwaukee； a return to the studio now to be fitted out for two； and then kisses； kisses； kisses until love was satisfied or eased。
But life cannot exist on that diet alone； and so by degrees the difficulties had begun to manifest themselves。 Fortunately； the latter were not allied with sharp financial want。 Rita was not poor。 Her father conducted a small but profitable grain elevator at Wichita； and； after her sudden marriage； decided to continue her allowance； though this whole idea of art and music in its upper reaches was to him a strange； far…off； uncertain thing。 A thin； meticulous； genial person interested in small trade opportunities； and exactly suited to the rather sparse social life of Wichita； he found Harold as curious as a bomb； and preferred to handle him gingerly。 Gradually； however； being a very human if simple person； he came to be very proud of itboasted in Wichita of Rita and her artist husband； invited them home to astound the neighbors during the summer…time； and the fall brought his almost farmer…like wife on to see them and to enjoy trips； sight…seeing； studio teas。 It was amusing； typically American； naive； almost impossible from many points of view。
Rita Sohlberg was of the semi…phlegmatic type； soft； full…blooded； with a body that was going to be fat at forty； but which at present was deliciously alluring。 Having soft； silky； light…brown hair； the color of light dust； and moist gray…blue eyes； with a fair skin and even； white teeth； she was flatteringly self…conscious of her charms。 She pretended in a gay； childlike way to be unconscious of the thrill she sent through many susceptible males； and yet she knew well enough all the while what she was doing and how she was doing it； it pleased her so to do。 She was conscious of the wonder of her smooth； soft arms and neck； the fullness and seductiveness of her body； the grace and perfection of her clothing； or； at least； the individuality and taste which she made them indicate。 She could take an old straw…hat form； a ribbon； a feather； or a rose； and with an innate artistry of feeling turn it into a bit of millinery which somehow was just the effective thing for her。 She chose naive combinations of white and blues； pinks and white； browns and pale yellows； which somehow suggested her own soul； and topped them with great sashes of silky brown （or even red） ribbon tied about her waist； and large； soft…brimmed； face…haloing hats。 She was a graceful dancer； could sing a little； could play feelingly sometimes brilliantlyand could draw。 Her art was a makeshift； however； she was no artist。 The most significant thing about her was her moods and her thoughts； which were uncertain； casual； anarchic。 Rita Sohlberg； from the conventional point of view； was a dangerous person； and yet from her own point of view at this time she was not so at alljust dreamy and sweet。
A part of the peculiarity of her state was that Sohlberg had begun to disappoint Ritasorely。 Truth to tell； he was suffering from that most terrible of all maladies； uncertainty of soul and inability to truly find himself。 At times he was not sure whether he was cut out to be a great violinist or a great composer； or merely a great teacher； which last he was never willing really to admit。 〃I am an arteest；〃 he was fond of saying。 〃Ho； how I suffer from my temperament！〃 And again： 〃These dogs！ These cows！ These pigs！〃 This of other people。 The quality of his playing was exceedingly erratic； even though at times it attained to a kind of subtlety； tenderness； awareness； and charm which brought him some attention。 As a rule； however； it reflected the chaotic state of his own brain。 He would play violently； feverishly； with a wild passionateness of gesture which robbed him of all ability to control his own technic。
〃Oh； Harold！〃 Rita used to exclaim at first； ecstatically。 Later she was not so sure。
Life and character must really get somewhere to be admirable； and Harold； really and truly； did not seem to be getting anywhere。 He taught； stormed； dreamed； wept； but he ate his three meals a day； Rita noticed； and he took an excited interest at times in other women。 To be the be…all and end…all of some one man's life was the least that Rita could conceive or concede as the worth of her personality； and so； as the years went on and Harold began to be unfaithful； first in moods； transports； then in deeds； her mood became dangerous。 She counted them upa girl music pupil； then an art student； then the wife of a banker at whose house Harold played socially。 There followed strange； sullen moods on the part of Rita； visits home； groveling repentances on the part of Harold； tears； violent； passionate reunions； and then the same thing over again。 What would you？
Rita was not jealous of Harold any more； she had lost faith in his ability as a musician。 But she was disappointed that her charms were not sufficient to blind him to all others。 That was the fly in the ointment。 It was an affront to her beauty； and she was
