the titan-第45节

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ue；　the　refinements　of　a　French　boudoir；　or　clothing　that　ran　the　gamut　of　the　dressmaker's　art；　hats　that　were　like　orchids　blooming　in　serried　rows？　In　vain；　in　vain！　Like　the　raven　that　perched　above　the　lintel　of　the　door；　sad　memory　was　here；　grave　in　her　widow　weeds；　crying　〃never　more。〃　Aileen　knew　that　the　sweet　illusion　which　had　bound　Cowperwood　to　her　for　a　time　had　gone　and　would　never　come　again。　　He　was　here。　　His　step　was　in　the　room　mornings　and　evenings；　at　night　for　long　prosaic；　uninterrupted　periods　she　could　hear　him　breathing　by　her　side；　his　hand　on　her　body。　　There　were　other　nights　when　he　was　not　therewhen　he　was　〃out　of　the　city〃and　she　resigned　herself　to　accept　his　excuses　at　their　face　value。　　Why　quarrel？　she　asked　herself。　　What　could　she　do？　She　was　waiting；　waiting；　but　for　what？

And　Cowperwood；　noting　the　strange；　unalterable　changes　which　time　works　in　us　all；　the　inward　lap　of　the　marks　of　age；　the　fluted　recession　of　that　splendor　and　radiance　which　is　youth；　sighed　at　times　perhaps；　but　turned　his　face　to　that　dawn　which　is　forever　breaking　where　youth　is。　　Not　for　him　that　poetic　loyalty　which　substitutes　for　the　perfection　of　young　love　its　memories；　or　takes　for　the　glitter　of　passion　and　desire　that　once　was　the　happy　thoughts　of　companionshipthe　crystal　memories　that　like　early　dews　congealed　remain　beaded　recollections　to　comfort　or　torture　for　the　end　of　former　joys。　　On　the　contrary；　after　the　vanishing　of　Rita　Sohlberg；　with　all　that　she　meant　in　the　way　of　a　delicate　insouciance　which　Aileen　had　never　known；　his　temperament　ached；　for　he　must　have　something　like　that。　　Truth　to　say；　he　must　always　have　youth；　the　illusion　of　beauty；　vanity　in　womanhood；　the　novelty　of　a　new；　untested　temperament；　quite　as　he　must　have　pictures；　old　porcelain；　music；　a　mansion；　illuminated　missals；　power；　the　applause　of　the　great；　unthinking　world。

As　has　been　said；　this　promiscuous　attitude　on　Cowperwood's　part　was　the　natural　flowering　out　of　a　temperament　that　was　chronically　promiscuous；　intellectually　uncertain；　and　philosophically　anarchistic。　　From　one　point　of　view　it　might　have　been　said　of　him　that　he　was　seeking　the　realization　of　an　ideal；　yet　to　one's　amazement　our　very　ideals　change　at　times　and　leave　us　floundering　in　the　dark。　　What　is　an　ideal；　anyhow？　A　wraith；　a　mist；　a　perfume　in　the　wind；　a　dream　of　fair　water。　　The　soul…yearning　of　a　girl　like　Antoinette　Nowak　was　a　little　too　strained　for　him。　　It　was　too　ardent；　too　clinging；　and　he　had　gradually　extricated　himself；　not　without　difficulty；　from　that　particular　entanglement。　　Since　then　he　had　been　intimate　with　other　women　for　brief　periods；　but　to　no　great　satisfactionDorothy　Ormsby；　Jessie　Belle　Hinsdale；　Toma　Lewis；　Hilda　Jewell；　but　they　shall　be　names　merely。　　One　was　an　actress；　one　a　stenographer；　one　the　daughter　of　one　of　his　stock　patrons；　one　a　church…worker；　a　solicitor　for　charity　coming　to　him　to　seek　help　for　an　orphan's　home。　　It　was　a　pathetic　mess　at　times；　but　so　are　all　defiant　variations　from　the　accustomed　drift　of　things。　　In　the　hardy　language　of　Napoleon；　one　cannot　make　an　omelette　without　cracking　a　number　of　eggs。

The　coming　of　Stephanie　Platow；　Russian　Jewess　on　one　side　of　her　family；　Southwestern　American　on　the　other；　was　an　event　in　Cowperwood's　life。　　She　was　tall；　graceful；　brilliant；　young；　with　much　of　the　optimism　of　Rita　Sohlberg；　and　yet　endowed　with　a　strange　fatalism　which；　once　he　knew　her　better；　touched　and　moved　him。　　He　met　her　on　shipboard　on　the　way　to　Goteborg。　　Her　father；　Isadore　Platow；　was　a　wealthy　furrier　of　Chicago。　　He　was　a　large；　meaty；　oily　type　of　mana　kind　of　ambling；　gelatinous　formula　of　the　male；　with　the　usual　sound　commercial　instincts　of　the　Jew；　but　with　an　errant　philosophy　which　led　him　to　believe　first　one　thing　and　then　another　so　long　as　neither　interfered　definitely　with　his　business。　　He　was　an　admirer　of　Henry　George　and　of　so　altruistic　a　programme　as　that　of　Robert　Owen；　and；　also；　in　his　way；　a　social　snob。　　And　yet　he　had　married　Susetta　Osborn；　a　Texas　girl　who　was　once　his　bookkeeper。　　Mrs。　Platow　was　lithe；　amiable；　subtle；　with　an　eye　always　to　the　main　social　chancein　other　words；　a　climber。　　She　was　shrewd　enough　to　realize　that　a　knowledge　of　books　and　art　and　current　events　was　essential；　and　so　she　〃went　in〃　for　these　things。

It　is　curious　how　the　temperaments　of　parents　blend　and　revivify　in　their　children。　　As　Stephanie　grew　up　she　had　repeated　in　her　very　differing　body　some　of　her　father's　and　mother's　characteristics　an　interesting　variability　of　soul。　　She　was　tall；　dark；　sallow；　lithe；　with　a　strange　moodiness　of　heart　and　a　recessive；　fulgurous　gleam　in　her　chestnut…brown；　almost　brownish…black　eyes。　　She　had　a　full；　sensuous；　Cupid's　mouth；　a　dreamy　and　even　languishing　expression；　a　graceful　neck；　and　a　heavy；　dark；　and　yet　pleasingly　modeled　face。　　From　both　her　father　and　mother　she　had　inherited　a　penchant　for　art；　literature；　philosophy；　and　music。　　Already　at　eighteen　she　was　dreaming　of　painting；　singing；　writing　poetry；　writing　books；　actinganything　and　everything。　　Serene　in　her　own　judgment　of　what　was　worth　while；　she　was　like　to　lay　stress　on　any　silly　mood　or　fad；　thinking　it　exquisitethe　last　word。　Finally；　she　was　a　rank　voluptuary；　dreaming　dreams　of　passionate　union　with　first　one　and　then　another　type　of　artist；　poet；　musicianthe　whole　gamut　of　the　artistic　and　emotional　world。

Cowperwood　first　saw　her　on　board　the　Centurion　one　June　morning；　as　the　ship　lay　at　dock　in　New　York。　　He　and　Aileen　were　en　route　for　Norway；　she　and　her　father　and　mother　for　Denmark　and　Switzerland。　She　was　hanging　over　the　starboard　rail　looking　at　a　flock　of　wide…winged　gulls　which　were　besieging　the　port　of　the　cook's　galley。　　She　was　musing　soulfullyconscious　（fully）　that　she　was　musing　soulfully。　　He　paid　very　little　attention　to　her；　except　to　note　that　she　was　tall；　rhythmic；　and　that　a　dark…gray　plaid　dress；　and　an　immense　veil　of　gray　silk　wound　about　her　shoulders　and　waist　and　over　one　arm；　after　the　manner　of　a　Hindu　shawl；　appeared　to　become　her　much。　　Her　face　seemed　very　sallow；　and　her　eyes　ringed　as　if　indicating　dyspepsia。　　Her　black　hair　under　a　chic　hat　did　not　escape　his　critical　eye。　　Later　she　and　her　father　appeared　at　the　captain's　table；　to　which　the　Cowperwoods　had　also　been　invited。

Cowperwood　and　Aileen　did　not　know　how　to　take　this　girl；　though　she　interested　them　both。　　They　little　suspected　the　chameleon　character　of　her　soul。　　She　was　an　artist；　and　as　formless　and　unstable　as　water。　　It　was　a　mere　passing　gloom　that　possessed　her。　　Cowperwood　liked　the　semi…Jewish　cast　of　her　face；　a　certain　fullness　of　the　neck；　her　dark；　sleepy　eyes。　　But　she　was　much　too　young　and　nebulous；　he　thought；　and　he　let　her　pass。　　On　this　trip；　which　endured　for　ten　days；　he　saw　much　of　her；　in　different　moods；　walking　with　a　young　Jew　in　whom　she　seemed　greatly　interested；　playing　at　shuffleboard；　reading　solemnly　in　a　corner　out　of　the　reach　of　the　wind　or　spray；　and　usually　looking　naive；　preternaturally　innocent；　remote；　dreamy。　　At　other　times　she　seemed　possessed　of　a　wild　animation；　her　eyes　alight；　her　expression　vigorous；　an　intense　glow　in　her　soul。　　Once　he　saw　her　bent　over　a　small　wood　block；　cutting　a　book…plate　with　a　thin　steel　graving　tool。

Because　of　Stephanie's　youth　and　seeming　unimportance；　her　lack　of　what　might　be　called　compelling　rosy　charm；　Aileen　had　become　reasonably　friendly　with　the　girl。　　Far　subtler；　even　at　her　years；　than　Aileen；　Stephanie　gathered　a　very　good　impression　of　the　former；　of　her　mental　girth；　and　how　to　take　her。　　She　made　friends　with　her；　made　a　book…plate　for　her；　made　a　sketch　of　her。　　She　confided　to　Aileen　that　in　her　own　mind　she　was　destined　for　the　stage；　if　her　parents　would　permit；　and　Aileen　invited　her　to　see　her　husband's　pictures　on　their　return。　　She　little　knew　how　much　of　a　part　Stephanie　would　play　in　Cowperwood's　life。

The　Cowperwoods；　having　been　put　down　at　Goteborg；　saw　no　more　of　the　Platows　until　late　October。　　Then　Aileen；　being　lonely；　called　to　see　Stephanie；　and　occasionally　thereafter　Stephanie　came　over　to　the　South　Side　to　see　the　Cowperwoods。　　She　liked　to　roam　about　their　house；　to　dream　meditatively　in　some　nook　of　the　rich　interior；　with　a　book　for　company。　　She　liked　Cowperwood's　pictures；　his　jades；　his　missals；　his　ancient　radiant　glass。　　From　talking　with　Aileen　she　realized　that　the　latter　had　no　real　love　for　these　things；　that　her　expressions　of　interest　and　pleasure　were　pure　make…believe；　based　on　their　value　as　possessions。　　For　Stephanie　herself　certain　of　the　illuminated　books　and　bits　of　glass　had　a　heavy；　sensuous　appeal；　which　only　the　truly　artistic　can　understand。　They　unlocked　dark　dream　moods　and　pageants　for　her。　　She　responded　to　them；　lingered　over　them；　experienced　strange　moods　from　them　as　from　the　orchestrated　richness　of　music。

And　in　doing　so　she　thought　of　Cowperwood　often。　　Did　he　really　like　these　things；　or　was　he　just　buying　them　to　be　buying　them？　She　had　heard　much　of　the　pseudo　artisticthe　people　who　made　a　show　of　art。　　She　recalled　Cowperwood　as　he　walked　the　deck　of　the　Centurion。