The Titan [245]
pink marble chamber, with its birds and flowers, the serried brilliance of his amazing art-collections were all like him, were really the color of his soul. To think that after all she was not the one to bind him to subjection, to hold him by golden yet steely threads of fancy to the hem of her garment! To think that he should no longer walk, a slave of his desire, behind the chariot of her spiritual and physical superiority. Yet she could not give up.
By this time Cowperwood had managed through infinite tact and a stoic disregard of his own aches and pains to re-establish at least a temporary working arrangement with the Carter household. To Mrs. Carter he was still a Heaven-sent son of light. Actually in a mournful way she pleaded for Cowperwood, vouching for his disinterestedness and long-standing generosity. Berenice, on the other hand, was swept between her craving for a great state for herself--luxury, power--and her desire to conform to the current ethics and morals of life. Cowperwood was married, and because of his attitude of affection for her his money was tainted. She had long speculated on his relation to Aileen, the basis of their differences, had often wondered why neither she nor her mother had ever been introduced. What type of woman was the second Mrs. Cowperwood? Beyond generalities Cowperwood had never mentioned her. Berenice actually thought to seek her out in some inconspicuous way, but, as it chanced, one night her curiosity was rewarded without effort. She was at the opera with friends, and her escort nudged her arm.
"Have you noticed Box 9--the lady in white satin with the green lace shawl?"
"Yes." Berenice raised her glasses.
"Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, the wife of the Chicago millionaire. They have just built that house at 68th Street. He has part lease of number 9, I believe."
Berenice almost started, but retained her composure, giving merely an indifferent glance. A little while after, she adjusted her glasses carefully and studied Mrs. Cowperwood. She noted curiously that Aileen's hair was somewhat the color of her own--more carroty red. She studied her eyes, which were slightly ringed, her smooth cheeks and full mouth, thickened somewhat by drinking and dissipation. Aileen was good-looking, she thought--handsome in a material way, though so much older than herself. Was it merely age that was alienating Cowperwood, or was it some deep-seated intellectual difference? Obviously Mrs. Cowperwood was well over forty--a fact which did not give Berenice any sense of satisfaction or of advantage. She really did not care enough. It did occur to her, however, that this woman whom she was observing had probably given the best years of her life to Cowperwood--the brilliant years of her girlhood. And now he was tired of her! There were small carefully powdered lines at the tails of Aileen's eyes and at the corners of her mouth. At the same time she seemed preternaturally gay, kittenish, spoiled. With her were two men--one a well-known actor, sinisterly handsome, a man with a brutal, unclean reputation, the other a young social pretender--both unknown to Berenice. Her knowledge was to come from her escort, a loquacious youth, more or less versed, as it happened, in the gay life of the city.
"I hear that she is creating quite a stir in Bohemia," he observed. "If she expects to enter society it's a poor way to begin, don't you think?"
"Do you know that she expects to?"
"All the usual signs are out--a box here, a house on Fifth Avenue."
This study of Aileen puzzled and disturbed Berenice a little. Nevertheless, she felt immensely superior. Her soul seemed to soar over the plain Aileen inhabited. The type of the latter's escorts suggested error--a lack of social discrimination. Because of the high position he had succeeded in achieving Cowperwood was entitled, no doubt, to be dissatisfied. His wife had not kept pace with him, or, rather, had not eluded him in his onward flight --had not run swiftly before, like a winged victory. Berenice reflected that
By this time Cowperwood had managed through infinite tact and a stoic disregard of his own aches and pains to re-establish at least a temporary working arrangement with the Carter household. To Mrs. Carter he was still a Heaven-sent son of light. Actually in a mournful way she pleaded for Cowperwood, vouching for his disinterestedness and long-standing generosity. Berenice, on the other hand, was swept between her craving for a great state for herself--luxury, power--and her desire to conform to the current ethics and morals of life. Cowperwood was married, and because of his attitude of affection for her his money was tainted. She had long speculated on his relation to Aileen, the basis of their differences, had often wondered why neither she nor her mother had ever been introduced. What type of woman was the second Mrs. Cowperwood? Beyond generalities Cowperwood had never mentioned her. Berenice actually thought to seek her out in some inconspicuous way, but, as it chanced, one night her curiosity was rewarded without effort. She was at the opera with friends, and her escort nudged her arm.
"Have you noticed Box 9--the lady in white satin with the green lace shawl?"
"Yes." Berenice raised her glasses.
"Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, the wife of the Chicago millionaire. They have just built that house at 68th Street. He has part lease of number 9, I believe."
Berenice almost started, but retained her composure, giving merely an indifferent glance. A little while after, she adjusted her glasses carefully and studied Mrs. Cowperwood. She noted curiously that Aileen's hair was somewhat the color of her own--more carroty red. She studied her eyes, which were slightly ringed, her smooth cheeks and full mouth, thickened somewhat by drinking and dissipation. Aileen was good-looking, she thought--handsome in a material way, though so much older than herself. Was it merely age that was alienating Cowperwood, or was it some deep-seated intellectual difference? Obviously Mrs. Cowperwood was well over forty--a fact which did not give Berenice any sense of satisfaction or of advantage. She really did not care enough. It did occur to her, however, that this woman whom she was observing had probably given the best years of her life to Cowperwood--the brilliant years of her girlhood. And now he was tired of her! There were small carefully powdered lines at the tails of Aileen's eyes and at the corners of her mouth. At the same time she seemed preternaturally gay, kittenish, spoiled. With her were two men--one a well-known actor, sinisterly handsome, a man with a brutal, unclean reputation, the other a young social pretender--both unknown to Berenice. Her knowledge was to come from her escort, a loquacious youth, more or less versed, as it happened, in the gay life of the city.
"I hear that she is creating quite a stir in Bohemia," he observed. "If she expects to enter society it's a poor way to begin, don't you think?"
"Do you know that she expects to?"
"All the usual signs are out--a box here, a house on Fifth Avenue."
This study of Aileen puzzled and disturbed Berenice a little. Nevertheless, she felt immensely superior. Her soul seemed to soar over the plain Aileen inhabited. The type of the latter's escorts suggested error--a lack of social discrimination. Because of the high position he had succeeded in achieving Cowperwood was entitled, no doubt, to be dissatisfied. His wife had not kept pace with him, or, rather, had not eluded him in his onward flight --had not run swiftly before, like a winged victory. Berenice reflected that