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diff --git a/25542.txt b/25542.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d19208 --- /dev/null +++ b/25542.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13581 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Black Oxen, by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Black Oxen + + +Author: Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton + + + +Release Date: May 20, 2008 [eBook #25542] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK OXEN*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 25542-h.htm or 25542-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/5/4/25542/25542-h/25542-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/5/4/25542/25542-h.zip) + + +Transcriber's note: + + Extensive research found no evidence that the U.S. copyright + on this publication was renewed. + + + + + +BLACK OXEN + +by + +GERTRUDE ATHERTON + +Author of +"_Sisters-in-Law_" + + + The years like Great Black Oxen tread the world + And God the herdsman goads them on behind. + --_W. B. Yeats._ + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Their tete-e-tete ended, Clavering (Conway Tearle) was +about to make his departure when Judge Trent (Tom Guise), who held +buried in his mind the secret of the charming Madame Zattiany's +(Corinne Griffith), entered. (_Screen version of "The Black Oxen."_)] + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers -------- New York +Published by arrangement with Boni and Liveright + +Printed in U. S. A. + +Copyright, 1923, by +Gertrude Atherton + +Printed in the United States of America + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Their tete-e-tete ended, Clavering (Conway Tearle) was about to make +his departure when Judge Trent (Tom Guise), who held buried in his mind +the secret of the charming Madame Zattiany's (Corinne Griffith), +entered. (_Screen version of "The Black Oxen."_) . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +Returning home one night Clavering (Conway Tearle) found Janet +Oglethorpe (Clara Bow), daughter of his old friend, in a +semi-intoxicated condition. (_Screen version of "The Black Oxen."_) + +It took a lot of self possession and grit for Zattiany (Corinne +Griffith) and Clavering (Conway Tearle) to hide their feelings when she +alighted to go to the ship which was to return her to Europe. (_Screen +version of "The Black Oxen."_) + +At Dinwiddie's mountain lodge Clavering (Conway Tearle) pleaded with +Madame Zattiany (Corrine Griffith) to marry him. (_Screen version of +"The Black Oxen."_) + + + + +BLACK OXEN + + +I + +"Talk. Talk. Talk. . . . Good lines and no action . . . said +all . . . not even promising first act . . . eighth failure and season +more than half over . . . rather be a playwright and fail than a critic +compelled to listen to has-beens and would-bes trying to put over bad +plays. . . . Oh, for just one more great first-night . . . if there's +a spirit world why don't the ghosts of dead artists get together and +inhibit bad playwrights from tormenting first-nighters? . . . Astral +board of Immortals sitting in Unconscious tweaking strings until +gobbets and sclerotics become gibbering idiots every time they put pen +to paper? . . . Fewer first-nights but more joy . . . also joy of +sending producers back to cigar stands. . . . Thank God, no longer a +critic . . . don't need to come to first-nights unless I want . . . +can't keep away . . . habit too strong . . . poor devil of a colyumist +must forage . . . why did I become a columnist? More money. Money! +And I once a rubescent socialist . . . best parlor type . . . Lord! I +wish some one would die and leave me a million!" + +Clavering opened his weary eyes and glanced over the darkened +auditorium, visualizing a mass of bored resentful disks: a few hopeful, +perhaps, the greater number too educated in the theatre not to have +recognized the heavy note of incompetence that had boomed like a +muffled fog-horn since the rise of the curtain. + +It was a typical first-night audience, assembled to welcome a favorite +actress in a new play. All the Sophisticates (as Clavering had named +them, abandoning "Intellectuals" and "Intelligentsia" to the Parlor +Socialists) were present: authors, playwrights, editors and young +editors, columnists, dramatic critics, young publishers, the +fashionable illustrators and cartoonists, a few actors, artists, +sculptors, hostesses of the eminent, and a sprinkling of Greenwich +Village to give a touch of old Bohemia to what was otherwise almost as +brilliant and standardized as a Monday night at the opera. Twelve +years ago, Clavering, impelled irresistibly from a dilapidated colonial +mansion in Louisiana to the cerebrum of the Western World, had arrived +in New York; and run the usual gamut of the high-powered man from +reporter to special writer, although youth rose to eminence less +rapidly then than now. Dramatic critic of his newspaper for three +years (two years at the war), an envied, quoted and omniscient +columnist since his return from France. Journalistically he could rise +no higher, and none of the frequent distinguished parties given by the +Sophisticates was complete without the long lounging body and saturnine +countenance of Mr. Lee Clavering. As soon as he had set foot upon the +ladder of prominence Mr. Clavering had realized the value of +dramatizing himself, and although he was as active of body as of mind +and of an amiable and genial disposition, as his friends sometimes +angrily protested, his world, that world of increasing importance in +New York, knew him as a cynical, morose, mysterious creature, who, at a +party, transferred himself from one woman's side to another's by sheer +effort of will spurred by boredom. The unmarried women had given him +up as a confirmed bachelor, but a few still followed his dark face with +longing eyes. (He sometimes wondered what role he would have adopted +if he had been a blond.) As a matter of fact, he was intensely +romantic, even after ten years of newspaper work in New York and two of +war; and when his steel-blue half-closed eyes roved over a gathering at +the moment of entrance it was with the evergreen hope of discovering +the consummate woman. + +There was no affectation in his idealistic fastidiousness. Nor, of +late, in his general boredom. Not that he did not still like his work, +or possibly pontificating every morning over his famous name to an +admiring public, but he was tired of "the crowd," the same old faces, +tired of the steady grind, of bad plays--he, who had such a passionate +love of the drama--somewhat tired of himself. He would have liked to +tramp the world for a year. But although he had money enough saved he +dared not drop out of New York. One was forgotten overnight, and +fashions, especially since the war, changed so quickly and yet so +subtly that he might be another year readjusting himself on his return. +Or find himself supplanted by some man younger than himself whose +cursed audacity and dramatized youthfulness would have accustomed the +facile public to some new brand of pap flavored with red pepper. The +world was marching to the tune of youth, damn it (Mr. Clavering was +beginning to feel elderly at thirty-four), but it was hard to shake out +the entrenched. He had his public hypnotized. He could sell ten +copies of a book where a reviewer could sell one. His word on a play +was final--or almost. Personal mention of any of the Sophisticates +added a cubit to reputation. Three mentions made them household words. +Neglect caused agonies and visions of extinction. Disparagement was +preferable. By publicity shall ye know them. Even public men with +rhinocerene hides had been seen to shiver. Cause women courted him. +Prize fighters on the dour morn after a triumphant night had howled +between fury and tears as Mr. Lee Clavering (once crack reporter of the +gentle art) wrote sadly of greater warriors. Lenin had mentioned him +as an enemy of the new religion, who dealt not with the truth. Until +he grew dull--no grinning skeleton as yet--his public, after hasty or +solemn digestion of the news, would turn over to his column with a sigh +of relief. But he must hang on, no doubt of that. Fatal to give the +public even a hint that it might learn to do without him. + +He sighed and closed his eyes again. It was not unpleasant to feel +himself a slave, a slave who had forged his own gilded chains. But he +sighed again for his lost simplicities, for his day-dreams under the +magnolias when he had believed that if women of his class were not +obliged to do their own housework they would all be young and beautiful +and talk only of romance; when he had thought upon the intellectual +woman and the woman who "did things" as an anomaly and a horror. Well, +the reality was more companionable, he would say that for them. . . . +Then he grinned as he recalled the days of his passionate socialism, +when he had taken pains, like every socialist he had ever met, to let +it be understood that he had been born in the best society. Well, so +he had, and he was glad of it, even if the best society of his small +southern town had little to live on but its vanished past. He never +alluded to his distinguished ancestry now that he was eminent and +comfortable, and he looked back with uneasy scorn upon his former +breaches of taste, but he never quite forgot it. No Southerner ever +does. + +The play droned on to the end of the interminable first act. Talk. +Talk. Talk. He'd go to sleep, but would be sure to get a crick in his +neck. Then he remembered a woman who had come down the aisle just as +the lights were lowering and passed his seat. He had not seen her +face, but her graceful figure had attracted his attention, and the +peculiar shade of her hair: the color of warm ashes. There was no +woman of his acquaintance with that rare shade of blonde hair. + +He opened his eyes. She was sitting two seats ahead of him and the +lights of the stage gave a faint halo to a small well-shaped head +defined by the low coil of hair. She had a long throat apparently, but +although she had dropped her wrap over the back of the seat he had no +more than a glimpse of a white neck and a suggestion of sloping +shoulders. Rather rare those, nowadays. They reminded him, together +with the haughty poise of the head, of the family portraits in the old +gallery at home. Being dark himself, he admired fair women, although +since they had taken to bobbing their hair they looked as much alike as +magazine covers. This woman wore her hair in no particular fashion. +It was soft and abundant, brushed back from her face, and drawn merely +over the tips of the ears. At least so he inferred. He had not seen +even her profile as she passed. Profiles were out of date, but in an +old-fashioned corner of his soul he admired them, and he was idly +convinced that a woman with so perfectly shaped a head, long and +narrow, but not too narrow, must have a profile. Probably her full +face would not be so attractive. Women with _cendre_ hair generally +had light brows and lashes, and her eyes might be a washed-out blue. +Or prominent. Or her mouth too small. He would bet on the profile, +however, and instead of rushing out when that blessed curtain went down +he would wait and look for it. + +Then he closed his eyes again and forgot her until he was roused by the +clapping of many hands. First-nighters always applaud, no matter how +perfunctorily. Noblesse oblige. But the difference between the +applause of the bored but loyal and that of the enchanted and quickened +is as the difference between a rising breeze and a hurricane. + +The actors bowed en masse, in threes, in twos, singly. The curtain +descended, the lights rose, the audience heaved. Men hurried up the +aisle and climbed over patient women. People began to visit. And then +the woman two seats ahead of Clavering did a singular thing. + +She rose slowly to her feet, turned her back to the stage, raised her +opera glasses and leisurely surveyed the audience. + +"I knew it!" Clavering's tongue clicked. "European. No American +woman ever did that--unless, to be sure, she has lived too long abroad +to remember our customs." + +He gazed at her eagerly, and felt a slight sensation of annoyance that +the entire house was following his example. The opera glasses +concealed her eyes, but they rested upon the bridge of an indubitably +straight nose. Her forehead was perhaps too high, but it was full, and +the thick hair was brushed back from a sharp point. Her eyebrows, +thank Heaven, were many shades darker than her hair. They were also +narrow and glossy. Decidedly they received attention. Possibly they +were plucked and darkened--life had made him skeptical of "points." +However, Clavering was no lover of unamended nature, holding nature, +except in rare moments of inspiration, a bungler of the first water. + +In spite of its smooth white skin and rounded contours above an +undamaged throat, it was, subtly, not a young face. The mouth, rather +large, although fresh and red (possibly they had lip sticks in Europe +that approximated nature) had none of the girl's soft flexibility. It +was full in the center and the red of the underlip was more than a +visible line, but it was straight at the corners, ending in an almost +abrupt sternness. Once she smiled, but it was little more than an +amused flicker; the mouth did not relax. The shape of the face bore +out the promise of the head, but deflected from its oval at the chin, +which was almost square, and indented. The figure was very slight, but +as subtly mature as the face, possibly because she held it +uncompromisingly erect; apparently she had made no concession to the +democratic absence of "carriage," the indifferent almost apologetic +mien that had succeeded the limp curves of a few years ago. + +She wore a dress of white jet made with the long lines of the present +fashion--in dress she was evidently a stickler. The neck was cut in a +low square, showing the rise of the bust. Her own lines were long, the +arms and hands very slender in the long white gloves. Probably she was +the only woman in the house who wore gloves. Life was freer since the +war. She wore a triple string of pearls. + +He waited eagerly until she should drop her glasses. . . . He heard +two girls gasping and muttering behind him. . . . There was a titter +across the house. + +She lowered the opera glasses and glanced over the rows of upturned +faces immediately before her, scrutinizing them casually, as if they +were fish in an aquarium. She had dropped her lids slightly before her +eyes came to rest on Clavering. He was leaning forward, his eyes hard +and focal, doing his best to compel her notice. Her glance did linger +on his for a moment before it moved on indifferently, but in that brief +interval he experienced a curious ripple along his nerves . . . almost +a note of warning. . . . They were very dark gray eyes, Greek in the +curve of the lid, and inconceivably wise, cold, disillusioned. She did +not look a day over twenty-eight. There were no marks of dissipation +on her face. But for its cold regularity she would have looked +younger--with her eyes closed. The eyes seemed to gaze down out of an +infinitely remote past. + +Suddenly she seemed to sense the concentrated attention of the +audience. She swept it with a hasty glance, evidently appreciated the +fact that she alone was standing and facing it, colored slightly and +sat down. But her repose was absolute. She made no little embarrassed +gestures as another woman would have done. She did not even affect to +read her program. + + + + +II + +Clavering left his chair and wandered up the aisle. He felt none of +his usual impatience for the beneficent cigarette. Was he hit? +Hardly. Inquisitive, certainly. But he had seen so many provocative +shells. Vile trick of nature, that--poverty-stricken unoriginal +creature that she was. + +He glanced over the rows of people as he passed. It was not the play +that was animating them. The woman was a godsend. + +His gaze paused abruptly on the face of Mr. Charles Dinwiddie. +Clavering's grand-aunt had married Mr. Dinwiddie's father and the two +men, so far apart in years, were more or less intimate; the older man's +inexhaustible gossip of New York Society amused Clavering, who in turn +had initiated Mr. Dinwiddie into new and strange pleasures, including +literary parties and first nights--ignored by the world of fashion. + +All New York men of the old regime, no matter what their individuality +may have been twenty years earlier, look so much alike as they approach +sixty, and more particularly after they have passed it, that they might +be brothers in blood as in caste. Their moustaches and what little +hair they have left turns the same shade of well-bred white. Their +fine old Nordic faces are generally lean and flat of cheek, their +expression calm, assured, not always smug. They are impeccably groomed +and erect. Stout they may be, but seldom fat, and if not always +handsome, they are polished, distinguished, aloof. They no longer wear +side-whiskers and look younger than their fathers did at the same age. + +Mr. Dinwiddie's countenance as a rule was as formal and politely +expressionless as became his dignified status, but tonight it was not. +It was pallid. The rather prominent eyes were staring, the mouth was +relaxed. He was seated next the aisle and Clavering hastened toward +him in alarm. + +"Ill, old chap?" he asked. "Better come out." + +Mr. Dinwiddie focussed his eyes, then stumbled to his feet and caught +Clavering by the arm. "Yes," he muttered. "Get me out of this and +take me where I can get a drink. Seen a ghost." + +Clavering guided him up the aisle, then out of a side exit into an +alley and produced a flask from his hip-pocket. Mr. Dinwiddie without +ceremony raised it to his lips and swallowed twice, gasping a little. +He had reached the age of the mild whiskey and soda. Then he stood +erect and passed his hand over the shining curve of his head. + +"Ever seen a ghost, Lee?" he asked. "That woman was there, wasn't she?" + +"She was there, all right." Clavering's face was no longer cynical and +mysterious; it was alive with curiosity. "D'you know who she is?" + +"Thirty-odd years ago any one of us old chaps would have told you she +was Mary Ogden, and like as not raised his hat. She was the beauty and +the belle of her day. But she married a Hungarian diplomat, Count +Zattiany, when she was twenty-four, and deserted us. Never been in the +country since. I never wanted to see her again. Too hard hit. But I +caught a glimpse of her at the opera in Paris about ten years +ago--faded! Always striking of course with that style, but withered, +changed, skinny where she had been slim, her throat concealed by a dog +collar a yard long--her expression sad and apathetic--the dethroned +idol of men. God! Mary Ogden! I left the house." + +"It is her daughter, of course----" + +"Never had a child--positive of it. Zattiany title went to a nephew +who was killed in the war. . . . No . . . it must be . . . must +be . . ." His eyes began to glitter. Clavering knew the symptom. His +relative was about to impart interesting gossip. + +"Well?" he asked impatiently. + +"There were many stories about Mary Ogden--Mary Zattiany--always a +notable figure in the capitals of Europe. Her husband was in the +diplomatic service until he died--some years before I saw her in Paris. +She was far too clever--damnably clever, Mary Ogden, and had a +reputation for it in European Society as well as for beauty--to get +herself compromised. But there were stories--that must be it! She had +a daughter and stowed her away somewhere. No two women could be as +alike as that except mother and daughter--don't see it too often at +that. Why, the very way she carries her head--her _style_ . . . wonder +where she kept her? That girl has been educated and has all the air of +the best society. Must have got friends to adopt her. Gad! What a +secret chapter. But why on earth does she let the girl run round +loose?" + +"I shouldn't say she was a day under twenty-eight. No doubt she looked +younger from where you were sitting." + +"Twenty-eight! Mary must have begun sooner than we heard. But--well, +we never felt that we knew Mary--that was one of her charms. She kept +us guessing, as you young fellows say, and she had the devil's own +light in her eyes sometimes." His own orb lit up again. "Wonder if +Mary is here? No doubt she's come over to get her property back--she +never transferred her investments and of course it was alienated during +the war. But not a soul has heard from her. I am sure of that. We +were discussing her the other night at dinner and wondering if her +fortune had been turned over. It was at Jane Oglethorpe's. Jane and a +good many of the other women have seen her from time to time +abroad--stayed at her castle in Hungary during the first years of her +marriage; but they drifted apart as friends do. . . . She must be a +wreck, poor thing. She ran a hospital during the war and was in Buda +Pesth for some time after the revolution broke out. I hope she had the +girl well hidden away." + +"Perhaps she sent the girl over to look after her affairs." + +"That's it. Beyond a doubt. And I'll find out. Trent is Mary's +attorney and trustee. I'll make him open up." + +"And you'll call on her?" + +"Won't I? That is, I'll make Trent take me. I never want to look at +poor Mary again, but I'd feel young---- Hello! I believe you're hit!" +Mr. Dinwiddie, having solved his problems, was quite himself again and +alert for one of the little dramas that savored his rather tasteless +days. "I'd like that. I'll introduce you and give you my blessing. +Wrong side of the blanket, though." + +"Don't care a hang." + +"That's right. Who cares about anything these days? And you can only +be young once." He sighed. "And if she's like her mother--only +halfway like her inside--she'll be worth it." + +"Is that a promise?" + +"We'll shake on it. I'll see Trent in the morning. Dine with me at +the club at eight?" + +"Rather!" + + + + +III + +The critics left after the second act to damn the play at leisure. +Clavering remained in his seat. Forty minutes later, while the +performers were responding to faint calls and amiable friends were +demanding the author of the doomed play, the lady of mystery (who, +Clavering reflected cynically, was doubtless merely an unusual looking +person with a commonplace history--most explanations after wild guesses +were common-place) left her seat and passed up the aisle. +Irresistibly, Clavering followed her. As she stood for a moment under +the glare of the electric lights at the entrance he observed her +critically. She survived the test. A small car drew up to the curb. +She entered it, and he stood in the softly falling snow feeling +somewhat of a fool. As he walked slowly to his rooms in Madison Square +he came definitely to the conclusion that it was merely his old +reporter's instinct that burned so fiercely, even when he had prodded +Dinwiddie and shaken hands in a glow of anticipation. Certainly there +was no fire in his blood. His imagination had not toyed for a moment +with the hope that here at last . . . He did not feel in the least +romantic. But what man, especially after Dinwiddie's revelations, +wouldn't feel a bit curious, a bit excited? Thank Heaven he was young +enough for that. He must know who she was. Certainly, he would like +to talk to her. She knew the world, no doubt of it--with those eyes! +European women, given the opportunity, could cram more of life into ten +years than an American woman into forty. She had had her experiences +in spite of that madonna face; he'd bet on it. Well, he wasn't falling +in love with a woman who had too heavily underscored in the book of +life. But he enjoyed talking to European women of the world. New York +had been overrun of late with Russian princesses and other ladies of +title come over in the hope of milking the good old American cow, and +when he could divert them from their grievances he found them clever, +subtle and interesting. It was unlikely that this woman had a +grievance of that sort or was looking for a chance to get at the +generous but elusive udder. Her pearls might not be real, but her gown +was superlatively expensive, her evening wrap of mauve velvet lined +with ermine, and her little car perfectly turned out. He'd look like a +fortune-hunter with his salary of fifteen thousand a year and a few +thousands in bonds . . . not if he knew it! But find out who she was, +know her, talk to her, learn what he felt was an interesting +history--quite another matter. + + + + +IV + +The next evening when he arrived at the club he found Mr. Dinwiddie +fuming. + +"What do you think!" he exclaimed as he led his guest to his favorite +table in the corner. "That old rascal bluffed me! Bluffed me. Said +there was no relative of Countess Zattiany in the country that he knew +of. Looked blank as a post when I told him of the extraordinary +resemblance of that girl to Mary Ogden. Said he never heard of her. +Laughed at the idea of a sub-rosa daughter. Pretended to be angry at +such an aspersion on Mary's fair fame--was in love with her himself +like the rest of us. But he was lying and he knew that I knew he was +lying. What'll you have?" + +"Anything. Go ahead. I know by the glitter of your eye that you +haven't finished." + +"You're right, I haven't." He gave his order and leaned forward. +"I've done a little prospecting on my own account. Mary inherited the +old Ogden house over on Murray Hill. I happen to know that the lease +ran out last year and that it hasn't been rented since. Well, I walked +past there today, and some one is living in it. Boarding off. Windows +open. Fresh curtains. A servant receiving a parcel at the area door. +She's there, mark my words." + +"Not a doubt of it. Why didn't you walk boldly up and send in your +card?" + +"Hadn't the courage. Besides, that girl never heard of me. I hadn't +the ghost of an excuse." + +"Why not put Mrs. Oglethorpe on the scent? She could call. Women are +always fertile in excuses." + +"I can't see what pretext she could trump up. She'd be keen enough, +all right, but she hardly could tell this haughty creature with the +unmistakable stamp of the great world on her that she knows she must be +the left-handed daughter of Mary Ogden. Even Jane hasn't assurance +enough for that." + +"She might assume that this young woman is a member of the Countess +Zattiany's family--daughter of a cousin or something--those +extraordinary resemblances do recur in families. . . . That indeed may +be the explanation." + +"Not a bit of it. That girl is Mary's daughter." + +"I'm inclined to agree with you. But it is understood that you can't +hurl it at her. Mrs. Oglethorpe, however, could invent a pretty +pretence--saw her at the theatre--struck by her likeness to her old +friend--discovered she was living in the family mansion--felt that she +must seek her out----" + +"Um. That's not quite the sort of thing the New York woman does, and +you know it. True, the war has upset them as it has every one else. +They are still restless. I have met two opera singers, two actresses, +three of these juvenile editors and columnists at dinners and musical +evenings during the last month alone. I believe they'd lionize Charley +Chaplin if he'd let them, but I understand he's more exclusive than we +are. God! What is New York Society coming to?" + +"You like straying outside the sacred preserves yourself occasionally." + +"I do. But I'm a man. We always did stray a bit. But when I think of +the exclusiveness of only a few years ago! Why, New York Society was a +Club. The most exclusive club in the world. London Society was +Bohemia compared to it. It's the democratic flu, that's what! +Aristocracy's done for." + +"I'm not so sure. The reaction may be devastating. But it's a sign of +grace that they've at last discovered sufficient intelligence to be +bored with their somewhat monotonous selves. And Mrs. Oglethorpe +always does exactly as she pleases. Better drop her a hint." + +"Well, I'll try it. But while Jane may be high-handed, she has certain +rigid ideas when it comes to Society and who shall enter its gates. So +far she's made no concessions. She and a few others still keep a tight +rein. Their daughters though! And granddaughters! Jane's girls are +replicas of herself with every atom of her personality left out--but +Jim's daughter, Janet, is her grandmother over again plus modern bad +manners, bad habits, and a defiance of every known convention. +Wretched little flapper. Gad! What are we coming to!" + +"Never mind Janet----" + +"Why don't you suggest it to Jane? She thinks more of you than of any +one else. I doubt if you could ask her anything----" + +"Not much. She'd twig at once. I've had several hints lately that she +has her eye on somebody she wants me to marry. You must do it +yourself--and you _must_!" + +"Well! If she won't, Mrs. Jim might. The younger women would know +this girl like a shot if they thought there was any fun in it--then +drop her if she didn't measure up. I don't know that I care to place +her in such a position." + +"I've an idea the fair unknown can take care of herself. I don't see +her picked up and dropped. Probably it would be the deuce and all to +meet her. I think my plan is best. You can rouse any woman's +curiosity, and no one has more than Mrs. Oglethorpe. That would be the +wedge. You'd meet her and then you could give her a dinner and invite +me." + +"All right. I'll try it. Something must happen soon. My arteries +won't stand the strain." + + + + +V + +"Madam is not at home, ma'am." + +"Is she not? Then I'll wait for her." + +Mrs. Oglethorpe swept by the butler and he had the sensation of chaff +scattering before a strong wind. In truth Mrs. Oglethorpe was an +impressive figure and quite two inches taller than himself. He could +only stare at her in helpless awe, the more so as he had recognized her +at once. Leadership might be extinct, but Mrs. Oglethorpe was still a +power in New York Society, with her terrible outspokenness, her +uncompromising standards, her sardonic humor, her great wealth, and her +eagle eye for subterfuge. How could a mere servant hope to oppose that +formidable will when his betters trembled at her nod? + +Mrs. Oglethorpe had made her usual careful toilet. Her full long dress +of heavy-pile black velvet, almost covered with a sable cape, swept the +floor; changing skirts meant nothing to her. Like all women of the old +regime in New York, she wore her hair dressed very high and it was +surmounted by a small black hat covered with feathers, ruthlessly +exposing her large square face with its small snapping black eyes and +prominent nose. A high-boned collar of net supported what was left of +her throat. She wore no jewels, as she clung to the rigorous law of +her youth which had tabued the vulgar display of anything but pearls in +the daytime. As she was too old and yellow for pearls she compromised +on jet earrings and necklace. She carried a cane. + +Mr. Dinwiddie to his surprise had found no difficulty in persuading her +to investigate the mysteries of the Ogden mansion, for she had leapt at +once to the conclusion that the friend of her youth was in some way +menaced by this presumptuous stranger of the fantastic resemblance. +There had been a time when, while indignantly repudiating the stories +so prevalent for many years after Mary Ogden's marriage to Count +Zattiany, she had secretly believed and condoned them; not only because +she had loved her devotedly and known something of her heavy +disillusionment, but because the wild secret life the exalted Countess +Zattiany was believed to be leading fed her own suppressed longings for +romance and adventure. With the passage of years, which had taken +their toll of Mary's beauty and fascination, and brought complete +disillusionment to herself, she had almost forgotten that old phase; +moreover, it was many years since she had visited Europe and +correspondence between the two friends, once so intimate, had almost +ceased before the war. During that long interval she had heard nothing +of her except that she was running a hospital in Buda Pesth, but +shortly after the close of the war she had been distressed to learn +from a member of one of the various commissions to Vienna that Countess +Zattiany was ill in a sanitarium. She had written at once, but +received no reply. Now she feared that some adventuress had taken +advantage of a superficial resemblance--she dismissed Mr. Dinwiddie's +protestations of the exactness of that resemblance as the maunderings +of a weakened memory playing about among the ghosts of its youth--to +scheme for the Ogden fortune. When told that Judge Trent was evidently +shielding the woman her suspicions were redoubled. She had +consistently hated Judge Trent for fifty years. + +If, on the other hand, the creature were really Mary's daughter--and +could prove it--well, she would make up her mind what course to take +when she met her. + +"I'll wait in the library," she announced, and moved majestically down +the hall. Then at a sound she paused and glanced toward the stair +which rose on the left, opposite the library. A woman was descending, +a woman only an inch or two shorter than herself and no less stately, +with ashen blonde hair coiled low on her graceful neck and wearing a +loose gown of pale green crepe with a silver girdle. + +"My God!" exclaimed Mrs. Oglethorpe in a loud imperious voice, as if +commanding the Almighty to leap from his throne and fly to her +assistance. Then she leaned heavily on her cane. + +The lady came quickly down the stairs and made a peremptory signal to +the butler. As he disappeared she walked forward more slowly and +paused within a few feet of her agitated guest. Her eyebrows were +slightly raised, her face impassive. Not even those sharp old eyes +staring at her guessed that she had been completely taken by surprise +and was inwardly quaking. + +Mrs. Oglethorpe could not speak for a moment. The years had dropped +from her. She was once more a young woman come to spend the day with +her favorite friend . . . or to attend a reception in the stately +formal house on Murray Hill . . . high rooms filled with women wearing +tight basques, bustles, full sweeping skirts, small hats or bonnets +perched on puffs and braids. . . . Mary, the most radiant and +beautiful and enchanting girl in the world, coming forward with hands +outstretched, while her more formal mother frowned a little at her +enthusiasm . . . or were they both risen to haunt the old house? + +But confusion could reign for only a few seconds in Mrs. Oglethorpe's +indomitable soul. She drew herself up to her imposing height, and her +voice was harsher than usual as she addressed the vision that had +confounded her. + +"Pardon me. Your likeness to my old friend, Countess Zattiany, +startled me. Who are you, may I ask?" + +"Does it really matter?" And once more Mrs. Oglethorpe started, +although the accent was foreign. + +"Yes, it does matter," she said grimly. "That is what I have come to +find out." + +"Oh!" Again there was a slight lift of the eyebrows. "I had always +heard that Americans were unconventional, but hardly that they carried +their independence of the conventions so far as to invade the house of +a stranger." + +"I'll not be put off. Are you Mary Zattiany's daughter?" + +For a second there was an expression of broad amusement on the +beautiful cold face opposite, but it passed with a slight shrug of the +shoulders. "No," she said evenly. + +"Then who are you?" + +"I do not choose to say--at present." Her tone was as arrogant as her +interlocutor's and Mrs. Oglethorpe bristled. + +"What does Trent mean by lying about your presence in this house?" + +"Judge Trent respects my wishes." + +"Your wishes! You've made a fool of him. But I am Countess Zattiany's +oldest friend, and if she has been imposed upon, if she has come to any +harm, if you are after her fortune by pretending on the strength of +your singular likeness to be her heir, I shall know how to put a stop +to it in spite of Judge Trent. I suppose you have never heard of me. +My name is Oglethorpe." + +"I have heard of Mrs. Oglethorpe--from Countess Zattiany. But she +failed to prepare me for your excessively bad manners." + +"Manners be damned. I use what manners I choose and I've never done +anything else. I repeat to you that Countess Zattiany was the most +intimate friend of my youth and for many years after. If she has no +one to protect her interests in this country, I shall protect them +myself. Don't you suppose I am well aware that if you were in her +confidence she would have sent you direct to me? It is the first thing +she would have thought of. If you are not an impostor and an +adventuress present your credentials and I will ask your pardon." + +"Judge Trent has my credentials. Now, if you will excuse me----" + +"I will not excuse you. I will get to the depth of all this mystery. +I abominate mystery. It is vulgar and stupid. You will tell me who +you are, or I will set the newspapers on your track. They'll soon +ferret it out. I've only to say the word." + +"Ah!" The lady seemed to falter for a moment. She looked +speculatively at the indignant old face opposite, then made a vague +little gesture toward her hair, and dropped her eyes. "No," she said +softly. "Don't--please." She raised her eyes once more and looked +straight into Mrs. Oglethorpe's. The two women stood staring at each +other for several seconds. Mrs. Oglethorpe's eyes blinked, her jaw +fell. Then she drew herself up in her most impressive manner. + +"Good day," she said. "Your pardon for the intrusion," and although +her voice had trembled, she swept majestically down the hall. The +unwilling hostess touched a bell and a footman opened the door. + + + + +VI + +Three weeks passed. There were almost twice as many first-nights. +"Mary Ogden," as Clavering called her for want of the truth, was at +each. She never rose in her seat again, and, indeed, seemed to seek +inconspicuousness, but she was always in the second or third row of the +orchestra, and she wore a different gown on each occasion. As she +entered after the curtain rose and stole out before it went down for +the last time, few but those in the adjacent seats and boxes were +edified by any details of those charming creations, although it was +noticeable that the visiting of both sexes was most active in her +neighborhood. + +For by this time she was "the talk of the town," or of that important +and excessively active-minded section of Greater New York represented +at first-nights. The columnists had commented on her. One had indited +ten lines of free verse in her honor, another had soared on the wings +of seventeenth century English into a panegyric on her beauty and her +halo of mystery. A poet-editor-wit had cleped her "The Silent Drama." +Had it been wartime she would inevitably have been set down as a spy, +and as it was there were dark inferences that she was a Bolshevik agent +who had smuggled vast sums of money into the country and passed it on +to the Reds. There were those who opined she was some rich man's +mistress, recently imported, snatched from some victim of revolution +who could no longer afford her. Blonde madonnas were always under +suspicion unless you knew all about them. Others, more practical, +scoffed at these fancy theories and asserted roundly that she was +either a Russian refugee who had sound American or English investments, +or some American woman, educated abroad, who knew no one in New York +and amused herself at the theatre. Indeed? Why then should an +obviously wealthy young woman of as obviously good birth and breeding +bring no letters? Something crooked, not a doubt of it. A European +girl or young widow of position would never come to America without a +chaperon; nor an American brought up abroad. A woman with that "air" +knows what's what. She's simply put herself beyond the pale and +doesn't care. Some impoverished woman of the noblesse who has taken up +with a rich man. + +The men would have liked to put a detective on the track of every +millionaire in town. + +Clavering had confided in no one, and Mr. Dinwiddie, although he had +attended a party given by one of the most hospitable of the +Sophisticates where the unknown was discussed from cocktail to +cocktail, and where, forgetting his arteries, he had befuddled himself +at the generous fount, had guarded his tongue. To Clavering he had +been unable to extend either hope or information. Mrs. Oglethorpe had +turned a bleak and rigid countenance upon the friend of her youth when +he had called with an eager ear, and forbidden him tartly ever to +mention the subject to her again. + +"Interview must have been devilish unpleasant to curdle poor old Jane +like that," he had commented. "No doubt the girl showed her the door. +Gad! Jane! But Mary's daughter could do it. None better." + +Clavering was deeply disappointed. He turned a scowling back on the +gossips rending The Topic to tatters. New York must have a new Topic +every season. This girl had arrived in a season of dearth. And, +unless she were discovered to be living in absolute flagrancy, they +would throw down the carpet. Some went even further. After all, what +about . . . + +But there seemed to be not the remotest prospect of meeting her, nor +even of solving the mystery. She had been seen striding round the +reservoir in a short skirt and high laced boots of soft pale leather. +One triumphant woman had stood next to her at a glove counter and +overheard her observe to the clerk in a sweet and rather deep voice +with an ineluctably refined--and foreign--accent that gloves were +cheaper in New York than in Paris. She had been passed several times +in her smart little car, and once she had been seen going into the +Public Library. Evidently she was no hermit. Several of the +Sophisticates had friends in Society and questioned them eagerly, but +were rewarded only by questions as eager in return. + +On the sixth of these first-nights, when the unknown slipped quietly +from her seat at the end of the last act, she saw the aisle in front of +her almost blocked. One after another the rows of seats were hurriedly +deserted. Clavering, as usual, was directly behind her, but Mr. +Dinwiddie, forced from his chair many aisles back, was swept out with +the crowd. + +When she reached the foyer she found herself surrounded by men and +women whose frank interest was of the same well-bred but artless +essence as that afforded a famous actress or prima donna exhibiting +herself before the footlights. It was evident that she had a sense of +humor, for as she made her way slowly toward the entrance a smile +twitched her mouth more than once. Clavering thought that she was on +the point of laughing outright. But he fumed. "Damn them! They'll +scare her off. She'll never come again." + +One or two women had vowed they'd speak to her. After all a +first-night was a club of sorts. But their courage failed them. The +crowd made way for her and she crossed the pavement to wait for her +car. Clavering, always hoping that some drunken brute would give him +the opportunity to succor her, followed and stood as close as he dared. +Her car drove up and she entered. As it started she turned her head +and looked straight at him. And then Clavering was sure that she +laughed outright. + +He started recklessly after the car, plunging between automobiles going +in four different directions, and jumping on the running board of a +taxi, told the man to drive like hell toward Park Avenue. There was +amused recognition in that glance! She had, must have, noticed him +before tonight! + +And then he had his chance. To the brave belong the fair. + + + + +VII + +He dismissed the taxi at the corner of her street and walked rapidly +toward the house. He had no definite object, but with the blood of +romantic ancestors who had serenaded beneath magnolia trees pounding in +his veins, he thought it likely he would take up his stand under the +opposite lamp-post and remain there all night. The reportorial +news-sense died painlessly. + +Suddenly, to his amazement, he saw her run down the steps of her house +and disappear into the area. She was once more at the gate when he +hurried up to her. + +"May I--am I----" he stammered. "Is anything the matter?" + +For a moment she had shrunk back in alarm, but the narrow silent street +between its ramparts of brown stone was bright with moonlight and she +recognized him. + +"Oh, it is you," she said with a faint smile. "I forgot my key and I +cannot make any one hear the bell. The servants sleep on the top +floor, and of course like logs. Yes, you can do something. Are you +willing to break a window, crawl in, and find your way up to the front +door?" + +"Watch me!" Clavering forgot that he was saturnine and remote and +turning thirty-four. He took the area steps at a bound. Iron gates +guarded the basement doors, but the old bars on the windows were easily +wrenched out. He lifted his foot, kicked out a pane, found the catch, +opened the window and ran up the narrow dark stairs. There was a light +in the spacious hall and in another moment he had opened the door. He +expected to be dismissed with a word of lofty thanks, but she said in a +tone of casual hospitality: + +"There are sandwiches in the library and I can give you a whiskey and +soda." + +She walked with a light swift step down the hall, the narrow tail of +her black velvet gown wriggling after her. Clavering followed in a +daze, but his trained eye took note of the fine old rugs and carved +Italian furniture, two splendid tapestries, and great vases of flowers +that filled the air with a drowsy perfume. He had heard of the Ogden +house, built and furnished some fifty years ago. The couple that had +leased it had been childless and it showed little wear. The stairs +curving on the left had evidently been recarpeted, but in a very dull +red that harmonized with the mellow tints of the old house. + +She opened a door at the end of the hall on the right and he found +himself in a large library whose walls were covered with books to the +ceiling. Dinwiddie had told him that the Ogdens were bookish people +and that "Mary's" grandfather had been an eminent jurist. The room was +as dark in tone as the hall, but the worn chairs and sofas looked very +comfortable. A log was burning on the hearth. + +She took a key from a drawer and handed it to him. + +"You will find whiskey and a syphon in that cabinet, Mr. Clavering. I +keep them for Judge Trent." + +"Mr. Cla----" He came out of his daze. "You know who I am then?" + +"But certainly. I am not as reckless as all that." + +Her accent was slight but indubious, yet impossible to place. It might +be that of a European who spoke many languages, or of an American with +a susceptible ear who had lived the greater part of her life abroad. +"I was driving one day with Judge Trent and saw you walking with Mr. +Dinwiddie." + +"Trent--ah!" + +He had his first full look into those wise unfathomable eyes. Standing +close to her, she seemed somewhat older than he had guessed her to be, +although her face was unlined. Probably it was her remarkable poise, +her air of power and security--and those eyes! What had not they +looked upon? She smiled and poured broth from a thermos bottle. + +"You are forgetting your whiskey and soda," she reminded him. + +He filled his glass, took a sandwich and sank into the depths of a +leather chair. She had seated herself on an upright throne-like chair +opposite. Her black velvet gown was like a vase supporting a subtly +moulded flower of dazzling fairness. She wore the three rows of pearls +that had excited almost as much speculation as her mysterious self. As +she drank her mild beverage she looked at him over the brim of her cup +and once more appeared to be on the verge of laughter. + +"Will you tell me who you are?" asked Clavering bluntly. "This is +hardly fair, you know." + +"Mr. Dinwiddie really managed to coax nothing from Judge Trent? He +called three times, I understand." + +"Not a word." + +"He had my orders," she said coolly. "I am obliged to pass some time +in New York and I have my reasons for remaining obscure." + +"Then you should have avoided first-nights." + +"But I understood that Society did not attend first-nights. So Judge +Trent informed me. I love the play. Judge Trent told me that +first-nights were very amusing and that I would be sure to be seen by +no one I had ever met in European Society." + +"Probably not," he said drily and feeling decidedly nettled at her calm +assumption that nothing but the society of fashion counted. "But the +people who do attend them are a long sight more distinguished in the +only way that counts these days, and the women are often as well +dressed as any in the sacrosanct preserves." + +"Oh, I noticed that," she said quickly. "Charming intelligent faces, a +great variety of types, and many--but many--quite admirable gowns. But +who are they, may I ask? I thought there was nothing between New York +Society and the poor but--well, the bourgeoisie." + +He informed her. + +"Ah! You see--well, I always heard that your people of the artistic +and intellectual class were rather eccentric--rather cultivated a pose." + +"Once, maybe. They all make too much money these days. But there are +freaks, if you care to look for them. Some of the suddenly prosperous +authors and dramatists have rather dizzy-looking wives; and I suppose +you saw those two girls from Greenwich Village that sat across the +aisle from you tonight?" + +She shuddered. "One merely looked like a Hottentot, but the +other!--with that thin upper layer of her short black hair dyed a +greenish white, and her haggard degenerate green face. What do they do +in Greenwich Village? Is it an isolation camp for defectives?" + +"It was once a colony of real artists, but the big fish left and the +minnows swim slimily about, giving off nothing but their own sickly +phosphorescence." + +"How interesting. A sort of Latin Quarter, although I never saw +anything in Paris quite like those dreadful girls." + +"Probably not. As a race we are prone to exaggerations. But are you +not going to tell me your name?" + +She had finished her supper and was leaning against the high back of +her chair, her long slender but oddly powerful looking hands folded +lightly on the black velvet of her lap. Once more he was struck by her +absolute repose. + +"But certainly. I am the Countess Zattiany." + +"The Countess Zattiany!" + +"The Countess Josef Zattiany, to be exact. I went to Europe when I was +a child, and when I finished school visited my cousin, Mary Zattiany--I +belong to the Virginian branch of her mother's family--at her palace in +Vienna and married her cousin's nephew." + +"Ah! That accounts for the resemblance!" exclaimed Clavering. And +then, quite abruptly, he did not believe a word of it. + +"Resemblance?" + +"Yes, poor old Dinwiddie was completely bowled over when you stood up +and surveyed the house that night. Thought he had seen the ghost of +his old flame. I had to take him out in the alley and give him a +drink." + +She met his eyes calmly. "That was the cause of his interest? Cousin +Mary always said that the likeness to herself as a young woman was +rather remarkable, that we might be mother and daughter instead of only +third cousins." + +"Ah--yes--exactly. Is--is she with you?" + +"No, alas! She is in a sanitarium in Vienna and likely to remain there +for a long time. When Judge Trent wrote that it would be well for her +interests if she came to New York she asked me to come instead and gave +me her power of attorney. As my husband was killed in the first year +of the war and I had no other ties, I can assure you I was glad to +come." She shivered slightly. "Oh, yes! Vienna! To see so much +misery and to be able to give so little help! But now that Mary's and +my own fortune are restored I can assure you it gives me the greatest +satisfaction of my life to send a large share of our incomes to our +agent in Vienna." + +This time there was an unmistakable ring of truth in her deep tones. +And she was human. Clavering had begun to doubt it, notwithstanding +her powerful disturbing magnetism. But was he falling in love with +her? He was attracted, dazzled, and he still felt romantic. But love! +In spite of his suspicions she seemed to move on a plane infinitely +remote. + +"Shall you stay here?" + +"Oh, for a time, yes. I cannot see Cousin Mary, and even Paris is +spoiled. Besides, Judge Trent wishes me to learn something of +business. He is growing old and says that women nowadays take an +interest in their investments. I certainly find it highly diverting." + +"No doubt. But surely you will not continue to shut yourself up? You +could know any one you choose. Judge Trent has only to give you a +dinner. Unfortunately most of his respectable friends are a great many +years older than yourself----" + +"I have no desire to know them. In Paris, off and on, I met many of +those elderly New York ladies of position. They all have that built-up +look, with hats too small and high for their bony old faces, which they +do not even soften with powder or the charming accessories of the +toilet known to every European woman of fashion. And feathers! Why +are they so fond of feathers--not charming drooping feathers, but a +sort of clipped hedge, all of a size, like a garden plot; sometimes +oblong, sometimes round? And why do they never look _a la mode_, in +spite of their expensive furs and materials?" + +"That is the sign manual of their intense respectability. The old +regime would not compromise with fashion in all its extravagant changes +for the world. Moreover, it is their serene belief that they may dress +exactly as they choose, and they choose to keep an old tradition alive. +Are not English duchesses much the same?" + +"So. Well, I do not bore myself." + +"But the younger women. They are the smartest in the world. There is +not the least necessity you should bore yourself with the elders. +Surely you must long for the society of women of your age." + +She moved restlessly for the first time. "They were always in Europe +before the war. I met many of them. They did not interest me. I +hardly knew what they were talking about." + +"But men. Surely a woman as young--and beautiful----" + +"Oh, men!" Clavering had never heard as profound disillusion in any +woman's tones. And then a curious expression of fear flitted through +her eyes and she seemed to draw herself together. + +"What has some brute of a man done to her?" thought Clavering with +furious indignation, and feeling more romantic than ever. Could it +have been her husband? For a moment he regretted that Count Josef +Zattiany had gone beyond human vengeance. + +"You are too young to hate men," he stammered. And then he went on +with complete banality, "You have never met the right man." + +"I am older than you perhaps think," she said drily. "And I have known +a great many men--and of a variety! But," she added graciously, "I +shall be glad if you will come and see me sometimes. I enjoy your +column, and I am sure we shall find a great deal to talk about." + +Clavering glowed with a pride that almost convinced him he was not as +blase as he had hoped. He rose, however. + +"I'll come as often as you will let me. Make no mistake about that. +But I should not have stayed so long. It is very late, and you +are--well, rather unprotected, you know. I think you should have a +chaperon." + +"I certainly shall not. And if I find you interesting enough to talk +with until two in the morning, I shall do so. Dine with me tomorrow +night if you have nothing better to do. And----" She hesitated a +moment, then added with a curious smile, "Bring Mr. Dinwiddie. It is +always charitable to lay a ghost. At half after eight?" + +She walked with him to the front door, and when he held out his hand +she lifted hers absently. He was a quick-witted young man and he +understood. He raised it lightly to his lips, then let himself out. +As he was walking rapidly toward Park Avenue, wondering if he should +tramp for hours--he had never felt less like sleeping--he remembered +the broken window. The "crime wave" was terrorizing New York. There +was no policeman in sight. To leave her unprotected was unthinkable. +He walked back slowly until he reached the lamp-post opposite her +house; finally, grinning, he folded his arms and leaned against it. +There he stood until a policeman came strolling along, some two hours +later. He stated the case and told the officer that if anything +happened to the house he would hold him responsible. The man was +inclined to be intensely suspicious until Clavering mentioned his +newspaper and followed the threat with a bill. Then he promised to +watch the house like a hawk, and Clavering, tired, stiff, and very +cold, went home to bed. + + + + +VIII + +"Tommy rot. Don't believe a word of it. Mary's mother was one of the +Thornhills. Don't believe there ever was a Virginia branch. But I'll +soon find out. Also about this Josef Zattiany. That girl is Mary +Ogden's daughter." + +They were seated in a corner of Mr. Dinwiddie's favorite club, where +they had met by appointment. Clavering shrugged his shoulders. He had +no intention of communicating his own doubts. + +"But you'll dine there tonight?" + +"Won't I? And I'll keep my ears open." + +Clavering privately thought that the Countess Josef Zattiany would be +more than a match for him, but replied: "After all, what does it +matter? She is a beautiful and charming woman and no doubt you'll have +a very good dinner." + +"That's all very well as far as it goes, but I've never been so +interested in my life. Of course if she's Mary's daughter I'll do +anything to befriend her--that is if she'll be honest enough to admit +it. But I don't like all this lying and pretence----" + +"I think your terms are too strong. There have been extraordinary +resemblances before in the history of the world, 'doubles,' for +instance, where there was no known relationship. Rather remarkable +there are enough faces to go round. And she confesses to be of the +same family. At all events you must admit that she has not made use of +her alibi to force her way into society." + +"Probably knows her alibi won't stand the strain. The women would soon +ferret out the truth. . . . What I'm afraid of is that she's got this +power of attorney out of Mary when the poor girl was too weak to +resist, and is over here to corral the entire fortune." + +"But surely Judge Trent----" + +"Oh, Trent! He's a fool where women are concerned. Always was, and +now he's got to the stage where he can't sit beside a girl without +pawing her. They won't have him in the house. Of course this lovely +creature's got him under her thumb. (I'll see him today and give him a +piece of my mind for the lies he's told me.) And if this girl has +inherited her mother's brains, she's equal to anything." + +"I thought that your Mary was composite perfection." + +"Never said anything of the sort. Didn't I tell you she always kept us +guessing? I sometimes used to think that if it hadn't been for her +breeding and the standards that involves, and her wealth and position, +she'd have made a first-class adventuress." + +"Was she a good liar?" + +"She was insolently truthful, but I'm certain she wouldn't have +hesitated at a whopping lie if it would have served her purpose. She +was certainly _rusee_." + +"Well, the dinner should be highly interesting with all these +undercurrents. I'll call for you at a quarter past eight. I must run +now and do my column." + + +Clavering, often satirical and ironic, was positively brutal that +afternoon. The latest play, book, moving picture, the inefficiency of +the New York police, his afflicting correspondents, were hacked to the +bone. When he had finished, his jangling nerves were unaccountably +soothed. Other nerves would shriek next morning. Let 'em. He'd been +honest enough, and if he chose to use a battle-axe instead of Toledo +steel that was his privilege. + +He called down for a messenger boy and strolled to the window to soothe +his nerves still further. Dusk had fallen. Every window of the high +stone buildings surrounding Madison Square was an oblong of light. It +was a symphony of gray and gold, of which he never tired. It invested +business with romance and beauty. The men behind those radiant panels, +thinking of nothing less, made their brief contribution to the beauty +of the world, transported the rapt spectator to a realm of pure +loveliness. + +A light fall of snow lay on the grass and benches, the statues and +trees of the Square. Motors were flashing and honking below and over +on Fifth Avenue. The roar of the great city came up to him like a +flood over a broken dam. Black masses were pouring toward the subways. +Life! New York was the epitome of life. He enjoyed forcing his way +through those moving masses, but it interested him even more to feel +above, aloof, as he did this evening. Those tides swept on as +unconscious of the watchers so high above them as of the soaring beauty +of the Metropolitan Tower. Ground hogs, most of them, but part of the +ever changing, ever fascinating, metropolitan pageant. + +The arcade of Madison Square Garden was already packed with men and he +knew that a triple line reached down Twenty-sixth Street to Fourth +Avenue. There was to be a prize fight tonight and the men had stood +there since noon, buying apples and peanuts from peddlers. This was +Tuesday and there was no half-holiday. These men appeared to have +unbounded leisure while the rest of the city toiled or demanded work. +But they were always warmly dressed and indubitably well-fed. They +belonged to what is vaguely known as the sporting fraternity, and were +invariably in funds, although they must have existed with the minimum +of work. The army of unemployed was hardly larger and certainly no +bread line was ever half as long. Mounted police rode up and down to +avert any anticipation of the night's battle. A loud barking murmur +rose and mingled with the roar of the avenues. + +The great clock of the Metropolitan Tower began to play those sad and +sweetly ominous notes preliminary to booming out the hour. They always +reminded him of the warning bell on a wild and rocky coast, with +something of the Lorelei in its cadences: like a heartless woman's +subtle allure, poignantly difficult to resist. + +There was a knock on the door. Clavering gave his daily stint to the +messenger boy. He was hunting for change, when he recaptured his +column, sat down at his desk, and, running it over hastily, inserted +the word "authentic." New York must have its Word, even as its topic. +"Authentic," loosed upon the world by Arnold Bennett, was the rage at +present. The little writers hardly dared use it. It was, as it were, +the trademark of the Sophisticates. + +The boy, superior, indifferent, and chewing gum, accepted his tip and +departed. Clavering returned to the window. Gone was the symphony of +gold and gray. The buildings surrounding the Square were a dark and +formless mass in the heavy dusk. Only the street lights below shone +like globular phosphorescence on a dark and turbulent sea. + +Two hours later he left his hotel and walked up Madison Avenue. +Twenty-sixth Street was deserted and as littered with papers, peanut +shells, and various other debris as a picnic train. The mounted police +had disappeared. From the great building came the first roar of the +thousands assembled, whether in approval or the reverse it would be +difficult to determine. They roared upon the slightest pretext and +they would roar steadily until half-past ten or eleven, when they would +burst out of every exit, rending the night with their yells, while a +congested mass of motors and taxi-cabs shrieked and honked and squealed +and coughed; and then abruptly the silence of death would fall upon +what is now a business quarter where only an occasional hotel or little +old brownstone house--sole reminder of a vanished past when Madison +Square was the centre of fashion--lingered between the towering masses +of concrete and steel. + + + + +IX + +When Clavering and Dinwiddie arrived at the Ogden house Judge Trent was +already there and mixing cocktails in the library. He was a large man +who must have had a superb figure before it grew heavy. He wore the +moustache of his generation and in common with what was left of his hair +it glistened like crystal. His black eyes were still very bright and his +full loose mouth wore the slight smirk peculiar to old men whose sex +vanity perishes only in the grave. Beside him stood a man some ten years +younger who was in the graying period, which gave him a somewhat dried +and dusty look; but whose figure was still slender and whose hard +outlines of face were as yet unblurred by flesh. They were, of course, +faultlessly groomed, but if met in the wilds of Africa, clad in rags and +bearded like the jungle, to the initiate they still would have been New +Yorkers. + +"Come in! Come in!" cried the Judge heartily. "Madame Zattiany will be +down in a minute--she prefers to be called Madame Zattiany, by the way. +Thinks titles in America are absurd unless wearers were born to +them--more particularly since continental titles today are worth about as +much as rubles and marks. . . . Mr. Clavering, you know Mr. Osborne? +Madame Zattiany kindly permitted me to bring him as she was having a +little party. Families old friends." + +Clavering placed two fingers in the limp hand extended and met the cold +appraising eye calmly. The New York assumption that all other Americans +are rank outsiders, that, in short, not to have been born in New York is +a social and irremediable crime, had often annoyed him but never caused +him to feel the slightest sense of inferiority. He had his own +ancestors, as important in their day as any bewigged old Dutchmen--all of +whom, he reminded himself, had been but honest burghers in Holland. But +he admired their consistency. The rest of the country had been +commenting bitterly on the New York attitude since the eighteenth +century. And when you got under their protective armor they were an +honorable and a loyal lot. Meanwhile it paid to be as rude as themselves. + +"I am delighted that Madame Zattiany has decided to come out of her shell +at last," said Judge Trent, shaking vigorously. "I've been urging it for +some time. But she has had a long and harrowing experience, and seemed +to want only to rest. I think the stir she made at your first-nights, +Clavering, had something to do with it. There was a time, you know, when +she never appeared without making a sensation--like poor Mary before +her--but young as she is all that seems almost too remote to recall. Of +course if she had been able to live in London or Paris after the war it +would have been different, but she was stuck in Buda Pesth and +Vienna--ah!" + +Madame Zattiany had entered the room. She wore pale green chiffon with +floating sleeves that left her arms bare. In the subdued light she +looked like a girl playing at Undine. + +Clavering heard Dinwiddie give a sharp hiss. "Gad! More like Mary than +ever. Nile-green was her favorite color." + +She greeted the Judge and Clavering with her slight flickering smile and +then turned to the other two men. + +"This must be Mr. Osborne, as Judge Trent pointed out Mr. Dinwiddie to me +one day on Fifth Avenue. It was kind of you both to come in this +informal manner. I appreciate it very much." + +Her manner was a little like that of a princess giving audience, +Clavering reflected, a manner enhanced by her slight accent and profound +repose, the negligent lifting of her hand to be kissed; and as she stood +graciously accepting their expressions of unhoped for felicity she looked +less American, more European, than ever. But Clavering wondered for the +first time if that perfect repose were merely the expression of a +profound indifference, almost apathy . . . but no, she was too young for +that, however the war may have seared her; and she was smiling +spontaneously, there was a genuine note of pleasure in her voice as she +turned to him. + +"It was more than kind of you to watch my house until the policeman +came," she said on a lower key. "I was really alarmed when I remembered +that broken window and all those dreadful stories in the newspapers. But +you kept watch beneath my windows like a _preux chevalier_ and I felt +safe." + +"I felt rather a fool if the truth be told." Her eyes had a curious +exploring look and Clavering felt unaccountably irritated, in spite of +all that her words implied. "I'd have done the same if you had been old +and withered. Served me right. I should have thought before I left the +house to telephone for a watchman." + +"Ah! Quite so. American men are famous for their gallantry, are they +not? Myself, I have always liked them." The smile rose to her wise +penetrating eyes, and Clavering colored like a schoolboy. Then it faded +and her face looked suddenly rigid. "I wonder," she muttered, then +turned her back abruptly. "You must not forget your cocktail. And +dinner has been announced." + +Mr. Dinwiddie made a pretext of sipping his cocktail as the three raised +their glasses simultaneously to their hostess. She had declined to join +them, with a little grimace. "Perhaps in time I may become American +enough to like your strange concoctions, but so far I think cocktails +have a really horrid taste. Shall we go in?" + +The Judge offered his arm with the formal gallant air he could assume at +will and the other men followed at a discreet distance: her shimmering +gown had a long tail. Mr. Dinwiddie's eyes seemed to bore into that +graceful swaying back, but he was not the man to discuss his hostess +until he had left her house, and Clavering could only wonder what +conclusions were forming in that avid cynical old brain. + +The dining-room, long and narrow, was at the back of the hall and +extended along the entire width of the large house. Like the hall it was +panelled and dark, an imposing room hung with family portraits. A small +table at the end looked like a fairy oasis. It glittered and gleamed and +the flowers were mauve, matching the tall wand-like candles. + +"I do hope, Madame Zattiany," said Mr. Osborne, as he took a seat at her +left, "that you won't succumb to the prevailing mania for white, and +paint out this beautiful old walnut. Too many of our houses look +entirely too sanitary. One feels as if he were about to be shown up to a +ward, to be received by a hospital nurse with a warning not to speak too +loud." There was no chill formality in his mien as he bent over his +young and beautiful hostess. + +"Ah, you forget this is Countess Zattiany's house," she said, smiling. +"But I will admit that if it were mine I should make few changes. White +was quite _a la mode_ in London long before the war, but, myself, I never +liked it." + +Judge Trent sat opposite his hostess at the round table. She had placed +Mr. Dinwiddie and Mr. Osborne on either side of her, smiling at +Clavering. "I am sorry I do not know any young ladies," she said +graciously, although there was a twinkle in her eye. "You look rather +lonesome." + +"Why should he?" growled Dinwiddie. "He is young and you are young. The +rest of us are the ones to feel out of it." + +"Not a bit of it! Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Judge Trent. "You forget +that Madame Zattiany has lived in Europe since infancy. She's talked to +elderly statesmen all her life." + +"Well, we're not statesmen, the lord knows." Dinwiddie could always be +relied on to make the obvious retort, thought Clavering, although it must +be admitted that he was seldom with none at all. "But you must have seen +more young men than old during the war, Madame Zattiany. I understand +that Mary turned her palace in Buda Pesth into a hospital and that you +were her chief assistant." + +"That is quite true, and I had by no means confined myself before that to +elderly statesmen; but I had almost forgotten what a young man on his +feet looked like before the war finished. Or Society, for that matter. +My one temptation to enter Society here would be the hope of forming a +relief organization--drive, do you call it?--for the starving children of +Austria. Russian children are not the only pitiable objects in Europe, +and after all, the children of civilized countries are of more value to +the future of the world." + +"Another drive!" Judge Trent groaned. "New York flees to cover at the +word. Enter Society by all means, but to give your youth its rights. +You have been deprived of them too long." + +"I shall never feel as young as that again. Nor will any girl who was +merely sixteen at the beginning of the war ever be the same as your +care-free young ladies here. I sit in the restaurants and watch them +with amazement--often with anger. What right have they . . . +however . . . as for myself I shall not reenter the world for any but the +object I have just mentioned. Luncheons! Dinners! Balls! I was +surfeited before the war. And I have forgotten persiflage, small talk. +I am told that Americans avoid serious topics in Society. I, alas, have +become very serious." + +She swept her favored guests with a disarming smile. They understood. +There was no sting in her words for them. + +Clavering spoke up eagerly. "Why should you bore yourself with social +functions? If you want to raise money for the children I will not only +start a drive in my column but take you to call on several powerful +editors--or bring them here," he added hastily at the look of amazement +in her eyes, "and they will be more than willing to help you. They have +only to meet you----" + +"That is all very well," interrupted Judge Trent, who, like the other +elderly gentlemen, was glaring at the famous young columnist who daily +laid down the law to his admiring readers. "But to raise money in large +amounts you've got to have a committee, and no committee is of any +use--for this sort of thing--without the names of fashionable women who +are as well known to our democratic public, that daily devours the +society columns, as the queens of the movies." + +"Well--well--I do not know. I must think. It is not a step to take +lightly." + +Clavering intercepted a flash between her eyes and Judge Trent's and the +old gentleman tightened his lips in a self-conscious smirk as he bent +over his fish. + +"Damn him!" thought Clavering. "He knows the whole truth and is laughing +at us in his sleeve." + +Madame Zattiany had turned the subject gracefully to European politics, +and he watched her with a detached air. Trent's attitude toward her +amused him. It was more deferential and admiring than infatuated. . . . +Whatever her charm, she was no longer in her first youth, and only unripe +fruit could sting that senescent palate. But the other two! Clavering +smiled sardonically. Dinwiddie, hanging on her every word, was hardly +eating. He was a very handsome man, in spite of his shining pate and +heavy white moustache. His features were fine and regular, his eyes, if +rather prominent, were clear and blue, his skin clean, and his figure but +little amplified. He was only sixty-two. + +Osborne, who looked barely fifty, was personable and clever enough to +attract any woman. He, too, was astonishingly indifferent to the +excellent dinner, and both these gentlemen had reached an age, where, if +wary of excess for reasons of vanity and interior comfort, they derived +their sincerest enjoyment at the table. + +That she possessed sex magnetism in a superlative degree in spite of her +deliberate aloofness, Clavering had, of course, been conscious from the +first. Had not every male first-nighter been conscious of it? There was +a surfeit of beauty in New York. A stranger, even if invested with +mystery, must possess the one irresistible magnet, combined with some +unusual quality of looks, to capture and hold the interest of weary New +Yorkers as she had done. Even the dramatic critics, who looked as if +they hated everybody, had been seen to gaze upon her with rare approval. + +But tonight Clavering had a glimpse of something more than a magnetism +for which she was not responsible and to which she had seemed singularly +indifferent. It was quite evident that he was watching charm in action. +She was sparkling and exerting herself, talking brilliantly and +illuminatingly upon the chaos still known as Europe, and it was patent +that her knowledge was not derived from newspapers or drawing-room +gossip. Her personal acquaintance of public men had evidently been +extensive before the war, and she had as manifestly continued to see +those in and out of office in Vienna and Buda Pesth throughout all the +later fluctuations. Her detestation of the old German militaristic party +was unmitigated and she spoke of the late ruler of the Dual Empire and of +his yearning heir with no respect whatever. With other intelligent +people she believed Bolshevism to be an inevitable phase in a country as +backward and ignorant as Russia, but, to his surprise, she regarded the +Republican ideal of government as the highest that had yet been evolved +from finite minds, still far from their last and highest stages of +development. She believed that the only hope of the present civilization +was to avert at any cost the successful rise of the proletariat to power +until the governing and employing classes had learned sufficient wisdom +to conciliate it and treat it with the same impartial justice they now +reserved for themselves. ("And to educate themselves along the lines +laid down in 'The Mind in the Making,'" interpolated Clavering.) +Otherwise any victory the masses might achieve would be followed by the +same hideous results as in Russia--in other words, the same results that +had followed all servile uprisings since the dawn of history. When the +underdog, who has never felt anything but an underdog, with all the +misery and black injustice the word implies, finds himself on top he will +inevitably torture and murder his former oppressors. He hasn't the +intelligence to foresee the ultimate folly of his acts, or that the only +hope of the world is equal justice for all classes; he merely gratifies +his primitive instinct for vengeance--precisely the same today, as during +the first servile uprising of Rome--he butchers and slaughters and +wrecks, and then sinks with his own weight, while what brains are left +reconstruct civilization out of the ruins. "The trouble is that the +reconstructing brains are never quite good enough, and after a time it is +all to do over again. . . ." + +This was by no means a monologue, but evoked in the give and take of +argument with Mr. Osborne, who believed in never yielding an inch to the +demands of labor, and with Mr. Dinwiddie, who, since his association with +the Sophisticates, was looking forward vaguely toward some idealistic +regeneration of the social order, although Socialism was rather out of +date among them, and Bolshevism long since relegated to the attic. + +But Clavering was not particularly interested in her political views, +sound as they were. Foreign women of her class, if not as liberal, +always talked intelligently of politics. What interested him keenly was +her deliberate, her quite conscious attempt to enslave the two men beside +her, and her complete success. Occasionally she threw him a word, and +once he fancied she favored him with a glance of secret amused +understanding, but he was thankful to be on the outer edge of that +glamorous crescent. It was enough to watch at a comparatively safe +distance. Would his turn come next, or was she merely bent on so +befuddling these old chaps that there would be no place left in their +enraptured minds for suspicion or criticism? No doubt he was too rank an +outsider. . . . She shot him another glance. . . . Was his to be the +role of the sympathetic friend? + +Then she began to draw Dinwiddie and Osborne out, and it struck him that +her attitude was not merely that of the accomplished hostess. They both +talked well, they were intelligent and well-informed, and he was himself +interested in what they had to say on the subject of national politics. +(The Judge, who had an unimpaired digestion, was attending strictly to +his champagne and his dinner.) There was something of anxiety, almost of +wistfulness, in her expression as she listened to one or the other doing +his admirable best to entertain her. They had the charm of crisp +well-modulated voices, these two men of her own class; she had met no +better-bred men in Europe; and their air was as gallant as it had been in +their youth. He had a fleeting vision of what gay dogs they must have +been. Neither had married, but they had been ardent lovers once and +aging women still spoke of them with tender amusement. And yet only the +shell had changed. They had led decent enough lives and no doubt could +fall honestly and romantically in love today. In fact, they appeared to +be demonstrating the possibility, with the eternal ingenuousness of the +male. And yet nature had played them this scurvy trick. The young heart +in the old shell. Grown-up boys with a foot in the grave. Dependent +upon mind and address alone to win a woman's regard, while the woman +dreamed of the man with a thick thatch over his brains and the responsive +magnetism of her own years. Poor old fighting-cocks! What a jade nature +was . . . or was it merely the tyranny of an Idea, carefully inculcated +at the nativity of the social group, with other arbitrary laws, in behalf +of the race? The fetish of the body. Stark materialism. . . . However, +it was not as hard on them as on women outgrown their primary function. +Theirs at least the privilege of approach; and their deathless masculine +conceit--when all was said, Nature's supreme gift of compensation--never +faltered. + +It crossed Clavering's mind that she was experimenting on her own +account, not merely bewildering and enthralling these estimable gentlemen +of her mother's generation. But why? Joining casually in the +conversation, or quite withdrawn, he watched her with increasing and now +quite impersonal interest. He almost fancied she was making an effort to +be something more than the polite and amiable hostess, that she was +deliberately striving to see them as men who had a perfect right to +fascinate a woman of her age and loveliness. Well, it had happened +before. Elderly men of charm and character had won and kept women fully +thirty years their junior. Possibly she belonged to that distinguished +minority who refused to be enslaved by the Ancient Idea, that iron code +devised by fore-thinking men when Earth was young and scantily +peopled. . . . Still--why this curious eagerness, this--it was +indecipherable . . . no doubt his lively imagination was playing him +tricks. Probably she was merely sympathetic. . . . And then, toward the +end of the dinner, her manner changed, although too subtly for any but +the detached observer to notice it. To Clavering she seemed to go dead +under her still animated face. He saw her eyes wander from Dinwiddie's +bald head to Osborne's flattened cheek . . . her lip curled, a look of +fierce contempt flashed in her eyes before she hastily lowered the +lids. . . . He fancied she was glad to rise from the table. + + + + +X + +"Well?" he asked, as he and Dinwiddie were walking away from the house; +Osborne had driven off with Judge Trent. "Do you still think her a +base impostor?" + +"Don't know what I think and don't much care. She can pack me in her +trunk, as we boys used to say. She's a great lady and a charming +woman; as little doubt about the first as the last. She's like Mary +Ogden and she isn't. I suppose she might be merely a member of the +same family--with several thousand ancestors where types must have +reappeared again and again. If she wants New York Society, especially +if she wants money for those starving children, I'll go the limit. But +I'm going to find out about her all the same. I'll hunt up Harry +Thornhill tomorrow--he's a recluse but he'll see me--and I'll get on +the track of some Hungarian refugee. She can't be the usual rank +impostor, that's positive. She has the same blood as Mary in her +veins, and if she's Mary's daughter and wishes to keep it dark, that's +her business. I'll never give her away." + +"Well, good luck. Glad it went off so well." + +They parted at the door of Mr. Dinwiddie's rooms and Clavering walked +slowly home in an extremely thoughtful mood. He felt an uneasy +distrust of the Countess Josef Zattiany, and he was not even sure that +he liked her. + +On the following Monday night, however, he was by no means averse from +making a notable personal score. As Abbott, a dramatic critic, who +happened to sit next to Madame Zattiany, made his usual hurried exit at +the falling of the first curtain Clavering slipped into the vacant +chair. She smiled a welcome, but it was impossible to talk in the +noise. This was a great first-night. One of the leading actresses of +America had returned in an excellent play, and her admirers, who +appeared to be a unit, were clapping and stamping and shouting: +handkerchiefs fluttered all over the house. When the curtain descended +after the fifteenth recall and the lights went up and demonstration +gave place to excited chatter, Madame Zattiany held out her hand toward +Clavering. + +"See! I have split my glove. I caught the enthusiasm. How +generous your people are! I never heard such whole-souled, +such--ah--unself-conscious response." + +"Oh, we like to let go sometimes and the theatre is a safe place. One +of the best things that can be said for New York, by the way, is its +loyalty to two or three actresses no longer young. The whole country +has gone crazy over youth. The most astonishingly bad books create a +furore because from end to end they glorify post-war youth at its +worst, and the stage is almost as bad. But New Yorkers are too old and +wise in the theatre not to have a very deep appreciation of its art, +and they will render tribute to old favorites as long as they produce +good plays." + +"But that is very fine. . . . I go to the matinee a good deal and I am +often very bored. And I have been reading your current novels with the +desire to learn as well as to be amused. I wish so much to understand +the country in which I was born. I have received much illumination! +It is quite remarkable how well most of your authors write--but merely +well, that is. So few have individuality of style. And even in the +best authors I find nearly all of the heroines too young. I had read +many American novels before the war--they came to us in Tauchnitz--and +even then I found this quite remarkable preoccupation with youth." + +"Well--youth is a beautiful thing--is it not?" He smiled into her own +beautiful face. "But, if you will notice, many of our novelists, +capable of real psychology, carry their heroines over into their second +youth, and you can almost hear their sigh of relief when they get them +there." + +"Yes, but they are still behind the European novelists, who find women +interesting at any age, and their intelligent readers agree with them. +Young women have little psychology. They are too fluid." + +"Quite right. But I am afraid we are too young a country to tolerate +middle-aged heroines. We are steeped in conventionalism, for all our +fads. We have certain cast-iron formulae for life, and associate love +with youth alone. I think we have a vague idea that autumnal love is +rather indecent." + +"And you--yourself?" She looked at him speculatively. "Are you too +obsessed?" + +"I? Good lord, no. I was in love with a woman of forty when I was +seventeen." + +His eyes were glowing into hers and she demanded abruptly: "Do you +think I am forty?" + +"Rather not!" + +"Well, I am young," she said with a deep sigh of content. "But look! +I see nothing, but I see everything." + +Clavering glanced about him. Every neck in the boxes and neighboring +seats was craned. It was evident that the people in front--and no +doubt behind--were listening intently, although they could have caught +no more than an occasional word of the murmured conversation. Eyes +across the aisle, when not distended with surprise, glared at him. He +laughed softly. + +"I am the best hated man in New York tonight." Then he asked abruptly: +"If you wish to avoid fashionable society why not see something of +this? It would be quite a new experience and vary the monotony of +books and plays." + +"I may--some time, if you will kindly arrange it. But I am not a +stranger to the cognoscenti. In London, of course, they are received, +sought after. In Paris not so much, but one still meets them.--the +most distinguished. In Berlin the men might go to court but not the +women. In Vienna--well, genius will not give quarterings. But alas! +so many gifted people seem to come out of the bourgeoisie, or lower +down still--whether they are received or not depends largely on their +table manners." + +"Oh, I assure you, our cognoscenti have very good table manners indeed!" + +"I am sure of it," she said graciously. "I have an idea that American +table manners are the best in the world. Is it true that one never +sees toothpicks on the table here?" + +"Good lord, yes!" + +"Well, you see them on every aristocratic table in Europe, royalty not +excepted." + +"One more reason for revolution---- Oh! Hang it!" + +The lights had gone out. Clavering half rose, then settled himself +back and folded his arms. A man stood over him. "Just take my seat, +Billy, will you?" he asked casually of the eminent critic. "It's only +two back." + +The eminent critic gave him a look of hate, emitted a noise that +resembled a hiss, hesitated long enough to suggest violence, then with +the air of a bloodhound with his tail between his legs, slunk up the +aisle. + +"Will you tell me how you always manage to get one of these prize +seats?" asked Clavering at the fall of the second curtain. "Nothing in +New York is more difficult of attainment than a good seat--any +seat--for a first-night. All these people, including myself, have a +pull of some sort--know the author, star, manager. Many of us receive +notifications long in advance." + +"Judge Trent has a pull, as you call it." + +"That explains it. There has been almost as much speculation on that +point as about your own mysterious self. Well, this time I suppose I +must. But I'm coming back." + +He gave Mr. Dinwiddie his seat and went out for a cigarette. The foyer +was full of people and he was surrounded at once. Who was she? Where +had he met her? Dog that he was to keep her to himself! Traitor! He +satisfied their curiosity briefly. He happened to know Judge Trent, +who was her trustee. His acquaintance with the lady was only a week +old. Well, he hadn't thought to mention it to such friends as he had +happened to meet. Been too busy digging up matter for that infernal +column. Yes, he thought he could manage to introduce them to her +later. She had brought no letters and as she was a Virginian by birth +and had gone abroad in her childhood and married a foreigner as soon as +she grew up she knew practically no one in New York and didn't seem to +wish to know any one. But he fancied she was getting rather bored. +She had been here for a month--resting--before she even went to the +theatre. Oh, yes, she could be quite animated. Was interested in +everything one would expect of a woman of her intelligence. But the +war had tired her out. She had seen no one but Judge Trent until the +past week. . . . + +He kept one eye on the still resentful Abbott, who refused to enhance +his triumph by joining his temporary court, and slipped away before the +beginning of the last act. Dinwiddie resigned his seat with a sigh but +looked flushed and happy. + +"Poor old codger," thought Clavering as he received a welcoming smile, +and then he told her of the excitement in the foyer. + +"But that is amusing!" she said. "How naive people are after all, even +in a great city like New York." + +"Oh, people as active mentally as this crowd never grow blase, however +they may affect it. But surely you had your triumphs in Europe." + +"Oh, yes. Once an entire house--it was at the opera--rose as I entered +my box at the end of the first act. But that was a thousand years +ago--like everything else before the war." + +"That must be an experience a woman never forgets." + +"It is sometimes sad to remember it." + +"Dinwiddie tells me that your cousin, who was Mary Ogden, once had a +similar experience. It certainly must be a sad memory for her." + +"Yes, Mary was one of the great beauties of Europe in her day--and of a +fascination! Men went mad over her--but mad! She took growing old +very hard. Her husband was handsome and attractive, but--well, +fortunately he preferred other women, and was soon too indifferent to +Mary to be jealous. He was the sort of man no woman could hold, but +Mary soon cared as little about him. And she had her consolations! +She could pick and choose. It was a sad day for Mary when men left her +for younger women." + +"But I thought that European men were not such blind worshippers of +youth as we are?" + +"Yes, within reason. Mary was too intellectual, too brilliant, too +well-informed on every subject that is discussed in salons, not to +attract men always. But with a difference! Quite elderly women in +Europe have _liaisons_, but alas! they can no longer send men off their +heads. It is technique meeting technique, intellectual companionship, +blowing on old ashes--or creating passion with the imagination. Life +is very sad for the women who have made a cult of men, and the cult of +men is the European woman's supreme achievement." + +The delayed curtain rose and the house was silent. First-nighters, +unlike less distinguished audiences, never disgrace themselves by +whispering and chattering while the actors are on the stage. + +At the end of this, the last act, while the audience, now on their +feet, were wildly applauding and fairly howling for the author of "the +first authentic success of the season," Clavering and Madame Zattiany +went swiftly up the aisle. A few others also hastened out, less +interested in authors than in taxi-cabs. + +He handed her into her car and she invited him to enter and return with +her for a sandwich and a whiskey-and-soda. He hesitated a moment. +"I'll go with pleasure," he said. "But I think I'll walk. +It--it--would be better." + +"Oh!" A curious expression that for the second it lasted seemed to +banish both youth and loveliness spread even to her nostrils. Sardonic +amusement hardly described it. Then it vanished and she said sweetly: +"You are very considerate. I shall expect you." + +He did not walk. He took a taxi. + + + + +XI + +She opened the door as he ran up the steps. "I never ask my servants +to sit up," she said. "Judge Trent warned me that the American servant +is as difficult to keep as to get and must be humored. When I think of +the wages I pay these pampered creatures and the amount of food they +consume, and then of my half-starved friends in Austria, it makes me +sick--sick!" + +There being no reply to the axiomatic truth involved in these words, +Clavering followed her silently into the library. The log fire was +still burning and he hastily replenished it. They took their little +supper standing and then seated themselves in easy chairs on either +side of the hearth. + +"Why don't you bring over your own servants?" he asked. "Time and +democracy might ruin them, but meanwhile you would have comfort. +Surely you brought your maid?" + +"I've had no maid until now since the beginning of the war. I rarely +left the hospital. Heaven knows where my other servants are. The +young men were mobilized and those that returned alive were either +killed in the revolution or turned revolutionists themselves. No doubt +the new government would have turned Mary's palace in Buda Pesth into a +tenement house if it had not still been a hospital. We left during the +revolution and lived in Vienna. Servants with the virus of Bolshevism +in their veins would be worse than these." + +"Were you ever in danger?" + +"Oh, many times," she said indifferently. "Who was not?" + +"Was that what broke your cousin down?" + +"That and the hard work in Vienna trying to relieve the distress--while +half-starved herself. Of course we had almost no money until the +United States Government restored our properties." + +"Will she join you here when she is well?" + +"No, Mary Zattiany will never be seen again." + +"Ah? As bad as that? Her friends will be distressed. I understand +they saw her abroad from time to time before the war--particularly Mrs. +Oglethorpe. That old set is very loyal." + +"Loyal! Oh, yes. They are loyal. Mrs. Oglethorpe was ready to give +me over to the police. She seemed to think that I had murdered +Mary--no doubt during the revolution, when it would have been quite +easy. And she seemed to resent quite bitterly my resemblance to Mary +in her youth--as if I had committed a theft." + +"Probably it made her feel her age. I wonder you saw her." + +"I was coming down the stairs as she crossed the hall. Be sure I would +not have seen her if I could have avoided it." + +"Why?" He left his seat restlessly and leaned against the mantelshelf. +"That sounds impertinent. All my questions have been impertinent, I am +afraid. But--I should warn you--I gather that both Mr. Dinwiddie and +Mrs. Oglethorpe think there is something wrong--that is, unexplained." + +"Really?" She looked intensely amused. "But that is interesting. Of +course I knew of Mr. Dinwiddie's curiosity from Judge Trent--but I +rather thought----" + +"Oh, yes, you have floored him completely. But I fancy he's more +curious than ever. I--I--wish you would confide in me. I might be +better able to defend you if the necessity arose." + +"Don't you believe I am what I represent myself to be?" + +"It is a terrible thing to say to a woman like you, but----" + +He expected her to rise in her majesty and order him to leave the +house, but she merely smiled again and said: + +"You forget Judge Trent. Do you think if I were an impostor he would +vouch for me?" + +"I believe you could make any man believe what you wished him to +believe." + +"Except yourself." + +"Remember that a newspaper man---- However, I'll speak only for +myself." He thrust his hands into his pockets and tried to summon his +saturnine expression, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that he +looked merely wistful and boyish and that this highly accomplished +woman of the world was laughing at him. "For my own sake I want to +know," he blurted out. "I haven't an idea why I suspect you, and it is +possible that you are what you say you are. Certainly you are far too +clever not to have an alibi it would be difficult to puncture. But I +_sensed_ something that first night . . . something beyond the fact +that you were a European and did a curious thing--which, however, I +understood immediately. . . . It was something more. . . . I don't +think I can put it into words . . . you were there, and yet you were +not there . . . somebody else seemed to be looking out of your +eyes . . . even when Dinwiddie thought he had explained the +matter. . . ." + +"You mean when he assumed that I was the illegitimate daughter of Mary +Zattiany. Poor Mary! She always wanted a daughter--that is, when her +own youth was over. That is the reason she was so fond of me. Do you +think I am Mary's bastard?" + +"I did--I don't now. . . . I don't know what to think. . . . I have +never lost that first impression--wholly." + +She stirred slightly. Was it a movement of uneasiness? He was +horribly embarrassed, but determined to hold his ground, and he kept +his eyes on her face, which retained its expression of mocking +amusement. + +"But you think I am an adventuress of some sort." + +"The word does not apply to you. There is no question that you are a +great lady." + +"Of course I might be an actress," she said coolly. "I may have been +on the stage in Vienna when the war broke out, become accidentally +associated with Countess Zattiany, won her confidence, owing to the +extraordinary resemblance--our blood may have met and mingled in +Cro-Magnon days--stolen her papers, led her to talk of her youth--of +course every one knew Countess Zattiany's record in European +Society--forged her power of attorney with the aid of an infatuated +clerk, poisoned her--and here I am!" + +He laughed. "Bully plot for the movies. That is a new angle, as they +say. I hadn't thought of it. And a good actress can put over +anything. I once heard a movie queen, who was the best young +aristocrat, in looks and manner, I ever saw on the screen, say to her +director--repeating a telephone conversation--'I says and he says and +then I seen he hadn't heard me.'" + +For the first time since he had known her she threw back her head and +laughed heartily. Even her eyes looked young and her laugh was musical +and thrilling. + +Then she demanded: "And do you think I am an actress--who got an +education somehow?" + +"I think you are an actress, but not that sort. Your imaginative +flight leaves me cold." + +"Perhaps you think I had Mary's personality transferred and that it +exists side by side with my own here in this accidental shell. There +are great scientists in Vienna." + +"Ah!" He looked at her sharply. "Button, button--I feel a sensation +of warmth somewhere." + +She laughed again, but her eyes contracted and almost closed. "I fear +you are a very romantic young man as well as a very curious one." + +"I deserved that. Well, I am curious. But not so curious +as--interested." + +"I hope you are not falling in love with me." Her deep voice had risen +to a higher register and was light and gay. + +"I am half in love with you. I don't know what is going to happen----" + +"And you want to protect yourself by disenchantment?" + +"Perhaps." + +"And you think it is my duty . . ." + +"Possibly I'd fall in love with you anyway, but I'd like to know where +I stand. I have a constitutional hatred of mystery outside of fiction +and the drama." + +"Ah." She gazed into the fire. "Mr. Dinwiddie, no doubt, is making +investigations. If he verified my story, would you still disbelieve?" + +"I should know there was something back of it all." + +"You must have been a good reporter." + +"One of the best." + +"I suppose it is that." + +"Partly. I don't think that if you were not just what you are I'd care +a hang. Other people's affairs don't excite me. I've outgrown mere +inquisitiveness." + +"That is rather beside the point, isn't it? It all comes back to +this--that you are afraid of falling in love with me." + +"You don't look as if it would do me any good if I did." + +"Why not let it go at that?" + +"I think the best thing I can do is to get out altogether." + +She rose swiftly and came close to him. "Oh, no! I am not going to +let you go. You are the only person on this continent who interests +me. I shall have your friendship. And you must admit that I have done +nothing----" + +"Oh, no, you have done nothing. You've only to be." He wondered that +he felt no desire to touch her. She looked lovely and appealing and +very young. But she radiated power, and that chin could not melt. + +He asked abruptly: "How many men have you had in love with you?" + +"Oh!" She spread out her hands vaguely. "How can one remember?" And +that look he most disliked, that look of ancient wisdom, disillusioned +and contemptuous, came into her eyes. + +"You are too young to have had so very many. And the war took a good +slice out of your life. I don't suppose you were infatuating +smashed-up men or even doctors and surgeons." + +"Certainly not. But, when one marries young--and one begins to live +early in Europe." + +"How often have you loved, yourself?" + +"That question I could answer specifically, but I shall not." + +He calculated rapidly. "Four years of war. Assuming that you are +thirty-two, although sometimes you look older and sometimes younger, +and that you married at seventeen, that would leave you--well, eleven +years before the war began. I suppose you didn't fall in love once a +year?" + +"Oh, no, I am a faithful soul. Say three years and a third to each +attack." + +"You talk at times singularly like an American for one who left here at +the age of two." + +"Remember that my family went with me. Moreover, Mary and I always +talked English together--American if you like. She was intensely proud +of being an American. We read all the American novels, as I told you. +They are an education in the idiom, permanent and passing. Moreover, I +was always meeting Americans." + +"Were you? Well, the greater number of them must be in New York at the +present moment. No doubt they would be glad to relieve your +loneliness." + +"I am not in the least lonely and I have not the least desire to see +any of them. Only one thing would induce me--if I thought it would be +possible to raise a large amount of money for the women and children of +Austria." + +"Ah! You would take the risk, then?" + +"Risk? They were the most casual acquaintances. They probably have +forgotten me long since. I had not left Hungary for a year before the +war, and one rarely meets an American in Pesth Society--two or three +other American women had married Hungarians, but they preferred Vienna +and I preferred Europeans. I knew them only slightly. . . . Moreover, +there are many Zattianys. It is an immense connection." + +"You mean you believe you would be safe," he caught her up. + +"_Mon dieu_! You make me feel as if I were on the stand. But yes, +quite safe." + +"And you really believe that any one could ever forget you?" + +"I am not as vain as you seem to think." + +"You have every right to be. Suppose--suppose that something should +occur to rouse the suspicions of the Countess Zattiany's old friends +and they should start investigations in Vienna?" + +"They would not see her--nor their emissaries. Dr. Steinach's +sanitarium is inviolate." + +"Steinach--Steinach--where have I heard that name lately?" + +Her eyes flew open, but she lowered the lids immediately. Her voice +shook slightly as she replied: "He is a very great doctor. He will +keep poor Mary's secret as long as she lives and nobody in Vienna would +doubt his word. Investigations would be useless." + +"She is there then? I suppose you mean that she is dying of an +incurable disease or has lost her mind. But do not imagine that I care +to pry further into that. I never had the least idea that you had---- +Oh, I don't know what to believe! . . . Won't you ever tell me?" + +"I wonder! No, I think not! No! No!" + +"There is something then?" + +"Do you know why you still harp on that absurd idea that I am what I am +and still am not? Do you not know what it is--the simple explanation?" + +"No, I do not." + +"It is merely that European women, the women who have been raised in +the intrigues of courts and the artificialities of what we call 'the +World,' who learn the technique of gallantry as soon as they are +_lancee_, where men make a definite cult of women and women of men, +where sincerity in such an atmosphere is more baffling than subtlety +and guile--that is the reason your American girl is never understood by +foreign men--where naturalness is despised as gauche and art commands +homage, where, in short, the game is everything--that most aristocratic +and enthralling of all games--the game of chess, with men and women as +kings, queens, pawns. . . . There you have the whole explanation of my +apparent riddle. You have never met any one like me before." + +"There are a good many women of your class here now." + +"Yes, with avowed objects, is it not? And they do not happen to +possess the combination of qualities that commands your interest." + +"That is true enough. Perhaps your explanation is the real one. There +is certainly something in it. Well, I'll go now. I have kept you up +long enough." + +He was about to raise her hand to his lips when she surprised him by +shaking his warmly. + +"I must get over that habit. It is rather absurd in this country where +you have not the custom. But you will come again?" + +"Oh, yes, I'll come again." + + + + +XII + +Madame Zattiany adjusted the chain on the front door and returned very +slowly to the library. That broad placid brow, not the least of her +physical charms, was drawn in a puzzled frown. Instead of turning out +the lights she sat down and stared into the dying fire. Suddenly she +began to laugh, a laugh of intense and ironic amusement; but it stopped +in mid-course and her eyes expanded with an expression of +consternation, almost of panic. + +She was not alarmed for the peace of mind of the man who was more in +love with her than he had so far admitted to himself. She had been +loved by too many men and had regarded their heartaches and balked +desires with too profound an indifference to worry over the possible +harm she might be inflicting upon the brilliant and ambitious young man +who had precipitated himself into her life. That might come later, but +not at this moment when she was shaken and appalled. + +She had dismissed from her mind long ago the hope or the desire that +she could ever again feel anything but a keen mental response to the +most provocative of men. No woman had ever lived who was more +completely disillusioned, more satiated, more scornful of that age-old +dream of human happiness, which, stripped to its bones, was merely the +blind instinct of the race to survive. Civilization had heaped its +fictions over the bare fact of nature's original purpose, imagination +lashing generic sexual impulse to impossible demands for the consummate +union of mind and soul and body. Mutuality! When man was essentially +polygamous and woman essentially the vehicle of the race. When the +individual soul had been decreed by the embittered gods eternally to +dwell alone and never yet had been tricked beyond the moment of nervous +exaltation into the belief that it had fused into its mate. Life +itself was futile enough, but that dream of the perfect love between +two beings immemorially paired was the most futile and ravaging of all +the dreams civilization had imposed upon mankind. The curse of +imagination. Only the savages and the ignorant masses understood +"love" for the transitory functional thing it was and were undisturbed +by spiritual unrest . . . by dreams . . . mad longings. . . . + +No one had ever surrendered to the illusion more completely than she. +No one had ever hunted with a more passionate determination for that +correlative soul that would submerge, exalt, and complete her own +aspiring soul. And what had she found? Men. Merely men. Satiety or +disaster. Weariness and disgust. She had not an illusion left. She +had put all that behind her long since. + +It seemed to her as she sat there staring into the last flickerings of +the charred log that it had been countless years since any man had had +the power to send a thrill along her nerves, to stir even the ghost of +those old fierce desires. No woman had ever had more cause to feel +immune. Too contemptuous of life and the spurious illusions man had +created for himself, while destroying the even balance between matter +and mind, even to be rebellious, she had felt a profound gratitude for +her complete freedom from the thrall of sex when she had realized that +with her gifts of mind and fortune she still had a work to do in the +world that would resign her to the supreme boredom of living. During +the war man had been but a broken thing to be mended or eased out of +life; and she knew that there was no better nurse in Europe; it had +always been her pride to do nothing by halves; and before that she had +come to look upon men with a certain passive toleration when their +minds were responsive to her own. Whatever sex charm they possessed +might better have been wasted on the Venus in the Louvre. + +And tonight she had realized that this young man, so unlike any she had +ever known in her European experience, had been more or less in her +thoughts since the night he had followed her out of the theatre and +stood covertly observing her as she waited for her car. She had been +conscious during subsequent nights at the play of his powerful gaze as +he sat watching for a turn of the head that would give him a glimpse of +something more than the back of her neck; or as she had passed him on +her way to her seat. She had been even more acutely conscious of him +as he left his own seat while the lights were still down and followed +her up the aisle. But she had felt merely amusement at the time, +possibly a thrill of gratified vanity, accustomed as she was to +admiration and homage. + +But on the night when he had hastened up to her in the deserted street +and offered his assistance, standing with his hat in his hand and +looking at her with a boyish and diffident gallantry in amusing +contrast with his stern and cynical countenance, and she had realized +that he had impulsively followed her, something had stirred within her +that she had attributed to a superficial recrudescence of her old love +of adventure, of her keen desire for novelty at any cost. Amused at +both herself and him, she had suddenly decided, while he was effecting +an entrance to her house, to invite him into the library and take +advantage of this break in the monotonous life she had decreed should +be her portion while she remained in New York. + +She had found him more personally attractive than she had expected. +Judge Trent, whom she had deftly drawn out, had told her that he was a +young man of whom, according to Dinwiddie, great things were expected +in the literary world; his newspaper career, brilliant as it was, being +regarded merely as a phase in his progress; he had not yet "found +himself." After that she had read his column attentively. + +But she had not been prepared for a powerful and sympathetic +personality, that curious mixture of naivete and hard sophistication, +and she had ascribed her interest in him to curiosity in exploring what +to her was a completely foreign type. In her own naivete it had never +occurred to her that men outside her class were gentlemen as she +understood the term, and she still supposed Clavering to be exceptional +owing to his birth and breeding. It had given her a distinct +satisfaction, the night of the dinner, to observe that he lost nothing +by contact with men who were indubitably of her own world. There was +no snobbery in her attitude. She had always been too secure in her own +exalted state for snobbery, too protected from climbers to conceive the +"I will maintain" impulse, and she had escaped at birth that +overpowering sense of superiority that carks the souls of high and low +alike. But it was the first time she had ever had the opportunity to +judge by any standards but those in which she had been born and passed +her life. As for Clavering, he was a gentleman, and that was the end +of that phase of the matter as far as she was concerned. + +It was only tonight that she had been conscious of a certain youthful +eagerness as she paced up and down the hall waiting to hear him run up +the steps. She had paused once and laughed at herself as she realized +that she was acting like a girl expecting her lover, when she was +merely a coldly--no longer even bitterly--disillusioned woman, bored +with this enforced inaction in New York, welcoming a little adventure +to distract her mind from its brooding on the misery she had left +behind her in Europe, and on the future to which she had committed +herself. And a midnight adventure! She had shrugged her shoulders and +laughed again as she had admitted him. + +But she felt no disposition to laugh as she sat alone in the chilling +room. She was both angry and appalled to remember that she had felt a +quivering, almost a distension of her nerves as she had sat there with +him in the silence and solitude of the night. That she had felt a warm +pleasure in the interest that betrayed him into positive impertinence, +and that a sick terror had shaken her when she saw that he was making +up his mind not to see her again. She had not betrayed herself for a +moment, she was too old a hand in the game of men and women for that, +and she had let him go without a sign, secure in the confidence that he +was at her beck; but she knew now, and her hands clenched and her face +distorted as she admitted it, that if he had suddenly snatched her in +his arms she would have flamed into passion and felt herself the +incarnation of youth and love. + +Incredible. Unthinkable. She! + +What should she do? Flee? She had come to New York for one purpose +only, to settle her financial affairs in the briefest possible time and +return to the country where her work lay. But she had been detained +beyond expectation, for the slow reorganization of one of the companies +in which a large portion of her fortune was invested would not be +complete without her final signature. There were other important +transfers to be made, and moreover Judge Trent had insisted that she +become thoroughly acquainted with her business affairs and able to +maintain an intelligent correspondence with her trustees when he +himself had retired. She had shown a remarkable aptitude for finance +and he was merciless in his insistence, demanding an hour of her time +every day. + +Business. She hated the word. What did it matter---- But she knew +that it did matter, and supremely. She might have the beauty, the +brains, and the sex domination to win men to her way of thinking when +she launched herself into the maelstrom of politics, but she was well +aware that her large fortune would be half the battle. It furnished +the halo and the sinews, and it gave her the power to buy men who could +not be persuaded. She had vowed that Austria should be saved at any +cost. + +No, she could not go now. She must remain for another month--two +months, possibly. She was no longer in that undisciplined stage of +youth when flight from danger seems the only solution. To wreck the +lives of others in order to secure her own peace of mind would make her +both ridiculous and contemptible in her own eyes, and she had yet to +despise herself. She would "stick it out," "see it through," to quote +the vernacular of these curious American novels she had been reading; +trusting that she had merely been suffering from a flurry of the +senses . . . not so remarkable perhaps. . . . + +But her mind drifted back to the past month. Senses? And if it were +not that alone, but merely the inevitable accompaniment of far stranger +processes . . . if it were what she had once so long sought and with +such disastrous results . . . She had believed for so many years that +it existed somewhere, in some man . . . that it was every woman's +right . . . even if it could not last for ever. . . . But while it +lasted! After all, imagination had its uses. It helped to prolong as +well as create. . . . She sank back and closed her eyes, succumbing to +an ineffable languor. + +It lasted but a moment. She started up with an exclamation of +impatience and disgust; and she shivered from head to foot. The room +was bitterly cold. There were only ashes on the hearth. + + + + +XIII + +Clavering turned hot and cold several times during his walk home. He +had been atrociously rude, impertinent. If she hadn't ordered him out +of the house it must have been because she was a creature of moods, and +he had merely amused her for the hour. No doubt she would wake up in a +proper state of indignation and give her servants orders. . . . +Or--was she sincere when she demanded his friendship, willing to put up +with his abominable manners, trusting to her own wit to defeat him, +lull his suspicions? Friendship! The best thing for him to do was to +avoid her like the plague. He hated to admit it, but he was afraid of +her, not so much of falling in love with her and going through tragedy, +which was probably what it would come to, as of the terrible force so +skillfully hidden in that white and delicate body, of a powerful +personality fortified by an unimaginable past. She gave the impression +of a woman who had been at grips with life and conquered it, from first +to last. Formidable creature! An extraordinary achievement if true. +But was it? Women, no matter how beautiful, wealthy, highly placed +and powerfully organized, got the worst of it one way or another. When +they fell in love they were apt to lose their heads, and with that the +game. Technique crumbled. For a moment he imagined her in love, +dissolved, helpless; then hastily changed the subject. He liked women +to be strong--having long since abandoned his earlier ideal of the +supine adorant--but not too strong. Certainly not stronger than +himself. He had met a good many "strong" women in the last twelve +years, swathed, more often than not, in disarming femininity. A man +hadn't a chance with them, man's strength as a rule being all on the +outside. Women grew up and men didn't. That was the infernal truth. + +For the moment he hated all women and felt not only a cowardly but a +decidedly boyish impulse to run away. He'd like to wander . . . +wander . . . lie out in the woods and dream as he had done in his +boyhood . . . before he knew too much of life . . . reading Shelley and +munching chestnuts. . . . Then he remembered that woods were full of +snow in winter, and laughed. Well, he'd go and see Gora Dwight. She +was in Washington at the moment, but would be home on Friday. She was +a tonic. Strong if you like, but making no bones about it. No soft +feminine seductions there. She, too, had fought life and conquered, in +a way, but she showed the scars. Must have had the devil of a time. +At all events a man could spend hours in her stimulating company and +know exactly where he stood. No damned sex nonsense about her at all. +He knew barely another woman who didn't trail round to sex sooner or +later. Psychoanalysis had relieved them of whatever decent inhibitions +they might have had in the past. He hated the subject. Some day he'd +let go in his column and tell women in general what he thought of them. +Remind them that men were their superiors in this at least: they kept +sex in its proper place and were capable always of more than one idea +at a time. So was Gora Dwight. He believed he'd make a confidante of +her--to a certain extent. At all events he'd refresh his soul at that +tranquil font. + + + + +XIV + +Gora Dwight, after the fashion of other successful authors, had +recently bought a house. It was in East Thirty-fifth Street, not far +from the one at present occupied by Madame Zattiany, but nearer +Lexington Avenue. It was one of the old monotonous brownstone houses, +but with a "southern exposure," and the former owner had removed the +front steps and remodeled the lower floor. + +The dining-room, on the left of the entrance, was a long admirably +proportioned room, and the large room above, which embraced the entire +floor, Miss Dwight had converted into a library both sumptuous and +stately. She had bought her furniture at auction that it might not +look too new, and on the longer walls were bookcases seven feet high. +She had collected a small library before the war; and for the many +other books, some of them rare and all highly valued by their present +possessor, she had haunted second-hand bookshops. + +The prevailing tone of the room was brown and gold, enlivened +discreetly with red, and the chairs and lounges were deep and +comfortable. A large davenport stood before the fireplace, which had +been rebuilt for logs. There was a victrola in one corner, for Miss +Dwight was amenable if her guests were seized with the desire to jazz, +and a grand piano stood near the lower windows. The only evidence of +sheer femininity was a tea table furnished with old pieces of silver +she had picked up in France. The dining-room below was a trifle gayer +in effect; the walls and curtains were a deep yellow and there were +always flowers on the table. + +New York knew so much about this new literary planet that it took for +granted there was nothing further to be discovered. There are always +San Franciscans in the great city, and when she became famous they were +obliging with their biographical data. Life had been hard on her at +first, for although she came of old Revolutionary stock she grew up in +poverty and obscurity. Her father had been a failure, and after the +death of her parents she had kept a lodging house for business women, +taking courses at the University of California meanwhile; later she had +studied nursing and made her mark with physicians and surgeons. Her +brother, a good-looking chap with fine manners, but a sort of +super-moron, had unexpectedly married into the old aristocracy of San +Francisco, and Gora, through her sister-in-law, the lovely Alexina +Groome,[1] had seen something of the lighter side of life. During this +period she had written a number of short stories that had been +published in the best magazines, and one novel of distinction that had +made a "howling success" in San Francisco, owing to the unprecedented +efforts of the fashionable people led by young Mrs. Mortimer Dwight; +but had fallen flat in the East in spite of the reviews. Then had come +a long intermission when fictionists were of small account in a world +of awful facts. She was quite forgotten, for she made not even a +casual contribution to the magazines; shortly after the war broke out +she offered her services to England and for long and weary years was +one of the most valued nurses in the British armies. At the close of +the war she had returned to California, intending to write her new +novel at Lake Tahoe, but finding the season in full swing she had gone +to some small interior town and written it there. When it was finished +she had brought it on to New York and had remained here ever since. + +So ended the brief biography, which was elaborated in many articles and +interviews. + +As for the novel, it won her instant fame and a small fortune. It was +gloomy, pessimistic, excoriating, merciless, drab, sordid, and +hideously realistic. Its people hailed from that plebeian end of the +vegetable garden devoted to turnips and cabbages. They possessed all +the mean vices and weaknesses that detestable humanity has so far +begotten. They were all failures and their pitiful aspirations were +treated with biting irony. Futile, futile world! + +The scene was laid in a small town in California, a microcosm of the +stupidities of civilization and of the United States of America in +particular. The celebrated "atmosphere" of the state was ignored. The +town and the types were "American"; it would seem that merely some +unadmitted tenuous sentiment had set the scene in the state of the +author's birth, but there the concession ended. Even the climate was +treated with the scorn that all old _cliches_ deserved. (Her +biographers might have contributed the information that the climate of +a California interior town in summer is simply infernal.) + +Naturally, the book created a furore. A few years before it would have +expired at birth, even had a publisher been mad enough to offer it to a +smug contented world. But the daily catalogue of the horrors and the +obscenities of war, the violent dislocations that followed with their +menaces of panic and revolution that affected the nerves and the +pockets of the entire commonwealth, the irritable reaction against the +war itself, knocked romance, optimism, aspiration, idealism, the sane +and balanced judgment of life, to smithereens. More _cliches_. The +world was rotten to the core and the human race so filthy the wonder +was that any writer would handle it with tongs. But they plunged to +their necks. The public, whose urges, inhibitions, complexes, were in +a state of ferment, but inarticulate, found their release in these +novels and stories and wallowed in them. The more insulting, the more +ruthless, the more one-sided the disclosure of their irremediable +faults and meannesses, the more voluptuous the pleasure. There had +been reactions after the Civil War, but on a higher plane. The +population had not been maculated by inferior races. + +The young editors, critics, special writers were enchanted. This was +Life! At last! Moreover, it was Democracy. These young and able men, +having renounced their earlier socialism, their sense of humor +recognizing its disharmony with high salaries and pleasant living, were +hot for Democracy. Nothing paid like Democracy in this heaving world. +The Democratic wave rose and roared. Symbolic was this violent +eruption of small-town fiction, as realistic as the kitchen, as +pessimistic as Wall Street. All virtue, all hope, all idealism, had +gone out of the world. Romance, for that matter, never had existed and +it was high time the stupid world was forcibly purged of its immemorial +illusion. Life was and ever had been sordid, commonplace, ignoble, +vulgar, immedicable; refinement was a cowardly veneer that was beneath +any seeker after Truth, and Truth was all that mattered. Love was to +laugh. Happiness was hysteria, and content the delusion of morons (a +word now hotly racing "authentic"). As for those verbal criminals, +"loyalty" and "patriotism"--_fecit vomitare_. + +Their success was colossal. + +Gora Dwight caught the crest of the wave and sold three hundred +thousand copies of "Fools." She immediately signed a contract with one +of the "woman's magazines" for the serial rights of her next novel for +thirty thousand dollars, and received a corresponding advance from her +publisher. Her short stories sold for two thousand dollars apiece, and +her first novel was exhumed and had a heavy sale. + +It was difficult to be pessimistic with a hundred thousand dollars in +bonds and mortgages and the deed of a house in her strong box, but Gora +Dwight was an artist and could always fall back on technique. But +although her book was the intellectual expression of wildly distorted +complexes, owing to the disillusionments of war, the humiliation of her +ego in woman's most disastrous adventure, and the consequent repression +of all her dearest urges, she deserved her success far more than any of +her adolescent rivals. She had formed her style in the days of +complete normalcy, and not only was that style distinguished, vigorous, +and individual, but she was able to convey her extremest realism so +subtly and yet so unambiguously that she could afford to disdain the +latrinities of the "younger school." A marvellous feat. Most of them +used the frank vocabulary of the humble home, as alone synonymous with +Truth. Never before had such words invaded the sacrosanct pages of +American letters. Little they recked, as Mr. Lee Clavering, who took +the entire school as an obscene joke, pointed out, that they were but +taking the shortest cut--advantage of the post-war license affecting +all classes--to save themselves the exhausting effort of acquiring a +vocabulary and forming a style. + +The spade as a symbol vanished from fiction. + +Miss Dwight had her own ideals, little as she permitted her unfortunate +characters to have any, and not only was she a consummate master of +words and of the art of suggestion, but she had been brought up by +finicky parents who held that certain words were not to be used in +refined society. The impressions received in plastic years were not to +be obliterated by any fad of the hour. + +No one knew, not even her fellow Californians, that she had had a +disastrous love affair which had culminated in an attempt to murder her +beautiful sister-in-law. Her book had been a wild revulsion from every +standard of her youth, and she loathed love and the bare idea of mutual +happiness in fellow mortals as she recently had loathed blood and filth +and war and Germans. + +Success is a great healer. Moreover, she was a woman of strong and +indomitable character, and very proud. She consigned the man, who, +after all, was the author of her phenomenal success, to nethermost +oblivion. You cannot sell three hundred thousand copies of a book, +receive hundreds of letters from unknown admirers telling you that you +are the greatest novelist living, see your name constantly in the +"news," be besieged by editors and publishers, and become a popular +favorite with Sophisticates, and carry around a lacerated heart. The +past fades. The present reigns. The future is rosy as the dawn. Gora +Dwight was far too arrogant at this period of her career to love any +man even had there been anything left of her heart but a pump. Her +life was full to the brim. She was quite aware that the present rage +for stark and dour realism would pass--the indications were to be seen +in the more moderate but pronounced success of several novels by +authors impervious to crazes--but she was too fertile for apprehension +on that score. She had many and quite different themes wandering like +luminous ghosts about the corridors of a brain singularly free from +labyrinths, ready to emerge, full-bodied, when the world was ready for +them. + +The last time Clavering had sat opposite a woman by a log fire both had +enjoyed the deep luxury of easy chairs and his hostess had seemed to +melt into the depths until they enfolded her. But Miss Dwight never +lounged. Her backbone appeared to be made of cast-iron. She sat erect +today on a hassock while he reclined in a chair that exactly fitted his +spine and enjoyed contrasting her with the other woman. Gora Dwight +had no beauty, but she never passed unnoticed in a crowd, even if +unrecognized. Her oval eyes were a pale clear gray, cold, almost +sinister, and she wore her mass of rich brown hair on top of her head +and down to her heavy eyebrows. Her mouth was straight and sharply +cut, but mobile and capable of relaxing into a charming smile, and she +had beautiful teeth. The nose was short and emphatic, the jawbone +salient. It was, altogether, a disharmonic type, for the head was long +and the face short, broad across the high cheekbones; and her large +light eyes set in her small dark face produced a disconcerting effect +on sensitive people, but more often fascinated them. Clavering had +been told that in her California days she had possessed a superb bust, +but long years of unremitting work in France and England had taken toll +of her flesh and it had never returned; she was very thin and the +squareness of her frame was emphasized by the strong uncompromising +bones. But her feet and her brown hands were long and narrow, and the +straight lines of the present fashion were very becoming to her. She +wore today a gown of dark red velvet trimmed with brown fur and a touch +of gold in the region of the waist. It was known that she got her +clothes at the "best houses." + +She was a curious mixture, Clavering reflected, and not the least +contradictory thing about her was the way in which her rather sullen +face could light up: exactly as if some inner flame leapt suddenly +behind those uncanny eyes and shed its light over the very muscles of +her cheeks and under her skin. The oddest of her traits was her +apparent pleasure in seeing a man comfortable while she looked like a +ramrod herself; and she was the easiest of mortals to talk to when she +was in the right mood. She was morose at times, but her favorites were +seldom inflicted with her moods, and of all her favorites Clavering +reigned supreme. This he knew and took advantage of after the fashion +of his sex. He told her all his troubles, his ambitions, which he +believed to be futile--he had written plays which his own criticism had +damned and no eye but his own and Gora Dwight's had ever seen--and she +refreshed and stimulated his mind when his daily column must be written +and his brain was stagnant. She also knew of his secret quest of the +one woman and had been the repository of several fleeting hopes. And +never for a moment had she thought him saturnine or disillusioned. Not +she! Gora Dwight had an extraordinary knowledge of men for a woman to +whom men did not make love. But if she had neither beauty nor allure +she had genius; and a father confessor hardly knows more about women +than a nurse about men. Moreover, she had her arts, little as men +suspected it. Long ago she had read an appraisement of Madame Recamier +by Sainte-Beuve: "She listens _avec seduction_." Gora had no intention +of practising seduction in any of its forms, but she listened and she +never betrayed, and her reward was that men sound and whole, and full +of man's inherent and technical peculiarities, had confided in her. +Altogether she was well equipped for fiction. + + + +[1] See the author's "Sisters-in-Law." + + + + +XV + +She was listening now as Clavering told her of his adventurous meeting +with Madame Zattiany, of their subsequent conversations, and of his +doubts. + +"Are you sure she is not playing a part deliberately?" she asked. +"Having her little fun after those horrible years? She looks quite +equal to it, and a personal drama would have its attractions after an +experience during which a nurse felt about as personal as an amputated +limb. And while one is still young and beautiful--what a lark!" + +"No. I don't believe anything of the sort. I fancy that if she didn't +happen to be so fond of the theatre she'd have come and gone and none +of us been the wiser. Her secret is _sui generis_, whatever it is. +I've racked my mind in vain. I don't believe she is the Countess +Zattiany's daughter, nor a third cousin, nor the Countess Josef +Zattiany. I've tried to recall every mystery story I ever read that +would bear on the case, but I'm as much in the dark as ever." + +"And you've thought of nothing else. Your column has fallen off." + +"Do you think that?" He sat up. "I've not been too satisfied myself." + +"You've been filling up with letters from your correspondents after the +fashion of more jaded columnists. Even your comments on them have been +flat. And as for your description of that prize fight last night, it +was about as thrilling as an account of a flower show." + +He laughed and dropped back. "You are as refreshing as a cold shower, +Gora. But, after all, even a poor colyumist must be allowed to slump +occasionally. However, I'll turn her off hereafter when I sit down to +my typewriter. Lord knows a typewriter is no Wagnerian orchestra and +should be warranted to banish sentiment. . . . Sentiment is not the +word, though. It is plain raging curiosity." + +"Oh, no, it is not," said Miss Dwight coolly, lighting another +cigarette, which she carefully fitted into a pair of small gold tongs: +neither ink nor nicotine was ever seen on those long aristocratic +fingers. "You are in love with her, my child." + +"I am not!" + +"Oh, yes, you are. I've never been misled for a moment by your other +brief rhapsodies--the classic Anne--the demoniac Marian--but you're +landed high and dry this time. The mystery may have something to do +with it, but the woman has far more. She is the most beautiful +creature I ever beheld and she looks intelligent and keen in spite of +that monumental repose. And what a great lady!" Gora sighed. How she +once had longed to be a great lady! She no longer cared a fig about +it, and would not have changed her present state for that of a princess +in a stable world. But old dreams die hard. There was no one of +Madame Zattiany's abundant manifestations of high fortune that she +admired more. "Go in and win, Clavey--and without too much loss of +time. She'll be drawn into her own world here sooner or later. She +confesses to being a widow, so you needn't get tangled up in an +intrigue." + +"You forget she is also a very rich woman. I'd look like a fortune +hunter----" + +"How old-fashioned of you! And you'd feel like nothing of the sort. +The only thing that worries you at present is that you are trying to +hide from yourself that you are in love with her." + +"I wonder! I don't feel any raging desire for her--that I can swear." + +"You simply haven't got that far. The mystery has possessed your mind +and your doubts have acted as a censor. But once let yourself go . . ." + +"And suppose she turned me down--which, no doubt, she would do. I'm +not hunting for tragedy." + +"I've an idea she won't. While you've been talking I've written out +the whole story in my mind. For that matter, I began it last Monday +night when I saw you two whispering together. I was in the box just +above--if you noticed! And I watched her face. It was something more +than politely interested." + +"Oh, she looked the same when she was talking to Din and Osborne that +night at dinner. She is merely a woman of the world who has had scores +of men in love with her and is young enough to be interested in any +young man who doesn't bore her. To say nothing of keeping her hand +in. . . . But there is something else." He moved restlessly. "She +seems to me to be compounded of strength, force, power. She emanates, +exudes it. I'm afraid of being afraid of her. I prefer to be stronger +than my wife." + +"Don't flatter yourself. Women are always stronger than their +husbands, unless they are the complete idiot or man-crazy. Neither +type would appeal to you. The average woman--all the millions of +her--has a moral force and strength of character and certain shrewd +mental qualities, however unintellectual, that dominate a man every +time. This woman has all that and more--a thousand times more. A +mighty good thing if she would take you in hand. She'd be the making +of you, for you'd learn things about men and women and life--and +yourself--that you've never so much as guessed. And then you'd write a +play that would set the town on fire. That's all you need. Even if +she treated you badly the result would be the same. Life has been much +too kind to you, Clavey, and your little disappointments have been so +purely romantic that only your facile emotions have played about like +amiable puppies on the roof of your passions. It's time the lava began +to boil and the lid blew off. Your creative tract would get a +ploughing up and a fertilizing as a natural sequence. Your plays would +no longer be mere models of architecture. I am not an amiable +altruist. I don't long to see you happy. I'm rather inclined to hate +this woman who will end by infatuating you, for of course that would be +the last I'd ever see of you. But I'm an artist and I believe that art +is really all that is worth living for. I want you to do great work, +and I want you to be a really great figure in New York instead of a +merely notable one." + +"You've both taken the conceit out of me and bucked me up. . . . But I +want you to meet her, and I don't know how to bring it about. I have +an idea that your instinct would get somewhere near the truth." + +"Suppose I give a party, and, a day or two before, you ask her casually +if she would like to come--or put it to her in any way you think best. +Nobody calls these days, but I have an idea she would. People of that +type rarely renounce the formalities. Then, if I'm really clever, I'll +make her think she'd like to see me again and she will be at home when +I return her call. Do you think you could work it?" + +"It's possible. I've roused her curiosity about our crowd and I'll +plant a few more seeds. Yes, I think she'll come. When will you have +it?" + +"A week from Saturday." + +"Good. You're a brick, Gora. And don't imagine you'll ever get rid of +me. If she is unique, so are you. This fireside will always be a +magnet." + +Miss Dwight merely smiled. + + + + +XVI + +Clavering walked rapidly toward Mr. Dinwiddie's club. He was in no +haste to be alone with himself, although he should have been at his +desk an hour ago. But it was time Dinwiddie had some news for him. + +The club was deserted as far as he was concerned and he went on to Mr. +Dinwiddie's rooms in Forty-eighth Street. There he found his friend in +dressing-gown and slippers, one bandaged foot on a stool. + +"Gout?" he asked with the callousness of youth. "Wondered why I hadn't +heard from you." + +"I've tried to get you no less than four times on the telephone." + +"When I'm at work I leave orders downstairs to let my telephone alone, +and I've been walking a lot." + +"Well, sit down and smoke. Standing round makes me nervous. You look +nervous yourself. Been working too hard?" + +"Yes. Think of taking a run down to Florida." + +"Perhaps I'll go with you. But I've something to tell you. That's the +reason I called you up----" + +"Well?" + +"Don't snap my head off. Got a touch of dyspepsia?" + +"No, I haven't. If you had to turn out a column a day you'd be nervous +too." + +"Well, take a vacation----" + +"What have you found out?" + +"It took me a week to get in touch with Harry Thornhill, but he finally +consented to see me. He's lived buried among books for the last twenty +years. His wife and two children were killed in a railway +collision----" + +"What the devil do I care about Harry Thornhill!" + +"You're a selfish young beggar, but I would have cared as little at +your age. Well--a cousin of his, Maynard Thornhill, did move to +Virginia some thirty-five years ago, married, and had a family, then +moved on to Paris and remained there until both he and his wife died. +Beyond that he could tell me nothing. They weren't on particularly +cordial terms and he never looked the family up when he went over. Has +Madame Zattiany ever said anything about brothers and sisters?" + +"Not a word." + +"Probably married and settled in Europe somewhere, or wiped out. You +might ask her." + +"I'll ask her no more questions." + +"Been snubbing you?" + +"On the contrary, she's been uncommonly decent. I got rather strung up +the last time I was there and asked her so many leading questions that +she'd have been justified in showing me out of the house." + +"You impertinent young scamp. But manners have changed since my day. +What did she tell you?" + +"Nothing. I'm as much in the dark as ever. What have you found out +about Josef Zattiany?" + +"Something, but not quite enough. I met an Austrian, Countess Loyos, +at dinner the other night and asked her about the Zattianys. She said +the family was a large one with many branches, but she had a vague idea +that a Josef Zattiany was killed in the war. Whether he was married or +not, she had no idea. . . ." + +Clavering stood up suddenly and looked down on Mr. Dinwiddie, who was +smiling less triumphantly than ruefully. "Well?" he asked sharply. +"Well?" + +"I see you've caught it. It's rather odd, isn't it, that this Austrian +lady, who has lived her life in Viennese Society, knows nothing +apparently of any young and beautiful Countess Zattiany? I didn't give +her a hint of the truth, for I certainly shall not be the one to loose +the bloodhounds on this charming young woman, whoever she may be. Told +her that I recalled having met a very young and handsome countess of +that name in Europe before the war and wondered what had become of +her. . . . But somebody else may let them loose any moment. A good +many people are interested in her already." + +"Well, they can't do anything to her. She's a right to call herself +whatever she likes, and she asks no favors. But I'd like to hypnotize +Judge Trent and get the truth out of him. He knows, damn him!" + +"He's laying up trouble for himself if he's passing off an +impostor--letting her get possession of Mary's money. I cannot +understand Trent. He's a fool about women, but he's the soul of honor, +and has one of the keenest legal minds in the state. That she has +fooled him is unthinkable." + +"He knows, and is in some way justified. Madame Zattiany _must_ have +your friend's power of attorney. That's positive. And there is no +doubt that Countess Zattiany--Mary Ogden--is in some sanitarium in +Vienna, hopelessly ill. She let that out." + +"Poor Mary! Is that true?" + +"I'm afraid it is . . . perhaps . . . that _may_ be it. . . ." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"When she was mocking my curiosity she suggested that she might have +been an actress and won the confidence of Countess Zattiany owing to +the resemblance. It struck me as fantastic, but who knows? . . . +Still, why should she use the name Zattiany even if your friend did +give her the power of attorney . . . unless . . ." he recalled Gora's +suggestion, "she is out for a lark." + +"Lark? She hasn't tried to meet people. I can't see any point in your +idea. Absurd. And that woman is no actress. She is _grande dame_ +born and bred." + +"I've met some actresses that had very fine manners indeed, and also +the _entree_." + +"Well, they don't measure up according to my notion. This girl is the +real thing." + +"Then why, in heaven's name, doesn't your Countess Loyos know anything +about her? If Madame Zattiany is what she says she is, they must have +met in Viennese Society a hundred times. In fact she would have been +one of the notable figures at court." + +"The only explanation I can think of is that Madame Zattiany is all +that she claims to be, but that for some reason or other she is not +using her own name." + +"Ah! That is an explanation. But why--why?" + +"There you have me . . . unless . . . Ah!" The familiar glitter came +into his eyes and Clavering waited expectantly. This old bird had a +marvellous instinct. "I have it! For some reason she had to get out +of Europe. Maybe she's hiding from a man, maybe from the Government. +Zattiany may be one of her husband's names--or her mother's. Of course +Mary would be interested in her--with that resemblance--and help her +out. She knew her well enough to trust her, and somebody had to +represent her here. Of course Trent knows the truth and naturally +would keep her secret." + +"Another plot for the movies . . . still--it's a plausible enough +explanation . . . yes . . . I shouldn't wonder. But from whom is she +hiding?" + +"Possibly from her husband." + +"Her--her----" + +"Like as not. Don't murder me. I think you'd better go to Florida and +stay there. Better still, marry Anne Goodrich and take her along----" + +Clavering had flung himself out of the room. + + + + +XVII + +He charged down Madison Avenue, barely escaping disaster at the +crossings in the frightful congestion of the hour: he was not only +intensely perturbed in mind, but he was in a hurry. His column was +unfinished and an article on the "authentic drama" for one of the +literary reviews must be delivered on the morrow. In the normal course +of events it would have been written a week since. + +He was furious with himself. Passionate, impulsive, and often +unreasonable, his mind was singularly well-balanced and never before +had it succumbed to obsession. He had taken the war as a normal +episode in the history of a world dealing mainly in war; not as a +strictly personal experience designed by a malignant fate to deprive +youth of its illusions, embitter and deidealize it, fill it with a cold +and acrid contempt for militarism and governments, convert it to +pacificism, and launch it on a confused but strident groping after +Truth. It was incredible to him that any one who had read history +could be guilty of such jejunity, and he attributed it to their bruised +but itching egos. After all, it had been a middle-aged man's war. Not +a single military reputation had been made by any one of the millions +of young fighters, despite promotions, citations, and medals. +Statesmen and military men long past their youth would alone be +mentioned in history. + +The youth of America was individualism rampant plus the national +self-esteem, and the mass of them today had no family traditions behind +them--sprung from God knew what. Their ego had been slapped in the +face and compressed into a mould; they were subconsciously trying to +rebuild it to its original proportions by feeling older than their +fathers and showering their awful contempt upon those ancient and +despicable loadstones: "loyalty" and "patriotism." Writers who had +remained safely at home had taken the cue and become mildly pacifist. +It sounded intellectual and it certainly was the fashion. + +Clavering, whose ancestors had fought in every war in American history, +had enlisted in 1917 with neither sentimentalism, enthusiasm, nor +resentment. It was idle to vent one's wrath and contempt upon +statesmen who could not settle their quarrels with their brains, for +the centuries that stood between the present and utter barbarism were +too few to have accomplished more than the initial stages of a true +civilization. No doubt a thousand years hence these stages would +appear as rudimentary as the age of the Neanderthals had seemed to the +twentieth century. And as man made progress so did he rarely outstrip +it. So far he had done less for himself than for what passed for +progress and the higher civilization. Naturally enough, when the +Frankenstein monster heaved itself erect and began to run amok with +seven-leagued boots, all the pigmies could do was to revert +hysterically to Neanderthal methods and use the limited amount of +brains the intervening centuries had given them, to scheme for victory. +A thousand years hence the Frankenstein might be buried and man's brain +gigantic. Then and then only would civilization be perfected, and the +savagery and asininity of war a blot on the history of his race to +which no man cared to refer. But that was a long way off. When a +man's country was in danger there was nothing to do but fight. +Noblesse oblige. And fight without growling and whining. Clavering +had liked army discipline, sitting in filthy trenches, wounds, +hospitals, and killing his fellow men as little as any decent man; but +what had these surly grumblers expected? To fight when they felt like +it, sleep in feather beds, and shoot at targets? Disillusionment! +Patriotism murdered by Truth! One would think they were fighting the +first war in history. + +It was not the war they took seriously but themselves. + +Like other men of his class and traditions, Clavering had emerged from +the war hoping it would be the last of his time, but with his ego +unbruised, his point of view of life in general undistorted, and a +quick banishment of "hideous memories." (His chief surviving memory +was a hideous boredom.) One more war had gone into history. That he +had taken an infinitesimal part in it instead of reading an account of +it by some accomplished historian was merely the accident of his years. +As far as he could see he was precisely the man he was before he was +sent to France and he had only unmitigated contempt for these "war +reactions" in men sound in limb and with no derangement of the ductless +glands. + +As for the women, when they began to talk their intellectual +pacificism, he told them that their new doctrine of non-resistance +became them ill, but as even the most advanced were still women, +consistency was not to be expected--nor desired. Their pacificism, +however, when not mere affectation--servility to the fashion of the +moment--was due to an obscure fear of seeing the world depopulated of +men, or of repressed religious instinct, or apology for being females +and unable to fight. He was extremely rude. + +And now this infernal woman had completely thrown him off his balance. +He could think of nothing else. His work had been deplorable--the last +week at all events--and although a month since nothing would have given +him more exquisite satisfaction than to write a paper on the authentic +drama, he would now be quite indifferent if censorship had closed every +theatre on Broadway. Such an ass, such a cursed ass had he become in +one short month. He had tramped half the nights and a good part of +every day trying to interest himself by the wayside and clear his +brain. He might as well have sat by his fire and read a piffling novel. + +Nevertheless, until Gora Dwight had brought her detached analytical +faculty to bear on his case, he had not admitted to himself that he was +in love with the woman. He had chosen to believe that, being unique +and compact of mystery, she had hypnotized his interest and awakened +all the latent chivalry of his nature--something the modern woman +called upon precious seldom. He had felt the romantic knight ready to +break a lance--a dozen if necessary--in case the world rose against +her, denounced her as an impostor. True, she seemed more than able to +take care of herself, but she was very beautiful, very blonde, very +unprotected, and in that wistful second youth he most admired. He had +thought himself the chivalrous son of chivalrous Southerners, excited +and not too happy, but convinced, at the height of his restlessness and +absorption, that she was but a romantic and passing episode in his life. + +When Gora Dwight had ruthlessly led him into those unconsciously +guarded secret chambers of his soul and bidden him behold and ponder, +he had turned as cold as if ice-water were running in his veins, +although he had continued to smile indulgently and had answered with +some approach to jocularity. He was floored at last. He'd got the +infernal disease in its most virulent form. Not a doubt of it. No +wonder he had deluded himself. His ideal woman--whom, preferably, he +would have wooed and won in some sequestered spot beautified by nature, +not made hideous by man--was not a woman at all, but a girl; twenty-six +was an ideal age; who had read and studied and thought, and seen all of +the world that a girl decently may. He had dreamed of no man's +leavings, certainly not of a woman who had probably had more than one +lover, and, no doubt, would not take the trouble to deny it. He hated +as much as he loved her and he felt that he would rather kill than +possess her. + +It was half an hour after he reached his rooms before he finished +striding up and down; then, with a final anathema, he flung himself +into a chair before his table. At least his brain felt clearer, now +that he had faced the truth. Time enough to wrestle with his problem +when he had won his leisure. If he couldn't switch her off for one +night at least and give his brain its due, he'd despise himself, and +that, he vowed, he'd never do. He wrote steadily until two in the +morning. + + + + +XVIII + +He awoke at noon. His first impression was that a large black bat was +sitting on his brain. The darkened room seemed to contain a visible +presence of disaster. He sprang out of bed and took a hot and cold +shower; hobgoblins fled, although he felt no inclination to sing! He +called down for his breakfast and opened his hall door. A pile of +letters lay on his newspapers, and the topmost one, in a large envelope, +addressed in a flowing meticulously fine hand, he knew, without +speculation, to be from Madame Zattiany. + +He threw back the curtains, settled himself in an armchair, read his +other letters deliberately, and glanced at the headlines of the papers, +before he carefully slit the envelope that had seemed to press his +eyeballs. The time had come for self-discipline, consistently exercised. +Moreover, he was afraid of it. What--why had she written to him? Why +hadn't she telephoned? Was this a tardy dismissal? His breath was short +and his hands shaking as he opened the letter. + +It was sufficiently commonplace. + + +"Dear Mr. Clavering: + +"I have been in Atlantic City for a few days getting rid of a cold. I +hope you have not called. Will you dine with me tomorrow night at half +after eight? I shall not ask any one else. + +"Sincerely, + "MARIE ZATTIANY." + + +So her name was Marie. It had struck him once or twice as humorous that +he didn't know the first name of the woman who was demanding his every +waking thought. And she had been out of town and unaware that he had +deliberately avoided her. Had taken for granted that he had been polite +enough to call--and had left his cards at home. + +Should he go? He'd have his breakfast first and do his thinking +afterward. + +He did ample justice to the breakfast which was also lunch, read his +newspapers, cursed the printers of his own for two typographical errors +he found in his column, then called up her house. Feeling as normal and +unromantic as a man generally does when digesting a meal and the news, he +concluded that to refuse her invitation, to attempt to avoid her, in +short, would not only be futile, as he was bound to respond to that +magnet sooner or later, but would be a further confession of cowardice. +Whatever his fate, he'd see it through. + +He gave his acceptance to the butler, went out and took a brisk walk, +returned and wrote his column for the next day, then visited his club and +talked with congenial souls until it was time to dress for dinner. No +more thinking at present. + +Nevertheless, he ascended her steps at exactly half-past eight with the +blood pounding in his ears and his heart acting like a schoolboy's in his +first attack of calf love. But he managed to compose himself before the +footman leisurely answered his ring. If there was one point upon which +he was primarily determined it was to keep his head. If he gave her a +hint that she had reduced him to a state of imbecility before his moment +came--if it ever did!--his chances would be done for--dished. He looked +more saturnine than ever as he strode into the hall. + +"Dinner will be served in the library, sir," said the footman. "Madame +will be down in a moment." + +A tete-a-tete by the fire! Worse and worse. He had been fortified by +the thought of the butler and footman. An hour under their supercilious +eyes would mean the most impersonal kind of small talk. But they'd +hardly stand round the library. + +However, the small table before the blazing logs looked very cosy and the +imposing room was full of mellow light. Two Gothic chairs had been drawn +to the table. They, at least, looked uncomfortable enough to avert +sentiment. Not that he felt sentimental. He was holding down something +a good deal stronger than sentiment, but he flattered himself that he +looked as saturnine as Satan himself as he warmed his back at the fire. +He hoped she had a cold in her head. + +But she had not. As she entered, dressed in a white tea gown of chiffon +and lace, she looked like a moonbeam, and as if no mortal indisposition +had ever brushed her in passing. Instead of her pearls she wore a long +thin necklace of diamonds that seemed to frost her gown. She was smiling +and gracious and infinitely remote. The effect was as cold and steadying +as his morning's icy shower. + +He shook her hand firmly. "Sorry you've been seedy. Hope it didn't lay +you up." + +"Oh, no. I fancy I merely wanted an excuse to see Atlantic City. It was +just a touch of bronchitis and fled at once." + +"Like Atlantic City?" + +"No. It is merely an interminable line of ostentatiously rich hotels on +a _board walk_! None of the grace and dignity of Ostend--poor Ostend as +it used to be. The digue was one of the most brilliant sights in +Europe--but no doubt you have seen it," she added politely. + +"Yes, I spent a week there once, but Bruges interested me more. I was +very young at the time." + +"You must have been! Don't you like to gamble? The Kursaal could be +very exciting." + +"Oh, yes, I like to gamble occasionally." (God! What banal talk!) +"Gambling with life, however, is a long sight more exciting." + +"Yes, is it not? Atlantic City might do you good. You do not look at +all well." + +"Never felt better in my life. A bit tired. Generally am at this time +of the year. May take a run down to Florida." + +"I should," she said politely. "Shall you stay long?" + +"That depends." (Presence of servants superfluous!) "Are you fond of +the sea?" + +"I detest it--that boundless flat gray waste. A wild and rocky coast in +a terrific storm, yes--but not that moving gray plain that comes in and +falls down, comes in and falls down. It is the mountains I turn to when +I can. I often long for the Austrian Alps. The Dolomites! The +translucent green lakes like enormous emeralds, sparkling in the sun and +set in straight white walls. A glimpse of pine forest beyond. The roar +of an avalanche in the night." + +"New York and Atlantic City _must_ seem prosaic." He had never felt so +polite. "I suppose you are eager to return?" (Why in hell don't those +servants bring the dinner!) + +"I have not seen the Alps since two years before the war. Some day--yes! +Oh, yes! Shall we sit down?" + +The two men entered with enormous dignity bearing plates of oysters as if +offering the Holy Grail and the head of Saint John the Baptist on a +charger. Impossible to associate class-consciousness with beings who +looked as impersonal as fate, and would have regarded a fork out of +alignment as a stain on their private 'scutcheon. They performed the +rite of placing the oysters on the table and retired. + +Madame Zattiany and Clavering adjusted themselves to the Gothic period. +The oysters were succulent. They discussed the weather. + +"This was a happy thought," he said. "It feels like a blizzard outside." + +"The radiator in the dining-room is out of order." + +"Oh!" + +She was a woman of the world. Why in thunder didn't she make things +easier? Had she asked him here merely because she was too bored to eat +alone? He hated small talk. There was nothing he wanted less than the +personalities of their previous conversations, but she might have +entertained him. She was eating her oysters daintily and giving him the +benefit of her dark brown eyelashes. Possibly she was merely in the mood +for comfortable silences with an established friend. Well, he was not. +Passion had subsided but his nerves jangled. + +And inspiration came with the soup and some excellent sherry. + +"By the way! Do you remember I asked you--at that last first-night--if +you wouldn't like to see something of the Sophisticates?" + +"The what?" + +"Some of them still like to call themselves Intellectuals, but that +title--Intelligentsia--is now claimed by every white collar in Europe who +has turned Socialist or Revolutionist. He may have the intellect of a +cabbage, but he wants a 'new order.' We still have a few +pseudo-socialists among our busy young brains, but youth must have its +ideals and they can originate nothing better. I thought I'd coin a new +head-line that would embrace all of us." + +"It is comprehensive! Well?" + +"A friend of mine, Gora Dwight--at present 'foremost woman author of +America'--is giving a party next Saturday night. I'd like enormously to +take you." + +"But I do not know Miss Dwight." + +"She will call in due form. I assure you she understands the +conventions. Of course, you need not see her, but she will leave a card. +Not that it wouldn't be quite proper for me merely to take you." + +"I should prefer that she called. Then--yes, I should like to go. Thank +you." + +The men arrived with the entree and departed with the soup plates. + +Once more he had an inspiration. + +"Poor old Dinwiddie's laid up with the gout." + +"Really? He called a day or two after the dinner, and I enjoyed hearing +him talk about the New York of his youth--and of Mary's. Unfortunately, +I was out when he called again. But I have seen Mr. Osborne twice. +These are his flowers. He also sent me several books." + +"What were they?" growled Clavering. He remembered with dismay that he +hadn't even sent her the usual tribute of flowers. There had been no +place in his mind for the small amenities. + +"A verboten romance called 'Jurgen.' Why verboten? Because it is too +good for the American public? 'Main Street.' For me, it might as well +have been written in Greek. 'The Domesday Book.' A great story. 'Seed +of the Sun.' To enlighten me on the 'Japanese Question.' 'Cytherea.' +Wonderful English. Why is it not also verboten?" + +"Even censors must sleep. Is that all he sent you?" + +"I am waiting for the chocolates--but possibly those are sent only by the +very young men to the very young girls." + +He glowered at his plate. "Do you like chocolates? I'll send some +tomorrow. I've been very remiss, I'm afraid, but I've lost the habit." + +"I detest chocolates." + +Squabs and green peas displaced the entree. The burgundy was admirable. + +Once more he was permitted to gaze at her eyelashes. He plunged +desperately. "The name Marie doesn't suit you. If ever I know you well +enough I shall call you Mary. It suits your vast repose. That is why +ordinary Marys are nicknamed 'Mamie' or 'Mame.'" + +"I was christened Mary." She raised her eyes. They were no longer wise +and unfathomable. They looked as young as his own. Probably younger, he +reflected. She looked appealing and girlish. Once more he longed to +protect her. + +"Do you want to call me Mary?" she asked, smiling. + +"I hardly know whether I do or not. . . . There's something else I +should tell you. I swore I'd never ask you any more questions--but +I--well, Dinwiddie kept on the scent until he was laid up. One of the +Thornhills verified your story in so far as he remembered that a cousin +had settled in Virginia and then moved on to Paris. There his +information stopped. . . . But . . . Dinwiddie met a Countess Loyos at +dinner." + +"Countess Loyos?" + +"Yes--know her?" + +"Mathilde Loyos? She is one of my oldest friends." + +"No doubt you'd like to see her. I can get her address for you." + +"There is nothing I want less than to see her. Nor any one else from +Austria--at present." + +"I think this could not have been your friend. She emphatically said--I +am afraid of being horribly rude----" + +"Ah!" For the first time since he had known her the color flooded her +face; then it receded, leaving her more pale than white. "I understand." + +"Of course, it may be another Countess Loyos. Like the Zattianys, it may +be a large family." + +"As it happens there is no other." + +Silence. He swore to himself. He had no desire to skate within a mile +of her confounded mysteries and now like a fool he had precipitated +himself into their midst again. But if she wouldn't talk. . . . + +"Suppose we talk of something else," he said hurriedly. "I assure you +that I have deliberately suppressed all curiosity. I am only too +thankful to know you on any terms." + +"But you think I am in danger again?" + +"Yes, I do. That is, if you wish to keep your identity a secret--for +your own good reasons. Of course, no harm can come to you. I assume +that you are not a political refugee--in danger of assassination!" + +"I am not. What is Mr. Dinwiddie's inference?" She was looking at him +eagerly. + +"That you really are a friend of Countess Zattiany, but for some motive +or other you are using her name instead of your own. That--that--you had +your own reasons for escaping from Austria----" + +"Escaping?" + +"One was that you might have got into some political mess--restoration of +Charles, or something----" + +She laughed outright. + +"The other was--well--that you are hiding from your husband." + +"My husband is dead," she said emphatically. + +He had never known that clouds, unless charged with thunder, were noisy. +But he heard a black and ominous cloud gather itself and roll off his +brain. Had that, after all, been . . . Nevertheless, he was annoyed to +feel that he was smiling boyishly and that he probably looked as +saturnine as he felt. + +"Whatever your little comedy, it is quite within your rights to play it +in your own way." + +"It is not a comedy," she said grimly. + +"Oh! Not tragedy?" he cried in alarm. + +"No--not yet. Not yet! . . . I am beginning to wish that I had never +come to America." + +"Now I shall ask you why." + +"And I shall not tell you. I have read your Miss Dwight's novel, by the +way, and think it quite hideous." + +"So do I. But that is the reason of its success." And the conversation +meandered along the safe bypaths of American fiction through the ices and +coffee. + + + + +XIX + +They sat beside the fire in chairs that had never felt softer. He +smoked a cigar, she cigarettes in a long topaz holder ornamented with a +tiny crown in diamonds and the letter Z. She had given it to him to +examine when he exclaimed at its beauty. + +Z! + +But he banished both curiosity and possible confirmation. He was +replete and comfortable, and almost happy. The occasional silences +were now merely agreeable. She lay back in her deep chair as relaxed +as himself, but although she said little her aloofness had mysteriously +departed. She looked companionable and serene. Only one narrow foot +in its silvery slipper moved occasionally, and her white and beautiful +hands, whose suggestion of ruthless power Clavering had appreciated +apprehensively from the first, seemed, although they were quiet, subtly +to lack the repose of her body. + +Once while he was gazing into the fire he felt sure that she was +examining his profile. He made no pretensions to handsomeness, but he +rather prided himself on his nose, the long fine straight nose of the +Claverings. His brow was also good, but although his hair was black, +his eyes were blue, and he would have preferred to have black eyes, as +he liked consistent types. Otherwise he was one of the "black +Claverings." Northumbrian in origin and claiming descent from the +Bretwaldes, overlords of Britain, the Claverings were almost as fair as +their Anglian ancestors, but once in every two or three generations a +completely dark member appeared, resurgence of the ancient Briton; +sometimes associated with the high stature of the stronger Nordic race, +occasionally--particularly among the women--almost squat. Clavering +had been spared the small stature and the small too narrow head, but +saving his steel blue eyes--trained to look keen and hard--he was as +dark as any Mediterranean. His mouth was well-shaped and closely set, +but capable of relaxation and looked as if it might once have been full +and sensitive. It too had been severely trained. The long face was +narrower than the long admirably proportioned head. It was by no means +as disharmonic a type as Gora Dwight's; the blending of the races was +far more subtle, and when making one of his brief visits to Europe he +was generally taken for an Englishman, never for a member of the Latin +peoples; except possibly in the north of France, where his type, among +those Norman descendants of Norse and Danes, was not uncommon. +Nevertheless, although his northern inheritance predominated, he was +conscious at times of a certain affinity with the race that two +thousand years ago had met and mingled with his own. + +He turned his eyes swiftly and met hers. She colored faintly and +dropped her lids. Had she lowered those broad lids over a warm glow? + +"Now I know what you look like!" he exclaimed, and was surprised to +find that his voice was not quite steady. "A Nordic princess." + +"Oh! That is the very most charming compliment ever paid me." + +"You look a pretty unadulterated type for this late date. I don't mean +in color only, of course; there are millions of blondes." + +"My mother was a brunette." + +"Oh, yes, you are a case of atavism, no doubt. If I were as good a +poet as one of my brother columnists I should have written a poem to +you long since. I can see you sweeping northward over the steppes of +Russia as the ice-caps retreated . . . reembodied on the Baltic coast +or the shores of the North Sea . . . sleeping for ages in one of the +Megaliths, to rise again a daughter of the Brythons, or of a Norse +Viking . . . west into Anglia to appear once more as a Priestess of +the Druids chaunting in a sacred grove . . . or as Boadicea--who +knows! But no prose can regenerate that shadowy time. I see +it--prehistory--as a swaying mass of ghostly multitudes, but always +pressing on--on . . . as we shall appear, no doubt, ten thousand years +hence if all histories are destroyed--as no doubt they will be. If I +were an epic poet I might possibly find words and rhythm to fit that +white vision, but it is wholly beyond the practical vocabulary and +mental make-up of a newspaper man of the twentieth century. Some of us +write very good poetry indeed, but it is not precisely inspired, and it +certainly is not epic. One would have to retire to a cave like Buddha +and fast." + +"You write singularly pure English, in spite of what seems to me a +marked individuality of style, and--ah--your apparent delight in +slang!" Her voice was quite even, although her eyes had glowed and +sparkled and melted at his poetic phantasma of her past (as what +woman's would not?). "I find a rather painful effort to be--what do +you call it? highbrow?--in some of your writers." + +"The youngsters. I went through that phase. We all do. But we +emerge. I mean, of course, when we have anything to express. +Metaphysical verbosity is a friendly refuge. But as a rule years and +hard knocks drive us to directness of expression. . . . But poets must +begin young. And New York is not exactly a hot-bed of romance." + +"Do you think that romance is impossible in New York?" she asked +irresistibly. + +"I--oh--well, what is romance? Of course, it is quite possible to fall +in love in New York--although anything but the ideal setting. But +romance!" + +"Surely the sense of mystery between a man and woman irresistibly +attracted may be as provocative in a great city as in a feudal castle +surrounded by an ancient forest--or on one of my Dolomite lakes. Is it +not that which constitutes romance--the breathless trembling on the +verge of the unexplored--that isolates two human beings as +authentically--I am picking up your vocabulary--as if they were alone +on a star in space? Is it not possible to dream here in New York?--and +surely dreams play their part in romance." Her fingertips, moving +delicately on the surface of her lap, had a curious suggestion of +playing with fire. + +"One needs leisure for dreams." He stood up suddenly and leaned +against the mantelpiece. The atmosphere had become electric. "A good +thing, too, as far as some of us are concerned. The last thing for a +columnist to indulge in is dreams. Fine hash he'd have for his readers +next morning!" + +"Do you mean to say that none of you clever young men fall in love?" + +"Every day in the week, some of them. They even marry--and tell +fatuous yarns about their babies. No doubt some of them have even +gloomed through brief periods of unreciprocated passion. But they +don't look very romantic to me." + +"Romance is impossible without imagination, I should think. Aching for +what you cannot have or falling in love reciprocally with a charming +girl is hardly romance. That is a gift--like the spark that goes to +the making of Art." + +"Are you romantic?" he asked harshly. "You look as if born to inspire +romance--dreams--like a beautiful statue or painting--but mysterious as +you make yourself--and, I believe, are in essence--I should never have +associated you with the romantic temperament. Your eyes--as they too +often are---- Oh, no!" + +"It is true that I have never had a romance." + +"You married--and very young." + +"Oh, what is young love! The urge of the race. A blaze that ends in +babies or ashes. Romance!" + +"You have--other men have loved you." + +"European men--the type my lot was cast with--may be romantic in their +extreme youth--I have never been attracted by men in that stage of +development, so I may only suppose--but when a man has learned to +adjust passion to technique there is not much romance left in him." + +"Are you waiting for your romance, then? Have you come to this more +primitive civilization to find it?" + +She raised her head and looked him full in the eyes. "No, I did not +believe in the possibility then." + +"May I have a high-ball?" + +"Certainly." + +He took his drink on the other side of the room. It was several +minutes before he returned to the hearth. Then he asked without +looking at her: "How do you expect to find romance if you shut yourself +up?" + +"I wanted nothing less. As little as I wanted it to be known that I +was here at all." + +"That damnable mystery! Who _are_ you?" + +"Nothing that you have imagined. It is far stranger--I fancy it would +cure you." + +"Cure me?" + +"Yes. Do you deny that you love me?" + +"No, by God! I don't! But you take a devilish advantage. You must +know that I had meant to keep my head. Of course, you are playing with +me--with your cursed technique! . . . Unless . . ." He reached her in +a stride and stood over her. "Is it possible--do you--_you_----" + +She pushed back her chair, and stood behind it. Her cheeks were very +pink, her eyes startled, but very soft. "I do not admit that yet--I +have been too astounded--I went away to think by myself--where I was +sure not to see you--but--my mind seemed to revolve in circles. I +don't know! I don't know!" + +"You do know! You are not the woman to mistake a passing interest for +the real thing." + +"Oh, does a woman ever--I never wanted to be as young as _that_ again! +I should have believed it impossible if I had given the matter a +thought--It is so long! I had forgotten what love was like. There was +nothing I had buried as deep. And there are reasons--reasons!" + +"I only follow you vaguely. But I think I understand--worse luck! +I've hated you more than once. You must have known that. I believe +you are deliberately leading me on to make a fool of myself." + +"I am not! Oh, I am not!" + +"_Do_ you love me?" + +"I--I want to be sure. I have dreamed . . . I--I have leisure, you +see. This old house shuts out the world--Europe--the past. The war +might have cut my life in two. If it had not been for that--that long +selfless interval . . . I'd like you to go now." + +"Will you marry me?" + +"It may be. I can't tell. Not yet. Are you content to wait?" + +"I am not! But I've no intention of taking you by force, although I +don't feel particularly civilized at the present moment. But I'll win +you and have you if you love me. Make no doubt of that. You may have +ten thousand strange reasons--they count for nothing with me. And I +intend to see you every day. I'll call you up in the morning. Now I +go, and as quickly as I can get out." + + + + +XX + +He plunged down the steps into a snowstorm. Even during his +precipitate retreat he had realized the advisability of telephoning for +a taxi, but had been incapable of the anti-climax. He pulled his hat +over his eyes, turned up the collar of his coat, and made his way +hastily toward Park Avenue. There was not a cab in sight. Nor was +there a rumble in the tunnel; no doubt the cars were snow-bound. He +hesitated only a moment: it would hardly take him longer to walk to his +hotel than to the Grand Central Station, but he crossed over to Madison +Avenue at once, for it was bitter walking and there was a bare chance +of picking up a cab returning from one of the hotels. + +But the narrow street between its high dark walls looked like a +deserted mountain pass rapidly filling with snow. The tall +street-lamps shed a sad and ghostly beam. They might have been the +hooded torches of cave dwellers sheltering from enemies and the storm +in those perpendicular fastnesses. Far down, a red sphere glowed +dimly, exalting the illusion. He almost fancied he could see the +out-posts of primeval forests bending over the canyon and wondered why +the "Poet of Manhattan" had never immortalized a scene at once so +sinister and so lovely. + +And no stillness of a high mountain solitude had ever been more +intense. Not even a muffled roar from trains on the distant "L's." +Clavering wondered if he really were in New York. The whole evening +had been unreal enough. Certainly all that was prosaic and ugly and +feverish had been obliterated by what it was no flight of fancy to call +white magic. That seething mass of humanity, that so often looked as +if rushing hither and thither with no definite purpose, driven merely +by the obsession of speed, was as supine in its brief privacy as its +dead. In spite of the fever in him he felt curiously uplifted--and +glad to be alone. There are moods and solitudes when a man wants no +woman, however much he may be wanting one particular woman. . . . But +the mood was ephemeral; he had been too close to her a moment before. +Moreover, she was still unpossessed. . . . She seemed to take shape +slowly in the white whirling snow, as white and imponderable. . . . A +Nordic princess drifting northward over her steppes. . . . God! Would +he ever get her? . . . If he did not it would be because one of them +was qualifying for another incarnation. + +He walked down the avenue as rapidly as possible, his hands in his +pockets, his head bent to the wind, no longer transported; forcing his +mind to dwell on the warmth of his rooms and his bed. . . . His head +ached. He'd go to the office tomorrow and write his column there. +Then think things out. How was he to win such a woman? Make her sure +of herself? Convert her doubts into a passionate certainty? She, with +her highly technical past! Make no mistakes? If he made a precipitate +ass of himself--what comparisons! . . . His warm bed . . . the +complete and personal isolation of his rooms . . . he had never given +even a tea to women . . . he gave his dinners in restaurants. . . . +How many more blocks? The snow was thicker. He couldn't even see the +arcade of Madison Square Garden, although a faint diffused radiance +high in air was no doubt the crown of lights on the Metropolitan +Tower. . . . Had he made a wrong move in bolting----? + +His thoughts and counter-thoughts came to an abrupt end. At the corner +of Thirtieth Street he collided with a small figure in a fur coat and +nearly knocked it over. He was for striding on with a muttered +apology, when the girl caught him by the arm with a light laugh. + +"Lee Clavering! What luck! Take me home." + +He was looking down into the dark naughty little face of Janet +Oglethorpe, granddaughter of the redoubtable Jane. + +"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked stupidly. + +"Perhaps I'll tell you and perhaps I won't. On second thoughts don't +take me home. Take me to one of those all-night restaurants. That's +just the one thing I haven't seen, and I'm hungry." + +He subtly became an uncle. "I'll do nothing of the sort. You ought to +be ashamed of yourself--alone in the streets at this hour of the night. +It must be one o'clock. I shall take you home. I suppose you have a +latch-key, but for two cents I'd ring the bell and hand you over to +your mother." + +"Mother went to Florida today and dad's duck-hunting in South Carolina. +Aunt Mollie's too deaf to hear doorbells and believes anything I tell +her." + +"I am astonished that your mother left you behind to your own devices." + +"I wouldn't go. She's given me up--used to my devices. Besides, I've +one or two on her and she doesn't dare give me away to dad. He thinks +I'm a darling spoilt child. Not that I'd mind much if he didn't, but +it's more convenient." + +"You little wretch! I believe you've been drinking." + +"So I have! So I have! But I've got an asbestos lining and could +stand another tall one. Ah!" Her eyes sparkled. "Suppose you take me +to your rooms----" + +"I'll take you home----" + +"You'll take me to one of those all-nighters----" + +"I shall not." + +"Then ta! ta! I'll go home by myself. I've had too good a time +tonight to bother with old fogies." + +She started up the street and Clavering hesitated but a moment. Her +home was on East Sixty-fifth Street. Heaven only knew what might +happen to her. Moreover, although her mother was one of those women +whose insatiable demand for admiration bored him, he had no more +devoted friends than her father and her grandmother. Furthermore, his +curiosity was roused. What had the little devil been up to? + +He overtook the Oglethorpe flapper and seizing her hand drew it through +his arm. + +"I'll take you where you can get a sandwich," he said. "But I'll not +take you to a restaurant. Too likely to meet newspaper men." + +"Anything to drink?" + +"Ice cream soda." + +"Good Lord!" + +"You needn't drink it. But you'll get nothing else. Come along or +I'll pick you up and carry you to the nearest garage." + +She trotted obediently beside him, a fragile dainty figure; carried +limply, however, and little more distinguished than flappers of +inferior origin. He led her to a rather luxurious delicatessen not far +from his hotel, kept by enterprising Italians who never closed their +doors. They seated themselves uncomfortably at the high counter, and +the sleepy attendant served them with sandwiches, then retired to the +back of the shop. He was settling himself to alert repose when Miss +Oglethorpe suddenly changed her mind and ordered a chocolate ice cream +soda. Then she ordered another, and she ate six sandwiches, a slice of +cake and two bananas. + +"Great heaven!" exclaimed Clavering. "You must have the stomach of an +ostrich." + +"Can eat nails and drink fire water." + +"Well, you won't two years hence, and you'll look it, too." + +"Oh, no I won't. I'll marry when I'm nineteen and a half and settle +down." + +"I should say you were heading the other way. Where have you been +tonight?" + +"Donny Farren gave a party in his rooms and passed out just as he was +about to take me home. I loosened his collar and put a pillow under +his head, but I couldn't lift him, even to the sofa. Too fat." + +[Illustration: Returning home one night Clavering (Conway Tearle) found +Janet Oglethorpe (Clara Bow), daughter of his old friend, in a +semi-intoxicated condition. (_Screen version of "The Black Oxen."_)] + +"I suppose you pride yourself on being a good sport." + +"Rather. If Donny'd been ill I'd have stayed with him all night, but +he was dead to the world." + +"You say he had a party. Why didn't some of the others take you home?" + +"Ever hear about three being a crowd? Donny, naturally, was all for +taking me home, and didn't show any signs of collapse till the last +minute." + +"But I should think that for decency's sake you'd all have gone down +together." + +"Lord! How old-fashioned you are. I was finishing a cigarette and +never thought of it." She opened a little gold mesh bag, took out a +cigarette and lit it. Her cheeks were flushed under the rouge and her +large black eyes glittered in her fluid little face. She was one of +the beauties of the season's debutantes, but scornful of nature. Her +olive complexion was thickly powdered and there was a delicate smudge +of black under her lower lashes and even on her eyelids. He had never +seen her quite so blatantly made up before, but then he had seen little +of her since the beginning of her first season. He rarely went to +parties, and she was almost as rarely in her own home or her +grandmother's. Her short hair curled about her face. In spite of her +paint she looked like a child--a greedy child playing with life. + +"Look here!" he said. "How far do you go?" + +"Wouldn't you like to know?" + +"I should. Not for personal reasons, for girls of your age bore me to +extinction, but you've a certain sociological interest. I wonder if +you are really any worse than your predecessors?" + +"I guess girls have always been human enough, but we have more +opportunities. We've made 'em. This is our age and we're enjoying it +to the limit. God! what stupid times girls must have had--some of them +do yet. They're naturally goody-goody, or their parents are too much +for them. Not many, though. Parents have taken a back seat." + +"I don't quite see what you get out of it--guzzling, and smoking your +nerves out by the roots, and making yourselves cheap with men little +older than yourselves." + +"You don't see, I suppose, why girls should have their fling, or"--her +voice wavered curiously--"why youth takes naturally to youth. I +suppose you think that is a cruel thing for a girl to say." + +"Not in the least," he answered cheerfully. "Don't mind a bit. But +what do you get out of it--that's what I'm curious to know." + +She tossed her head and blew a perfect ring. "Don't you know that +girls never really enjoyed life before?" + +"It depends upon the point of view, I should think." + +"No, there's a lot more in it than you guess. The girls used to sit +round waiting for men to call and wondering if they'd condescend to +show up at the next dance; while the men fairly raced after the girls +with whom they could have a free and easy time--no company manners, no +chaperons, no prudish affectations about kisses and things. No fear of +shocking if they wanted to let go--the strain must have been awful. +You know what men are. They like to call a spade a spade and be damned +to it. Our sort didn't have a chance. They couldn't compete. So, we +made up our minds to compete in the only way possible. We leave off +our corsets at dances so they can get a new thrill out of us, then sit +out in an automobile and drink and have little petting parties of two. +And we slip out and have an occasional lark like tonight. We're not to +be worried about, either." + +"Why cryptic after your really admirable frankness? But there's always +a point beyond which women never will go when confessing their +souls. . . . I suppose you think you're as hard as nails. Do you +really imagine that you will ever be able to fall in love and marry and +want children?" + +"Don't men?" + +"Ancient standards are not annihilated in one generation." + +"There's got to be a beginning to everything, hasn't there? One would +think the world stood still, to hear you talk. But anything new always +makes the fogies sick." + +"Nothing makes _me_ as sick as your bad manners--you and all your +tribe. Men, at least, don't lose their breeding if they choose to sow +wild oats. But women go the whole hog or none." + +"Other times, other manners. We make our own, and you have to put up +with them whether you like it or not. See?" + +"I see that you are even sillier than I thought. You need nothing so +much as a sound spanking." + +"Your own manners are none too good. You've handed me one insult after +another." + +"I've merely talked to you as your father would if he were not blind. +Besides, it would probably make you sick to be 'respected.' Come +along. We'll go round to a garage and get a taxi. Why on earth didn't +you ring for a taxi from Farren's?" + +"I tried to, but it's an apartment house and there was no one +downstairs to make the connection. Too late. So I footed it." She +yawned prodigiously. "I'm ready at last for my little bunk. Hope +you've enjoyed this more than I have. You'd be a scream at a petting +party." + +Clavering paid his small account and they issued into the storm once +more. It was impossible to talk. In the taxi she went to sleep. +Thank Heaven! He had had enough of her. Odious brat. More than once +he had had a sudden vision of Mary Zattiany during that astonishing +conversation at the counter. The "past" she had suggested to his +tormented mind was almost literary by contrast. She, herself, a queen +granting favors, beside this little fashionable near-strumpet. They +didn't breathe the same air, nor walk on the same plane. Who, even if +this little fool were merely demi-vierge, would hesitate between them? +One played the game in the grand manner, the other like a glorified +gutter-snipe. But he was thankful for the diversion, and when he +reached his own bed he fell asleep immediately and did not turn over +for seven hours. + + + + +XXI + +He had informed Madame Zattiany's butler over the telephone that he +would call that evening at half-past nine, but he returned to his rooms +after a day at the office with lagging steps. He dreaded another +evening in that library by the fire. It was beyond his imagination to +foresee how she would treat him, what role she would choose to play, +and although he was grimly determined to play whatever role she +assigned to him (for the present!), he hated the prospect. He was in +no mood for a "game." This wooing was like nothing his imagination had +ever prefigured. To be put on trial . . . to sit with the woman in the +great solitude of the house and the very air vibrating between +them . . . or frozen . . . self-conscious as a schoolboy up for +inspection . . . afraid of making a false move. . . . What in God's +name would they talk about? Politics? Books? Art? Banalities! . . . +he'd half a mind to go to Florida after all . . . or join Jim +Oglethorpe in South Carolina: he had a standing invitation . . . he'd +return by the next train; he'd felt as if existing in a vacuum all +day. . . . + +When he reached his rooms he found his problem solved for the +moment--possibly. A telephone slip informed him that Madame Zattiany +would be at home, and a note from Mrs. Oglethorpe enclosed tickets for +her box at the opera that night. + +If she would only go! + +He called the house. The butler answered and retired to summon Madame +Zattiany. Her voice came clear and cool over the telephone. He +invited her to go to Sherry's for dinner and to hear Farrar in +_Butterfly_ afterward. "I must tell you that we shall sit in a box," +he added. "Mrs. Oglethorpe's." + +"Oh!" There was a pause that seemed eternal. Then she laughed +suddenly, a laugh of intense amusement that ended on a note of +recklessness. "Well! Why not? Yes, I will go. Very many thanks." + +"Good. It means an early dinner. I'll call for you at a quarter to +seven." + +"I'm promptness itself. Au 'voir." + +So that was that! One night's respite. He'd leave her at her door. +He wondered if his voice had been as impersonal as her own: he had +almost barked into the telephone and had probably overdone it. But was +any man ever in such a ghastly position before? Well, he'd lose the +game before he'd make a fool of himself again. . . . Ass . . . he'd +had the game in his own hands last night . . . could have switched off +any moment. He'd let go and delivered himself into hers. + +He took a cold shower, and made a meticulous toilet. + +When he arrived at the house he was shown into the drawing-room. He +had never seen it before and he glanced about him with some curiosity. +It was a period room: Louis Quinze. The furniture looked as if made of +solid gold and Madame Du Barry herself might have sat on the dainty +brocades. The general effect was airy and graceful, gay, frivolous, +and subtly vicious. (An emanation to which the chaste Victorian had +been impervious.) He understood why Madame Zattiany did not use it. +She might be subtly anything, but assuredly she was neither airy nor +frivolous. + +Then he realized that there was a painting of a girl over the mantel +and that the girl was Mary Ogden. He stepped forward eagerly, almost +holding his breath. The portrait ended at the tiny waist, and the +stiff satin of the cuirass-like bodice was softened with tulle which +seemed to float about the sloping shoulders. The soft ashen hair, +growing in a deep point on the broad full brow, was brushed softly back +and coiled low on the long white neck. The mouth was soft and pouting, +with a humorous quirk at the corners, and the large dark gray eyes were +full of a mocking light that seemed directed straight into the depths +of his puzzled brain as he stood gazing at that presentment of a once +potent and long vanished beauty. . . . Extraordinarily like and yet so +extraordinarily unlike! But the resemblance may have well been exact +when Mary Zattiany was twenty. How had Mary Ogden looked at thirty? +That very lift of the strong chin, that long arch of nostril . . . +something began to beat in the back of his brain. . . . + +"What a beauty poor Mary must have been, no?" + +He turned, and forgot the portrait. Madame Zattiany wore a gown of +that subtle but unmistakable green that no light can turn blue; thin +shimmering velvet to the knees, melting into satin embroidered with +silver and veiled with tulle. On her head was a small diamond tiara +and her breast was a blaze of emeralds and diamonds. She carried a +large fan of green feathers. + +He had believed he had measured the extent of her beauty, but the crown +gave her a new radiance--and she looked as attainable as a queen on her +throne. + +He went forward and raised her hand to his lips. "I insist," he said +gallantly. "Anything else would be out of the picture. I need not +tell you how wonderful you look--nor that after tonight you will hardly +remain obscure!" + +"Why do things halfway? It has never been my method. And Mary told me +once that Nile-green had been her favorite color until she lost her +complexion. So--as I am to exhibit myself in a box--_enfin!_ . . . +Besides, I wanted to go." She smiled charmingly. "It was most kind of +you to think of me." + +"Would that all 'kind' acts were as graciously rewarded. I shall be +insufferably conceited for the rest of my life--only it is doubtful if +I shall be seen at all. Shall we go?" + +When they arrived at Sherry's they found the large restaurant almost +deserted. It was barely seven. After he had ordered the dinner--and +he thanked his stars that he knew how to order a dinner--she said +casually: + +"I had a call from your friend, Miss Dwight, today." + +"Yes? You did not see her, I suppose?" + +"Oh, but I did. We talked for two hours. It was almost comical--the +sheer delight in talking to a woman once more. I have never been what +is called a woman's woman, but I always had my friends, and I suddenly +realized that I had missed my own sex." + +"I shouldn't fancy that you two would have much in common." + +"You forget that we were both nurses. We compared experiences: methods +of nursing, operations, doctors, surgeons, shell shock, plastic +surgery, the various characteristics of wounded men--all the rest of +it." + +"It must have been an exciting conversation." + +"You never could be brought to believe it, but it was. Afterward, we +talked of other things. She seems to me quite a remarkable woman." + +"Entirely so. What is it she lacks that prevents men from falling in +love with her? Men flock there, and she is more discussed as a mind +and a personality than any woman among us; but it is all above the +collar. And yet those handsome-ugly women often captivate men." + +"You ask one woman why another cannot fascinate men! I should say that +it is for want of transmission. The heart and passions are there--I +will risk guessing that she has been tragically in love at least +once--but there is something wrong with the conduit that carries sexual +magnetism; it has been bent upward to the brain instead of directed +straight to the sex for which it was designed. Moreover, she is too +coldly and obviously analytical and lacks the tact to conceal it. Men +do not mind being skewered when they are out for purely intellectual +enjoyment, but they do not love it." + +Clavering laughed. "I fancy your own mind is quite as coldly +analytical, but nature took care of your conduits and you see to the +tact. You cannot teach Gora how to redistribute her magnetism, but you +might give her a few points." + +"They would be wasted. It is merely that I am a woman of the world, +something she will never be. And in my hey-day, I can assure you, I +was not analytical." + +"Your hey-day?" + +"I was a good many years younger before the war, remember. Heavens! +How rowdy those young people are! A month ago I should have asked if +they were ladies and gentlemen, but I have been quite close to their +kind in the tea rooms and their accent is unmistakable; although the +girls talk and act like _gamines_. One of them seems to know you." + +Clavering had been conscious that the restaurant was filling with +groups and couples, bound, no doubt, for the opera or theatre. He +followed Madame Zattiany's eyes. In the middle of the room was a large +table surrounded by very young men and girls; the latter as fragile and +lovely as butterflies: that pathetic and swiftly passing youth of the +too pampered American girl. The youth of this generation promised to +be briefer than ever! + +He gave them a cursory glance, and then his chair turned to pins. +Janet Oglethorpe sat at the head of the table. What would the brat do? +She had been fond of him as a child, but as he had found her detestable +in her flapperhood, and been at no pains to conceal his attitude, she +had taken a violent dislike to him. Last night he had deliberately +flicked her on the raw. + +He was not long in doubt. She had returned his perfunctory bow with a +curt nod, and after a brief interval--during which she appeared to be +making a communication that was received with joyous hilarity--she left +her seat and ran across the room. She might have been in her own house +for all the notice she took of the restaurant's other guests. + +Clavering rose and grimly awaited the onslaught. Even the waiters were +staring, but for the moment only at the flashing little figure whose +cheeks matched to a shade the American Beauty rose of her wisp of a +gown. + +Her big black eyes were sparkling wickedly, her vivid little mouth wore +a twist that can only be described as a grin. She had come for her +revenge. No doubt of that. + +She bore down on him, and shook his unresponsive hand heartily. "I've +been telling them how dear and noble you were last night, dear Mr. +Clavering, just like a real uncle, or what any one would expect of one +of granny's pets. No doubt you saved my life and honor, and I want to +tell the world." Her crisp clear voice was pitched in G. It carried +from end to end of the silent room. + +"Would that I were your uncle! Won't you sit down? I believe that you +have not met Madame Zattiany." + +Miss Oglethorpe had not cast a glance at her victim's companion, +assuming her to be some writing person; although he did once in a while +take out Anne Goodrich or Marian Lawrence: old girls--being all of +twenty-four--in whom she took no interest whatever. + +She half turned her head with a barely perceptible nod. The tail of +her eye was arrested. She swung round and stared, her mouth open. For +the moment she was abashed; whatever else she may have submerged, her +caste instinct remained intact and for a second she had the unpleasant +sensation of standing at the bar of her entire class. But she +recovered immediately. _Grandes dames_ were out of date. Even her +mother had worn her skirts to her knees a short time since. What fun +to "show this left-over." And then her spiteful naughtiness was +magnified by anger. Madame Zattiany had inclined her head graciously, +but made no attempt to conceal her amusement. + +"Yes, I'll sit down. Thanks." She produced a cigarette and lit it. +"Granny's got a lot of ancient photographs of her girlhood friends," +she remarked with her insolent eyes on Madame Zattiany, "and one of +them's enough like you to be you masquerading in the get-up of the +eighties. Comes back to me. Just before mother left I heard her +discussing you with a bunch of her friends. Isn't there some mystery +or other about you?" + +"Yes, indeed! Is it not so?" Madame Zattiany addressed her glowering +host, her eyes twinkling. It was evident that she regarded this +representative of the new order with a scientific interest, as if it +were a new sort of bug and herself an entomologist. "Probably," she +added indulgently, "the most mysterious woman in New York. What you +would call an adventuress if you were not too young to be uncharitable. +Mr. Clavering is kind enough to take me on trust." + +Miss Oglethorpe's wrath waxed. This creature of an obsolete order had +the temerity to laugh at her. Moreover---- She flashed a glance from +Clavering's angry anxious face to the beautiful woman opposite, and a +real color blazed in her cheeks. But she summoned a sneer. + +"Noble again! Has he told you of our little adventure last night?" + +"Last night?" A flicker crossed the serenity of Madame Zattiany's +face. "But no. I do not fancy Mr. Clavering is in the habit of +telling his little adventures." + +"Oh, he wouldn't. Old standards. Southern chivalry. All the rest of +it. That's why he's granny's model young man. Well, I'll tell you----" + +"You've been drinking again," hissed Clavering. + +"Of course. Cocktail party at Donny's----" + +"Well, moderate your voice. It isn't necessary to take the entire room +into your confidence. Better still, go back to your own table." + +She raised her voice. "You see, Madame Zattiany, I was running round +loose at about one o'clock A. M. when whom should I run into but dear +old Uncle Lee. He looked all shot to pieces when he saw me. Girls in +his day didn't stay out late unless they had a beau. Ten o'clock was +the limit, anyhow. But did he take advantage of my unprotected maiden +innocence? Not he. He stood there in the snow and delivered a lecture +on the error of my ways, then took me to a delicatessen shop--afraid of +compromising himself in a restaurant--and stuffed me with sandwiches +and bananas. Even there, while we were perched on two high stools, he +didn't make love to me as any human man would have done. He just ate +sandwiches and lectured. God! Life must have been dull for girls in +his day!" + +People about them were tittering. One young man burst into a guffaw. +Madame Zattiany was calmly eating her dinner. The tirade might have +fallen on deaf ears. + +Clavering's skin had turned almost black. His eyes looked murderous. +But he did not raise his voice. "Go back to your table," he said +peremptorily. "You've accomplished your revenge and I've had all I +propose to stand. . . . By God! If you don't get out this minute I'll +pick you up and carry you out and straight to your grandmother." + +"Yes you would--make a scene." + +"The scene could hardly be improved. Will you go?" + +He half rose. Even Madame Zattiany glanced at him apprehensively. + +Miss Oglethorpe laughed uncertainly. "Oh, very well. At least we +never furnish material for your newspapers. That's just one thing we +think beneath us." She rose and extended her hand. "Good night, +Madame Zattiany," she said with a really comical assumption of the +grand manner. "It has been a great pleasure to meet you." + +Madame Zattiany took the proffered hand. "Good night," she said +sweetly. "Your little comedy has been most amusing. Many thanks." + +Miss Oglethorpe jerked her shoulders. "Well, console dear unky. He'd +like the floor to open and swallow him. Ta! Ta!" + +She ran back to her table, and its hilarity was shortly augmented. + +Madame Zattiany looked at Clavering aghast. "But it is worse than I +supposed!" she exclaimed. "It is really a tragedy. Poor Mrs. +Oglethorpe." Then she laughed, silently but with intense amusement. +"I wish she had been here! After all! . . . Nevertheless, it is a +tragedy. An Oglethorpe! A mere child intoxicated . . . and truly +atrocious manners. Why don't her people put her in a sanitarium?" + +"Parents count about as much today as women counted in the cave era. +But it is abominable that you should be made conspicuous." + +"Oh, that! I have been conspicuous all my life. And you must admit +that she had the centre of the stage! If any one is to be +commiserated, it is you. But you really behaved admirably; I could +only admire your restraint." + +Clavering's ferment subsided, and he returned her smile. "I hope I +didn't express all I felt. Murder would have been too good for her. +But you are an angel. And for all her bravado you must have made her +feel like the little vulgarian she is. Heavens, but the civilization +varnish is thin!--and when they deliberately rub it off----" + +"Tell me of this adventure." + +"It was such a welcome adventure after leaving you! She told +practically the whole of it. She had been to a party and her host was +too drunk to take her home. She couldn't get a taxi, so started to +walk. After I had fed the little pig I took her home. Of course I had +no intention of mentioning it to any one, but I hardly feel that I am +compromising my honor as a gentleman!" + +"But will Society permit this state of things to last? New York! It +seems incredible." + +"Heaven knows. It might as well try to curb the lightning as these +little fools. Their own children, if they have any, will probably be +worse." + +"I wonder. Reformed rakes are not generally indulgent to adventurous +youth. There will probably be a violent revulsion to the rigors of the +nineteenth century." + +"Hope so. Thank Heaven we can get out of this." + +They left the table. As he followed her down the long room and noted +the many eyes that focussed on the regal and beautiful figure in its +long wrap of white velvet and fox he set his lips grimly. Another +ordeal before him. For a moment he wished that he had fallen in love +with a woman incapable of focussing eyes. He hated being conspicuous +as he hated poverty and ugliness and failure and death. Then he gave +an impatient sigh. If he could win her he cared little if the entire +town followed her every time she appeared on the street. And she had +been very sweet after that odious flapper had taken herself off. He +had ceased to feel at arm's length. + + + + +XXII + +They entered the box during the nuptial hymn. Farrar, almost supine in +the arms of the seducer, was singing with the voluptuous abandon that +makes this scene the most explicit in modern opera. She had sung it a +thousand times, but she was still the beautiful young creature exalted by +passion, and her voice seemed to have regained its pristine freshness. +She had done many things to irritate New Yorkers, but in this scene, +whether they forgave her or not, they surrendered; and those to whom love +and passion were lost memories felt a dim resurgence under that golden +tide. + +Clavering had no desire to surrender. In fact he endeavored to close his +ears. He had received a cold douche and a hot one in the course of the +past hour, and he felt that his equilibrium was satisfactorily +established. He had forgotten to warn Madame Zattiany of the step at the +front of the box, down which so many novices had stumbled, but she had +taken it and settled herself with the nonchalance of custom. Odd. Once +more something beat in the back of his brain. But he dismissed it +impatiently. No doubt many boxes in Europe were constructed in the same +fashion. + +He had seated himself a little to the right and behind her. He saw her +lids droop and her hands move restlessly. Then, as the curtain went down +and Farrar was accepting the customary plaudits, her eyes opened and +moved over the rich and beautiful auditorium with a look of hungry +yearning. This was too much for Clavering and he demanded abruptly: + +"Why do you look like that? Have you ever been here before?" + +She turned to him with a smile. "What a question! . . . But opera, both +the silliest and the most exalting of the arts, is the Youth of Life, its +perpetual and final expression. And when the house is dark I always +imagine it haunted by the ghosts of dead opera singers, or of those whose +fate is sadder still. Does it never affect you in that way?" + +"Can't say it does. . . . But . . . I vaguely remember--some ten years +ago a young singer with a remarkable voice sang Marguerite once on that +stage and then disappeared overnight . . . lost her voice, it was +said. . . ." + +She gave a low choking laugh. "And you think I am she? Really!" + +"I think nothing, but that I am here with you--and that in another moment +I shall want to sit on the floor--Oh, Lord!" + +The house was a blaze of light. It looked like a vast gold and red jewel +box, built to exhibit in the fullness of their splendor the most +luxurious and extravagant women in the world. And it was filled tonight +from coifed and jewelled orchestra to highest balcony, where plainer +people with possibly jewelled souls clung like flies. Not a box was +empty. Clavering's glance swept the parterre, hoping it would be +occupied for the most part by the youngest set, less likely to be +startled by the resemblance of his guest to the girl who had sat among +their grandmothers when the opera house was new. But there were few of +the very young in the boxes. They found their entertainment where +traditions were in the making, and dismissed the opera as an old +superstition, far too long-winded and boring for enterprising young +radicals. + +Against the red backgrounds he saw the austere and homely faces of women +who represented all that was oldest and best in New York Society, and +they wore their haughty bones unchastened by power. There were many more +of the succeeding generation, of course, many more whose ancestry derived +from gold not blood, and they made up in style and ritual what they +lacked in pulchritude. Lack of beauty in the parterre boxes was as +notorious as the "horseshoe" itself, Dame Nature and Dame Fortune, rivals +always, having been at each other's throats some century and +three-quarters ago, and little more friendly when the newer aristocracy +of mere wealth was founded. All the New York Society Beauties were +historical, the few who had survived the mere prettiness of youth +entering a private Hall of Fame while still alive. + +It had begun! Clavering fell back, folded his arms and set his teeth. +First one pair of opera glasses in the parterre, then another, then +practically all were levelled at Mrs. Oglethorpe's box. Young men and +old in the omnibus box remained in their seats. Very soon white +shoulders and black in the orchestra chairs began to change their angle, +attracted by the stir in the boxes. That comment was flowing freely, he +made no doubt. In the boxes on either side of him the occupants were +staring less openly, but with frequent amazed side glances and much +whispering. Madame Zattiany sat like an idol. She neither sought to +relieve what embarrassment she may have felt--if she felt any! thought +Clavering--by talking to her escort nor by gazing idly about the house +comparing other women's gowns and crowns with her own. She might have +been a masterpiece in a museum. + +A diversion occurred for which Clavering at least was grateful. The door +opened and Mr. Dinwiddie entered, limping and leaning on a cane. He +looked pale and worried. Clavering resigned his seat and took one still +further in the rear. But the low-pitched dialogue came to him distinctly. + +"Is this prudent?" murmured Dinwiddie, as he sat himself heavily beside +her. "There will be nothing else talked of in New York tomorrow. So far +there have only been rumors. But here! You look like Mary Ogden risen +from the dead. There's a rumor, by the way, that she is dead." + +"She was alive the last time I heard from Vienna. But why imprudent? +Mr. Clavering told me of your kind concern, but I assure you that I am +neither a political nor a marital refugee." + +"But you have a secret you wish to keep. Believe me, you can do so no +longer. The Sophisticates are generous and casual. They take you on +your face value and their curiosity is merely human and good-natured. +But this! In Jane Oglethorpe's box! It is in the nature of an invasion. +You hardly could have done more if you had forced yourself into a +drawing-room uninvited. You must either come out tomorrow and tell them +who you are, establish yourself . . . or . . . or----" + +"Well?" Madame Zattiany was smiling, and, probably, the most serene +person in the house. + +"I--I--think you had better go back to Europe. I must be frank. +Anything less would be cowardly. You interest me too much. . . . But I +can only suppose that your secret is of the sort that if discovered--and +they will discover it!--would cause you grave embarrassment." + +"You mean if I am Mary Zattiany's illegitimate daughter?" + +"I don't think they would have minded that if you had brought letters to +them from Mary asking them to be kind to you--and if you had made a good +marriage. But to have it flung in their faces like this--they will never +forgive you." + +"And you think I am Mary Zattiany's daughter?" + +"I--yes--I think I have gone back to my original theory. But there must +be something behind. She never would have let you come over here with a +letter only to Trent. She knew that she could rely on many of her old +friends. No people in the world are more loyal to their own than these +old New Yorkers." + +"And suppose she did give me letters--and that I have not been interested +enough to present them?" + +"I knew it! But I am afraid it's too late now. They not only will +resent your indifference, but they are extremely averse to anything like +sensational drama in private life. And your appearance here tonight is +extremely dramatic! They'll never forgive you," he reiterated solemnly. + +"Really? Well, let us enjoy the next act," she added indulgently. "I +hope you will remain here." + +The curtain had gone up. The audience, balked of the private drama, in +which they had manifested no aversion whatever from playing their own +role, transferred their attention to the stage, although Clavering saw +more than one glance wander across the house, and those in the adjoining +boxes felt themselves free to peer persistently. + +Farrar had not finished bowing and kissing her hands before the next +curtain when the door of the box opened once more and Mr. Osborne +entered. After a few words with Madame Zattiany he went out and returned +almost immediately with three other men, two of his own generation, and a +tall, dark, extremely good-looking young man, whose easy negligent air +was set askew by the eager expression of his eyes. Clavering, not +waiting to be introduced, fled to the smoking-room and took a seat in a +corner with his back to the other occupants lest some one recognize and +speak to him. A hideous fear had invaded his soul. If this world, so +indisputably her own, did accept her--as he had not a doubt it would if +she demanded it; he made light of Dinwiddie's fears, knowing her as he +did--where would he come in? Sheer luck, supplemented by his own +initiative, had given him a clear field for a few weeks, but what chance +would he have, not only if her house were overrun with people, but if she +were pursued by men with so much more to offer, with whom she must have +so much more in common? He might be the equal of the best of them in +blood and the superior of many, but his life had not been of the order to +equip him with those minor but essential and armorial arts, that assured +ease and distinction, possessed by men not only born into the best +society but bred in it, and who had lived on their background, not on +their nerves. To be "born" is not enough. It is long association that +counts, and the "air" may be acquired by men of inferior birth but the +supreme opportunity. He had managed to interest her because he had no +rival, and he was young and his mind in tune with hers. That alone, no +doubt, was the secret of her imaginative flight in his direction. For +the first time in his life he felt a sense of inferiority, and for the +moment he made no attempt to shake it off. He was in the depths of +despair. He did not even light a cigarette. . . . He could hear a group +of young men discussing her . . . as one of their own kind . . . with no +lack of respect . . . some new friend of Mrs. Oglethorpe's--they were too +young to remember Mary Ogden. . . . She would have many "knights" on the +morrow . . . he felt on the far side of a rapidly widening gulf . . . and +he had once sought to dig a gulf! Disapproved! Questioned! Tried to +forget her! He wished he had abducted her. + +A bell rang. The men moved toward the foyer. In a few moments he +followed. The attendant opened the Oglethorpe door and as he entered the +ante-room he saw that the box was still filled with men. They had +evidently taken root. He was possessed by a dull anger, and as it spread +upward his sense of inferiority took flight. He'd rout them all, damn +them. After all he had more brains than any man in the house and his +manners could be as good and as bad as their own. Moreover, he was +probably more strongly endowed in other ways than the youngest of them. +The wise thing for him to do was to let her find it out the next time +they were alone. + + + + +XXIII + +But it was some time before he saw her alone again, and meanwhile many +things happened. + +She took Mr. Dinwiddie home in her car for supper, Clavering following +with Osborne in a taxi, and as the abundant repast was spread in the +dining-room it was patent that she had gone to the opera with the +intention of bringing back willing guests. She knew that both +Dinwiddie and Osborne subscribed to the omnibus box, and no doubt if +they had failed to put in an appearance she would have dropped--with +one of her infernally ready excuses--himself at his own door. She +might as well have announced, without bothering to feed these damned +old bores, that she did not intend to see him alone again until she had +made up her royal mind. + +He ground his teeth, but he was master of himself again and had no +intention to make the mistake of sulking. The situation put him on his +mettle. He led the conversation and did practically all the talking: +as if the vital youth in him, stimulated by music and champagne (which +the older men were forced to imbibe sparingly), must needs pour forth +irresistibly--and impersonally. He was not jealous of Dinwiddie or +Osborne (although the black frown on the latter's brow was sufficient +evidence of a deeply personal resentment), and although he did not +flash Madame Zattiany a meaning glance, might indeed have sat at her +board for the first time, he knew that he had never made a better +impression. Her eyes, which had been heavy and troubled as they took +their seats at the table, and as old as eyes could be in that perfect +setting, began to look like a gray landscape illumined by distant +flashes of lightning. Before long they were full of life, and +response, and laughter. And pride? There was something very like +pride in those expressive orbs (not always as subject to her will as +she fancied), as they dwelt on the brilliant young journalist whose +mind darted hither and thither on every subject he could summon that +would afford the opportunity of witty comment. He even quoted +himself--skipping the past two months--and what had been evolved with +much deliberation and rewriting sounded spontaneous and pertinent. But +in truth he was so genuinely stimulated before the brief hour was over +that when he returned to his rooms he wrote his column before turning +in. He felt as if fiery swords were playing about his mind, flashing +out words and phrases that would make his brother columnists, no +sluggards in words and phrases themselves, green on the morrow. For +the moment he was quite happy, as he always was when his mind was +abnormally quickened, and he dismissed women and their infernal whims +to limbo. + +When he awoke at two o'clock in the afternoon his brain felt like the +ashes of a bonfire and his spirits were a leaden weight. He knew what +was to be expected of reaction, however, and after his punch bag and +showers he felt better. He'd see her today and force some sort of +understanding. + +But when he opened his door and saw a letter in her handwriting, and +evidently delivered by a servant, as it was unstamped, his hand shook +and his half-recovered confidence fled. This time he made no attempt +at the farce of self-discipline; he opened it at once. When he saw +that it began without formality he drew a longer breath. + +"I am not going to see you until Saturday," it read, "when I hope you +will take me to Miss Dwight's party. Meanwhile I shall ask you not to +see Mr. Dinwiddie nor any one else likely to discuss me. I shall not +care to stay long at the party and if you will return here with me I +will tell you my secret, such as it is. I shall only say here that I +had no intention of making a mystery of myself, for I did not expect to +exchange a word with any one in America but Judge Trent and his +business associates. I came to America for one purpose only, to settle +my affairs, which would have dragged on interminably if I had not been +here to receive my alienated properties in person. I know many people +in New York, but I had no idea of seeing any of them, although tempted +on account of the money they might help me to collect for the children +of Austria. But I had decided to leave that until the last minute. I +not only was no longer interested in these old friends of mine, but I +disliked the explanations I should be forced to give them, the +comments, the curiosity, the endless questions. What I mean by this +you will know on Saturday night. + +"But it is not the first time in my life that I have discovered the +futility of making plans. My meeting with you and the profound +interest you have awakened has upset all calculations. I expected +nothing less! If I had I should have told you the truth the night we +met. But it never occurred to me for an instant that I could love any +man again. I had done with all that years ago, and my intention was to +give my life and my fortune to certain problems in Europe which I shall +not bore you with here. + +"Possibly if I had met you casually with Judge Trent, or if I had not +chosen to avoid my old friends and met you at one of their houses, as I +might easily have done, I should have made no mystery of myself; if +indeed you did not know the truth already. + +"But not only the curious circumstances of our meeting after your weeks +of silent devotion, but your own personality, quickened to life a +flicker of youthful romance so long moribund that I had forgotten it +had ever been one of my lost inheritances. I was also both amused and +interested, and to play a little comedy with you was irresistible. It +did not occur to me for a moment that you would fall in love with me. + +"It was not until the second time you came here after the theatre that +I realized what was happening in those submerged cells of mine. But I +could not make up my mind to tell you that night--nor the next. By +that time I was frightened. I feared there could be only one result. +I suppose all women are cowards when in love. But I knew that this +could not last, and when you asked me to sit in Mrs. Oglethorpe's box I +thought the time had come to precipitate matters. After a decisive +step like that I could not retreat. But I wish to tell you myself, and +for that reason I have asked you to discuss me with no one until we +meet. It will probably be the last time I shall see you, but I am +prepared for that. + +"I shall see Jane Oglethorpe today. She has been very loyal and I +think she will forgive me. It would not matter much if she did not, +and possibly would save me a good deal of boredom, but after last night +an explanation is due her. + +"And after Saturday night, _mon ami_, matters will be entirely in your +hands. You will realize whether you have merely been dazzled and +fascinated or whether there is really between us that mysterious bond +that no circumstances can alter. Such things have happened to men and +women if we may believe history, but I have had too good reason to +believe that it is not for me. However--at least for a brief time you +have given me back something of the hopes and illusions of youth. This +in itself is so astonishing that whatever the result I shall never be +able to forget you. + +"Until Saturday. + "M." + + +Clavering's immediate act was to dash off a love-letter more +impassioned than any he had ever dreamed himself capable of writing, +vowing that he was dazzled and fascinated, God knew, but that he loved +her with the love of his life and would marry her if she would have +him, no matter what her revelations. And with what patience he could +muster and with no grace whatever he would make no attempt to see her +until Saturday night. But she must believe that he loved her and she +must write at once and tell him so. He could not exist throughout that +interminable interval unless she wrote him at once that she believed in +the existence and the indissolubility of that bond, and that he had +given her the highest and deepest and most passionate love of which man +was capable, and which no woman but she could inspire, for no woman +like her had ever lived. + +He dared not read it over. He had never let himself go before, and he +had written too much for print not to be self-conscious and critical of +even a love-letter intended only for concordant eyes. Nevertheless, he +was aware even in his excitement that the more reckless it was the +surer its effect. No edited love-letter ever yet hit its mark. (He +remembered Parnell's love-letters, however, and devoutly hoped his own +would never see the light.) The waiter entered at the moment, and he +gave him the missive, hastily addressed and sealed, and asked him to +tell the "desk" to send it immediately and give the boy orders to wait +for an answer. + +He drank his coffee, but ate nothing. Nor did he open his newspapers. +He strode up and down his rooms or stood at the window watching the +hurrying throngs, the lumbering green busses, the thousand automobiles +and taxis over on Fifth Avenue. They were as unreal as a cinema. He +had the delusion, common to lovers, that Earth was inhabited by two +people only--that brief extension of the soul which in its common +acceptance of eternal loneliness looks out upon the world as upon a +projected vision in which no reality exists, for man the dreamer is but +a dream himself. Phantasmagoria! + +He glanced at the clock every time he passed it. It seemed incredible +that mere minutes were passing. But she was merciful. She kept him in +suspense but thirty-five minutes. The messenger boy stared at the +celebrated journalist, with whose appearance he was reasonably +familiar, as if regarding a phase of masculine aberration with which he +was even more familiar. He grinned sympathetically, and Clavering was +not too distraught to detect the point of view of the young +philosopher. He had been running his hands through his hair and no +doubt his eyes were injected with blood. He told him to wait, and went +into his bedroom. But the note was brief and required no answer. "I +believe you." That was all, and it was enough. He gave the astonished +philosopher a five-dollar bill: an automatic American reaction. + +Then he sat down to puzzle over those parts of her letter which he had +barely skimmed; faded into insignificance for the moment before the +outstanding confession that she really loved him. But they loomed +larger and larger, more and more puzzling and ominous, as he read and +reread them. Finally he thrust the pages into his desk and went out +for a tramp. + + + + +XXIV + +It was a cold bright day. The ice on the trees of Central Park was a +diamond iridescence. Nursemaids were leading children, bits of muffled +wealth, along the alleys. Horses pounded on the bridle paths. +Automobiles and taxis, that must have looked to the airman above like +aimless black planes drifting in a crystal sea, were carrying people to +a thousand destinies. Towering on all sides was the irregular concrete +mass of New York. As dusk fell, lights in those high buildings began +to appear, first intermittently, then as long necklaces of brilliants +strung against the sky. Silence fell on the Park. + +Clavering walked until he could walk no farther, then took a bus at One +Hundred and Tenth Street for Claremont. When he reached the restaurant +he could think of only three men whose companionship would be +endurable, and failing to get any of them on the telephone resigned +himself to a solitary dinner. But still restless, he wandered over to +a window and stared out across the Hudson at the dark Palisades on the +opposite shore. Battleships were at anchor, for there had been no ice +in the Hudson this winter, and a steamboat with its double chain of +lights swam gracefully up the river. The cold winter stars winked down +indifferently upon seething human hearts. + +He still refused to admit that the source of his uneasiness was that +revelation set for Saturday night. Nothing but death itself could halt +his marriage with this woman, for she herself had unequivocally stated +that after Saturday night the future would be in his hands. +_His!_ . . . Her secret? Not that she had had lovers, for he had +accepted that fact already, and for him the past had ceased to exist. +Her husband was dead. Nothing else mattered. Nevertheless, the vague +prescient chill he had experienced the night he first met her eyes, and +once or twice since, accompanied as it was by a curious sense that just +below his consciousness lay the key to the mystery, rattling now and +again, but sinking deeper every time he made a dart at it, had defied +further evasion since the receipt of her cryptic letter. He was the +more uneasy as she seemed far more certain of Mrs. Oglethorpe than of +himself. + +Once more he heard the key rattle, but higher . . . almost in his +consciousness . . . for the first time it seemed to sound a double note +of warning . . . he had a sudden vision of a locked door--and not a +door locked on a mere secret. + +He swung about impatiently. The explanation of his mood was this +hideous interval to be got through, Heaven alone knew how. No wonder +he had felt a sensation of terror. When a man is in the unsatisfied +stages of love he must expect occasional attacks of greensickness, +sullen passions intensified by unreasoning fear. And he was luckier +than most. He had been the confidant of men in love, with hope +deferred or blasted, and although he had been sympathetic enough, and +convinced that men had a far deeper capacity for suffering than women, +still had his pity been tempered by a certain contempt. Those had been +the times when he had flouted the idea that he was basically romantic; +and that he had never made a jackass of himself over any woman had +induced a feeling of superiority that had expanded his ego. Now he was +convinced that his capacity for love put theirs to shame, and he was +filled with pride at the thought. Still--he wished it were Saturday +night. + +He was crossing the room to his solitary table when he saw Jim +Oglethorpe enter. His first impulse was to avoid him. The restaurant +was well-filled and he could easily take a table in a corner with his +back to the room. But dining alone was a melancholy business at +best--and tonight! If Oglethorpe brought up Madame Zattiany's name he +could change the subject or state bluntly that he had his reasons for +not wishing to discuss her. As he stood hesitating, Oglethorpe caught +sight of him and almost ran across the room, his face, which had looked +heavy and worried, glowing with pleasure. + +"Jove, this is luck!" he exclaimed. "Alone? So am I. Got in this +morning and found Janet had a dinner on for those infernally noisy +friends of hers. Got something to think over, so thought I'd come out +here. This is really luck as I was going to hunt you up tomorrow. +Let's sit here. I want to talk." + +He had led the way to a table in a remote corner, secluded, so far. He +beckoned the head waiter, who agreed that it should remain secluded. +Then he asked Clavering to order the dinner, and, folding his arms, +stared out of the window, his face sagging once more. He was still a +young man, not more than forty-five, but in spite of his love of +outdoor sport he showed a more consistent love of eating and drinking +in flabby muscles and pouches under the eyes. It was an amiable, +rather weak but stubborn face that had been handsome in youth when his +eyes were bright and clear skin covered firm muscles, and it would be +handsome again when years had compelled him to diet and his already +faded hair had turned white; his features were regular and his figure +well-knit under its premature accumulations. + +He produced a flask from his pocket when the waiter had discreetly +turned his back, and their ice-water might have passed for cold tea. + +"Think I'll come to the point," he said. "You know me well enough not +to mind anything I say." + +Clavering glanced up from his oysters in alarm. "There's just one +question I won't discuss," he said sharply. + +Oglethorpe stared. "You don't mean to say you're interested in her? +So much the better! And it strikes me you can't have any objection to +discussing her with me. I'm her father, ain't I?" + +"Her father--are you talking of Janet?" + +"Who else? I'm worried as the devil. Have been ever since I got in +this morning. I'd telegraphed I was coming, and when I got to the +house Molly told me that mother wanted to see me at once and I posted +down there. It was about Janet, and you know more about it than I do." + +"I suppose I know what you mean. But it turned out all right. She +happened to meet me, not some man who might have annoyed her. Of +course she shouldn't have taken such a risk, but; what can you do with +these flappers? They're all in league together and you might as well +let them go their little pace. It won't last. They'll soon be older, +and I don't suppose you intend to play the heavy father and lock her +up." + +"No, but I'd like damn well to get her married. Mother told me a +pretty tale. It seems she made a row at Sherry's last night, making +you and some lady you had with you as conspicuous as herself. Mrs. +Vane was there and carried it straight to mother. Mother's no fool and +had already got on to this younger generation business and given Janny +one or two tongue lashings, but she never dreamed it had gone as far as +it looks. Roaming the streets alone at one in the morning! She'd +undoubtedly been drinking last night--God! I've a notion to take a +switch to her. And I suppose she was pretty well lit the night you +picked her up. I've never seen a hint of it. Janny's spoilt enough. +Her mother never had the slightest control over her and she could +always get round me. But she won't in the future. I'll get top-hand +somehow. God! My daughter! Tell me your side of it, will you?" + +Clavering, who was genuinely fond of Oglethorpe, and relieved, +moreover, that he had not yet heard of Madame Zattiany, gave a cautious +and colorless account of the adventure. + +"It is possible that she had had a cocktail or two," he concluded. +"But you must expect that. If the flapper should adopt a coat of arms +no doubt it would be a cocktail rampant with three cigarettes argent on +a field de rouge. However, it wouldn't be a bad idea if you took her +in hand. That is, if you can." + +"I'll do it all right. D'you mean to tell me she was at Farren's +without a chaperon?" + +"There may have been a chaperon to each couple for all I know." + +"You know damn well there wasn't. No chaperon would have left her +alone." + +"But surely, Jim, you know that chaperons are practically obsolete. +They don't gee with cocktails and petting parties. The New Freedom! +The Reign of Youth!" + +"Damn nonsense. No, I didn't know it. I supposed she was properly +chaperoned, as girls of her class always have been. You know how much +I care for Society, and I haven't got to the chicken stage either. +Took it for granted that certain cast-iron conventions were still +observed, in our set at least. Of course I've seen her drink cocktails +at home and thought it rather cute, and I've rubbed the paint off her +cheeks and lips once or twice. Girls are making up nowadays as if they +were strumpets, but some little fool started it, and you know the old +saying: 'What one monkey does the other monkey must do.' It never +worried me. Of course I've heard more or less about these young +idiots; they're always being discussed and written up; but somehow you +never think those things can happen in your own family. . . . I went +straight home and blew up Molly--haven't had a sight of Janet yet--and +of course she bawled. Always does. When I told her that Janet had +been at Farren's alone she protested that Janet had told her she was +going to bed early that night. Even last night, when she had a theatre +party, she understood that some young married woman was along. But +Molly's a fool. What on earth am I to do with Janet? There were no +such girls in my young days. Some of them were bad uns, but as +discreet as you make 'em. Didn't disgrace their families. Some of +them used to drink, right enough, but they were as smooth as silk in +public, and went to a sanitarium to sober up when it got the best of +'em. But these girls appear to be about as discreet as street-walkers. +You don't think they kick over the traces, do you?" + +"I'm dead sure that Janet hasn't. She puts on the cap and bells partly +because it's the fashion, partly because she thinks girls are alive and +having their fun for the first time. But she's no fool. She nearly +floored me once or twice. She'll take care of herself." + +"Girls don't take care of themselves when they're drunk. But I've an +idea there's something else the matter with her. At least mother has?" + +"Something else?" + +"In love." + +"Well, there's your chance to marry her off. The sooner the better. +But why should it drive her to drink? If she's fixed her affections on +any of those chaps that dance at her beck----" + +"She hasn't. She's in love with you." + +"What!" Clavering dropped his fork. When the waiter had rushed to +present him with another and retired, he still stared at Oglethorpe as +if he had been stunned by a blow between the eyes. "Whatever--what on +earth put such an idea into Mrs. Oglethorpe's head? The child can't +endure me. She pretty well proved it last night, and I've always known +she disliked me--since she grew up, that is. To be perfectly frank, +aside from the fact that I don't care for young girls, she always +irritates me like the deuce, and I've never made any secret of it. +Night before last I couldn't well have made myself more disagreeable if +I'd rehearsed for the part." + +Oglethorpe grinned. "Lot you know about girls. Just the way to make +'em crazy about you. Like all idealists, you don't know a thing about +women. Being a rank materialist myself, I know 'em like a book. The +emancipated flapper is just plain female under her paint and outside +her cocktails. More so for she's more stimulated. Where girls used to +be merely romantic, she's romantic--callow romance of youth, perhaps, +but still romantic--plus sex-instinct rampant. At least that's the way +I size 'em up, and its logic. There's no virginity of mind left, +mauled as they must be and half-stewed all the time, and they're wild +to get rid of the other. But they're too young yet to be promiscuous, +at least those of Janet's sort, and they want to fall in love and get +him quick. See the point?" + +"No doubt you're right. But I'm not the object of Janet's young +affections. She's either led your mother to believe it for purposes of +her own, or Mrs. Oglethorpe has merely jumped at that conclusion--well, +Heaven only knows why." + +"You know why. Because she'd like it. So would I." + +"Good Lord, Jim! I'm nearly old enough to be her father. Barely ten +years younger than yourself." + +"You'll never be as old as I am this minute, and I'd give my eyes to +see you married to her. Moreover, I'm convinced mother's right. Janny +let out something--broke down, I fancy, although mother wouldn't give +her away any further. And you used to be fond of her when she was a +child. She's sat on your lap a hundred times." + +"My dear Jim," said Clavering drily. "You've just pronounced yourself +a man of consummate experience. Need I remind you that when a man has +held a girl on his lap as a child, she is generally the last girl he +wants on his lap later on? Man love's the shock of novelty, the spice +of surprise. It's hard to get that out of a girl you have spanked--as +I did Janet on two different occasions. She was a fascinating +youngster, but a little devil if there ever was one." + +"She's full of fascination yet. I can see that, if I am her father. A +year or two from now, when she comes to her senses----" + +"Oh, cut it out, Jim! I won't listen. Even it were true--and I'd +stake my life it isn't--I--well----" + +"D'you mean there's some other woman?" + +"I don't care to talk about it--but--let it go at that." + +"Sorry. I'd have liked it. You could have made a fine woman out of +Janny. She has it in her." + +Clavering did not express his doubts on this point aloud. He was in +truth horribly embarrassed and hardly knew what to say. Not for a +moment did he believe that the minx was in love with him, nor would he +have taken the trouble to find out, even to please Jim Oglethorpe and +his mother, had Mary Zattiany never crossed his horizon. But he felt +sorry for his friend and would have liked to banish his brooding +distress. + +"Look here!" he exclaimed. "You'll have to buck up and take her in +hand. After all, you're her father and she respects you. No girl +respects her mother these days, apparently, but the father has the +advantage of being male. Give her a talking to. Tell her how cut up +you are. She's too young to be as hard as she likes to think. Don't +preach. That would make matters worse. Appeal to her. Tell her she's +making you miserable. If that doesn't work--well, your idea of taking +a switch to her isn't bad. A sound spanking is what they all need, and +it certainly would take the starch out of them. Make them feel so +damned young they'd forget just how blase they're trying to be." + +"She might run away," rumbled Oglethorpe. "I believe I'll try it, +though, if worse comes to worst. I'll have no filthy scandals in my +family." + +"Why not collect all the fathers and plan a regular campaign? Without +their allowances they'd soon be helpless. It would be a battle royal +and might make history! Might also get hold of the fathers of these +young chaps. Few have independent incomes." + +Oglethorpe laughed for the first time. "Not a bad idea for a bachelor, +Lee. Maybe I'll try it. Let's get out of this. How about the +Follies?" + + + + +XXV + +When a man has cultivated a practical and methodical habit of mind and +body he pursues the accustomed tenor of his way, whatever the ferment +of his spirit. Clavering's spirit was mercurial, but long since +subject to his will, and it would no more have occurred to him to +neglect his regular work because he was in love and a state of suspense +than to put on petticoats and walk up Fifth Avenue. It might be better +or worse under foreign impact, but it would be done, and all else +banished for the hour. + +There were times when he wrote better surrounded by the stimulations of +the office; when he was neither fagged nor disturbed he worked at home. +During this week of incertitudes he rose late, lunched with friends at +the Sign of the Indian Chief, a restaurant where the cleverest of +them--and those who were so excitedly sure of their cleverness that for +the moment they convinced others as well as themselves--foregathered +daily. Then he went to the office and wrote or talked to other men +until it was time to dine. He could always be sure of companionship +for the evening. On his "day off" he took a train out into the country +and walked for hours. + +There was a great deal of scintillating talk in his group on the +significant books and tendencies of the day, and if the talk of French +youth in their clubs before the Revolution may possibly have been +profounder and more far-reaching in its philosophy, more formulative in +its plan of action, owing to a still deeper necessity for change in the +social order, the very fact that these brilliant young Americans had no +personal grievance but merely sharpened their wits on matters in which +they were intelligent enough to take an interest, saved their +cleverness from becoming mordant or distorted by passion. It was an +excellent forcing-house for ideas and vocabulary. + +But their most solemn causeries were upon the vital theme of The +American Reputation in Letters. Past. Present. Future. This was the +age of Youth. Should any of the old reputations be permitted to live +on--save in the favor of the negligible public? If so, which? All the +recent reputations they would have liked to pronounce equally great, +merely on account of their commendable newness, but they were too +conscientious for that. They appraised, debated, rejected, finally +placed the seal of their august approval upon a favored few. Claques +were arranged if the public were obtuse. The future? A few, a very +few, were selected from the older group, many more from the younger, +and ordained to survive and shed their undying beams for posterity. +From these judicial pronouncements there was no appeal, and the +pleasant spaces of the Sign of the Indian Chief, so innocuous to the +uninitiated eye, was a veritable charnel house that stank in the +nostrils of the rejected; but, inconsistent even as life itself, those +melancholy graves were danced over by the sprightly young feet of the +elect. Sometimes there was a terrifying upheaval in one of those +graves. A dismal figure fought his way out, tore off his cerements, +and stalked forth, muttering: "'But I stride on, austere. No hope I +have, no fear,'" leaving a puzzled uneasiness behind him. + +But for good or ill, it was a matter for congratulation that criticism +was at last being taken seriously in the United States. + + +There was a jazz party at the studio of a hospitable girl artist where +Clavering danced with several of the prettiest young actresses of +recent Broadway fame until dawn, and drank enough to make him as wild +as the rest of the party had it not been for the seasoned apparatus +inherited from hard-drinking Southern ancestors. Altogether, he gave +himself little time for thought, and if he felt at times an inclination +to dream he thrust it from him with an almost superstitious fear. He +would speculate no longer, but neither would he run the risk of +invoking the laughter of cynical gods. If unimaginable disaster +awaited him, at least he would not weaken his defences by a sojourn in +the paradise of fools. + +He avoided Oglethorpe and Dinwiddie, and although he had engaged +himself to dine at the Goodriches on Thursday night he sent an excuse. + +On Thursday morning, as he was turning over the pages of one of the +newspapers his eye was arrested by the name Zattiany. He never read +Society paragraphs, but that name would leap to his eyes anywhere. The +announcement was as brief as "social notes" always are in the daily +editions of the morning papers: "Mrs. Oglethorpe gives a luncheon +tomorrow at her house in Gramercy Park to the Countess Zattiany of +Vienna." + +So! She had satisfied Mrs. Oglethorpe. That was one on Dinwiddie. + +On the following night he bought himself an admission ticket to the +Metropolitan Opera House and entered at the close of the second act. +As he had half expected, she was in Mrs. Oglethorpe's box, and it was +crowded with men. He fancied that his older friend looked both glum +and amused. As for Dinwiddie, his expression was half-witted. + +He went home and took a bromide. Sleep, being a function, is outside +the domain of the will, and he had had little of it since Tuesday. And +sleep he must if he was to be in alert command of his faculties on the +following night. + + + + +XXVI + +Madame Zattiany stood before the long old-fashioned pier glass in her +bedroom, a large cheerful room recently done over in white chintz sprayed +with violets. The bright winter sun streamed in on a scene of confusion. +Gowns were thrown over every chair and hats covered the bed. They all +had the air of being tossed aside impatiently, as indeed they had been, +and the maid with a last comprehensive look at her mistress began to +gather them up and carry them to the large wardrobes in the dressing-room. + +Mary regarded herself critically. She had wished (not without malice!) +to emphasize her youthful appearance, but not at the expense of dignity, +and she felt that she had achieved the subtle combination in the frock of +soft black velvet cut with long, sweeping lines and of an excessive +simplicity; and a black velvet hat of medium size with a drooping brim +that almost covered one eye. The long white gloves disappeared into her +sleeves somewhere above the elbow and she wore a single string of pearls. +She looked very Parisian, very elegant, as Mrs. Oglethorpe would have +expressed it, and very assured. In spite of the mocking gleam in the one +visible eye her face was serene and proud. + +She had felt some trepidation on Tuesday when she had sought out Mrs. +Oglethorpe and made her explanations, but she felt none whatever at the +prospect of meeting these other twelve old friends. Whether they +approved or resented, were indulgent or elevated their respectable noses +and intimated, "You are no longer one of _us_," was a matter of profound +indifference to Mary Zattiany. She would have avoided them all if it had +been possible, but since she had deliberately permitted her hand to be +forced she would take the situation humorously and amuse herself with +whatever drama it might afford. + +Elinor Goodrich. Mabel Lawrence. Polly Vane. Isabel Ruyler. Ellen de +Lacey. Louise Prevost. She had been so intimate with all of them, not +only in the schoolroom but when they were all in Society together. Now +only her somewhat cynical sense of anticipation mitigated utter boredom +at the thought of meeting them again. Of the other six she had still +vaguer memories, although she recalled having heard that the beauty of +her own last season, Lily Armstrong, had married one of the Tracys. She +also was to be at the luncheon. + +What on earth was she to talk to them about at the table? She could +hardly tell them the story they expected before the servants. That would +be for the later hour in the drawing-room--or would it be in that absurd +old room of Jane's upstairs? + +She recalled Elinor Tracy (Goodrich) and her enthusiastic admiration, +which she had accepted as a matter-of-course, and given little beyond +amiable tolerance in return. As she had told Clavering, she was not a +woman's woman. She hoped Nelly had outgrown "gush." For some ten years +after her marriage she had met her from time to time abroad, but she had +not seen her for so long that she doubted if she would recognize her if +they passed on the street. The only one of her old friends for whom she +retained either interest or affection was Jane Oglethorpe, who, ten years +older than herself, with a commanding personality unfolding rapidly at +the dawn of their intimacy, had attracted deeply but subtly her own +untried force of character and ruthless will. Embarrassment over, she +had enjoyed their long hour together, and was glad to renew the intimacy, +to find that her old friend's warm affection had lost nothing with the +years. And she had found her more interesting than in her youth. + +She sighed a little as she looked back on her long hours of almost +unbroken solitude in this old house. She had been comparatively happy at +first--a blessed interval of rest and peace in this marvellously wealthy +and prosperous city where the poor were kept out of sight, at least, +where all the men were whole and where one never saw a gaunt woman's +appealing eyes, or emaciated ragged children. Those untroubled hours had +fled for ever and astonishment, impotent fury, and dire mental conflict +had followed, but nevertheless she had dreamed--dreamed--and been glad of +her freedom from social and all other duties. Now, probably these women +and many more would swarm here. + +Her mouth twisted as her maid helped her into the soft gray coat trimmed +with blue fox. Ordeal! That would come on Saturday night. No wonder +she was merely amused and totally indifferent today! + +When she arrived at the house in Gramercy Park, purposely late, to give +her entrance the effect Mrs. Oglethorpe had commanded, she heard an +excited buzz of voices in the drawing-room as she was being relieved of +her wrap. As she entered it ceased abruptly and she heard several hardly +perceptible gasps. But the pause, before they all crowded about her, was +too brief to be noticeable, and they shook her hand heartily or kissed +her warmly. If their eyes were perhaps too studiously expressionless, +their words and manner might have been those of old friends welcoming +back one who had been long absent and nothing more. Conflicting +emotions, born of undying femininity, were not evident for the moment. +Mrs. Goodrich cried out at once how wonderfully well she looked, Mrs. +Lawrence asked if she had stopped in Paris for her clothes, and Mrs. Vane +if she found New York much changed. Nothing could have gone off better. + +Mrs. Oglethorpe, in old-pile black velvet as usual, with a front and +high-boned collar of yellow rose-point lace, stood in the background +watching the comedy with a frank sardonic grin. If her guests had been +faithless to the traditions in which they had been bred, she would have +felt angry and ashamed, but the automatic manner in which they rose to +the occasion and took the blow standing (Mrs. Oglethorpe often indulged +in the vernacular of her son, her Janet, and her Lee) made her rock with +silent mirth. She knew exactly how they felt! + +They were a fine-looking set of women and handsomely dressed, but they +indisputably belonged to the old regime, and even Mrs. Tracy, the +youngest of them, had something of what Mary Zattiany called that +built-up look. They were fashionable but not smart. They carried +themselves with a certain conscious rigidity and aloofness which even +their daughters had abandoned and was a source of disrespectful amusement +to their iniquitous granddaughters. Although Mrs. Goodrich, Mrs. +Lawrence and Mrs. Tracy were more up to date in their general appearance, +wearing slightly larger hats and fewer feathers, with narrow dog collars +instead of whaleboned net, they were as disdainful as the others of every +art that aims to preserve something of the effect of youth; although they +were spickingly groomed. They accepted life as it was, and they had +accepted it at every successive stage, serene in the knowledge that in +this as in other things they were above the necessity of compromise and +subterfuge. They were the fixed quantities in a world of shifting values. + +In age they ranged from fifty-six to sixty-two, with the exception of +Mrs. Tracy, who was a mere fifty-two. A few were stout, the others bony +and gaunt. Their hair was white or gray. Only Mrs. Tracy, with her +fresh complexion and soft brown hair, her plump little figure encased in +modern corsets, had got on the blind side of nature, as Mrs. Oglethorpe +had told Mary. The others were frankly elderly women, but of great +dignity and distinction, some charm, and considerable honesty and +simplicity. And their loyalty never failed them. + +The luncheon was by no means easy and informal. Mary, by racking her +memory, recalled the first names of most of them and never in all her +varied life had she been more sweetly amiable, made so determined an +effort to please. She might not care what they thought of her, but she +was sorry for them, they had behaved very decently, and for Jane +Oglethorpe's sake alone the occasion must be a success. She was ably +seconded by Mrs. Goodrich, who stared at her in wide-eyed admiration and +rattled off the gossip of New York, and by Mrs. Tracy, who had an +insatiable interest in diplomatic society. When she had satisfied the +latter's curiosity she led the conversation by a straight path to the +sufferings of the children of Austria and begged them to join her in +forming a relief committee. They received this philanthropic suggestion +with no apparent fervor, but it served to relieve the stiffness and +tension until they retired to the drawing-room for coffee. + +They stood about for a few moments, Mary looking up at the portrait of +Jane Oglethorpe in her flaming youth. But the hostess ordered them all +to sit down and exclaimed peremptorily: "Now, Mary, tell them all about +it or I'll have a lot of fainting hysterical women on my hands. We're +still human if we are old and ugly. Go to it, as Janet would say. I +believe you have met that estimable exponent of the later New York +manner. You are no more extraordinary yourself than some of the changes +here at home, but you're more picturesque, and that's harder to swallow. +Put them out of their misery." + +The ladies smiled or frowned, according to what humor the Almighty, +niggardly in his bestowal of humor, had allotted them. At all events +they were used to "Jane." Mrs. Goodrich, who had led Mary to a sofa and +seated herself beside her, took her hand and pressed it affectionately, +as if she were encouraging her on the way to the operating room. "Yes, +tell us the story, darling. It is all too wonderful!" + +"Do you really mean that you have never heard of this treatment?" asked +Madame Zattiany, who knew quite well that they had not. "Few things are +better known in Europe." + +"We have never heard of it," said Mrs. Vane austerely. "We were totally +unprepared." + +Madame Zattiany shrugged her graceful shoulders. "I have been told that +America never takes up anything new in science until it has become stale +in Europe. But women as well as men have been flocking to Vienna. +Russian princesses have pledged their jewels----" + +"How romantic!" exclaimed Mrs. Goodrich, who was one of those women in +whom a certain spurious sense of romance increases with age. But Mrs. +Vane mumbled something less complimentary. She had never been romantic +in her life; and she was beginning to feel the strain. + +"Well," said Madame Zattiany, "I suppose I must begin at the beginning. +I dislike holding forth, but if you will have it----" + +"Don't leave out a word!" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy. "We want every detail. +You've made us feel both as young as yourself and as old as Methuselah." + +Madame Zattiany smiled amiably at the one woman in the room who had +lingered in the pleasant spaces of middle age. "Very well. I'll be as +little technical as possible. . . . As you know, I ran a hospital in +Buda Pesth during the war. After the revolution broke out I was forced +to leave in secret to escape being murdered. I was on Bela Kun's +list----" + +There was a sympathetic rustle in the group. This at least they could +grasp on the wing. Mrs. de Lacey interrupted to beg for exciting +details, but Mrs. Goodrich and Mrs. Tracy cried simultaneously: + +"No! No! Go on--please!" + +"Quite right," said Mrs. Oglethorpe, who was prepared to enjoy herself. +"We can have that later." + +"I naturally went to Vienna, not only because I had some money invested +there, but because I could live in the Zattiany Palace. The old house +was difficult to keep warm, and as I was too tired and nervous to +struggle with any new problems I went at a friend's suggestion into a +sanitarium. + +"The doctor in charge soon began to pay me something more than +perfunctory visits when he found that intelligent conversation after my +long dearth did me more good than harm. Finally he told me of a method +of treatment that might restore my youth, and begged me to undertake +it----" + +"Ah!" There were sharp indrawn breaths. Mrs. Vane drew herself +up--figuratively, for she could hardly be more perpendicular, with her +unyielding spine, her long neck encased in whaleboned net and her lofty +head topped off with feathers. A look of hostility dawned in several +pairs of eyes, while frank distaste overspread Mrs. Ruyler's mahogany +visage. Madame Zattiany went on unperturbed. + +"It may relieve your minds to hear that I was at first as indifferent as +all of you no doubt would have been. The war--and many other things--had +made me profoundly tired of life--something of course that I do not +expect you to understand. And now that the war was over and my +usefulness at an end, I had nothing to look forward to but the +alleviation of poverty by means of my wealth when it was restored, and +this could be done by trustees. Life had seemed to me to consist mainly +of repetitions. I had run the gamut. But I began to be interested, at +first by the fact that science might be able to accomplish a miracle +where centuries of woman's wit had failed----" + +"Wit?" snorted Mrs. Vane. "Ignoble vanity." + +"Well, call it that if you like, but the desire to be young again or to +achieve its simulacrum, in both men and women, has something of the +dignity which the centuries give to all antiques. However, at the time, +you will also be glad to know, I was far more interested in the prospect +of reenergizing my worn out mind and body. I was so mortally tired! And +if I had to live on, and no doubt with still much work to do in +distracted Europe----" + +"But what did they _do_ to you?" cried Mrs. Tracy. "I'd have done it in +your place--yes, I would!" she said defiantly as she met the august +disgusted eye of Mrs. Vane. "I think Countess Zattiany was quite right. +What is science for, anyhow?" + +"Go on! Go on!" murmured Mrs. Goodrich. She was too fat and comfortable +to have any desire to return to youth with its tiresome activities, but +all her old romantic affection for Mary Ogden had revived and she was +even more interested than curious. + +"I am trying to! Well, I must tell you that the explanation of my +condition, as of others of my age, was that the endocrines----" + +"The what?" The demand was simultaneous. + +"The ductless glands." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Prevost vaguely, "I've seen something----" + +"It is all Greek to me," said Mrs. Vane, who felt that unreasoning +resentment common to the minor-informed for the major-informed. "You +promised to avoid technical terms." + +Madame Zattiany explained in the simplest language she could command the +meaning and the function of the ductless glands. The more intelligent +among them looked gratified, for the painless achievement of fresh +knowledge is a pleasant thing. Madame Zattiany went on patiently: "These +glands in my case had undergone a natural process of exhaustion. In +women the slower functioning of the endocrines is coincident with the +climacteric, as they have been dependent for stimulation upon certain +ovarian cells. The idea involved is that the stimulation of these +exhausted cells would cause the other glands to function once more at +full strength and a certain rejuvenation ensue as a matter of course; +unless, of course, they had withered beyond the power of science. I was +a promising subject, for examination proved that my organs were healthy, +my arteries soft; and I was not yet sixty. Only experimentation could +reveal whether or not there was still any life left in the cells, +although I responded favorably to the preliminary tests. The upshot was +that I consented to the treatment----" + +"Yes? Yes?" Every woman in the room now sat forward, no longer old +friends or rivals, affectionate or resentful, nor the victims of +convention solidified into sharp black and white by the years. They were +composite female. + +"It consisted of the concentration of powerful Roentgen--what you call +X-Rays--on that portion of the body covering the ovaries----" + +"How horrible!" "Did you feel as if you were being electrocuted?" "Are +you terribly scarred?" + +"Not at all. I felt nothing whatever, and there was nothing to cause +scars----" + +"But I thought that the X-Rays----" + +"Oh, do be quiet, Louisa," exclaimed Mrs. Tracy impatiently. "Please go +on, Countess Zattiany." + +"As I said, the application was painless, and if no benefit results, +neither will any harm be done when the Rays are administered by a +conscientious expert. My final consent, as I told you, was due to the +desire to regain my old will power and vitality. I was extremely +skeptical about any effect on my personal appearance. During the first +month I felt so heavy and dull that, in spite of assurances that these +were favorable symptoms, I was secretly convinced that I had forfeited +what little mental health I had retained; but was consoled by the fact +that I slept all night and a part of the day: I had suffered from +insomnia since my duties at the hospital had ended----" + +"But surely you must have been nervous and terrified?" All of these +women had seen and suffered illness, but all from time-honored +visitations, even if under new and technical names, and they had suffered +in common with millions of others, which, if it offended their sense of +exclusiveness, at least held the safeguard of normalcy. They felt a +chill of terror, in some cases of revulsion, as Madame Zattiany went on +to picture this abnormal renaissance going on in the body unseen and +unfelt; in the body of one who had been cast in the common mould, subject +to the common fate, and whom they had visioned--when they thought about +her at all--as growing old with themselves; as any natural Christian +woman would. It was not only mysterious and terrifying but subtly +indecent. Mrs. Vane drew back from her eager poise. Almost it seemed to +the amused Mrs. Oglethorpe that she withdrew her skirts. Drama was for +the stage or the movies; at all events drama in private life, among the +elect, was objective, external, and, however offensive, particularly when +screamed in the divorce court, it was, at least, like the old diseases, +remarkably normal. But an interior drama; not to put too fine a point on +it, a drama of one's insides, and especially one that dealt with the +raising from the dead of that section which refined women ceased to +discuss after they had got rid of it--it was positively ghoulish. Drama +of any sort in this respectable old drawing-room, which might have been +photographed as the sarcophagus of all the Respectabilities, was +extremely offensive. And what a drama! Never had these old walls +listened to such a tale. Mrs. Vane and others like her had long since +outgrown the prudery of their mothers, who had alluded in the most +distant manner to the most decent of their internal organs, and called a +leg a limb; but the commonplace was their rock, and they had a sense of +sinking foundations. + +Madame Zattiany, who knew exactly what was passing in their minds, +continued placidly: "Almost suddenly at the end of the fourth or fifth +week, it seemed to me that an actual physical weight that had depressed +my brain lifted, and I experienced a decided activity of mind and body, +foreign to both for many years. Nevertheless, the complete reenergizing +of both was very slow, the rejuvenation of appearance slower still. +Worn-out cells do not expand rapidly. The mental change was pronounced +long before the physical, except that I rarely felt fatigue, although I +spent many hours a day at the relief stations." + +She paused and let her cool ironic glance wander over the intent faces +before her. "Not only," she went on with a slow emphasis, which made +them prick up their ears, "was the renewed power manifest in mental +activity, in concentration, in memory, but that distaste for new ideas, +for reorientation, had entirely disappeared. People growing old are +condemned for prejudice, smugness, hostility to progress, to the purposes +and enthusiasms of youth; but this attitude is due to aging glands alone, +all things being equal. They _cannot_ dig up the sunken tracks from the +ruts in their brain and lay them elsewhere; and they instinctively +protect themselves by an affectation of calm and scornful superiority, of +righteous conservatism, which deceives themselves; much as I had +assumed--and learned to feel--an attitude of profound indifference to my +vanished youth, and refused to attempt any transparent disguise with +cosmetics." + +Intentness relaxed once more. Twelve pairs of eyes expressed at least +half as many sentiments. Mrs. Vane gazed at Mary Ogden, whose insolence +she had never forgotten, with indignant hostility; Mrs. Poole, who always +dressed as if she had a tumor, but whose remnant of a once lovely +complexion indicated perfect health, maintained her slight tolerant +smile; its effect somewhat abridged by the fact that the small turban of +bright blue feathers topping her large face had slipped to one side. +Mrs. Goodrich looked startled and gazed deprecatingly at her friends. +Mrs. Lawrence's eyes snapped, and Mrs. de Lacey looked thoughtful. Only +Mrs. Tracy spoke. + +"Wonderful! I feel more like Methuselah than ever. But it certainly is +a relief to know what is the matter with me. Do go on, Mary--I may call +you Mary? I only came out the year you were married--and you cannot +imagine what a satisfaction it is to know that I am younger than +you--were once. I've never done any of those things one reads about to +keep looking young except cold cream my face at night, but I've often +felt as if I'd like to----" + +"Do stop babbling, Lily Tracy!" exclaimed Mrs. Vane, who, however +disgusted, was quite as curious as the others to hear the rest of the +tale. And Mrs. Goodrich said softly: + +"Yes, go on, Mary, darling. I am sure the most thrilling part is yet to +come. You see how interested your old friends all are." + +Madame Zattiany moved her cool insolent eyes to Mrs. Vane's set visage. +"The time came when I knew that youth was returning to my face as well as +to the hidden processes of my body; and I can assure you that it excited +me far more than the renewed functioning of my brain. The treatment +induces flesh, and as I had been excessively thin, my skin, as flesh +accumulated, grew taut and lines disappeared. My eyes, which had long +been dull, had regained something of their old brilliancy under the +renaissance of brain and blood, and that was accentuated. My hair----" + +"Do you mean to say that it restores hair to its natural color?" demanded +Mrs. Tracy, who had been plucking out bleached hairs for the past year. +"That would----" + +"It does not. But my hair is the shade that never turns gray; and of +course my teeth had always been kept in perfect order. I should never in +any circumstances be a fat woman, but the active functioning of the +glands gave me just enough flesh to complete the outer renovation. My +complexion, after so many years of neglect, naturally needed scientific +treatment of another sort, but that was still to be had in Vienna." + +"Ah!" The exclamation was sharp. Here, at least, was something they +knew all about and systematically discountenanced. "Do you mean that you +had your skin ripped off?" asked Mrs. Ruyler. + +"Certainly not. The skin was simply softened and reinvigorated by +massage and the proper applications." + +They were too proud to ask for details, and Mrs. de Lacey, who was stout, +glanced triumphantly at Mrs. Ruyler, who was stouter. "You mean, Mary, +that one has to be thin for this treatment to be a success?" + +"That I cannot say. I really do not know what the treatment would do to +a stout woman of middle or old age. The internal change would be the +same, but, although additional flesh can be kept down by medicaments and +diet, I doubt if there would be a complete restoration of the outlines of +face and neck. A woman of sixty, with sagging flesh and distended skin, +might once more look forty, if the treatment were successful, but hardly +as young as I do. I was particularly fortunate in having withered. +Still, I cannot say. As I told you, many women of all ages and sizes +took the treatment while I was in Vienna. But they are too scattered for +me at least to obtain any data on the results. I knew none of them +personally and I was too busy to seek them out and compare notes. . . . +But with me----" She leaned back and lit a cigarette, looking over her +audience with mischievous eyes. "With me it has been a complete +success--mentally, physically----" + +"Yes, and how long will it last?" shot out Mrs. Ruyler. She was as +strong as a horse and as alert mentally as she had ever been, and her +complete indifference to rejuvenation in any of its forms gave her a +feeling of superior contempt for all those European women who had swarmed +to Vienna like greedy flies at the scent of molasses--no doubt to undergo +terrible torments that Mary Zattiany would not admit. But her objective +curiosity on the subject of youth was insatiable and she read everything +that appeared in the newspapers and magazines about it, not neglecting +the advertisements. If she had sent for a facial masseuse she would have +felt that she had planted a worm at the root of the family tree, but the +subject was unaccountably interesting. + +Mary Zattiany, who understood her complex perfectly, shrugged her +graceful shoulders. "It is too soon to reply with assurance. The method +was only discovered some six years ago. But the eminent biologists who +have given profound study to the subject estimate that it will last for +ten years at least, when it can be renewed once at all events. Of course +the end must come. It was not intended that man should live for ever. +And who would wish it?" + +"Not I, certainly," said Mrs. Ruyler sententiously. "Well, I must admit +it has been a complete success in your case. That is not saying I +approve of what you have done. You know how we have always regarded such +things. If you had lived your life in New York instead of in +Europe--notoriously loose in such matters--I feel convinced that you +would never have done such a thing--exhausted or not. Moreover, I am a +religious woman and I do not believe in interfering with the will of the +Almighty." + +"Then why have a doctor when you are ill? Are not illnesses the act of +God? They certainly are processes of nature." + +"I have always believed in letting nature take her course," said Mrs. +Ruyler firmly. "But of course when one is ill, that is another +matter----" + +"Is it?" Madame Zattiany's eye showed a militant spark. "Or is it +merely that you are so accustomed to the convention of calling in a +doctor that you have never wasted thought on the subject? But is not +medicine a science? When you are ill you invoke the aid of science in +the old way precisely as I did in the new one. The time will come when +this treatment I have undergone will be so much a matter of course that +it will cause no more discussion than going under the knife for +cancer--or for far less serious ailments. I understand that you, Polly, +had an operation two years ago for gastric ulcer, an operation called by +the very long and very unfamiliar name, gastroenterostomy. Did you +feel--for I assume that you agree with Isabel in most things--that you +were flying in the face of the Almighty? Or were you only too glad to +take advantage of the progress of science?" + +Mrs. Vane merely grunted. Mrs. Ruyler exclaimed crossly, "Oh, no one +ever could argue with you, Mary Ogden. The truth is," she added, in a +sudden burst of enlightenment that astonished herself, "I don't suppose +any of us would mind if you didn't look younger than our daughters. That +sticks in our craw. Why not admit it?" + +Mrs. Oglethorpe chuckled. She and Isabel Ruyler snapped at each other +like two belligerent old cats every time they crossed each other's path, +but, with the exception of Mary Ogden, whom she loved, she liked her +better than any of her old friends. + +But once more Mrs. Vane drew herself up (figuratively). "Speak for +yourself. It may be that I am too old to accept new ideas, but this one +certainly seems to me downright immoral and indecent. This is not +intended to reflect on you personally, Mary, and of course you were more +or less demoralized by your close contact with the war. I mean the +idea--the thing--itself. We may call in doctors and surgeons when we are +in bodily discomfort, and be thankful that they are more advanced than in +our mothers' time, when people died of appendicitis every day in the week +and called it inflammation of the bowels. But no one can tell me that +rejuvenation is not against the laws of nature. What are you going to do +with this new youth--I never saw any one look less indifferent to +life!--make fools of men again--of our sons?" + +"Who can tell?" asked Mary maliciously. "Could anything be more amusing +than to come back to New York after thirty-four years and be a belle +again, with the sons and grandsons of my old friends proposing to me?" + +"Do you really mean that?" Mrs. Vane almost rose. She recalled that her +youngest son had met Madame Zattiany in Mrs. Oglethorpe's box on Monday +night and had been mooning about the house ever since. "If I thought +that----" + +"Well, what would you do, Polly?" Mary laughed outright. "Your +son--Harry is his name, is it not?--is remarkably good-looking and very +charming. After all, where could you find a safer and more understanding +wife for him than a woman who has had not only the opportunity to know +the world and men like the primer, but looks--is--so young that he is +bound to forget it and be led like a lamb? Girls, those uncharted seas, +are always a risk----" + +"Stop tormenting Polly," exclaimed Mrs. Oglethorpe. "Mary has no +intention of marrying any one. She's only waiting for her estate to be +settled in order to return to Europe and devote herself to certain plans +of reconstruction----" + +"Is that true?" + +"Quite true," said Madame Zattiany, smiling. "Don't worry, Polly. If I +marry it will be some one you are not interested in too personally, and +it is doubtful if I ever marry at all. There's a tremendous work to be +done in Europe, and so far as lies in my power I shall do my share. If I +marry it will be some one who can help me. I can assure you I long since +ceased to be susceptible, particularly to young men. Remember that while +my _brain_ has been rejuvenated with the rest of my physical structure, +my _mind_ is as old as it was before the treatment." She gave a slight +unnoticed shiver. "My memory, that for years before the war was dull and +inactive, is now as vigorous as ever." + +Several of the women recalled those old stories of Countess Zattiany's +youth, and looked at her sharply. There was a general atmosphere of +uneasiness in the large respectable room. But whether or not they gave +her the benefit of the doubt, they had always given her due credit for +neither being found out nor embarrassing her virtuous friends with +confidences. + +Mrs. Tracy was the first to break the silence. "But you will come to all +of us as long as you do stay, will you not? I do so want to give you a +dinner next week." + +"Yes, yes, indeed." The chorus was eager, and sincere enough. After +all, nothing could alter the fact that she was one of them. + +"Oh, I have enjoyed meeting you all again, and I am hoping to see more of +you." Madame Zattiany felt that she could do no less than be gracious. +"I have become a very quiet person, but I will go with pleasure." + +"You must let us see you daily while you are with us," cried Mrs. +Goodrich, her spirits soaring at the prospect. As Mary stood up and +adjusted her hat before the mirror she felt that she had successfully +distracted their attention from a quick sigh of utter boredom. "You are +too kind, Nelly," she murmured, "but then you always were." + +"Yes, go, Mary," said Mrs. Oglethorpe peremptorily, and rising also. +"Clear out and let them talk you over. They'll burst if you don't. +Human nature can stand just so much and no more." + +Madame Zattiany took her leave amid much laughter, more or less +perfunctory, and one and all, whatever their reactions, insisted that she +must give her old friends the pleasure of entertaining her, and of seeing +her as often as possible as long as she remained in New York. + +She escaped at last. That was over. But tomorrow night! Tomorrow +night. Every wheel and tire seemed to be revolving out the words. Well, +if he were repelled and revolted, no doubt it would be for the best. She +had made up her mind to spare him nothing. He would hear far more than +she had told those women. Certainly he should be given full opportunity +to come to his senses. If he refused to take it, on his head be the +consequences. She would have done her part. + + + + +XXVII + +On Saturday afternoon as Clavering was walking up Forty-fourth Street +he met Anne Goodrich coming out of the Belasco Theatre. He saw her +first and tried to avoid her, for her family and the Oglethorpes were +as one, but she caught sight of him and held out her hand. + +"I shouldn't speak to you after your base desertion the other night," +she said, smiling. "But you do look rather seedy and I prefer to +flatter myself that you really were ill." + +"Was sure I was coming down with the flu," Clavering mumbled. "Of +course you know that nothing else----" + +"Oh, hostesses are too canny these days to take offence. All we are +still haughty enough to demand is a decent excuse. But you really owe +me something, and besides I've been wanting to talk to you. Take me to +Pierre's for tea." + +She spoke in a light tone of command. There had been a time when +issuing commands to Clavering had been her habit and he had responded +with a certain palpitation, convinced for nearly a month that Anne +Goodrich was the Clavering woman. He had known her as an awkward +schoolgirl and then as one of the prettiest and most light-hearted of +the season's debutantes, but she had never interested him until after +her return from France, where she had done admirable work in the +canteens. Then, sitting next to her at a dinner, and later for two +hours in the conservatory, he had thought her the finest girl he had +ever met. He thought so still; but although she stimulated his mind +and they had many tastes in common, he had soon realized that when +apart he forgot her and that only novelty had inspired his brief +desire. She might have everything for another man as exacting as +himself, but that unanalyzable something his own peculiar essence +demanded no woman had ever possessed until he met Mary Zattiany. + +He had begun too ardently to cease his visits abruptly and, moreover, +he still found her more companionable than any woman he knew; he +continued to show her a frank and friendly devotion until an attack of +influenza sent him to the hospital for a month; when he accepted the +friendly intervention of fate and thereafter timed his occasional calls +to coincide with the hour of tea, when she was never alone. There were +no more long morning walks, no more long rides in her car, no more +hastily arranged luncheons at the Bohemian restaurants that interested +her, no more "dropping in" and long telephone conversations. He still +enjoyed a talk with her at a dinner, and she was always a pleasure to +the eye with her calm and regular features softened by a cloud of +bright chestnut hair that matched her eyes to a shade, her serene brow +and her exquisite clothes. She did not carry herself well according to +his standard; "well" when she came out six years ago had meant laxity +of shoulders and pride of stomach, and in spite of her devotion to +outdoor sports she had fallen a prey to fashion. She so far +disapproved of the new fashion in girls, however, that she was making +an effort to stand erect and she had even banished powder from her +clear warm skin. Today she was becomingly dressed in taupe velvet, +with stole and muff and turban of sable; but Clavering had fancied that +her fine face wore a weary discontented expression until she saw him, +when it changed swiftly to a sort of imperious gladness. It made him +vaguely uncomfortable. He had never flattered himself that she loved +him, but he had believed in the possibility of winning her. He had +later chosen to believe that she had grown as indifferent as himself, +and he wondered, as he stood plunging about in his mind for an excuse +to avoid a tete-a-tete, why she had not married. + +"Well--you see----" + +"Come now! You don't go to teas, men never call these days, and you +surely have done your column for tomorrow. Here is the car. You can +spare me an hour." + +He had always avoided any appearance of rudeness and in his mind at +least he had treated her badly; he followed her without further +hesitation, trusting to his agile mind to keep her off the subject of +Madame Zattiany. This he would do at the cost of rudeness itself, for +he would not permit fiasco at the last moment. + +The street was packed with automobiles and taxis, and after a slow +progress toward Fifth Avenue they arrived in time to see the traffic +towers flash on the yellow light and were forced to halt for another +three minutes. He had started an immediate discussion of the play she +had just witnessed, knowing her love of argument, but she suddenly +broke off and laid her hand on his arm. + +"Look!" she exclaimed. "The famous Countess Zattiany in that car with +mother. Of course you know her; you were with her at the opera on the +historic night, weren't you? Tell me! What is she like? Did you ever +hear of anything so extraordinary?" + +"Never. I really know her very slightly. But as I had met her and she +had kindly asked me to dinner, I was glad to return the compliment when +Mrs. Oglethorpe sent me her box, as she always does once or twice +during the season, you know. But go on. What you said interested me +immensely, although I don't agree with you. I have certain fixed +standards when it comes to the drama." + +She picked him up and the argument lasted until they were seated in +Pierre's and had ordered tea. + +"I might have taken you home," she said then. "We could have had tea +in my den. No doubt Countess Zattiany was returning with mother, who, +it seems, has always adored her----" + +"This is ever so much nicer, for we are far less likely to be +interrupted. I haven't had a real talk with you for months." + +And he gave her a look of boyish pleasure, wholly insincere, but so +well done that she flushed slightly. + +"Is that my fault? There was a time when you came almost every day. +And then you never came in the same way again." It evidently cost her +something to say this, for her flush deepened, but she managed a glance +of dignified archness. + +"Oh, remember I had a villainous attack of the flu, and after that +there were arrears of work to make up. Moreover, the dramatic critic +came down with an even longer attack and they piled his work on me. I +don't know what it is to 'drop in' these days." + +"Well--are you always to be driven to death? I read your column +religiously and it runs so smoothly and spontaneously that it doesn't +seem possible it can take you more than an hour to write it." + +"An hour! Little you know. And subjects don't drop out of the clouds, +dear Anne. I have to go through all the newspapers, read an endless +number of books--not all fiction by a long sight--glance through the +magazines, reviews, weekly publications and foreign newspapers, read my +rivals' columns, go about among the Sophisticates, attend first-nights, +prize-fights, and even see the best of the movies. I assure you it's a +dog's life." + +"It sounds tremendously interesting. Far, far more so than my own. I +am so tired of that! I--that is one thing I wanted to talk to you +about--I meant to bring it up at my dinner--I wish you would introduce +me to some of your Sophisticates. Uncle Din says they are the most +interesting people in New York and that he always feels young again +when he is at one of their parties. Will you take me to one?" + +"Of course I will. The novelty might amuse you----" + +"It's not only novelty I want. I want really to know people whose +minds are constantly at work, who are doing the things we get the +benefit of when we are intelligent enough to appreciate them. I cannot +go on in the old way any longer. I paint more or less and read a great +deal--still on the lines you laid down. But one cannot paint and read +and walk and motor and dance all the time. Even if I had not gone to +France I should have become as bored and disgusted as I am now. You +know that I have a mind. What has it to feed on? I don't mean, of +course, that all the women I know are fools. Some of them no doubt are +cleverer than I am. But all the girls of my set--except Marian +Lawrence, and we don't get on very well--are married; and some have +babies, some have lovers, some are mad about bridge, a few have gone in +for politics, which don't interest me, and those that the war made +permanently serious devote themselves to charities and reform +movements. The war spoilt me for mere charity work--although I give a +charity I founded one afternoon a week--and mother does enough for one +family anyhow. I see no prospect of marrying--I don't know a young man +who wants to talk anything but sport and prohibition--you are an oasis. +There you are! The Sophisticates are an inspiration. I am sure they +will save my life." + +"But have you reflected----" Clavering was embarrassed. She had +controlled her tones and spoken with her usual crisp deliberateness, +but he knew that the words came from some profound emotional reaction. +For Anne Goodrich it was an outburst. "You see--it is quite possible +that when the novelty wore thin you would not be much better off than +you are now. All these people are intensely interested in their +particular jobs. They are specialists. You----" + +"You mean, what have I to give them?" + +"Not exactly. You could give them a good deal. To say nothing of your +own high intelligence, they are by no means averse from taking an +occasional flyer into the realm of fashion. Curiosity partly, natural +human snobbishness, perhaps. They will go to your house if you invite +them, no doubt of that; and they may conceive an enthusiastic liking +for you. But after all, you would not be one of them. Even though +they genuinely appreciated your accomplishments, still you would be +little more than an interesting incident. They are workers, engaged in +doing the things they think most worth while--which are worth while +because they furnish what the intelligent public is demanding just now, +and upon which the current market places a high value. And you are +merely an intellectual young woman of leisure. They might think it a +pity you didn't have to work, but secretly, no matter what their +regard, they'd consider you negligible because you belong to a class +that is content to be, not to do. I assure you they consider +themselves the most important group in New York--in America--at +present: the life-giving group of suns round which far-off planets +humbly revolve." + +"I see. You mean that my novelty would wear thin long before theirs. +Heaven knows I have little to give them. I should feel rather ashamed +sitting at the head of my table offering nothing but terrapin and +Gobelins. But don't you think I could make real friends of some of +them? Surely we would find much in common to talk about--and they +certainly take time to play, according to Uncle Din." + +"I think there would always be a barrier. . . . Ah! I have an idea. +Why don't you set up a studio and take your painting seriously? Cut +yourself off from the old life and join the ranks of the real workers? +Then, by degrees, they would accept you as a matter of course. You +could return their hospitality in your studio, which could be one of +the largest--there is no danger of overwhelming them; they are too +successful themselves. Think it over." + +Miss Goodrich's face, which had looked melancholy, almost hopeless, lit +up again. Her red mouth lifted at the corners, light seemed to pour +into her hazel eyes. "I'll do it!" she exclaimed. "I did a portrait +of father last month and it really is good. He is delighted with it, +and you know how easy he is to please! I wonder I never thought of it +before. You certainly are the most resourceful man in the world, +Lee--by the way, I hear there is a party at that wonderful Gora +Dwight's tonight. Do take me." + +"Oh! . . . I'm so sorry . . . it's quite impossible, Anne. I wish I +could. . . . I'll take you to one next week. And meanwhile get to +work. Be ready to meet them in the outer court at least. You'll find +it an immense advantage--rob your advent of any suggestion of +curiosity." + +"I'll look for a studio tomorrow. That is the way I do things--my +father's daughter, you see." + +She spoke with gay determination, but her face had fallen again. In a +moment she began to draw on her gloves. "Now I'll have to run if I'm +to dress and get over to Old Westbury for dinner at eight. Thank you +so much, Lee; you've been a godsend. If I were a writer instead of a +mere dabbler in paints I'd dedicate my first book to you. I'm so sorry +I haven't time to drive you down to Madison Square." + +Clavering, drawing a long breath as if he had escaped from imminent +danger, saw her into her car and then walked briskly home. He intended +to dine alone tonight. And in a moment he had forgotten Anne Goodrich +as completely as he had forgotten Janet Oglethorpe. + + + + +XXVIII + +He called for Madame Zattiany at ten o'clock. This time she was +standing in the hall as the man opened the door, and she came out +immediately. A lace scarf almost concealed her face. + +"I didn't order the car," she said. "It is such a fine night, and she +lives so near. Do you mind?" + +"I much prefer to walk, but your slippers----" + +"They are dark and the heels not too high." + +"I'm not going to make the slightest preliminary attempt at +indifference tonight, nor wait for one of your leads. How long do you +intend to stay at this party?" + +"Oh, an hour, possibly. One must not be rude." Her own tones were not +even, but he could not see her face. + +"But you'll keep your word and tell me everything tonight?" + +She gave a deep sigh. "Yes, I'll keep my word. No more +now--please! . . . Tell me, what do they do at these parties besides +talk--dance?" + +"Not always. They have charades, spelling matches, pick a word out of +a hat and make impromptu speeches----" + +"But _Mon dieu_!" She stopped short and pushed back her scarf. +Whatever expression she may have wished to conceal there was nothing +now in her face but dismay. "But you did not tell me this or I should +not have accepted. I never bore myself. I understood these were your +intellectuals. Charades! Spelling matches! Words in the hat! It +sounds like a small town moved to New York." + +"Well, a good many of them are from small towns and they rather pride +themselves on preserving some of the simplicities of rural life and +juvenescence, while leading an exaggerated mental life for which nature +designed no man. Perhaps it is merely owing to an obscure warning to +preserve the balance. Or an innocent arrogance akin to Mrs. +Oglethorpe's when she is looking her dowdiest. . . . But Gora often +has good music . . . still, if you don't want to go on I'm sure I do +not." + +"No," she said hurriedly. "I shall go. But--I am still astonished. I +do not know what I expected. But brilliant conversation, probably, +such as one hears in a European salon. Don't they relax their great +minds at outdoor sports? I understand there are golf links and tennis +courts near the city." + +"A good many of them do. But they like to relax still further at +night. You see we are not Europeans. Americans are as serious as +children, but like children they also love to play. Remember, we are a +young nation--and a very healthy one. And you will have conversation +if you want it. The men, you may be sure, will be ready to give you +anything you demand." + +"I had rather hoped to listen. Is this the house?" + +Several taxis were arriving and there were many cars parked along the +block. When they entered the house they were directed to +dressing-rooms on the second floor, and Clavering met Madame Zattiany +at the head of the staircase. She wore a gown of emerald green velvet, +cut to reveal the sloping line of her shoulders, and an emerald comb +thrust sideways in the low coil of her soft ashen hair. On the +dazzling fairness of her neck lay a single unset emerald depending from +a fine gold chain. Clavering stared at her helplessly. . . . It was +evident she had not made her toilette with an eye to softening a blow! + +"Am I overdressed?" she murmured. "I did not know. . . . I thought I +would dress as if--well, as if I had been invited by one of my own +friends----" + +"Quite right. To 'dress down' would have been fatal. And Gora must +spend a small fortune on her clothes. . . . But you . . . you . . . I +have never seen you----" + +"I am fond of green," she said lightly. "_Couleur d'esperance_. Shall +we go down?" + +He followed her down the stairs and before they reached the crowded +room below he had managed to set his face; but his heart was pounding. +He gave Gora, who came forward to meet them, a ferocious scowl, but she +was too much engaged with Madame Zattiany to notice him; and so, for +that matter, was the rest of the company. Miss Dwight's gown was of +black satin painted with flaming poinsettias, and Clavering saw Madame +Zattiany give it a swift approving glance. Around her thin shoulders +was a scarf of red tulle that warmed her brown cheeks. She looked +remarkably well, almost handsome, and her strange pale eyes were very +bright. It was evident that she was enjoying her triumphs; this no +doubt was the crowning one, and she led Madame Zattiany into the room, +leaving Clavering to his own devices. + +It was certainly the "distinguished party" he had promised. There were +some eight or ten of the best-known novelists and story-writers in the +country, two dramatists, several of the younger publishers, most of the +young editors, critics, columnists, and illustrators, famous in New +York, at least; a few poets, artists; the more serious contributors to +the magazines and reviews; an architect, an essayist, a sculptress, a +famous girl librarian of a great private library, three correspondents +of foreign newspapers, and two visiting British authors. The men wore +evening dress. The women, if not all patrons of the ranking "houses" +and dressmakers, were correct. Even the artistic gowns stopped short +of delirium. And if many of the women wore their hair short, so did +all of the men. Everybody in the room was reasonably young or had +managed to preserve the appearance and spirit of youth. Clavering +noticed at once that Mr. Dinwiddie was not present. No doubt he had +been ordered to keep out of the way! + +Miss Dwight led Madame Zattiany to the head of the room and enthroned +her, but made no introductions at the moment; a young man stood by the +piano, violin in hand, evidently waiting for the stir over the guest of +honor to subside. The hostess gave the signal and the guests were +polite if restless. However, the playing was admirable; and Madame +Zattiany, at least, gave it her undivided attention. She was, as ever, +apparently unconscious of glances veiled and open, but Clavering laid a +bet with himself that before the end of the encore--politely +demanded--she knew what every woman in the room had on. + +The violinist retired. Cocktails were passed. There was a surge +toward the head of the room. + +Clavering had dropped into a chair beside the wife of De Witt Turner, +eminent novelist, who, however, called herself in print and out, Suzan +Forbes. She was one of the founders of the Lucy Stone League, stern +advocates of the inalienable individuality of woman. Whether you had +one adored husband or many, never should that individuality (presumably +derived from the male parent) be sunk in any man's. When Suzan's +husband took his little family travelling the astonished hotel register +read: De Witt Turner, Suzan Forbes, child and nurse. Sometimes +explanations were wearisome; and when travelling in Europe they found +it expedient to bow to prejudice. Several of the Lucy Stoners, +however, had renounced Europe for the present, a reactionary government +refusing to issue separate passports. You took your husband's name at +the altar, didn't you? You are legally married? You are? Then you're +no more miss than mister. You go to Europe as a respectable married +woman or you stay at home. So they stayed. But they would win in the +end. They always did. As for the husbands, they were amenable. +Whether they really approved of feministics in extenso, or were merely +good-natured and indulgent after the fashion of American husbands, they +were at some pains to conceal. All the bright young married women who +were "doing things," however, were not Lucy Stoners, advanced as they +might be in thought. They were mildly sympathetic, but rather liked +the matronly, and possessive, prefix. And, after all, what did it +matter? There were enough tiresome barriers to scale, Heaven knew. +This was the age of woman, but man, heretofore predominant by right of +brute strength and hallowed custom, was cultivating subtlety, and if he +feminized while they masculinized there would be the devil to pay +before long. + +Miss Forbes was a tiny creature, wholly feminine in appearance, and in +spite of her public activities, her really brilliant and initiative +mind, was notoriously dependent upon her big burly husband for guidance +and advice in all practical matters. When they took a holiday the +younger of his children gave him the least trouble, for she had a +nurse: he dared not give his wife her ticket in a crowd lest she lose +it, far less trust her to relieve his burdened mind of any of the +details of travel; nor even to order a meal. Nevertheless, he +invariably, and with complete gravity, introduced her and alluded to +her as Suzan Forbes (she even tabued the Miss), and he sent a cheque to +the League when it was founded. His novels had a quality of delicate +irony, but he avowed that his motto was live and let live. + +Miss Forbes was not pretty, but she had an expressive original little +face and her manners were charming. Janet Oglethorpe was a boor beside +her. It was doubtful if she had ever been aggressive in manner or rude +in her life; although she never hesitated to give utterance to the +extremest of her opinions or to maintain them to the bitter end (when +she sometimes sped home to have hysterics on her husband's broad +chest). She was one of Clavering's favorites and the heroine of the +comedy he so far rejected. + +She lit a cigarette as the music finished and pinched it into a holder +nearly as long as her face. But even smoking never interfered with her +pleasant, rather deprecatory, smile. + +"It must be wonderful to be an authentic beauty," she said wistfully, +glancing at the solid phalanx of black backs and sleek heads at the +other end of the room. "And she's ravishing, of course. The men are +sleepless about her already. Do assure me that she is stupid! Nature +would never treat the rest of us so unfairly as to spare brains for +that enchanting skull when she hasn't enough to go round as it is. I +believe I'd give mine to look like that." + +"She's anything and everything but stupid. Ask Gora. They've met +already." + +"Well, there's _something_," she said wisely. "Law of compensation. +Although any woman who can look like that should have a special +dispensation of Providence. Are you interested in her, Clavey?" + +"Immensely. But I want to talk to you about another friend of mine." +And he told her something of Anne Goodrich, her ambitions, her talents, +and her admiration of the new aristocracy. + +Suzan Forbes listened with smiling interest and bobbed her brown little +head emphatically. "Splendid! I'm having a party on Thursday night. +Be sure to bring her. She'll need encouragement at first, poor thing, +and I'll be only too glad to advise her. I'll tell Tommy Treadwell to +find a studio for her. I've an idea there's one vacant in The +Gainsborough, and she'd love the outlook on the Park. Witt can help +her furnish; he's a wonder at picking up things. Mother can furnish +the kitchenette. Do you think she'd join the Lucy Stone League?" + +"No doubt, as she was brought up in the most conservative atmosphere in +America, she'll leap most of the fences after she takes the first. But +I don't think she's the marrying kind." + +"I shall advise her to marry. Husbands are almost indispensable in a +busy woman's life; and there are so many new ways of bringing up a +baby. D'you like my gown?" + +It was a charming but not extravagant slip of bright green chiffon and +suited her elfishness admirably, as he told her. + +"I paid for it myself. I pay for all my gowns, as I think it +consistent, but I can't afford the expensive dressmakers yet. At least +I think I've paid for it. Witt says I haven't and that he expects a +collector any day. But I must have, because I told her to send the +bill at once so that it wouldn't get lost among all the other bills on +the first of the month. Your column's been simply spiffing lately. +Full of fire and go, but rather--what shall I call it--explosive? +What's happened, Clavey?" + +"Good of you to encourage me, Suzanna. I'd thought it rotten. What +are you working at?" + +"I've just finished a paper on John Dewey for the _Atlantic_. I was so +proud when Witt said he hadn't a criticism to make. I'm on a review +for the _Yale_ now; and the new _Century_ has asked me for a +psychological analysis of the Younger Generation. I'm going to compare +our post-war product with all that is known of young people and their +manifestations straight back to the Stone Age. I've made a specialty +of the subject. Witt has helped me a lot in research. D'you think +he's gone off?" + +"Gone off? Certainly not. Every columnist in town had something to +say about that last installment of his novel. Best thing he's ever +done, and that's saying all. He's strong as an ox, too. Why in +heaven's name should he go off?" + +"Well, baby's teething and won't let any one else hold her when she +gets a fretting spell. He's been up a lot lately." + +Clavering burst into a loud delighted laugh. He had forgotten his +personal affairs completely, as he always did when talking to this +remarkable little paradox. "Gad! That's good! And his public +visualizes him as a sort of Buddha, brooding cross-legged in his +library, receiving direct advice from the god of fiction. . . . But I +wouldn't have you otherwise. The nineteenth century bluestocking with +twentieth century trimmings. . . . What now?" + +Rollo Landers Todd, the "Poet of Manhattan," had stalked in with a +Prussian helmet on his head, his girth draped in a rich blue shawl +embroidered and fringed with white, a bitter frown on his jovial round +face; and in his hand a long rod with a large blue bow on the metal +point designed to shut refractory windows. Helen Vane Baker, a +contribution from Society to the art of fiction, with flowing hair and +arrayed in a long nightgown over her dress, fortunately white, was +assisted to the top of the bookcase on the west wall. Henry Church, a +famous satirist, muffled in a fur cloak, a small black silk +handkerchief pinned about his lively face, stumped heavily into the +room, fell in a heap on the floor against the opposite wall, and in a +magnificent bass growled out the resentment of Ortrud, while a rising +but not yet prosilient pianist, with a long blonde wig from Miss +Dwight's property chest, threw his head back, shook his hands, adjusted +a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and banged out the prelude to +_Lohengrin_ with amazing variations. Elsa, with her profile against +the wall and her hands folded across her breast, sang what of Elsa's +prayer she could remember and with no apparent effort improvised the +rest. Lohengrin pranced up and down the room barking out German +phonetics (he did not know a word of the language, but his accent was +as Teutonic as his helmet), demanding vengeance and threatening +annihilation. He brandished his pole in the face of Ortrud, stamping +and roaring, then, bending his knees, waddled across the room and +prodded Elsa, who winced perceptibly but continued to mingle her light +soprano with the rolling bass of Mr. Church and the vociferations of +the poet. Finally, at the staccato command of Mr. Todd's hoarsening +voice, she toppled over into his arms and they both fell on Ortrud. +The nonsense was over. + +No one applauded more spontaneously than Madame Zattiany, and she even +drank a cocktail. By this time every one in the room had been +introduced to her and she was chatting as if she hadn't a care in the +world. As far as Clavering could see, she had every intention of +making a Sophisticate night of it. + +The pianist, after a brief interval for recuperation, played with +deafening vehemence and then with excruciating sweetness. Once more +cocktails were passed, and then there was a charade by Todd, Suzan +Forbes and the handsome young English sculptress, which Madame Zattiany +followed with puzzled interest; and was so delighted with herself for +guessing the word before the climax that she clapped her hands and +laughed like a child. + +More music, more cocktails, a brief impromptu play full of witty +nonsense, caricaturing several of the distinguished company, whose +appreciation was somewhat dubious, and Miss Dwight led the way down to +supper. Clavering watched Madame Zattiany go out with the good-looking +young editor of one of the staid old fiction magazines which he had +recently levered out of its rut by the wayside, cranked up and driven +with a magnificent gesture into the front rank of Youth. She was +talking with the greatest animation. He hardly recognized her and it +was apparent that she had entered into the spirit of the evening, quite +reconciled to any dearth of intellectual refreshment. + +The supper of hot oysters, chicken salad, every known variety of +sandwich, ices and cakes was taken standing for the most part, Madame +Zattiany, however, once more enthroned at the head of the room, women +as well as men dancing attendance upon her. Prohibition, a dead letter +to all who could afford to patronize the underground mart, had but +added to the spice of life, and it was patent that Miss Dwight had a +cellar. More cocktails, highballs, sherry, were passed continuously, +and two enthusiastic guests made a punch. Fashionable young actors and +actresses began to arrive. Hilarity waxed, impromptu speeches were +made, songs rose on every key. Then suddenly some one ran up to the +victrola and turned on the jazz; and in a twinkling the dining-room was +deserted, furniture in the large room upstairs was pushed to the wall +and the night entered on its last phase. + +Then only did Madame Zattiany signify her intention of retiring, and +Clavering, to whom such entertainments were too familiar to banish for +more than a moment his heavy disquiet, hastened to her side with a sigh +of relief and a sinking sensation behind his ribs. Madame Zattiany +made her farewells not only with graciousness but with unmistakable +sincerity in her protestations of having passed her "most interesting +evening in New York." + +Miss Dwight went up to the dressing-room with her, and Clavering, +retrieving hat and top-coat, waited for her at the front door. She +came down radiant and talking animatedly to her hostess; but when they +had parted and she was alone with Clavering her face seemed suddenly to +turn to stone and her lids drooped. As she was about to pass him she +shrank back, and then raised her eyes to his. In that fleeting moment +they looked as when he had met them first: inconceivably old, wise, +disillusioned. + +"Now for it," he thought grimly as he closed the door and followed her +out to the pavement. "The Lord have mercy----" And then he made a +sudden resolution. + + + + +XXIX + +Madame Zattiany did not utter a word during the short walk to her house. +It was evident that she had dismissed the merry evening from her mind and +was brooding on the coming hour. At the top of the steps she handed him +the latchkey, but still lingered outside for a moment. As he took her +hand and drew her gently into the house he felt that she was trembling. + +"Come," he said, his own voice shaking. "Remember that you need tell me +nothing unless you wish. This idea of confession before marriage is +infernal rot. I have not the least intention of making one of my own." + +"Oh!" She gave a short harsh laugh. "I should never dream of asking for +any man's confession. They are all alike. And I must tell you. I +cannot leave you to hear it from others." + +He helped her out of her wrap and she threw the lace scarf on a chair and +preceded him slowly down the hall. + +"I am a coward. A coward," she thought heavily. "Have I ever felt moral +cowardice before? I don't remember. Not toward any other man who loved +me. But---- Oh, God! And I shall never see him again. How shall I +begin?" + +She was totally unprepared for the beginning. She heard him shut the +library door, and then it seemed to her that her entire body was +encircled by flexible hot bars of iron and her face, her mouth, were +being flagellated. If he hadn't held her in that vise-like grip she +would have fallen. She lay back on his arm as he kissed her and for the +moment she forgot the past and the future and was happy, although she +felt dimly that life was being drained out of her. She was passive in +that fierce possessive embrace. She had lost all sense of separateness. + +"I won't listen to your story," he muttered. "This is no time for talk." + +His voice, hoarse and shaking as it was, broke the spell; with a sudden +lithe movement she twisted herself out of his arms. Before he realized +what was happening she had run across the room, snatched the key from the +door and locked it on the other side. He heard her run up the stairs. + +Clavering did and said most of the things men do and say when balked in +mid-flight, but in a moment he took the little key from the drawer in the +table and poured himself out a whiskey and soda--he had taken almost +nothing at the party--lit a cigarette and threw himself into a chair. He +had no desire to stride up and down; he felt as if all the strength had +gone out of him. But he felt no apprehension that she had left him for +the night. Nor should he take possession of her again until she had told +her story: he reflected with what humor was left in him that when a woman +had something to say and was determined to say it, the only thing to do +was to let her talk. Words to a woman were as steam to a boiler, and no +man could control her mind until she had talked off the lid. + +She was giving him time to cool off, he reflected grimly, as he glanced +at the clock. Well, he felt heavy and inert enough--hideous reaction! +He was in a condition to listen to anything. If she was determined to +work her will on him, at least he had worked his on her for a brief +moment. She knew now that in the future she might as well try to resist +death itself. Let her have her last fling. + +He rose as she entered, and for the moment his heart failed him. He had +never seen even her look more like marble, and she did not meet his eyes +as she crossed the room and seated herself so that her profile would be +toward him as she talked. As she had chosen the large high-backed chair, +Clavering, knowing her love of comfort, hoped that her discourse was to +be brief. + +"When I finish," she said in her low vital voice, "I shall leave the room +immediately and I must have your word that you will make no attempt to +detain me, and that you will go at once and not return until Monday +afternoon. I shall not wish to see you again until you have had time to +deliberate calmly on what I shall tell you. I do not want any +embarrassed protests from a gallant gentleman--whose confusion of mind is +second only to his chivalrous dismay. Have I your word?" + +"It never takes me long to make up my mind----" + +"That may be, but I intend to save you from an embarrassing situation. +You need not come on Monday unless you wish. You may write--or, for that +matter, if I do not hear from you on Monday by four I shall +understand----" + +"I--for God's sake, Mary----" + +"You must do as I say--this time. And--and--you could not overcome me +again tonight. I can turn myself to stone when I choose." + +"Oh!" He ground his teeth. His own nerves might be lulled for the +moment, but he had anticipated reaction when she finished her story. +"Very well--but it is for the last time, my dear. And why Monday? Why +not this afternoon?" + +"You must sleep and write your column, is it not so? Moreover--and +deliberately--I am lunching with Mrs. Ruyler and dining at the +Lawrences'." + +"Very well. Monday, then. You have set the stage. If I must be a +puppet for once in my life, so be it. But, I repeat, it's for the last +time. Now, for heaven's sake, go ahead and get it off your chest." + +"And you will let me go without a word? Otherwise I shall not speak--and +I'll leave the room again and not return." + +"Very well. I promise." + +"I told part of it the other day at Mrs. Oglethorpe's luncheon--I had +told her before. But there's so much else. I hardly know how to begin +with you, and I have not the habit of talking about myself. But I +suppose I should begin at the beginning." + +"It is one of the formulae." + +"It is the most difficult of all--that beginning." And although she had +announced the torpidity of her nerves, her hands clenched and her voice +shook slightly. + +"Let me remind you that to begin anywhere you've got to begin somewhere." +And then as she continued silent, he burst out: "For God's sake, say it!" + +"Is--is--it possible that the suspicion has never crossed your mind that +I am Mary Ogden?" + +"Wh-a-at!" + +"Mary Ogden, who married Count Zattiany thirty-four years ago. I was +twenty-four at the time. You may do your own arithmetic." + +But Clavering made no answer. His cigarette was burning a hole in the +carpet. He mechanically set his foot on it, but his faculties felt +suspended, his body immersed in ice-water. And yet something in his +unconscious rose and laughed . . . and tossed up a key . . . if he had +not fallen in love with her he would have found that key long since. His +news sense rarely failed him. + +"I've told a good many lies, I'm afraid," she went on, and her voice was +even and cool. The worst was over. "You'll have to forgive me that at +least. I dislike downright lying, if only because concessions are +foreign to my nature, and I quibbled when it was possible; but when +cornered there was no other way out. I had no intention of being forced +to tell you or any one the truth until I chose to tell it." + +"Well, you had your little comedy!" + +"It did amuse me for a time, but I think I explained all that in my +letter. I also explained why I came to America, and that if I had not +met you I should probably have come and gone and no one but Judge Trent +been the wiser. I had prepared him by letter, and to him, I suppose, it +has been a huge comedy--with no tragic sequel. Be sure that I never +entertained the thought that I could ever love any man again. But I have +made up my mind to disenchant you as far as possible, not only for your +sake but my own. I wish you to know exactly whom you have fallen in love +with." + +"You grow more interesting every moment," said Clavering politely, "and I +have never been one-half as interested in my life." + +"Perhaps you have heard--Mrs. Oglethorpe, I should think, would be very +much disposed to talk about old times--that I was a great belle in New +York--belles were fashionable in those days of more marked individuality. +I suppose no girl ever had more proposals. Naturally I grew to +understand my power over men perfectly. I had that white and regular +beauty combined with animation and great sex-magnetism which always +convinces men that under the snow volcanic fires are burning. I was +experienced, under the frankest exterior, in all the subtle arts of the +coquette. Men to me were a sort of musical instrument from which I could +evoke any harmony or cacophony I chose. + +"What held the men I played with and rejected was my real gift for +good-fellowship, my loyalty in friendship, and some natural sweetness of +disposition. But such power makes a woman, particularly while young, +somewhat heartless and callous, and I was convinced that I had no +capacity for love myself; especially as I found all men rather +ridiculous. I met Otto Zattiany in Paris, where he was attached to the +Embassy of the Dual Empire. He was an impetuous wooer and very handsome. +I did not love him, but I was fascinated. Moreover, I was tired of +American men and American life. Diplomacy appealed to my ambition, my +love of power and intrigue. He was also a nobleman with great estates; +there could be no suspicion that he was influenced by my fortune. He +followed me back to New York, and although my parents were opposed to all +foreigners, I had my way; there was the usual wedding in Saint Thomas's, +and we sailed immediately for Europe. + +"I hated him at once. I shall not go into the details of that marriage. +Fortunately he soon tired of me and returned to his mistresses. To him I +was the Galatea that no man could bring to life. But he was very proud +of me and keenly aware of my value as the wife of an ambitious +diplomatist. He treated me with courtesy, and concerned himself not at +all with my private life. He knew my pride, and believed that where he +had failed no man could succeed; in short, that I would never consider +divorce nor elopement, nor even run the risk of less public scandals. + +"I was not unhappy. I was rid of him. I had a great position and there +was everything to distract my mind. I was not so interested in the inner +workings of diplomacy as I was later, but the comedy of jealousy and +intrigue in the diplomatic set was amusing from the first. I was very +beautiful, I entertained magnificently, I was called the best-dressed +woman in Paris, I was besieged by men--men who were a good deal more +difficult to manage than chivalrous Americans, particularly as I was now +married and the natural prey of the hunter. But it was several years +before I could think of men without a shudder, little as I permitted them +to suspect it. I learned to play the subtle and absorbing game of men +and women as it is played to perfection in the bolder civilizations. It +was all that gave vitality to the general game of society. I had no +children; my establishment was run by a major domo; it bore little +resemblance to a home. It was the brilliant artificial existence of a +great lady, young, beautiful, and wealthy, in Europe before +nineteen-fourteen. Of course that phase of life was suspended in Europe +during the war. All the women I knew or heard of worked as hard as I +did. Whether that terrible interregnum left its indelible seal on them, +or whether they have rebounded to the old life, where conditions are less +agonizing than in Vienna, I do not know." + +She paused a moment, and Clavering unconsciously braced himself. Her +initial revelation had left the deeper and more personal part of him +stunned, and he was listening to her with a certain detachment. So far +she had revealed little that Dinwiddie had not told him already, and as +he knew that this brief recapitulation of her earlier life was not +prompted by vanity, he could only wonder if it were the suggestive +preface to that secret volume at which Dinwiddie had hinted more than +once. + +As she continued silent, he got suddenly to his feet. "I'll walk up and +down a bit, if you don't mind," he muttered. "I'm rather--ah--getting +rather cramped." + +"Do," she said indifferently. + +"Please go on. I am deeply interested." + +She continued in a particularly level voice while he strode unevenly up +and down: "Of course the time came when ugly memories faded, my buoyant +youth asserted itself and I wanted love. And when a woman feels a crying +need to love as well as to be loved, her whole being a peremptory demand, +unsatisfied romance quickening, she is not long finding the man. I had +many to choose from. I made my choice and was happy for a time. +Although I had been brought up in the severest respectability--just +recall Jane Oglethorpe, Mrs. Vane, Mrs. Ruyler, and you will be able to +reconstruct the atmosphere--several of the women I had known as a girl +had lovers, it seemed to me that American women came to Europe for no +other purpose, and I was now living at the fountain-head of polite +license. Not that I made any apologies to myself. I should have taken a +lover if I had wanted one had virtue been the fashion. And the contract +with my husband had been dissolved by mutual consent. The only thing +that rebelled was my pride. I hated stepping down from my pedestal." + +Clavering gave a short barking laugh. "Your arrogance is the most +magnificent thing about you, and that is saying more than I could +otherwise express. I'll fortify myself before you proceed further, if +you will permit." He poured himself out a drink, and returned to his +chair with the glass in his hand. "Pray go on." + +She had not turned her head and continued to look into the fire. She +might have been posing to a sculptor for a bust that would hardly look +more like marble when finished. + +"I soon discovered that I had not found happiness. Men want. They +rarely love. I realized that I had demanded in love far more than +passion, and I received nothing else. + +"I am not going to tell you how many lovers I have had. It is none of +your business----" + +"Ah!" Clavering, staring at her, had forgotten his first shock, +everything but her living presence; forgotten also that he had once +apprehended something of the sort, then dismissed it from his mind. He +spilt the whiskey over the arm of the chair, then sprang to his feet and +began to pace the room once more. + +She went on calmly: "Disappointment does not mean the end of +seeking. . . . They gave me little that I wanted. They were clever and +adroit enough in the prelude. They knew how to create the illusion that +in them alone could be found the fulfillment of all aspiration and +desire. No doubt they satisfied many women, but they could not satisfy +me. They gave me little I did not find in the mere society of the many +brilliant and accomplished men with whom I was surrounded. I had a +rapacious mind, and there was ample satisfaction for it in the men who +haunted my salon and were constantly to be met elsewhere. European men +are _instruits_. They are interested in every vital subject, +intellectual and political, despite the itch of amor, their deliberate +cult of sex. They like to talk. Conversation is an art. My mind was +never uncompanioned. But that deeper spiritual rapacity, one offspring +of passion as it may be, they could not satisfy; for love with them is +always too confused with animalism and is desiccated in the art of +love-making. Fidelity is a virtue relegated to the bourgeois----" + +"What about Englishmen?" demanded Clavering sarcastically. "I thought +they were bad artists but real lovers." + +"I know little of Englishmen. Zattiany was never appointed to St. +James's, and although, of course, I met many of them in the service on +the continent, and even visited London several times, it must have +happened that I was interested in some one else or in a state of profound +reaction from love at the time--at least so I infer. It is a long while +ago. I remember only the fact. + +"Those whom I tried to love would soon have tired of me had I not played +the game as adroitly as themselves, and if I had permitted them to feel +sure of me. The last thing any of them wanted was depth of feeling, +tragic passion. . . . My most desperate affair was my last--after a long +interval. . . . I was in my early forties. I had thought myself too +utterly disillusioned ever to imagine myself in love again. Men are +gross and ridiculous creatures in the main, and aside from my personal +disappointments, I thought it was time for that chapter of my life to +finish; I was amusing myself with diplomatic intrigue. I was in the +Balkans at the time, that breeding ground of war microbes, and I was +interested in a very delicate situation in which I played a certain part. + +"The awakening was violent. He was an Austrian, with an important place +in the Government; he came to Belgrade on a private mission. He was a +very great person in many ways, and I think I really loved him, for he +seemed to me entirely worthy of it. He certainly was mad enough about me +for a time--for a year, to be exact. When he returned to Vienna it was +not difficult for me to find an excuse to go also. Although Zattiany was +a Hungarian, he never visited his Hungarian estates except for the boar +hunting, and spent his time when on leave, or between appointments, in +Vienna, where he had inherited a palace--I must tell you that the city +residence of a nobleman in the Dual Empire was always called a palace, +however much it might look like a house. + +"I shall always remember this man with a certain pleasure and respect, +for he is the only man who ever made me suffer. A woman forgets the +lovers she has dismissed as quickly as possible. Their memory is hateful +to her, like the memory of all mistakes. But this man made me suffer +horribly. (He married a young girl, out of duty to his House, and +unexpectedly fell in love with her.) Therefore, although I recovered, +and completely, still do I sometimes dwell with a certain cynical +pleasure on the memory of him----" + +"Have you never seen him since?" asked Clavering sharply. He had +returned to his chair. "How long ago was that?" + +"Quite sixteen years ago. I did not visit Vienna again for several +years; in fact, not until after my husband's death, when I returned there +to live. But by that time I had lost both youth and beauty. His wife +had died, but left him an heir, and he showed no disposition to marry +again; certainly he was as indifferent to me as I to him. We often met, +and as he respected my mind and my knowledge of European affairs, we +talked politics together, and he sometimes asked my advice. + +"But to go back. After that was over I determined to put love definitely +out of my life. I believed then and finally that I had not the gift of +inspiring love; nor would I ever risk humiliation and suffering again. I +played the great game of life and politics. I was still beautiful--for a +few years--I had an increasingly great position, all the advantages, +obvious and subtle, that money could procure. My maid was very clever. +My gowns, as time went on, were of a magnificent simplicity; all +frou-frous were renounced. I had no mind to invite the valuation I heard +applied to certain American women in Paris: 'elderly and dressy.'" + +Clavering laughed for the first time. "I wonder you ever made a mistake +of any sort. I also wonder if you are a type as well as an individual? +I have, I think, followed intelligently your psychological involutions +and convolutions so far. I am only hoping you will not get beyond my +depth. What was your attitude toward your past mistakes--beyond what you +have told me? Did you suffer remorse, as I am told women do when they +either voluntarily renounce or are permitted to sin no more?" + +"I neither regarded them as mistakes nor did I suffer remorse. Every +human being makes what are called mistakes and those happened to be mine. +Therefore I dismissed them to the limbo of the inevitable. . . . As your +world, I am told, looks upon you as the coming dramatist, it may appeal +to your imagination to visualize that secret and vital and dramatic +undercurrent of what was on the surface a proud and splendid life. . . . +Or, if there are regrets, it is for the weight of memories, the +completeness of disillusion, the slaying of mental youth--which cannot +survive brutal facts. + +"I think that for women of my type--what may be called the intellectual +siren--the lover phase is inevitable. We are goaded not only by the +imperious demands of womanhood and the hope of the perfect companion, but +by curiosity, love of adventure, ennui; possibly some more obscure +complex--vengeance on the husband who has wrecked our first illusions--on +Life itself. Bringing-up, family and social traditions, have nothing to +do with it. Only opportunity counts. Moreover, we are not the product +of our immediate forebears, but of a thousand thousand unknown +ancestors. . . ." + +"God! True enough!" + +"Unfortunately, these women who have wasted so much time on love never +realize the tragic futility until Time himself disposes of temptation, +and then it is too late for anything but regrets of another sort. The +war may have solved the problem for many a desperate spirit. + +"My own case has assumed an entirely different complexion. With my youth +restored I have the world at my feet once more, but safeguarded by the +wisdom of experience--in so far as a mortal ever may be. The bare idea +of that old game of prowling sex fills me with ennui and disgust. The +body may be young again, but my mind, reenergized though it is, is packed +with memories, a very Book of Life. When I found that my beauty was +restored I thought of nothing less than returning to the conquest of men +in the old manner, although quite aware of its powerful aid in the work I +have made up my mind to do in Austria. Of late, of course, I have +thought of little else but what this recrudescence of my youth means to +you and to myself. But--please do not interrupt--this I shall not +discuss with you again until Monday--if then. + +"But once more I wish to impress you with the fact that I indulge in +nothing so futile as regrets for my 'past.' 'Sack-cloth and ashes' +provokes nothing but a smile from women of my type and class. Moreover, +I believe that my education would not be complete without that +experience--_mine_, understand. I am not speaking for women of other +temperaments, opportunities, of less intellect, of humbler character, +weaker will. . . . And if I had persisted in virtue at that time I +should probably make a fool of myself today, an even more complete fool +than women do when they feel youth slipping but still are able with the +aid of art and arts to fascinate younger men. + +"That almost standardized chapter I renounced peremptorily. My pride was +too great to permit me to be foolish even in the privacy of my mind over +men half my age. Nor did I make any of the usual frantic attempts to +keep looking young. I had seen too much of that, laughed at it too +often. Nevertheless, I hated the approach of age, the decay of beauty, +the death of magnetism, as bitterly as the silliest woman I had ever met. + +"Some women merely fade: lose their complexions, the brightness of their +eyes and hair. Others grow heavy, solid; stout or flabby; the muscles of +the face and neck loosen and sag, the features alter. I seemed slowly to +dry up--wither. There was no flesh to hang or loose skin to wrinkle, but +it seemed to me that I had ten thousand lines. I thought it a horrid +fate. I could not know that Nature, meaning to be cruel, had given me +the best chance for the renewal of the appearance as well as the fact of +youth. + +"I suppose all this seems trivial to you--this mourning over lost +youth----" + +"Not at all. It must have been hell to a woman like you. As for women +in general--they may make more fuss about it, but I fancy they hate it +less than men." + +"Yes, men are vainer than women," said Madame Zattiany indifferently. +"But I have yet to waste any sympathy on men. . . . + +"I suppose I only fully realized that my youth, my beauty, my magnetic +charm, had gone when men ceased to make violent love to me. They still +paid court, for I was a very important person, my great prestige was a +sort of halo, and I had never neglected my mind. There was nothing of +significance I had not read during all these years. I was as profoundly +interested in the great political currents of Europe, seen and unseen, as +any man--or as any intelligent woman of European society. Moreover, I +had the art of life down to a fine point, and I had not forgotten that +even in friendship men are drawn to the subtle woman who knows how to +envelop herself in a certain mystery. And European men are always eager +to talk with an accomplished woman, even if she has no longer the power +to stir their facile passions. + +"When I realized that my sex power had left me I adopted an entirely new +set of tactics--never would I provoke a cynical smile on the faces I once +had the power to distort! With no evidence of regret for my lost +enchantment I remained merely the alert and always interested woman of +the world, to whom men, if sufficiently entertaining, were welcome +companions for the moment, nothing more. I cemented many friendships, I +cultivated a cynical philosophy--for my own private succor--and although, +for a time, there were moments of bewildered groping and of intense +rebellion, or a sudden and hideous sense of inferiority, I twisted the +necks of those noxious weeds thrusting themselves upward into my +consciousness and threatening to strangle it, and trampled them under the +heel of my will. It was by no means the least happy interval of my life, +for I was very healthy, I took a great deal of outdoor exercise, and +there was a sense of freedom I never had experienced before. Love is +slavery, and I was no longer a slave. + +"After my husband's death, as I told you, I opened the Zattiany palace in +Vienna once more (my nephew and his wife preferred Paris, and I leased it +from them), expecting to follow the life I had mapped out, until I was +too old for interests of any sort. I had a brilliant salon and I was +something of a political power. Of course, I knew that the war was +coming long before hatreds and ambitions reached their climax, and +advised this man of whom I have spoken, Mathilde Loyos, and other +friends, to invest large sums of money in the United States. Judge Trent +arranged the trusteeship in each case----" + +"Where is this man?" + +"I do not know. He went down with the old regime, of course, and would +be a pauper but for these American investments and a small amount in +Switzerland. He has occupied no position in the new Government, although +he was a Liberal in politics. What he is doing I have no idea. I have +not seen him for years." + +"Well--go on." + +"It was only when I became aware of a growing mental lassitude, a +constant sense of effort in talking everlastingly on subjects that called +for constant alertness and often reorientation, that I was really aghast +and began to look toward the future not only with a sense of helplessness +but of intolerable weariness. I used to feel an inclination to turn my +head away with an actual physical gesture when concentration was +imperative. I thought that my condition was psychological, that I had +lived too much and too hard, that my memory was over-burdened and my +sense of the futility and meaninglessness of life too overwhelming. But +I know now that the condition was physical, the result of the +degeneration of certain cells. + +"I spent the summer alone on my estate in Hungary, and when it was over I +determined to close the palace in Vienna and remain in the country. I +could not go back to that restless high-pitched life, with its ceaseless +gaiety on the one hand and its feverish politics and portentous rumblings +on the other. My tired mind rebelled. And the long strain had told on +my health. + +"I lived an almost completely outdoor life, riding, walking, swimming in +the lake, hunting, but careful not to overtax my returning strength. I +was not in love with life, far from it! But I had no intention of adding +invalidism to my other disintegrations. In the evening I played cards +with my secretary or practised at the piano, with some revival of my old +interest in music. I read little, even in the newspapers. I was become, +save perhaps for my music, an automaton. But, although I did not improve +in appearance, my health was completely restored, and when the war came I +was in perfect condition for the arduous task I immediately undertook. +Moreover, my mind, torpid for a year, was free and refreshed for those +practical details it must grapple with at once. I turned the Zattiany +palace in Buda Pesth into a hospital. And then for four years I was +again an automaton, but this time a necessary and useful one. When I +thought about myself at all, it seemed to me that this selfless and +strenuous interval was the final severance from my old life. If Society +in Europe today were miraculously restored to its pre-war +brilliancy--indifferent to little but excitement and pleasure--there +would be nothing in it for me. + +"Now I come to the miracle." And while she recapitulated what she had +told the women at Mrs. Oglethorpe's luncheon, Clavering listened without +chaos in his accompanying thoughts. "Certainly, man's span is too brief +now," she concluded. "He withers and dies at an age when, if he has +lived sanely--and when a man abuses his natural functions he generally +dies before old age, anyhow--he is beginning to see life as a whole, with +that detachment that comes when his personal hold on life and affairs is +relaxing, when he has realized his mistakes, and has attained a mental +and moral orientation which could be of inestimable service to his fellow +men, and to civilization in general. What you call crankiness in old +people, so trying to the younger generations, does not arise from natural +hatefulness of disposition and a released congenital selfishness, but +from atrophying glands, and, no doubt, a subtle rebellion against nature +for consigning men to ineptitude when they should be entering upon their +best period of usefulness, and philosophical as well as active enjoyment +of life. + +"Science has defeated nature at many points. The isolation of germs, the +discovery of toxins and serums, the triumph over diseases that once +wasted whole nations and brought about the fall of empires, the arrest of +infant mortality, the marvels of vivisection and surgery--the list is +endless. It is entirely logical, and no more marvellous, that science +should be able to arrest senescence, put back the clock. The wonder is +that it has not been done before." + +She rose, still looking down at the fire, which Clavering had replenished +twice. "I am going now. And I have no fear that you will not keep your +promise! But remember this when thinking it over: I do not merely _look_ +young again, _I am_ young. I am not the years I have passed in this +world, I am the age of the rejuvenated glands in my body. Some day we +shall have the proverb: 'A man is as old as his endocrines.' Of course I +cannot have children. The treatment is identical with that for +sterilization. This consideration may influence you. I shall use no +arguments nor seductions. You will have decided upon all that before we +meet again. Good night." And she was gone. + + + + +XXX + +It seemed to Clavering that he had run the gamut of the emotions while +listening to that brief biography, so sterilely told, but there had +also been times when he had felt as if suspended in a void even while +visited by flashes of acute consciousness that he was being called upon +to know himself for the first time in his life. And in such fashion as +no man had ever been called upon to know himself before. + +There was no precedent in life or in fiction to guide him, and he had +realized with a sensation of panic even while she talked that it was +doubtful if any one had ever understood himself since the dawn of time. +Man had certain standards, fixed beliefs, ideals, above all, +habits--how often they scattered to the winds under some unheralded or +teratogenic stress. He had seen it more than once, and not only in +war. Every man had at least two personalities that he was aware of, +and he dimly guessed at others. Some were frank enough to admit that +they had not an idea what they would do in a totally unfamiliar +situation. Clavering had sometimes emblemized man and his +personalities with the old game of the ivory egg. A twist and the +outer egg revealed an inner. Another and one beheld a third. And so +on to the inner unmanipulatable sphere, which might stand for the +always inscrutable soul. Like all intelligent men, he had a fair +knowledge of these two outer layers of personality, and he had +sometimes had a flashing glimpse of others, too elusive to seize and +put under the microscopic eye of the mind. + +What did he know of himself? He asked the question again as he sat in +his own deep chair in the early morning hours. The heat in the hotel +had been turned off and he had lit the gas logs in the grate--symbol of +the artificialities of civilization that had played their insidious +role in man's outer and more familiar personality. Perhaps they struck +deeper. Habit more often than not dominated original impulse. + +His own room, where he was nearly always alone, with its warm red +curtains and rug, the low bookcases built under his direction and +filled with his favorite books, the refectory table and other pieces of +dark old English oak that he had brought from home, and several family +portraits on the wall, restored his equilibrium and his brain was +abnormally clear. He wondered if he ever would sleep again. Better +think it over now. + +Mary Zattiany as she talked had never changed her expression. She +might have been some ancient oracle reciting her credo, and she seemed +to have narcotized that magnetic current that had always vibrated +between them. Nevertheless, he had been fully aware that she felt like +nothing less than an oracle or the marble bust she looked, and that her +soul was racked and possibly fainting, but mastered by her formidable +will. + +Formidable. Did that word best express her? Was she one of the +superwomen who could find no mate on earth and must look for her god on +another star? He certainly was no superman himself to breathe on her +plane and mate that incarnate will. Had she any human weakness? Even +that subterranean sex-life in her past had not been due to weakness. +She was far too arrogant for that. Life had been her foot-stool. She +had kicked it about contemptuously. Even her readjustments had been +the dictates of her imperious will. And her pride! She was a female +Lucifer in pride. + +No doubt the men she had dismissed had been secretly relieved; stung +for the only time in their lives perhaps, with a sense of inferiority. +It must have been like receiving the casual favors of a queen on her +throne. Well, she had got it in the neck once; there was some +satisfaction in that. He wished he knew the man's name. He'd hunt him +up and thank him in behalf of his sex. + +For an hour he excoriated her, hated her, feared her, dissociating her +from the vast army of womanhood, but congratulating himself upon having +known her. She was a unique if crucifying study. + +With restored youth superimposed upon that exhaustive knowledge of +life--every phase of it that counted in her calculations--the +rejuvenation of all her great natural endowments, she'd probably go +back and rule Europe! What use could she possibly have for any man? + +He made himself a cup of coffee over his electric stove, turned off the +malodorous gas, which affected his head, stood out on his balcony for a +moment, then lit his pipe and felt in a more mellow mood. + +After all, she had suffered as only a woman so liberally endowed could +suffer, and over a long period of years. She had known despair and +humiliation and bewilderment, lethargic hopelessness, and finally a +complete sacrifice of self. His imagination, in spite of his +rebellious soul, had furnished the background for that bald recital. + +And she must have an indomitable soul, some inner super-fine spiritual +essence, with which arrogance and even pride had less to do than she +imagined. Otherwise, after the life she had led, she would either have +become an imperious uncomfortable old woman or one of those faltering +non-entities crowded into the backwaters of life by a generation which +inspires them with nothing but timidity and disapproval. Towering +individualities often go down to defeat in old age. + +And nothing could alter the fact that she was the most beautiful and +the most wholly desirable woman he had ever known, the one woman who +had focussed every aspiration of his mind, his soul, and his body. He +knew he must ask himself the inevitable question and face it without +blinking. Was he appalled by her real age; could he ever get away from +the indubious fact that whatever miracle science may have effected, her +literal age was verging on sixty? If she were not an old woman she had +been one. That beautiful body had withered, undesired of all men, that +perfect face had been the battered mirror of an aged ego. He did not +ask himself if the metamorphosis would last, if the shell might not +wither again tomorrow. He was abreast of the important scientific +discoveries of his day and was not at all astonished that the problem +of senescence should be solved. It was no more remarkable than +wireless, the Roentgen Ray, the properties of radium, or any one of the +beneficent contributions of science to the well-being of mankind that +were now too familiar for discussion. He had heard a good deal of this +particular discovery as applied to men. No doubt Dinwiddie and Osborne +would soon be appearing as gay young sparks on her doorstep. It might +be the greatest discovery of all time, but it certainly would work both +ways. While its economic value might be indisputable, and even, as she +had suggested, its spiritual, it would be hard on the merely young. +The mutual hatreds of capital and labor would sink into insignificance +before the antagonism between authentic youth and age inverted. On the +other hand it might mean the millennium. The threat of +overpopulation--for man's architectonic powers were restored if not +woman's; to say nothing of his prolonged sojourn--would at last rouse +the law-makers to the imperious necessity of eugenics, birth control, +sterilization of the unfit, and the expulsion of undesirable races. It +might even stimulate youth to a higher level than satisfied it at +present. Human nature might attain perfection. + +However, he was in no mood for abstract speculation. His own problem +was absorbing enough. + +He might as well itemize the questions he had to face and examine them +one by one, and dispassionately. He would never feel more emotionless +than now; and that mental state was very rare that enabled a man to +think clearly and see further than a yard ahead of him. + +Her real age? Could he ever forget it? Should he not always see the +old face under the new mask, as the X-Rays revealed man's hideous +interior under its merciful covering of flesh? But he knew that one of +the most beneficent gifts bestowed upon mankind is the talent for +forgetting. Particularly when one object has been displaced by +another. Reiteration dulls the memory. He might say to himself every +hour in the day that she was sixty not thirty and the phrase would soon +become as meaningless as absent-minded replies to remarks about the +weather. + +And he doubted if any man could look at Mary Zattiany for three +consecutive minutes and recall that she had ever been old, or imagine +that she ever could be old again. However prone man may be to dream, +he is, unless one of the visionaries, dominated by the present. What +he wants he wants now and he wants what he sees, not what may be +lurking in the future. That is the secret of the early and often +imprudent marriage--the urge of the race. And if a man is not deterred +by mere financial considerations, still less is he troubled by visions +of what his inamorata will look like thirty years hence or what she +might have looked like had disease prematurely withered her. He sees +what he sees and if he is satisfied at all he is as completely +satisfied as a man may be. + +He made no doubt that Mary Zattiany would have, if she chose, as many +suitors among men of his own age as among her former contemporaries. +They would discuss the phenomenon furiously, joke about it, try to +imagine her as she had been, back water, return out of curiosity, +hesitate, speculate--and then forget it. + +No one would forget it sooner than himself. He had no doubt whatever +that when he went to her house tomorrow afternoon he would remember as +long as she kept him waiting and no longer. So that was that. + +Did he want children? They charmed him--sometimes--but he had never +been conscious of any desire for a brood of his own. He knew that many +men felt an even profounder need of offspring than women. Man's ego is +more strident, the desire to perpetuate itself more insistent, his +foresight is more extended. Moreover, however subconsciously, his +sense of duty to the race is stronger. . . . But he doubted if any man +would weigh the repetition of his ego against his ego's demand to mate +with a woman like Mary Zattiany. He certainly would not. That was +final. + +What was it she demanded in love, that she had sought so ardently and +ever missed? Could he give it to her? Was she merely glamored once +more, caught up again in the delusions of youth, with her revivified +brain and reawakened senses, and this time only because the man was of +a type novel in her cognizance of men? Useless to plead the urge of +the race in her case. . . . Nevertheless, many women, denied the power +of reproduction fell as mistakenly in love as the most fertile of their +sisters. But hardly a woman of Mary Zattiany's exhaustive experience! +She certainly should know her own mind. Her instincts by this time +must be compounded of technical knowledge, not the groping inherited +flashes playing about the shallow soil of youth. . . . If her +instincts had centred on him there must be some deeper meaning than +passion or even intellectual homology. After all, their conversations, +if vital, had been few in number. + +Perhaps she had found, with her mind's trained antennae, some one of +those hidden layers of personality which she alone could reveal to +himself. What was it? She wanted far more than love-making and mental +correspondence. _What_ was it? He wished he knew. Tenderness? He +could give her that in full measure. Sentiment? He was no +sentimentalist, but he believed that he possessed the finer quality. +Fidelity? That was not worth consideration. Appreciation of the +deepest and best in her, sympathetic understanding of all her mistakes +and of all that she had suffered? She knew the answer as well as he +did. The ability to meet her in many moods, never to weary her with +monotony? He was a man of many moods himself. What had saved him from +early matrimony was a certain monotony in women, the cleverest of them. + +But there must be something beyond, some subtle spiritual demand, +developed throughout nearly twice as many years as he had dwelt on +earth; born not only of an aspiring soul and terrible disenchantments, +but of a wisdom that only years of deep and living experience, no mere +intelligence, however brilliant, could hope to assemble. He was +thirty-four. There was no possible question that at fifty-eight, if he +lived sanely, and his intellectual faculties had progressed unimpaired, +he would look back upon thirty-four as the nonage of life--when the +future was a misty abyss of wisdom whose brink he had barely trod. She +herself was an abyss of wisdom. How in God's name could he ever cross +it? Her body might be young again, but never her mind. Never her +mind! And then he had a flash of insight. Perhaps he alone could +rejuvenate that mind. + +Certainly he could make her forget. Men and women would be aged at +thirty, but for this beneficent gift of forgetting. . . . He could +make the present vivid enough. + +He explored every nook of those personalities of his, determined to +discover if he felt any sense of inferiority to this woman who knew so +much more, had lived and thought and felt so much more, than +himself--whom he still visioned on a plane above and apart. No woman +was ever more erudite in the most brilliant and informing declensions +of life, whatever the disenchantments, and for thirty years she had +known in varying degrees of intimacy the ablest and most distinguished +men in Europe. She had been at no pains to conceal her opinion of +their intellectual superiority over American men. . . . + +He concluded dispassionately that he never could feel inferior to any +woman. Women might arrest the attention of the world with their +talents, change laws and wring a better deal out of life than man had +accorded them in the past, but whatever their gifts and whatever their +achievements they always had been and always would be, through their +physical disabilities, their lack of ratiocination, of constructive +ability on the grand scale, the inferiors of men. The rare exceptions +but proved the rule, and no doubt they had been cast in one mould and +finished in another. + +In sheer masculine arrogance he was more than her match. Moreover, +there were other ways of keeping a woman subject. + +Did he love her? Comprehensively and utterly? Clear thinking fled +with the last of his doubts. . . . And when a man detaches himself +from the gross material surface of life and wings to the realm of the +imagination, where he glimpses immortality, what matter the penalty? +Any penalty? Few had the thrice blessed opportunity. If he were one +of the chosen, the very demi-gods, jeering at mortals, would hate him. + +And then abruptly he fell asleep. + + + + +XXXI + +He went direct from the office that evening to Mrs. Oglethorpe's house +in Gramercy Park. During the morning he had received the following +note from her, and he had puzzled over it at intervals ever since. + + +"Dear Lee: + +"Will you dine alone with an old woman tonight--a rather bewildered and +upset old woman? I suppose to the young nothing is too new and strange +for readjustment, but I have hardly known where I am these last few +days. You are the only friend I care to talk to on the subject, for +you always understand. I am probably older than your mother and I look +old enough to be your grandmother, but you are the only person living +with whom I ever feel inclined to lay aside all reserve. Old men are +fossils and young men regard me as an ancient wreck preserved by family +traditions. As for women I hate them and always did. Do come and dine +with a lonely puzzled old woman unless you have an engagement +impossible to break. Don't bother to dress. + +"Your affectionate old friend, + "JANE OGLETHORPE." + + +"What's up?" Clavering had thought as he finished it. "Mary or Janet?" + +It was an extraordinary letter to receive from Mrs. Oglethorpe, the +most fearsome old woman in New York. To Clavering she had always shown +the softer side of her nature and he knew her perhaps better, or at all +events more intimately, than any of her old friends, for she had not +treated him as a negligible junior even when he arrived in New York at +the tender age of twenty-two. His ingenuous precocity had amused her +and she had discovered a keen interest in the newspaper world of whose +existence she had hardly been aware; no interviewer had ever dared +approach her; and as he grew older, developing rapidly and more and +more unlike her sons and her sons' friends, they had fallen into an +easy pallish intimacy, were frank to rudeness, quarrelled furiously, +but fed each other's wisdom and were deeply attached. During the war +she had knitted him enough socks and sweaters to supply half his +regiment; and when he had left the hospital after a serious attack of +influenza it had been for the house in Gramercy Park, where he could +have remained indefinitely had he wished. + +But in all the years of their intimacy never before had she "broken," +given a hint that she felt the long generation between them. He found +her more interesting in talk than any girl, except when he was briefly +in love, and her absence of vanity, her contempt for sentiment in any +of its forms, filled him with a blessed sense of security as he spent +hours stretched out on the sofa in her upstairs sitting-room, smoking +and discussing the universe. She was not an intellectual woman, but +she was sharp and shrewd, a monument of common sense and worldly +wisdom. It would be as easy to hoodwink her as the disembodied +Minerva, and it was doubtful if any one made even a tentative attempt. +Clavering wondered which of those inner secret personalities was to be +revealed tonight. + +As he stood in the drawing-room waiting for her to come down he +examined for the first time in many years the full-length picture of +her painted shortly before her marriage to James Oglethorpe. She was +even taller than Mary Zattiany and in the portrait her waist was round +and disconcertingly small to the modern therapeutic eye. But the whole +effect of the figure was superb and dashing, the poise of the head was +almost defiant, and the hands were long, slender, and very white +against the crimson satin of her gown. She looked as if about to lead +a charge of cavalry, although, oddly enough, her full sensuous mouth +with its slightly protruding lower lip was pouting. Beautiful she had +never been; the large bony structure of her face was too uncoverable, +her eyes too sharp and sardonic; but handsome certainly, and, no doubt, +for many years after she had stood for this portrait in the full +insolence of her young womanhood. She retained not a trace of that +handsomeness today. Her hands were skinny, large-veined, discolored by +moth patches, and her large aquiline nose rose from her sunken cheeks +like the beak of an old eagle--an indomitable old eagle. Many women of +sixty-eight had worn far better, but looks need care, spurred by +vanity, and she had a profound contempt for both. No doubt if she had +made a few of the well-known feminine concessions would have looked at +least ten years younger than her age, for she had never had a day's +illness: eight lyings-in were not, in her case, to be counted as +exceptions. No doubt, thought Clavering, as he turned to greet her, +she had thought it quite enough to be imposing. + +She certainly looked imposing tonight in spite of her old-fashioned +corsets and her iron-gray hair arranged in flat rolls and puffs on the +precise top of her head, for although flesh had accumulated lumpily on +her back, her shoulders were still unbowed, her head as haughtily +poised as in her youth, and the long black velvet gown with yellow old +point about the square neck (the neck itself covered, like the throat, +with net), and falling over her hands, became her style if not the +times. + +"Well, Lee!" she said drily. "I suppose when you got my note you +thought I had gone bug-house, as my fastidious granddaughter Janet +would express it. But that is the way I felt and that is the way I +feel at the present moment." + +"Dear Lady Jane! Whatever it is, here I am to command, as you see. +There is no engagement I wouldn't have broken----" + +"You are a perfect dear, and if I were forty years younger I should +marry you. However, we'll come to that later. I want to talk to you +about that damnable little Janet first--we'll have to go in now." + +When they were seated at a small table at one end of the immense +dining-room she turned to the butler and said sharply: + +"Get out, Hawkins, and stay out except when we can't get on without +you." And Hawkins, whom a cataclysm would not have ruffled after +forty-five years in Mrs. Oglethorpe's service, vanished. + +"Jim said he had a talk with you about Janet, and that you advised him +to spank her," she said. "Well, he did." + +"What?" Clavering gave a delighted grin. "I never believed he'd do +it." + +"Nor I. Thought his will had grown as flabby as his body. But when +she stood up to him and with a cool insolence, which she may or may not +have inherited from me, or which may be merely part and parcel of the +new manner, and flung in his face a good deal more than he knew +already, and asked him what he was going to do about it, he turned her +over his knee and took a hair-brush to her." + +"It must have been a tussle. I suppose she kicked and scratched?" + +"She was so astonished that at first she merely ejaculated: 'Oh, by +Jimminy!' Then she fought to get away and when she found she couldn't +she began to blubber, exactly as she did when she was not so very much +younger and was spanked about once a day. That hurt his feelings, for +he's as soft as mush, and he let her go; but he locked her up in her +room and there she stays until she promises to behave herself as girls +did in his time. I'm afraid it won't work. She hasn't promised yet, +but merely hisses at him through the keyhole. D'you understand this +new breed? I'm afraid none of the rest of us do." + +"I can't say I've been interested enough to try. Janet informed me +that they were going the pace because they couldn't hold the men any +other way. But I fancy it's merely a part of the general unrest which +is the usual aftermath of war. This was a very long war, and the young +seem to have made up their minds that the old who permitted it are +bunglers and criminals and idiots and that it is up to them to +demonstrate their contempt." + +"And what good do they think that will do them?" Mrs. Oglethorpe's +face and inflection betrayed no sympathy with the Younger Generation. + +"You don't suppose they worry their little heads with analysis, do you? +Somebody started the idea and the rest followed like sheep. No doubt +it had its real origin in the young men who did the fighting and saw +their comrades do the dying, and all the kudus carried off by the old +men who ran no risks. They are very bitter. And women generally take +their cues from men, little as they suspect it. However, whatever the +cause, here it is, and what to do about it I've no more idea than you; +but I should think it would be a good idea for Jim to take her abroad +for a year." + +"I don't see Jim giving up his clubs and sports, and tagging round the +world after a flapper. He never took himself very seriously as a +parent . . . still, he is really alarmed. . . . Are you going to marry +Marian Lawrence?" + +"Do you think I'd engage myself to any one without telling you first of +all?" + +"Better not. Are you in love with her?" + +"No." + +"I'm told you were devoted to her at one time. That was one of the +times when I saw little or nothing of you." + +"I've been devoted to quite a number of girls, first and last, but +there's really been nothing in it on either side. I know what you're +driving at. Shoot." + +"Yes, Jim said he told you. Well, I've changed my mind. Janet's a +little fool, perhaps worse. Not half good enough for you and would +devil the life out of you before you got rid of her in self-defence. +Let her hoe her own row. How about that writing person, Gora Dwight, +you and Din are always talking about?" + +"Never been the ghost of a flirtation. She's all intellect and +ambition. I enjoy going there for I'm almost as much at home with her +as I am with you." + +"Ha! Harmless. I hope she's as flattered as I am. There remains Anne +Goodrich. She's handsome, true to her traditions in every way--Marian +Lawrence is a hussy unless I'm mistaken and I usually am not--she has +talent and she has cultivated her mind. She will have a fortune and +would make an admirable wife in every way for an ambitious and gifted +man. More pliable than Marian, too. You're as tyrannical and +conceited as all your sex and would never get along with any woman who +wasn't clever enough to pretend to be submissive while twisting you +round her little finger. I rather favor Anne." + +Clavering was beginning to feel uneasy. What was she leading up to? +Who next? But he replied with a humorous smile: + +"Dearest Lady Jane! Why are you suddenly determined to marry me off? +Are you anxious to get rid of me? Marriage plays the very devil with +friendships." + +"Only for a year or so. And I really think it is time you were +settling yourself. To tell you the truth I worry about you a good +deal. You're a sentimental boy at heart and chivalrous and +impressionable, although I know you think you're a seasoned old +rounder. Men are children, the cleverest of them, in a scheming +woman's hands." + +"But I don't know any scheming women and I'm really not as irresistible +as you seem to think. Besides, I assure you, I have fairly keen +intuitions and should run from any unprincipled female who thought it +worth while to cast her nets in my direction." + +"Intuitions be damned. They haven't a chance against beauty and +finesse. Don't men as clever as yourself make fools of themselves over +the wrong woman every day in the week? The cleverer a man is the less +chance he has, for there's that much more to play on by a cleverer +woman. It would be just like you to fall in love with a woman older +than yourself and marry her----" + +"For God's sake, Jane, cut out my fascinating self! It's a subject +that bores me to tears. Fire away about Janet. How long's she been +shut up? What will Jim do next? I'll do my best to persuade him to +take her round the world. He'd enjoy it himself for there are clubs in +every port and some kind of sport. I'll look him up tomorrow." + +Mrs. Oglethorpe gave him a sharp look but surrendered. When he shouted +"Jane" at her in precisely the same tone as he often exploded "Jim" to +her son, she found herself suddenly in a mood to deny him nothing. + + + + +XXXII + +They went up to her sitting-room to spend the rest of the evening. It +was a large high room overlooking the park and furnished in massive +walnut and blood-red brocade: a room as old-fashioned and ugly as its +mistress but comfortable withal. On a table in one corner was an +immense family Bible, very old, and recording the births, marriages, +and deaths of the Van den Poeles from the time they began their +American adventures in the seventeenth century. On another small table +in another corner was a pile of albums, the lowest containing the first +presentments of Mrs. Oglethorpe's family after the invention of +calotype photography. These albums recorded fashion in all its stages +from 1841 down to the sport suit, exposed legs and rolled stockings of +Janet Oglethorpe; a photograph her grandmother had sworn at but +admitted as a curiosity. + +One of the albums was devoted to the friends of Mrs. Oglethorpe's +youth, and Mary Ogden occupied the place of honor. Clavering had once +derived much amusement looking over these old albums and listening to +Mrs. Oglethorpe's running and often sarcastic comment; but although he +had recalled to mind this photograph the night Mr. Dinwiddie had been +so perturbed by the stranger's resemblance to the flame of his youth, +he had, himself, been so little interested in Mary Ogden that it had +not occurred to him to disinter that old photograph of the eighties and +examine it in detail. He turned his back squarely on it tonight, +although he had a misgiving that it was not Janet who had inspired Mrs. +Oglethorpe's singular note. + +On one wall was a group of daguerreotypes, hideous but rare and +valuable. An oil painting of James Oglethorpe, long dead, hung over +the fireplace; an amiable looking gentleman with long side-whiskers +sprouting out of plump cheeks, a florid complexion, and the expression +of a New Yorker who never shirked his civic obligations, his +chairmanships of benevolent institutions, nor his port. Opposite was +another oil painting of young James taken at the age of twelve, wearing +a sailor suit and the surly expression of an active boy detained within +walls while other boys were shouting in the park. Beside it was a +water color of Janet at the age of two, even then startlingly like her +grandmother. She had been Mrs. Oglethorpe's favorite descendant until +the resemblance had become too accentuated by modern divagations. + +Clavering did not extend himself on the sofa tonight but drew a leather +chair (built for Mr. Oglethorpe) to the small coal grate, which +inadequately warmed the large room. Mrs. Oglethorpe, like many women +of her generation, never indulged her backbone save in bed, and she +seated herself in her own massive upright chair not too close to the +fire. She had made a concession to time in the rest of the house, +which was lighted by electricity, but the gas remained in her own +suite, and the room was lit by faint yellow flames struggling through +the ground-glass globes of four-side brackets. The light from the +coals was stronger, and as it fell on her bony austere old face with +its projecting beak, Clavering reflected that she needed only a +broomstick. He really loved her, but a trained faculty works as +impersonally as a camera. + +He smoked in silence and Mrs. Oglethorpe stared into the fire. She, +too, was fond of her cigar, but tonight she had shaken her head as +Hawkins had offered the box, after passing the coffee. Her face no +longer looked sardonic, but relaxed and sad. Clavering regarded her +with uneasy sympathy. Would it be possible to divert her mind? + +"Lady Jane," he began. + +"I wish you would call me Jane tonight. I wouldn't feel so intolerably +old." + +"Of course I'll call you Jane, but you'll never be old. What skeleton +have you been exhuming?" He was in for it and might as well give her a +lead. + +"It's Mary Ogden," she said abruptly and harshly. + +"Oh--I wondered how you felt about it. You certainly have been +splendid----" + +"What else could I do? She was the most intimate friend of my youth, +the only woman I ever had any real affection for. I had already seen +her and recognized her. I suppose she has told you that I went there +and that she treated me like an intruding stranger. But I knew she +must have some good reason for it--possibly that she was here on some +secret political mission and had sworn to preserve her incognito. I +knew she had been mixed up in politics more than once. I thought I was +going mad when I saw her, but I never suspected the truth. The light +was dim and I took for granted that some one of those beauty experts +had made a mask for her, or ripped her skin off--I hardly knew what to +think, so I concluded not to think about it at all, and succeeded +fairly well in dismissing it from my mind. I was deeply hurt at her +lack of confidence in me, but I dismissed that, too. After all it was +her right. I do as I choose, why shouldn't she? And I remembered that +she always did." + +Here Clavering stirred uneasily. + +"When she came to me here last Tuesday and told me the whole truth I +felt as if I were listening to a new chapter out of the Bible, but on +the whole I was rather pleased than otherwise. I had never been +jealous of her when we were young, for I was married before she came +out, and she was so lovely to look at that I was rather grateful to her +than otherwise. After her marriage I used to meet her every few years +in Europe up to some three or four years before the outbreak of the +war, and it often made me feel melancholy as I saw her beauty +going . . . until there was nothing left but her style and her hair. +But nothing else was to be expected. Time is a brute to all +women. . . . So, while she sat here in this room so radiantly +beautiful and so exquisitely and becomingly dressed, and leaning toward +me with that old pleading expression I remembered so well; when she +wanted something and knew exactly how to go to work to get it; and +looking not a day over thirty--well, while she was here I felt young +again myself and I loved her as much as ever and felt it a privilege to +look at her. I arranged a luncheon promptly to meet several of her old +friends and put a stop to the clacking that was going on--I had been +called up eight times that morning. . . . I could have boxed your +ears, but of course it was a natural enough thing to do, and you had no +suspicion. . . . Well, as soon as she had gone I wrote to twelve +women, giving them a bare sketch of the truth, and sent the notes off +in the motor. And then--I went and looked at myself in the glass." + +She paused, and Clavering rose involuntarily and put his hand on her +shoulder. + +"Never mind, Jane," he said awkwardly. "What does it matter? You are +you and there's only one of the kind. After all it's only one more +miracle of Science. You could do it yourself if you liked." + +"I? Ha! With twenty-three grandchildren. I may be a fool but I'm not +a damn fool, as James used to say. What good would it do me to look +forty? I had some looks left at that age but with no use for them as +women go. I'd have less now. But Mary was always lucky--a daughter of +the gods. It's just like her damned luck to have that discovery made +in her time and while she is still young enough to profit by it, +besides being as free as when she was Mary Ogden. Now, God knows what +devilment she'll be up to. What she wants she'll have and the devil +take the consequences." She patted his hand. "Go and sit down, Lee. +I've a good deal more to say." + +Clavering returned to his seat with no sense of the old chair's +comfort, and she went on in a moment. + +"The unfairness of it as I looked at that old witch in the glass that +had reflected my magnificent youth, seemed to me unendurable. I had +lived a virtuous and upright life. I knew damned well she hadn't. I +had done my duty by the race and my own and my husband's people, and I +had brought up my sons to be honorable and self-respecting men, +whatever their failings, and my daughters in the best traditions of +American womanhood. They are model wives and mothers, and they have +made no weak-kneed concessions to these degenerate times. They bore me +but I'd rather they did that than disgrace me. Mary never had even one +child, although her husband must have wanted an heir. I have lived a +life of duty--duty to my family traditions, my husband, my children, my +country, and to Society: she one of self-indulgence and pleasure and +excitement, although I'm not belittling the work she did during the +war. But noblesse oblige. What else could she do? And now, she'll be +at it again. She'll have the pick of our young men--I don't know +whether it's all tragic or grotesque. She'll waste no time on those +men who loved her in her youth--small blame to her. Who wants to +coddle old men? They've all got something the matter with 'em. . . . +But she'll have love--love--if not here--and thank God, she's not +remaining long--then elsewhere and wherever she chooses. Love! I too +once took a fierce delight in making men love me. It seems a thousand +years ago. What if I should try to make a man fall in love with me +today? I'd be rushed off by my terrified family to a padded cell." + +"Well--Jane----" + +"Don't 'well Jane' me! You'd jump out of the window if I suddenly +began to make eyes at you. I could rely on your manners. You wouldn't +laugh until you struck the grass and then you'd be arrested for +disturbing the peace. Well--don't worry. I'm not an old ass. But I'm +a terribly bewildered old woman. It seems to me there has been a +crashing in the air ever since she sat in that chair. . . . Growing +old always seemed to me a natural process that no arts or dodges could +interrupt, and any attempt to arrest the processes of nature was an +irreverent gesture in the face of Almighty God. It was immoral and +irreverent, and above all it showed a lack of humor and of sound common +sense. The world, my candid grandchild tells me, laughs at the women +of my generation for their old-fashioned 'cut.' But we have our code +and we have the courage to live up to it. That is one reason, perhaps, +why growing old has never meant anything to me but reading-spectacles, +two false teeth, and weak ankles. It had seemed to me that my life had +been pretty full--I never had much imagination--what with being as good +a wife as ever lived--although James was a pompous bore if there ever +was one--bringing eight children into the world and not making a +failure of one of them, never neglecting my charities or my social +duties or my establishments. As I have grown older I have often +reflected upon a life well-spent, and looked forward to dying when my +time came with no qualms whatever, particularly as there was precious +little left for me to do except give parties for my grandchildren and +blow them up occasionally. I never labored under the delusion that I +had an angelic disposition or a perfect character, but I had always +had, and maintained, certain standards; and, according to my lights, it +seemed to me that when I arrived at the foot of the throne the Lord +would say to me 'Well done, thou good and faithful servant.' The only +thing I ever regretted was that I wasn't a man." + +She paused and then went on in a voice that grew more raucous every +moment. "That was later. It's a long time since I've admitted even to +myself that there was a period--after my husband's death--when I hated +growing old with the best of them. I was fifty and I found myself with +complete liberty for the first time in my life; for the elder children +were all married, and the younger in Europe at school. I had already +begun to look upon myself as an old woman. . . . But I soon made the +terrible discovery that the heart never grows old. I fell in love four +times. They were all years younger than myself and I'd have opened one +of my veins before I'd have let them find it out. Even then I had as +little use for old men as old men have for old women. Whatever it may +be in men, it's the young heart in women. I had no illusions. Fifty +is fifty. My complexion was gone, my stomach high, and I had the face +of an old war horse. But--and here is the damned trick that nature +plays on us--I hoped--hoped--I dreamed--and as ardently as I ever had +dreamed in my youth, when I was on the look-out for the perfect knight +and before I compromised on James Oglethorpe, who was handsome before +he grew those whiskers and got fat--yes, as ardently as in my youth I +dreamed that these clever intelligent men would look through the old +husk and see only the young heart and the wise brain--I knew that I +could give them more than many a younger woman. But if beauty is only +skin deep the skin is all any man wants, the best of 'em. They treated +me with the most impeccable respect--for the first time in my life I +hated the word--and liked my society because I was an amusing caustic +old woman. Of course they drifted off, either to marry, or because I +terrified them with my sharp tongue: when I loved them most and felt as +if I had poison in my veins. Well, I saved my pride, at all events. + +"By the time you came along I had sworn at myself once for all as an +old fool, and, in any case, I would hardly have been equal to falling +in love with a brat of twenty-two." + +She seized the stick that always rested against her chair and thumped +the floor with it. "Nevertheless," she exclaimed with savage contempt, +"my heart is as young today as Mary Ogden's. That is the appalling +discovery I have made this week. I'd give my immortal soul to be +thirty again--or look it. Why in heaven's name did nature play us this +appalling dirty trick?" + +"But Jane!" He felt like tearing his hair. What was Mary Zattiany's +tragedy to this? Banalities were the only refuge. "Remember that at +thirty you were in love with your husband and bent on having a +family----" + +"I meant thirty and all I know now. . . . I'm not so damn sure I'd +have tried to make myself think I was in love with James--who had about +as much imagination as a grasshopper and the most infernal mannerisms. +I'd have found out what love and life meant, that's what! And when I +did I'd have sent codes and traditions to the devil." + +"Oh, no, you would not. If you'd had it in you you'd have done it, +anyhow. All women of your day were not virtuous--not by a long sight. +I'll admit that your best possibilities have been wasted; I've always +thought that. You have a terrific personality and if you were at your +maturity in this traditionless era you'd be a great national figure, +not a mere social power. But nature in a fit of spite launched you too +soon and the cast-iron traditions were too strong for you. It was the +epoch of the submerged woman." + +"Mary Ogden was brought up in those same cast-iron traditions." + +"Yes, but Madame Zattiany belongs to a class of women that derive less +from immediate ancestors than from a legendary race of sirens--not so +merely legendary, perhaps, as we think. Convention is only a flexible +harness for such women and plays no part whatever in their secret +lives." + +"You're in love with Mary." + +"_Don't_ come back to me. I won't have it. For the moment I don't +feel as if I had an atom of personality left, I'm so utterly absorbed +in you; and I'd give my immortal soul to help you." + +"Yes, I know that. I wouldn't be turning myself inside out if I +didn't. I've never talked to a living soul as I've talked to you +tonight and I never shall again." + +She stared at him for a moment, and then she burst into a loud laugh. +It was awe-inspiring, that laugh. Lucifer in hell, holding his sides +at the futilities of mankind, could not have surpassed it. "What a +mess! What a mess! Life! Begins nowhere, ends nowhere." She went on +muttering to herself, and then, abruptly, she broke into the sarcastic +speech which her friends knew best. + +"Lord, Lee, I wish you could have been behind a screen at that +luncheon. Thirteen old tombstones in feathers and net collars--seven +or eight of 'em, anyhow--colonial profiles and lorgnettes, and all +looking as if they'd been hit in the stomach. I at one end of the +table looking like the Witch of Endor, Mary at the other looking like +one of our granddaughters and trying to be animated and intimate. I +forgot my own tragedy and haw-hawed three times. She looked almost +apologetic when she called us by our first names, especially when she +used the diminutive. Polly Vane, who's got a head like a billiard ball +and has to wear a wig for decency's sake, drew herself up twice and +then relaxed with a sickly grin. . . . All the same I don't think Mary +felt any more comfortable or liked it much better than the rest of us. +Too much like reading your own epitaph on a tombstone. I thought I saw +her squirm." + +"How did they take it individually?" Clavering hoped she was finally +diverted. "Were they jealous and resentful?" + +"Some. Elinor Goodrich had always been too besottedly fond of her to +mind. Others, who had been merely admirers and liked her, were--well, +it's too much to say they were enchanted to see Mary looking not a day +over thirty, but they were able to endure it. Isabel Lawrence thought +it downright immoral, and Polly Vane looked as if she had fallen into a +stinking morass and only refrained from holding her nose out of +consideration for her hostess. I think she feels that Mary's return is +an insult to New York. Lily Tracy was painfully excited. No doubt +she'll begin collecting for the Vienna poor at once and finding it +necessary to go over and distribute the funds in person. Mary lost no +time getting in her fine work for Vienna relief." + +"But they'll all stand by her?" + +"Oh, yes, she's Mary Ogden. We'd be as likely to desert New York +itself because we didn't like the mayor. And she'll need us. It's the +young women she'll have to look out for. My God! How they'll hate +her. As for Anne Goodrich and Marian Lawrence----" + +Clavering sprang to his feet. "Who's that? Jim?" + +A man was running up the stairs. + +"Janet," said Mrs. Oglethorpe grimly. "She's out." + + + + +XXXIII + + "Don't be a flat tyre, + Don't be a dumb-bell; + Run from the dumb ducks, + Run from the plumbers. + Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" + + +Oglethorpe pounded on the door with his stick. There was a sudden hush +in the room, then a wild scurry and a slamming door. He rattled the +knob and, to his surprise, for he had assumed that these wild parties +of his young friends were soundly barricaded, the door opened. + +There were only four young men standing about a table covered with the +remains of a chafing dish supper and many champagne bottles, but an +excited whispering came through the partition. Young Farren was +leaning against the table, his large moon-face pallid with fright. As +he recognized Oglethorpe and Clavering fright was wiped out by +astonishment and relief. + +"Thought you were the police," he muttered. "Though they've got no +business here----" + +"I've come for Janet. Go into that room and bring her out at once." + +"Janet ain't here. Haven't seen Janet for a week. Tried to get her on +the 'phone early this afternoon and couldn't----" + +"If you don't go into that room and fetch her, I will." As he started +for the inner door, Farren with drunken dignity opposed his broad bulk. + +"Now, Mr. Oglethorpe, you wouldn't do that. Ladies in there. Chorus +girls----" + +"That's a lie. Stand aside." + +Farren, who was very young and very drunk, but who had a rudimentary +sense of responsibility where girls of his own class were concerned, +burst into tears. "You wouldn't, Mr. Oglethorpe! I swear to God +Janet's not there. But--but--some of her friends are. They wouldn't +want you to see them." His mood changed to righteous indignation. +"What right you got breaking into a gentleman's rooms like a damned +policeman? It's an outrage and if I had a gun I'd shoot you. +I'd--I'd----" And then he collapsed on a chair and was very sick. + +Oglethorpe turned to Clavering, who had thought it best to remain in +the hall and watch other exits. "Just stay there, will you?" He +turned to the three gaping youngsters. "You dare make a move and I'll +knock your heads together. Just remember that you're drunk and I'm +sober." + +He went into the next room, and immediately saw several forms under the +bed. He reached down and jerked them out by their legs. They rolled +over, covering their faces and sobbing with fright. Emancipated as +they were and disdainful of pre-war parents, when it came to late +parties in a bachelor's rooms they exercised strategy to slip out, not +defiance. + +"Oh, Mr. Oglethorpe," gasped one convulsively. "Don't tell on us, +p-l-e-a-s-e." + +"I've no intention of telling on you. You can go to the devil in your +own way for all I care. I'm after Janet----" + +"She's not here----" + +"That's what I'm going to find out." He opened the door of a wardrobe +and another girl tumbled into his arms, shrieked, and flung herself +face downward on the bed. But it was not Janet. He investigated every +corner of the apartment and then returned to Clavering, slamming the +door behind him. + +"She's not there, Lee," he said, leaning heavily against the wall. +"Where in God's name is she? I don't know where to look next. This is +her particular gang. She has no other intimates that I know of. But +what do I know about her, anyway?" + +"You're sure she isn't hiding anywhere at home?" + +"Searched the house from top to bottom." + +"I suppose it isn't likely that she's gone to any of her aunts." + +"Good Lord, no. She'd take a chance on mother, but never with any of +the rest of the family, and she's got no money. I saw to that. D'you +suppose she's roaming the streets?" + +"Well, she can't roam long; legs will give out. Perhaps she's home by +now or at Mrs. Oglethorpe's. Better telephone." + +They went out and found a public telephone. Janet had not been seen +nor heard from. + +"You don't think it's going to be another Dorothy Arnold case?" gasped +Oglethorpe, who seemed completely unnerved. + +"Good Heavens no, Jim! And she's able to take care of herself. Nobody +better. She'll give you a scare and then turn up--with her thumb at +her nose, likely. Better come up to my rooms and have a drink." + +"Orright. I can't go home and I don't want to be alone anywhere. I'd +go out of my senses. Anything might happen to her, and I shan't call +in the police until the last minute. Filthy scandal." + +"Police? Certainly not. And as Janet is cold sober, be sure she'll +come to no harm." + +A few moments later they were in the lift ascending to Clavering's +rooms. "Hullo!" he said, as he opened the door of his little hall. +"The fool maid has left the light on," and, as they entered the +living-room, "what the devil--" Cigarette smoke hung in the air. + +[Illustration: It took a lot of self possession and grit for Zattiany +(Corinne Griffith) and Clavering (Conway Tearle) to hide their feelings +when she alighted to go to the ship which was to return her to Europe. +(_Screen version of "The Black Oxen."_)] + +There was a wild shriek from a corner of the room, a slim girl leapt +across the intervening space like a panther, and flinging herself upon +Oglethorpe, beat his chest with her fists. + +"You damned old plumber, you old dumb-duck!" shrieked his little +daughter. "What did you come here and spoil everything for? He'd have +had to marry me tomorrow if you'd minded your own business. I'll claw +your eyes out." But her hands were imprisoned in her father's hard +fists, and she turned and spat at the petrified Clavering. "I hate +you! I hate you! But I'm going to marry you all the same. One way or +another I'll get you. I meant to wait awhile; for I hadn't had fun +enough yet, and I'd have precious little with you, you old flat tyre. +But when I heard that old Zattiany woman'd got hold of you--and then +locked up and not able to do a thing--I thought I'd go mad. I dropped +my diamond bracelet out of the window and one of the servants let me +out--I won't tell which. You've been seen coming out of her house at +all hours, but she's a thousand years old and nobody cares what she +does, but I intended to rouse this whole house and I'd have been so +compromised you'd have had to marry me. You're a gentleman if you are +a damned old left-over, and you're a friend of granny's and dad's. I'd +have had you tied up so tight you'd have toddled straight down to the +City Hall." + +Clavering stared at her, wondering how women felt when they were going +to have hysterics. What a night! And this girl's resemblance to her +grandmother was uncanny. He could see the Jane Oglethorpe of the +portrait in just such a tantrum. And he had thought he knew both of +them. He wanted to burst into wild laughter, but the girl was tragic +in spite of her silly plot and he merely continued to regard her +stonily. + +"How did you get in?" he asked. "That's not easy in this house." + +"I just got in the lift and told the boy I was your sister just arrived +from the South and he let me in with the pass key. He took me for +sixteen and said that as you weren't one for chickens he'd chance it." + +"He'll get the sack in the morning." + +"I don't care what happens to him." Suddenly she burst into tears, her +face working like a baby's, and flung herself into her father's arms. + +"Make him marry me, daddy. Make him! I want him. I want him." + +Oglethorpe put his arms about her, but his sympathies were equally +divided, and he understood men far better than he did young girls. +"You wouldn't want to marry a man who doesn't love you," he said +soothingly. "Where's your pride?" + +"Who cares a damn about pride? I want him and that's all there is to +it." She whirled round again. "Do you think you're in love with that +rejuvenated old dame who's granny's age if she's a day? She's +hypnotized you, that's what. It isn't natural. It isn't. It isn't." + +"I certainly shall marry Madame Zattiany if she will have me." + +"O-h-h." Tears dried. She showed her teeth like a treed cat. Her +eyes blazed again and she would have precipitated herself upon him, but +her father held her fast. "Oh! Oh! Oh! It can't be. It can't be. +It's as unnatural as if you married granny. It isn't fair. How dare +she come here with her whitewash and sneak young girls' lovers away +from them?" + +"Really, Janet." + +"Oh, I know, you thought you didn't care for me, but you always did, +and I'd have got you in time. I knew there was no chance for Marian +and Anne; they're old maids, and I'm young--_young_. If I'd cut out +the fun and concentrated on you I'd have got you. I wish I had! I +wish I had! But you were such an old flat tyre I thought you were +safe." + +"What in heaven's name makes you think you're in love with me?" +exploded Clavering. "Your opinion of me is anything but complimentary, +and I'm everything your chosen companions are not. You don't want me +any more than I want you. You've simply been playing some fool game +with yourself----" + +"It's not! It's not! It's the real thing. I've been in love with you +since I was six. Ask daddy. Daddy, didn't I always say I was going to +marry him?" + +"Yes, when you were little more of a baby than you are now. Can't you +imagine how ashamed you'll be of such an undignified performance as +this?" + +"I ashamed? Not much. I always intend to do just as I please and damn +the consequences." + +"A fine wife you'd make for Lee or any other man." + +"I'd make him the best wife in the world. I'd do everything he told +me. No, I wouldn't. Yes, I would." Sheer femaleness and the spirit +of the age seesawed inconclusively. "Anyhow, I'd make you happy, +because I'd be happy myself," she added naively. "Much happier than +your grand-mother----" + +"Perhaps you will oblige me by making no further allusion to Madame +Zattiany." + +"No, I won't. And the first time I see her when there's a lot of +people round I'll tell her just what she is to her face." + +"If you dare!" Clavering advanced threateningly and she swung herself +behind her father, who, however, took her firmly by the arm and marched +her to the door. + +"Enough of this," he said. "You come home and pack your trunk and +tomorrow we take the first steamer out of New York. If there isn't +one, we'll take the train for Canada----" + +"I won't go." + +"It's either that or a sanitarium for neurotics. I'll have you +strapped down and carried there in an ambulance. You may take your +choice. Good night, Lee. Forget it, if you can." + +As Clavering slammed the door behind them he envied men who could tear +their hair. He had wanted to spend a long evening alone thinking of +Mary Zattiany, dreaming of those vital hours before him, and he had +been treated to a double nightmare. For the moment he hated everything +in petticoats that walked, and he felt like taking a steamer to the +ends of the earth himself. But he was more worn out than he knew and +was sound asleep fifteen minutes later. + + + + +XXXIV + +Janet had her revenge. Words have a terrible power. And Janet's +vocabulary might be as primitive as lightning, but unlike lightning it +never failed to strike. + +"That old Zattiany woman." "She's a thousand years old and nobody +cares what she does." "That rejuvenated old dame who's granny's age if +she's a day." "Much happier than your grandmother." The phrases +flashed into his mind when he awoke and echoed in his ears all day. No +doubt similar phrases, less crude, but equally scorching, were being +tossed from one end of New York Society to the other. If Janet knew of +his devotion to Madame Zattiany others must, for it could only have +come to her on the wings of gossip. He was being ridiculed by people +who grasped nothing beyond the fact that the woman was fifty-eight and +the man thirty-four. Of course it would be but a nine days' wonder and +like all other social phenomena grow too stale for comment, but +meanwhile he should feel as if he were frying on a gridiron. Anne +Goodrich would merely exclaim: "Abominable." Marian Lawrence would +draw in her nostrils and purr: "Lee was always an erratic and +impressionable boy. Just like him to fall in love with an old woman. +And she's really a beautiful blonde--once more. Poor Lee." As for +Gora and Suzan Forbes--well, Gora would understand, and impale them +sympathetically in her next novel, and Suzan would read up on +endocrines, blend them adroitly with psychology, and write an article +for the _Yale Review_. + +He avoided the office and wrote his column at home. Luckily a favorite +old comedian had died recently. He could fill up with reminiscence and +anecdote. But it was soon done and he was back in his chair with his +thoughts again. + +It had been his intention when he awakened on Sunday after a few hours +of unrefreshing sleep to dispatch his work as quickly as possible, take +a long walk, and then return to his rooms and keep the hours that must +intervene until Monday afternoon, sacred to Mary Zattiany. But if man +wishes to regulate his life, and more particularly his meditations, to +suit himself he would be wise to retire to a mountain top. Civilized +life is a vast woof and the shuttle pursues its weaving and +counter-weaving with no regard for the plans of men. It was impossible +to ignore Mrs. Oglethorpe's appeal, and it was equally impossible to +refuse to aid in the hunt for that damnable Janet when her distracted +father and his own intimate friend took his cooperation as a matter of +course. And even if he had remained at home, no doubt she would have +wiggled her way in before he could shut the door in her face. Then +there _would_ have been the devil to pay, for she would have seen to it +that he was hopelessly compromised. No doubt she would have run out on +the balcony and screamed for help. Her failure was the one saving +grace in the whole wretched night. + +But she had planted her stings. + +He was in a fine frame of mind to make love to a woman. He had +pictured that scene as one of the great moments of life, so subtly +beautiful and dramatic, so exalted and exulting, so perfect in its very +incompleteness, that not a lifetime of suffering and disappointment +could blur it. And he felt exactly like the flat tyre of Janet's +distinguished vernacular. Even his body was worn out, for he had had +but nine hours' sleep in two nights. What a dead cinch the playwrights +had. A man might as well try to breathe without oxygen on Mount +Everest as attempt to give his own life the proper dramatic values. He +was a cursed puppet and Life itself was a curse. + +He excoriated himself for his susceptibility to mere words; he who +juggled in words, and often quite insincerely when it suited his +purpose. But "that rejuvenated old dame," and "that old Zattiany +woman" crawled like reeking vapors across some fair landscape a man had +spent his life seeking, blotting out its loveliness, turning it to a +noisome morass. + +He had used equally caustic phrases when some young man he knew had +married a woman only ten years older than himself, and when old men had +taken to themselves young wives. And meant them, for he was +fundamentally as conventional and conservative as all men. . . . But +he cared less that he would be the laughing stock of New York than that +his own soul felt like boiling pitch and that he was ashamed of himself. + +He looked at the clock. It was twenty minutes to four. There was +neither love nor desire in him and he would have liked to throw himself +on the divan and sleep. But he set his teeth and got to his feet. He +would go through it, play up, somehow. + +He felt better in the nipping air and soon began to walk briskly. And +then as he crossed Park Avenue and entered her street he saw two men +coming down her steps. They were Mr. Dinwiddie, and the extremely +good-looking young man whom Osborne had brought to the box on Monday +night. The young man was smiling fatuously. + +A wave of rage and jealousy swept Clavering from head to foot. She, at +least, could have kept these hours sacred, and she had not only +received this grinning ape, but evidently given him a delectable morsel +to chew on. He could have knocked both men down but he was not even +permitted to pass them by with a scowling nod. Another contretemps. + +Dinwiddie hailed him delightedly. + +"Good old Lee! Haven't seen you in an age. Where've you kept +yourself? Know Vane? Mother's an old friend of Mary's. He's head +over like the rest of us. Who says we don't live in the age of +miracles?" + +"Yeh, ain't life wonderful?" Clavering's jocular faculty was +enfeebled, but it came to the rescue. He was staring at Vane. +Evidently this young man was unimpressed by searing phrases and he must +have heard several, for, if he remembered aright, "Polly Vane" with +"her head like a billiard ball," who "wore a wig for decency's sake," +had been one of the most resentful women at the luncheon. For a moment +he had a queer impression that his stature had diminished until the top +of his head stood level with this glowing young man's waistcoat. And +then he shot up to seven feet. Something had turned over inside him +and vomited forth the pitch and its vapors. But he still felt angry +and jealous. He managed to reply, however: + +"Well, I must be getting on. Have an engagement at four. See you in a +day or two, Din." He nodded to young Vane and in another moment he was +taking Madame Zattiany's front steps three at a time. + + + + +XXXV + +When Mary Zattiany had reached her bedroom on Sunday morning she had +leaned heavily on her dressing-table for a few moments, staring into +the mirror. Then she curled her lip and shrugged her shoulders. Well, +it was done. She had been as bald and uncompromising as she knew how +to be. A picturesque softening of details, pleas to understand, and +appeals to the man's sympathy, might be for other women but not for +her. Life had given her a respect for hard facts and an utter contempt +for the prevalent dodging of them. + +She had told him that she was determined to relate her story in full as +much for his sake as her own. But she had told it far more for her +own. Before going any farther she was determined to know this man, who +may only have intoxicated her, as thoroughly as it was possible for a +woman to know any man she had not lived with. If he met the test she +could be reasonably sure that for once she had made no mistake. If he +did not--well, perhaps, so much the better. Surely she had had more +than her share of love, and she had something to do in the world of +vastly greater importance than wasting time in a man's arms. And did +she really want passion in her life again? She with her young body and +her old mind! Did she? + +She recalled those brief moments of complete and ecstatic surrender. +Or tried to recall them. She was very tired. Perhaps she might dream +about them, but at the moment they seemed as far away as her first +youth. + +She awoke the next day only in time to dress and go to Mrs. Ruyler's +for luncheon. She attended a concert in the afternoon, and she did not +return from the Lawrences' until midnight. On Monday she lunched with +Mrs. Vane and brought "Harry" and Mr. Dinwiddie home with her. She +would give herself no time to think and brood. She was too wise to +harden her heart against him by bitter fancies that might be as +bitterly unjust, and assuredly she had no intention of meeting disaster +weakened by romantic castle-building. Not she. Let events take their +course. Whatever came, she had the strength to meet it. + +As Clavering entered the library she was standing by the hearth, one +hand on the mantelshelf. Her repose was absolute as she turned her +head. In her eyes was an insolent expression, a little mocking, a +little challenging. There was no trace of apprehension. As she saw +Clavering's angry face her brows lifted. + +"What did you let those fellows in for?" he demanded, glaring at her +from the door. "You set this hour for our meeting and I just missed +finding them here in this room. I should have thought you would have +wanted to be alone before I came----" + +And then for a moment Mary Zattiany's mind felt as young as her body. +It seemed to her that she heard ruins tumbling behind her, down and out +of sight. Her head felt light and she grasped the mantel for support; +but she was not too dazed to realize that Clavering was in anything but +a love-making mood, and she managed to steady her voice and reply +lightly: + +"I lunched with Polly Vane, and her devoted son was hanging 'round. +Mr. Dinwiddie was also at the luncheon, and as they both walked home +with me I could do no less than ask them in for a moment. But I never +have the least difficulty getting rid of people." + +"Ah!" He continued to stand staring at her, and, as he had +anticipated, he saw only Mary Zattiany. As far as he was concerned +Mary Ogden had never existed. But he still felt no immediate desire to +touch her. He came over and stood opposite her on the hearthrug, his +hands in his pockets. + +"What have you been through?" he asked abruptly. "I've been through +hell." + +"So I imagined," she said drily. "I can't say I've been through hell. +I've grown too philosophical for that! I have thought as little as +possible. I left it on the knees of the gods." + +There certainly was neither despair nor doubt in that vital voice of +hers as she looked at him, and she was smiling. He twitched his +shoulders under those understanding eyes and turned his own to the fire +with a frown. + +"I don't believe you had a moment of misgiving. You were too sure of +me." + +"Oh, no, I was not! I know life too well to be sure of anything, mon +ami. Unlike that nice Vane boy, you have imagination and I gave you +some hard swallowing. Poor boy, I'm afraid you've been choking ever +since----" + +"Don't 'poor boy' me. I won't have it. I feel a thousand years old." +He glared at her once more. "You are sure of me now--and quite +right . . . but I don't feel in the least like kissing you. . . . I've +barely slept and I feel like the devil." + +For the first time in many days she felt an inclination to throw back +her head and give vent to a joyous laugh--joyous but amused, for she +would always be Mary Zattiany. But she merely said: "My dear Lee, I +could not stand being made love to at four in the afternoon. It is not +aesthetic. Suppose we sit down. Tell me all about it." + +"I'll not tell you a thing." But he took the chair and lit a +cigarette. "I'm more in love with you than ever, if you want to know. +When will you marry me?" + +"Shall we say two months from today?" + +"Two months! Why not tomorrow?" + +"Oh, hardly. In the first place I'd like it all to be quite perfect, +and I'd dreamed of spending our honeymoon in the Dolomites. I've a +shooting box there on the shore of a wonderful lake. I used to stay +there quite alone after my guests had left. . . . And then--well, it +would hardly be fair to give New York two shocks in succession. They +all take for granted I'll marry some one--I am already engaged to Mr. +Osborne, although I have heard you alluded to meaningly--but better let +them talk the first sensation to rags. . . . They will be angry enough +with me for marrying a young man, but perhaps too relieved that I have +not carried off one of their own sons. . . . Polly is in agonies at +the present moment . . . we'll have to live in New York more or less--I +suppose?" + +"More or less? Altogether. My work is here." + +"I believe there is more work for both of us in Europe." + +"And do you imagine I'd live on your money? I've nothing but what I +make." + +"I could pull wires and get you into one of the embassies----" + +"I'm no diplomat, and don't want to be. Rotten lazy job." + +"Couldn't you be foreign correspondent for your newspaper?" + +"We've good men in every European capital now. They've no use for +more, and no excuse for displacing any of them. Besides, I've every +intention of being a playwright." + +"But playwrighting isn't--not really--quite as important as poor +Europe. And I know of several ways in which we could be of the +greatest possible use. Not only Austria----" + +"Perhaps. But you'll have to wait until I've made money on at least +one play. I'll be only too glad to spend the honeymoon in the +Dolomites, but then I return and go to work. You'll have to make up +your mind to live here for a year or two at least. And the sooner you +marry me, the sooner we can go to Europe to live--for a time. I've no +intention of living my life in Europe. But I'm only too willing to +help you. So--better marry me tomorrow." + +"I can't get away for at least two months--possibly not then. Ask +Judge Trent. And a honeymoon in New York would be too flat--not?" + +"Better than nothing . . . however--here's an idea. I'll get to work +on my play at once and maybe I can finish it before I leave. If it +went over big I could stay longer. Besides, it'll be something to boil +over into; I don't suppose I shall see any too much of you. What's +your idea? To set all the young men off their heads and imagine you +are Mary Ogden once more? It _would_ be a triumph. I've an idea +that's what you are up to." + +"Certainly not," she said angrily. "How trivial you must think me. +I've not the least intention of going to dancing parties. I should be +bored to death. I hardly knew what young Vane was talking about today. +He seems to speak a different language from the men of my time. But it +is only decent that I bore myself at luncheons and dinners, for my old +friends have behaved with the utmost loyalty and generosity. Jane +Oglethorpe would have been quite justified in never speaking to me +again, and I have violated the most sacred traditions of the others. +But it has not made the least difference. Besides, I must keep them up +to the mark. I have their promise to form a committee for the children +of Austria." + +"Well, that's that. We'll marry two months from today. I can finish +my play in that time, and I won't wait a day longer." + +"Very well. . . . I met Marian Lawrence the other day. I'm told you +were expected to marry her at one time. She is very beautiful and has +more subtlety than most American women. Why didn't you?" + +"Because she wasn't you, I suppose. Did she stick a little bejewelled +gold pin into you?" + +"Only with her eyes. She made me feel quite the age I had left behind +me in Vienna." And then she asked irresistibly, "Do you think you +would have fallen in love with me, after a much longer and better +opportunity to know me, if you--if we had met in Vienna before that +time?" + +"No, I should not. What a question! I should have loved you in one +way as I do now--with that part of me that worships you. But men are +men, and never will be demi-gods." + +This time she did laugh, and until tears were in her eyes. "Oh, Lee! +No wonder I fell in love with you. Any other man--well, I couldn't +have loved you. My soul was too old." And then her eyes widened as +she stared before her. "Perhaps----" + +He sprang to his feet and pulled her up from her chair. "None of that. +None of that. And now I do want to kiss you." + +And as Mary Zattiany never did anything by halves she was completely +happy, and completely young. + + + + +XXXVI + +He left her at ten o'clock, and the next morning rose at seven and went +to work at once on his play. He chose the one that had the greatest +emotional possibilities. Gora Dwight had told him that he must learn +to "externalize his emotions," and he felt that here was the supreme +opportunity. Never would he have more turgid, pent-up, tearing +emotions to get rid of than now. He wrote until one o'clock, then, +after lunch and two hours on his column, went out and took a long walk; +but lighter of heart than since he had met Mary Zattiany. He also +reflected with no little satisfaction that when writing on the play he +had barely thought of her. All the fire in him had flown to his head +and transported him to another plane; he wondered if any woman, save in +brief moments, could rival the ecstasy of mental creation. That rotten +spot in the brain, dislocation of particles, whatever it was that +enabled a few men to do what the countless millions never dreamed of +attempting, or attempt only to fail, was, through its very abnormality, +productive of a higher and more sustained delight, a more complete +annihilation of prosaic life, than any mere function bestowed on all +men alike. It might bring suffering, disappointment, mortification, +even despair in its train, but the agitation of that uncharted tract in +the brain compensated for any revenge that nature, through her +by-product, human nature, might visit on those who departed from her +beloved formulae. + +Nevertheless, and before his walk was finished and he had returned home +to dress for dinner with her, the play was on one plane and he on +another, visioning himself alone with her in the Austrian agapemone. +And cursing the interminable weeks between. He anathematized himself +for consenting to the delay, and vowed she'd had her own way for the +last time, He foresaw many not unagreeable tussles of will. She was +far too accustomed to having her own way. Well, so was he. + +For two weeks he left his rooms only to walk, or dine or spend an hour +with her in the afternoon when she was alone. He rebelled less than he +had expected. If he could not have her wholly, the less he saw of her +the better. + +Dinners, luncheons, theatre parties, receptions, were being given for +her not only by her old friends--who seemed to her to grow more +numerous daily--but by their daughters and by many others who made up +for lack of tradition by that admirable sense of rightness which makes +fashionable society in America such a waste of efficiency and force. +And whether the younger women privately hated her or had fallen victims +to that famous charm was of little public consequence. It was as if +she had appeared in their midst, waved a sceptre and announced: "I am +the fashion. Always have I been the fashion. That is my _metier_. +Bow down." At all events the fashion she became, and it was quite as +patent that she took it as a matter of course. The radiant happiness +that possessed her, refusing as she did to look into the future with +its menace to those high duties of her former dedication--clear, sharp, +ruthless children of her brain--not only enhanced both her beauty and +magnetism, but enabled her to endure this social ordeal she had +dreaded, without ennui. She was too happy to be bored. She even +plunged into it with youthful relish. For the first time in her life +she was at peace with herself. She was not at peace when Clavering +made love to her, far from it; but she enjoyed with all the zest of a +woman with her first lover, and something of the timidity, this +tantalizing preliminary to fruition. How could she ever have believed +that her mind was old? She turned her imagination away from that lodge +in the Dolomites, and believed it was because the present with its +happiness and its excitements sufficed her. + +Moreover, she was having one novel experience that afforded her much +diversion. The newspapers were full of her. It took exactly five days +after Mrs. Oglethorpe's luncheon for the story she had told there to +filter down to Park Row, and although she would not consent to be +interviewed, there were double-page stories in the Sunday issues, +embellished with snapshots and a photograph of the Mary Ogden of the +eighties: a photographer who had had the honor to "take" her was still +in existence and exhumed the plates. + +Doctors, biologists, endocrinologists, were interviewed. Civil war +threatened: the medical fraternity, upheld by a few doubting Thomases +among the more abstract followers of the science, on one side of the +field, by far the greater number of those who peer into the human +mechanism with mere scientific acumen on the other. Doctors, +notoriously as conservative as kings and as jealous as opera singers, +found themselves threatened with the loss of elderly patients whose +steady degeneration was a source of respectable income. When it was +discovered that New York actually held a practicing physician who had +studied with the great endocrinologists of Vienna, the street in front +of his house looked as if some ambitious hostess were holding a +continual reception. + +Finally Madame Zattiany consented to give a brief statement to the +press through her lawyers. It was as impersonal as water, but +technical enough to satisfy the _Medical Journal_. At the theatre and +opera people waited in solid phalanxes to see her pass. Her utter +immobility on these occasions but heightened the feverish interest. + +Women of thirty, dreaming of becoming flappers overnight, and +formidable rivals, with the subtlety of experience behind the mask of +seventeen, were desolated to learn that they must submit to the claws +and teeth of Time until they had reached the last mile-post of their +maturity. Beauty doctors gnashed their teeth, and plastic surgeons +looked forward to the day when they must play upon some other form of +human credulity. As a subject for the press it rivalled strikes, +prohibition, German reparations, Lenin, prize-fights, censorship and +scandalous divorces in high life. + +"Why isn't your head turned?" Clavering asked her one day when the +sensation was about a month old and was beginning to expire +journalistically for want of fresh fuel. (Not a woman in New York +could be induced to admit that she was taking the treatment.) "You are +the most famous woman in America and the pioneer of a revolution that +may have lasting and momentous consequences on which we can only +speculate vaguely today. I don't believe you are as unmoved as you +look. It's not in woman's nature--in human nature. Publicity goes to +the head and then descends to the marrow of the bones." + +"I'm not unmoved. I've been tremendously interested and excited. I +find that newspaper notoriety is the author of a distinctly new +sensation." And then she felt a disposition to play with fire. +Clavering was in one of his rare detached moods, and had evidently come +for an hour of agreeable companionship. "I am beginning to get a +little bored and tired. If it were not for this Vienna Fund--and to +the newspapers for their assistance I am eternally grateful--I believe +I'd suggest that we leave for Austria tomorrow." + +"And I wouldn't go." Clavering stood on the hearthrug smiling down at +her with humorous defiance. "You switched me on to that play, and +there I stick until it is finished. No chance for it in a honeymoon, +and no chance for undiluted happiness with that crashing round inside +my head." + +She shrank and turned cold, but recovered herself sharply and dismissed +the pang. It was her first experience, in her exhaustive knowledge of +men, of the writing temperament; and after all it was part of the +novelty of the man who had obliterated every other from her mind. Nor +had she any intention of letting him see that he could hurt her. She +smiled sweetly and asked: + +"How is it coming on? Are you satisfied with it?" + +"Yes, I am. And so is Gora Dwight. I've finished two acts and I read +them to her last night." + +"Ah? Your Egeria?" + +"Not a bit of it. But she's a wise cold-blooded critic. You can't +blame me for not even talking about it to you. I see so little of you +that I've no intention of wasting any of the precious time." + +"But you might let me read it." + +"I'd rather wait until it's finished and as polished and perfect as I +can make it. I always want you to know me at my best." + +"Oh, my dear! You forget that we are to be made one and remain twain. +Do you really believe that we shall either of us always be at our best?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't care a hang whether we are or +not. I'll have you, and all to myself. And I won't say 'for a while, +at least.' Do you imagine that when we return to New York I'm going to +let Society take possession of you again? Not only shall I work harder +than I've ever worked before, but I'd see little more of you than I do +now. And that I'll never submit to again. I'll write my next play +inside this house, and you'll be here when I want you, not gadding +about." + +She felt a sudden pang of dismay, apprehension. New York? She +realized that not for a moment had she given up her original purpose. +But why disturb the serenity of the present? When she had him in the +Dolomites . . . She answered him in the same light tone. + +"I'm having my last fling at New York Society. When we return we'll +give our spare time to the Sophisticates. I see far less of them now +than I like." Then, with a further desire to investigate the literary +temperament, even if she were stabbed again in the process, she looked +at him with provocative eyes and said: "I've sometimes wondered why you +haven't insisted upon a secret marriage. I'm told it can be done with +a reasonable prospect of success in certain states." + +"Don't imagine I didn't think of it . . . but--well--I think the play +would go fluey . . . you see. . . ." + +"I see! And what about your next?" + +"The next will be a comedy. I'll never be able to write a tremendously +emotional play again." + +"And meanwhile you will not deny that the artist has submerged the +lover." + +"I admit nothing of the sort. But you yourself let the artist +loose--and what in God's name should I be doing these cursed weeks if +you hadn't? You know you never would have consented to a secret +marriage. You've set your heart on the Dolomites. . . . How about +that interval of travel, by the way? Liners and trains are not +particularly conducive to illusions." + +"I thought I'd told you. My plan is to be married there. I should go +on a preceding steamer and see that the Lodge was in proper condition. +I want everything to be quite perfect, and Heaven only knows what has +happened to it." + +"Oh! This is a new one you've sprung. But--yes--I like the idea. I'd +rather dreaded the prelude." And then he made one of those abrupt +vaultings out of one mood into another which had fascinated her from +the first. "God! I wish we were there now. When I'm not writing----! +How many men have you got in love with you already? But no. I don't +care. When I'm here--_like this, Mary, like this_--I don't care a hang +if I never write another line." + + + + + +XXXVII + +During the following week she gave a dinner and insisted upon his +attendance. She had given others to that increasing throng that had +been young with her in the eighties and to others who had stormed and +conquered that once impregnable citadel, but, she informed him, it was +now time to entertain some of the younger women, and he must help her. + +He consented readily enough, for he was curious to see her surrounded +by a generation into which she had coolly stepped with no disadvantage +to herself and, from all he heard, considerable to them. He knew that +not only Vane but other men in their late twenties and early thirties +were paying her devoted attentions. Dinwiddie, who met him in the Park +one day and dined with him in the Casino, had spoken with modified +enthusiasm of these conquests, but added that it was yet to be +demonstrated whether the young men were egged by novelty or genuine +coveting. When he hinted that she may have appealed to that secret +lust for the macabre that exists somewhere in all men, Clavering had +scowled at him so ferociously that he had plunged into rhapsody and +bewailed his own lost youth. + +And then he had endeavored to sound the young man in whom he was most +interested, but of whose present relations with Mary Zattiany he had no +inkling; he had not seen them together nor heard any fresh gossip since +her second debut. But he was told to shut up and talk about the +weather. + +Clavering, who knew that he would not have a moment alone with her, +went to the dinner in much the same mood as he went to a first-night at +which he was reasonably sure of entertainment. It certainly would be +good comedy to the detached observer, and this he was quite capable of +being with nothing better in prospect. Nevertheless, he was utterly +unprepared for the presence of Anne Goodrich and Marian Lawrence, for +he understood that the dinner was given to the more important of the +young married women. But they were the first persons he saw when he +entered the drawing-room. They were standing together--shoulder to +shoulder, he reflected cynically--and he knew that they privately +detested each other, and not on his account only. + +How like Mary Zattiany, with her superb confidence in herself, to ask +these beautiful girls who she had heard wanted to marry him themselves. +Well, he understood women well enough to be indulgent to their little +vanities. + +He was almost the last of the guests, but he had time to observe the +two girls before dinner was announced, in spite of the fact that he was +claimed by other acquaintances before he could reach them. + +Anne looked regally handsome in gold-colored tissue and paillettes that +gave a tawny light to her eyes and hair, and to her skin an amber glow. +She held her head very high, and in spite of her mere five feet five, +looked little less stately than Madame Zattiany, who wore a marvellous +velvet gown the exact shade of her hair. Marian Lawrence was small but +so perfectly made that her figure was always alluded to as her body, +and she carried her head, not regally, but with an insolent assurance +that became her. She was very beautiful, with a gleaming white skin +that she never powdered nor colored, and hair like gold leaf, parted +and worn in smooth bands over her ears and knotted loosely on her neck +in the fashion known as a la vierge. Her large grayish-green eyes were +set far apart and her brows and lashes were black. She had a straight +innocent-looking nose with very thin nostrils, into which she was +capable of compressing the entire expression of a face. She generally +wore the fashionable colors of the moment, but tonight her soft +shimmering gown was of palest green, and Clavering wondered if this +were a secret declaration of war. She, too, was of the siren class, +and it was possible that she and Mary Zattiany derived from some common +ancestress who had combed her hair on a rock or floated northward over +the steppes of Russia. But there were abysmal differences between the +two women, as Clavering well knew. Marian Lawrence, with great natural +intelligence, never read anything more serious than a novel and +preferred those that were not translated into English. She took no +interest whatever in anything outside her inherited circumference, and +had prided herself during the war upon ignoring its existence. She was +as luxurious and as dainty as a cat and one of the most ardent +sportswomen in America. She looked as if she had just stepped out of a +stained-glass window, and she was a hard, subtle, predatory flirt; too +much in love with her beautiful body to give it wholly to any man. She +had never really fallen in love with Clavering until she had lost him, +and he, his brief enthusiasm for her unique beauty and somewhat +demoniac charm having subsided, had avoided her ever since; although +they danced together at the few fashionable parties he attended. He +knew her better now than when he had seen her daily, almost hourly, at +a house party in the White Mountains, and almost as often for several +weeks after his return. This was shortly after his mistake with Anne, +and her attraction had consisted largely in her complete difference +from a really fine character toward whom he felt a certain resentment +for having so much and still lacking the undefined essential. He had +not deluded himself that he would find it in Marian Lawrence, but her +paradoxes diverted him and he was quite willing to go as far as her +technique permitted. It had never occurred to him for a moment that +she was seriously in love with him, but he had had more than one +glimpse of her claws and he regarded her uneasily tonight. And what +were she and Anne whispering about? + +"You will take in Miss Goodrich," Madame Zattiany had said to him, her +eyes twinkling, and he had merely shrugged his shoulders. He did not +care in the least whom he talked to; it was the ensemble that +interested him. Anne and Marian were the only girls present. The +other women were between twenty-five and thirty-five or -six. Madame +Zattiany would seem to have chosen them all for their good looks, and +she looked younger than several of them. + +Mauve was the fashionable color of the season. There were three mauve +gowns and the table was lit by very long, very thin mauve candles above +a low bank of orchids. Mrs. Ruyler had disinterred the family +amethysts, but Mrs. de Lacey and Mrs. Vane, "Polly's" daughter-in-law, +wore their pearls. There were several tiaras, for they were going on +to the opera and later to a ball. The company numbered twenty in all +and there were three unmarried men besides Clavering, and including +Harry Vane. Clavering found Marian Lawrence on his left, and once more +he caught a twinkle in Madame Zattiany's eyes as the guests surrounded +the table. + +He had not seen Anne since the night of Suzan's party, when they had +varied the program by sitting on the floor in front of the fire, +roasting chestnuts and discussing philosophy; then playing poker until +two o'clock in the morning. He asked her if she were comfortable and +happy in her new life. + +"Rather!" She smiled with all her old serene brightness and her eyes +dwelt on him in complete friendliness. "I'd even sleep in the studio, +but have made one concession to my poor family. They're not +reconciled, but, after all, I am twenty-four--and spent two years in +France. I have had three orders for portraits--friends of the family, +of course. I must be content with 'pull' until I am taken seriously as +an artist. If I can only exhibit at the next Academy I shall feel +full-fledged." + +"And what of your new circle?" + +"I've been to several parties and enjoyed myself hugely. Some of them +get pretty tight, but I've seen people tighter at house parties and not +nearly so amusing. And then Gora and Suzan! I've never liked any +women as well. . . . This is the first dinner of the old sort I've +been to since I started." + +"Ah?" asked Clavering absently. "Why the exception?" + +"Well, you see, I am tremendously _intriguee_, like every one else. +I'd met her several times at home, and she came one day to my studio, +where the Sophisticates made the most tremendous fuss over her. But I +was curious to see her in her own old home, where she had reigned so +long ago as Mary Ogden. Mother told me that everything was unchanged +except the stair carpet and her bedroom." Her tone was lightly +impersonal, and still more so as she added: "Why don't you write a +novel about her, Lee? She must be the most remarkable psychological +study of the age. Fancy living two lifetimes in the same body. It +puts reincarnation to the blush. I suppose she'll bury us all." + +Clavering shot her a sharp investigating glance, but replied suavely: +"Not necessarily. The same road is open to all of you." + +Miss Goodrich had never looked more the fine and dignified +representative of her class as she lifted her candid eyes with an +expression of disdain. + +"My dear Lee! Really! There _are_ some women above that sort of +thing." + +"Above? I don't think I follow you. But of course she's given +hide-bound conservatism a pretty hard jolt." + +"It's not that--really. But all women growing old and trying to be or +to look young again are rather undignified--according to our standards +at least, and I have been brought up in the belief that they are the +highest in the world. And then, one's sense of humor----!" + +"Humor? Is that what you call it?" (Damn all women for cats, the best +of them. Anne!) + +"Why, yes, isn't it rather absurd--for more reasons than one? +To my mind it is the complete farce. She has regained the +appearance--and--_possibly_--the real feeling of youth, with all its +capacity for enthusiasm and unworn emotions--it seems rather ludicrous, +but still it may be; certainly the interior should be in some degree a +match for that marvellously restored face and body--but the whole thing +is made farcical by the fact that she never can have children. And +what else does youth in women really mean?" + +"Experience has taught me that it means quite a number of other things. +And painting portraits is not fulfilling the first and highest duty of +womanhood, dear Anne." + +Miss Goodrich flushed, but accepted his score calmly. "Oh, I shall +marry, of course. But then, you see, I am young--really young." + +"What are you two quarrelling about?" broke in Miss Lawrence's husky +voice. She had smoked steadily since taking her seat at the table, not +so much because she had an irresistible passion for tobacco as because +it destroyed her appetite and preserved her figure. "I haven't seen +Anne blush like that since she got back from France." + +"I was just telling her how beautiful she looked tonight." And angry +as he was, it amused him to hear Anne's little gasp of pleasure. + +"Yes, doesn't she?" Miss Lawrence blew a ring and smiled sweetly. +"I've always been jealous of Anne. She's such a beautiful height. I'm +so glad the giraffes of the last generation seem to have died out. Too +bad, when Madame Zattiany rejuvenated herself, she didn't slice off a +few inches. She dwarfs even men of your height, although, of course, +you are really taller. But then tall women----" She shrugged her +shoulders, her crisp voice softened and she went on as if thinking +aloud. "Do you know . . . to me she does not look young at all. I +have a fancy she's hypnotized every one but myself. I seem to see an +old woman with a colossal will. . . . But I'd like to know the name of +that whitewash she uses. It may come in handy some day. Not for +another ten years, though. Oh, Lee! it's good to be really young and +not have to be flattened out on a table under broiling X-Rays and have +your poor old feminine department cranked up. . . . I wonder just how +adventurous men are?"' + +But Clavering, although seething, merely smiled. He knew himself to be +like the man who has had a virulent attack of small-pox and is immune +for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, he would cheerfully have +twisted her neck. She was holding that slim lily-like throat up for +his inspection, a cigarette between her thin scarlet lips as she looked +at him over her shoulder. At sixteen she could not have been more +outwardly unblemished, and she emanated a heady essence. Her long +green eyes met his keen satiric ones with melting languor. But she +said unexpectedly: + +"I hear she's going to marry Mr. Osborne, mother's old beau--or is that +Mr. Dinwiddie? How can one straighten out those old-timers? But it +would be quite appropriate, if she must marry--and I suppose she's +dying to; but I notice she hasn't asked either of them tonight. I +suppose it makes her feel younger to surround herself with young +people. It certainly makes me feel frightfully young---- I mean she +does." + +"Do you think it good manners to discuss your hostess at her own table?" + +"Oh, manners! You'll always be a Southerner, Lee. New York has always +prided itself on its bad manners. That is the real source of our +strength." + +"Pretty poor prop. It seems to me a sign of congenital weakness." + +"Oh, we never defend ourselves. By the way, I hear Jim Oglethorpe +rushed poor little Janet off to Egypt because he found her in your +rooms and you refused to marry her. You're not such a gallant +Southerner, after all----" + +"What a lie! Who on earth started such a yarn?" But he turned cold +and his hand shook a little as he raised his wine glass. + +"It's all over town, and people think you really ought to marry her. +Of course those ridiculous little flappers don't care whether they are +talked about or not, but their families do. I hear that old Mrs. +Oglethorpe is quite ill over the scandal, and she always swore by you." + +"Mrs. Oglethorpe, I happen to know, as I dined there last night, was +never better and is delighted with the idea that Jim has taken Janet +abroad to get her away from that rotten crowd." + +She looked nonplussed, but returned to the charge. "How stories do get +about! They even say that he horsewhipped you----" + +"Pray don't overtax your powers of invention. You know there's no such +story going about or everybody here would have cut me dead. Try +another tack." + +"Well, I'll confess I made that up just to get a rise out of you." She +looked at him speculatively. "But about Janet--well, you see, I know +you for a gay deceiver--mother is always using those old expressions +that were the fashion in her--and Mary Ogden's--day. I hear you even +made love to our fair hostess until you found out the truth and then +you dropped her like a hot potato--or a cold fish. I was surprised +when she told me you were coming here tonight, and asked her at once to +seat us three together so that Anne and I could save you from feeling +embarrassed--not that I told her that, of course. I merely said we +were such old friends we would naturally have a thousand things to talk +about. She didn't turn a hair; I'll say that much for her. But +perhaps she thinks she's playing you on a long string. She's playing +several poor fish who are here tonight." + +Should he tell her? He really could stand no more. He hadn't a doubt +that the same rumor that had driven Janet to her crude attempt, to +compromise him and then blast her rival with naked words, had reached +these two older and cleverer, but hardly subtler girls, and they had +joined forces to disenchant him and make him feel the misguided young +man they no doubt believed him to be. He hated them both. They had +that for their pains. He'd never willingly see one of them again. + +He longed to blurt out the truth. But his was not the right. He +glanced over at Madame Zattiany, who sat in the middle of the table's +length, receiving the intent homage of the men on either side of her +and looking more placid than any other woman in the room. . . . It +occurred to him that the rest were animated to excess, even the wives +of those two men, to whom, it was patent, they were non-existent. He +would have given his play at that moment to be able to stand up and ask +the company to drink his health and hers. + +For a few moments he was left to himself, both Marian and Anne being +occupied with their neighbors, and during those moments he sensed an +atmosphere of hostility, of impending danger. He caught more than one +malicious glance directed at Mary, and once a man, in response to a +whispered remark, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Had these women +come here--but that was impossible. Even New York had its limits. +They might be icily rude to a pushing outsider, as indeed they had +every right to be, but never to one of their own. Still--to this +alarmed generation possibly Madame Zattiany was nothing more than a +foreign woman who had stormed the gates and reduced them to a mere +background. The fact that she had belonged to their mothers' +generation and had abruptly descended to theirs was enough to arouse +every instinct of self-defence. He quite understood they must hate +her, but in spite of that common enmity his sensitive mind apprehended, +they'd surely commit no overt act of hostility. Like all their kind, +they were adepts in the art of "freezing out." He had no doubt they +had come here from mere curiosity and that he would shortly hear they +had ceased to entertain or receive her. But he wished the dinner were +over. + +He was soon enlightened. + +Marian Lawrence leaned across the table. "Oh, Madame Zattiany! Will +you settle a dispute? Harry and I have been arguing about Disraeli. +Your husband was an ambassador, wasn't he? Did you happen to be at the +Berlin What-d'you-call-it?" + +"Oh, no," replied Madame Zattiany, with open amusement. "I was still +Mary Ogden in eighteen-seventy-eight." + +"Oh! The seventies and eighties are all one to me, I'm afraid. I'm +shockingly ignorant. But we've all been saying that you ought to write +your memoirs. Thirty-four years of diplomatic life in Europe! You +must have met every one worth knowing and it would be such a delightful +way for us youngsters to learn history." + +"Oh, I kept a diary," said Madame Zattiany lightly. "I may publish it +some day." And she turned pointedly to the man on her right. Why had +she invited the little cat? + +"Oh, but Madame Zattiany!" exclaimed young Mrs. Ruyler, whose black +eyes were sparkling. "Please don't wait. I'm so interested in German +history since the war. You must have known four generations of +Hohenzollerns . . . too thrilling! And Bismarck. And the Empress +Elizabeth. And Crown Prince Rudolf--do tell us the truth of that +mysterious tragedy. Did you ever see Marie Vetsera? I never heard of +it until the other day when some of mother's friends raked it up, and +I've been excited ever since." + +"Unfortunately my husband was an attache in Paris at the time, and I +never saw her. I am afraid your curiosity will never be satisfied. +There was a general impression that if Vienna ever became the capital +of a Republic the archives would be opened and the truth of the +Meyerling tragedy given to the world. But all documents relating to +private scandals must have been destroyed." She spoke with the utmost +suavity, the patient hostess with rather tiresome guests. "People in +Vienna, I assure you, take very little interest in that old scandal. +They are too busy and too uncomfortable making history of their own." + +"Yes, it must be a hideously uncomfortable place to live in." Mrs. +Leonard, another daughter-in-law of one of Mary's old friends, gave a +little shudder. "No wonder you got out. I was so glad to subscribe to +your noble charity, dear Madame Zattiany. But"--and she smiled +winsomely--"I think we should get up a subscription for those wonderful +scientists in Vienna. Every once in a while you hear the most +harrowing stories of the starving scientists of Europe, and it would be +too awful if those miracle men in Vienna should pass away from +malnutrition before it is our turn to need them." + +"Ah, dear Mrs. Ruyler!" exclaimed Madame Zattiany with a smile as +winsome as her own. "You forget they will probably all be dead by that +time and that their pupils will be equally eminent and even more +expert. For that matter there will be experts in every city in the +world." + +But Clavering, watching her anxiously, had seen an expression of wonder +dawn in her eyes, quickly as she had banished it. It was evident that +whatever the secret spite of these women, this was the first time they +had given it open expression. He glanced about the table. Young +Vane's face was crimson and he had turned his back pointedly on Marian +Lawrence, who was smoking and grinning. She had started the ball and +was too indolent to take it out of hands that seemed to be equally +efficient. + +Clavering leaned forward and caught Mary's eye with a peremptory +expression, but she shook her head, although too imperceptibly for any +one else to catch the fleeting movement, and he sank back with a +humiliating sense of impotence. He wished she were not so well able to +take care of herself. + +"But this is abominable," murmured Anne Goodrich. It was possible that +she was not in on the baiting. "Abominable. What must she think of +us? Or, perhaps they don't really mean to be horrid. They look +innocent enough. After all, she could tell us many interesting things." + +"Oh, they mean it," said Clavering bitterly. "They mean it all right +and she knows it." + +"You speak as if you were even more interested in her than poor Harry +Vane." The indignation had faded from Miss Goodrich's lofty +countenance. "Are you?" + +"Yes, I am, if you want the truth. I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd +have me." This was as far as he could go. + +"Oh!" Her mouth trembled, but she did not look wholly unprepared for +the statement. "But--Lee---- You know how interested I have always +been in you--how interested we all are in you----" + +"What has that to do with it? If you are so interested in me I should +think I'd have your best wishes to carry off such a prize. Have you +ever seen a more remarkable woman?" + +"Oh, remarkable, yes. But--well----" And then she burst out: "It +seems to me unspeakably horrid. I can't say all I'd like to----" + +"Pray, don't. And suppose we change the subject---- They're at it +again, damn them." + +The men were looking very uncomfortable. The women were gazing at +their hostess with round apologetic eyes. Mrs. de Lacey, the youngest +and prettiest of the married women, had clasped her hands as if +worshipping at a shrine. + +"It seems too terrible when we look back upon it!" she exclaimed, and +she infused her tones with the tragic ring of truth, "_dear_ Madame +Zattiany, that for even a little while we thought the most awful things +about you. We'd heard of the wonderful things surgeons had done to +mutilated faces during the war, and we were sure that some one of them +bad taken one of your old photographs--how could we even guess the +truth? How you must have hated us!" + +"How could I hate you?" Madame Zattiany smiled charmingly. "I had not +the faintest idea you were discussing me." + +"But why--why--did you shut yourself up so long after you came when you +must have known how mother and all your old friends longed to see you +again?" + +"I was tired and resting." She frowned slightly. Such a question was +a distinct liberty and she had never either taken or permitted +liberties. But she banished the frown and met her tormentor's eyes +blandly. She had no intention of losing her poise for a moment. + +"Ah! I said it!" cried Mrs. de Lacey. "I knew it was not because you +felt a natural hesitation in showing yourself. To me you seem brave +enough for anything, but it must have taken a lot of courage." + +"Courage?" + +"Why, yes! Fancy--well, you see, I'm such a coward about what people +say--especially if I thought they'd laugh at me--that if I'd done it I +should have run off and hidden somewhere." + +"Then what object in invoking the aid of science to defeat nature at +one more point? And I can assure you, dear Mrs. de Lacey, that when +you are fifty-eight, if you have not developed courage to face the +world on every count it will merely be because you have indulged too +frequently in unbridled passions." + +"Ah--yes--but you didn't have any qualms at all?" + +"Certainly not. I confess I am surprised at your rather strained view +of what is really a very simple matter." + +"_Simple_? Why, it's the most extraordinary thing that ever happened." + +"The world is equally astonished--and resentful--at every new +discovery, but in a short time accepts it as a commonplace. The layman +resents all new ideas, but the adjustment of the human mind to the +inevitable is common even among savages." Her slight affectation of +pedantry was very well done and Clavering could not detect the flicker +of a lash as her eyes rested indulgently upon her tormentor. + +"Well, I don't see what that has to do with it. Anyhow, it must make +you feel terribly isolated." + +Madame Zattiany shrugged her shoulders. She could make this common +gesture foreign, and her accent was a trifle more marked as she +answered, "Here, possibly, but not in Europe, where the treatment has +been known and practised for several years. It may interest you to +hear that only yesterday I had a letter from a friend in Vienna telling +me that an elderly countess, a great beauty some forty years ago, had +announced triumphantly that once more men were following her on the +street." + +Mrs. de Lacey burst into a peal of girlish laughter. "Pardon me, dear +Madame Zattiany. We are used to it in your case, now that we have got +over the shock, but it does seem too funny. And Europe almost manless. +What--what will the poor girls do?" + +"Scratch their eyes out," said Clavering, who could contain himself no +longer. + +Mrs. de Lacey made no attempt to conceal the wicked sparkle in her eyes +as she turned to him. "How crude! I suppose it was you who set those +dreadful newspapers on poor Madame Zattiany." She turned back to her +hostess. "That has been a shocking ordeal for you. You know how we +always avoid that sort of thing. We've felt for you--I wanted to come +and tell you--you don't mind my telling you now?" + +"Your sympathy is very sweet. But I really have enjoyed it! You see, +my dear child, when one has lived as long as I have, a new sensation is +something to be grateful for." + +"Oh, but----" Mrs. de Lacey's bright eyes were now charged with +ingenuous curiosity. "You don't really mean--we've had the most +furious arguments--_couldn't_ you fall in love again? I don't mean +like silly old women with boys, but _really_--like a young woman? +Please let me have my little triumph. I've sworn you could. And then +the poor men----" + +"Upon my word!" Madame Zattiany laughed outright. "This has gone far +enough. I refuse to be the exclusive topic of conversation any longer. +I am immensely flattered, but you are making me feel the rude hostess." +And this time she turned with an air of finality to the apologetic, +almost purple, man at her side and asked him to continue to enlighten +her on municipal politics. + +One or two women shrugged their shoulders. A few looked crestfallen, +others, like Marian Lawrence, malignant. She had marched off with the +flag, no use blinking the fact, and it had been small satisfaction to +make her admit what she had already told the world. The "rubbing in" +had evidently missed its mark. And the men, instead of looking cheap, +were either infuriated or disgusted. Only Clavering, who managed to +look bored and remote, was attending strictly to his salad. + +One thing more they could do, however, and that was to make the dinner +a failure. They barely replied to the efforts of the men to "make +things go" and gloom settled over the table. Madame Zattiany continued +to talk with placidity or animation to the men beside her, and +Clavering started a running fire with Anne Goodrich, who, almost as +angry as himself, loyally helped him, on censorship, the latest books +and plays, even the situation in Washington; and they continued their +painful efforts until the signal was given to leave the table. + + + + +XXXVIII + +The men did not linger in the dining-room. The women, protesting that +they were later than usual for the opera, left immediately after they +returned to the drawing-room. There was a cool insolence in their +"good-byes" and there was no doubt that they meant them to be final. +Only Anne Goodrich shook the imperturbable hostess's hand warmly and +asked if she might come some day to tea. + +The husbands perforce went with their wives, after farewells that +sounded more like au revoirs, and so did the younger men, except +Clavering and Harry Vane. Clavering planted himself on the hearthrug, +and Vane, scowling at him, lingered uncertainly. + +He plunged his hands into his pockets, and, very red, stood in front of +Madame Zattiany, who was leaning back in her chair and fanning herself +leisurely. "I feel like apologizing for those beastly women," he +blurted out. + +"Apologize?" Madame Zattiany raised her eyebrows. + +"Yes. Can't you see they came here tonight with the deliberate +intention of making New York too hot to hold you? So that you'd clear +out? They'd made up their minds that you'd changed yours about +returning to Europe. They hate you. They're used to being jealous of +one another, but this has knocked them silly and they can't get used to +it. It's--it's--oh, it's too awful! I almost died of shame." + +"I really do not understand. Do you mean to tell me they meant to be +rude? I thought they were rather naive and charming." + +"Damned hypocrites. They hoped to make you simply expire with +embarrassment. But you were splendid. They must feel like naughty +children that have been stood in a corner." + +Madame Zattiany laughed. "Then I have unwittingly been playing my part +in a little comedy. How stupid they must have thought me! But I +really hope for their sakes that you are mistaken." She rose and held +out her hand. "I am going to ask you to excuse me, Mr. Vane. I have a +small commission for Mr. Clavering, who has kindly waited. And I am +very tired." + +Vane's face fell and he looked resentfully at Clavering, in whom he +instantly recognized a rival. But there was nothing to do but go and +he went. + +When Madame Zattiany heard the front door close she told the footman on +duty in the hall to put out the lights and go to bed. + +Then she walked down the room to the library door. "Will you put out +these lights?" she asked Clavering. "I believe we still have a fire in +here." + +Clavering, expecting to find her dissolved in tears, and, violent as +his sympathy for her was, rejoicing that his was the part to comfort +her, followed her precipitately. But she was standing by the table +with scornful lips and eyes. + +"I thought you'd be all broken up," he stammered. Tears of +disappointment almost rose to his own eyes. + +She laughed shortly. "I? Do you suppose I would pay them so great a +compliment? But what a ridiculous exhibition they made of themselves. +It seems incredible." + +"But surely you must have been hurt--and stabbed. It isn't possible +that you weren't!" + +"Oh, yes, I was stabbed, but I think I was even more amused. I felt +sorry for the poor things. I certainly never saw a more comically +naked exhibition of human nature. It was worth coming to America for. +Nor do I blame them. No doubt I should have felt the same at their +age--although I hope I should even then have expressed myself in a +fashion a trifle more subtle, a little less primeval." + +"Good God! Are you always so--so rational?" + +She smiled slightly. "If I deliberately unlearned the more valuable +things a long life taught me there would be no object beyond vanity in +being young again. And don't you suppose I was grateful tonight for my +years--those years so crowded with training and experience? Who better +prepared than I to hold my own against a lot of raw Americans?" + +"That is the first human thing you've said. Raw? Wasn't it Darwin who +said that we are all such a short distance, in time, removed from our +common savage ancestors that it is a wonder we don't revert oftener +than we do? They were plain unadulterated females. I believe men are +more civilized than women." + +"Oh, no, but they revert on the grand scale. . . . I cannot say I was +totally unprepared--not for such a concerted and shocking exhibition, +of course; but I've felt their antagonism and expected to be dropped +gradually from their set. Of course, this is the end, definitely. +However," she shrugged her shoulders again, "I have enjoyed the New +York which seems to have changed in so many ways since my day, and all +dramas should have a proper 'curtain,' should they not? Is your own +play finished, by the way?" + +"Oh!" He turned his back on her and leaned on the mantel-piece, +dropping his head on his arms. He had never felt as far away from her +when he had been unable to learn even her name. What need had she of +him or any man? + +Mary gave him a quick comprehending glance, and came out of her +isolation. She went over to him, turned him around, and took his face +between her hands. + +"Can't you imagine what it meant to me to have you there?" she asked +softly. "It seemed to me that nothing else mattered. We two are in a +world of our own. How could they seem more to me than the buzzing of +so many brainless insects? Forget it, and I shall." + +But although he was consoled, he wondered, as he left the house, if he +would ever feel more depressed in his life. She might love him, but +what else could he ever be to her but a lover? His manhood rebelled. +If she had only flung herself weeping into his arms. If for once he +could have felt himself stronger than she--indispensable. + + + + +XXXIX + +The dinner was on Monday. On Wednesday morning she met him at the Fort +Lee Ferry at seven o'clock for one of their rare tramps. She wore +high-laced boots of soft leather, a short skirt and jersey and a soft +hat; and if she had met any of her guests of that memorable dinner they +would have looked profoundly thoughtful, and renounced whatever hope of +having seared her to the bone they may have cherished. She strode +through the woods above the Palisades beside Clavering with high head +and sparkling eyes, her arms swinging like a schoolboy's. It was +evident even to him, who had waited for her anxiously, that she had +rubbed a sponge over her memory. She was in high spirits and looked as +if she had not a care in the world. + +There was a soft mist of green on the trees of the wood, a few birds +had already migrated northward, their own world-old wireless having +warned them of the early awakening of spring after an unusually mild +winter, and they were singing their matins. + +She did not seem inclined for more than desultory conversation, but she +had the gift of making silence eloquent, and Clavering, his fears +banished, although by no means at peace, gave himself up to the +pleasure of the moment. They walked briskly for several miles, then +had their breakfast at a roadside inn; and both were so hungry that +they talked even less than before. But there was little need for words +between them; the current was too strong, and both were merely vital +beings to whom companionship and healthy exercise were the highest good +at the moment. + +During the long walk back to the ferry she talked with a certain +excitement. But it was all of the woods of Austria, the carefully +tended woods with their leaping stags, their winding paths where no +trolley-cars over-laden with commuters rushed shrieking by, their +enchanting vistas with a green lake at the end, or a monastery, or a +castle on a lofty rock. She told him of the river Inn roaring through +its gorges, with its solitary mills, its clustered old villages huddled +at the foot of the heavy silent woods and forgotten by the world. The +millers were all old men now, no doubt, and the poor villages inhabited +only by women and children. Or blinded and broken men who had dragged +themselves back from the war to exist where they once had given life +and energy to that quiet valley of the Inn. If this made her sad for a +moment it was purely an impersonal sadness, and when they parted on the +New York side of the ferry Clavering had forgotten his doubts and went +back to his work with a light heart and an untroubled mind. + +The play was almost finished, and its chances for swift production were +far greater than is usually the case with the new adventurer into the +most inhospitable of all fields of artistic endeavor. Adrian Hogarth, +who had a play on Broadway every year, and Edwin Scores, who had +recently exchanged the esteem of the few for the enthusiasm of The +Public, had read it act by act and given him the practical advice he +needed. A dramatic critic always believes he knows more about plays +than any one else until he attempts to write one, but Clavering, at +least, if not unduly modest, was too anxious to succeed not to welcome +all the help he could get. + +They even "sat in" with him during the final revision, and the dispute +was hot over the last act, an act so daring in technique they were +loath to believe that even Clavering, whose striking gifts they had +always recognized, could "put it over." Moreover, there was only one +woman on the American stage who could act it and that was Margaret +Anglin. If it didn't appeal to her he might as well dock it. The +younger actresses, clever as some of them were, had so far given no +evidence of sustained emotional power. During the entire act no one +was on the stage but the woman and she sat at a telephone talking with +the man who controlled her destiny. Not only must that one-sided +dialogue give as sharp and clear an idea of what the man was saying as +if he had been present, with the vivid personality, the gestures and +the mobile face he must have for the part, but the conversation, +beginning in happy confidence, ran the gamut of the emotions, +portraying a war of wills and souls, and rising to inexorable spiritual +tragedy. It was a scene whose like had never before been attempted +without both protagonists on the stage, and it lasted twenty-five +minutes; a scene as difficult to write as to act; but the two +playwrights admitted that in the deft use of words which, without +repetitions by the woman, left the audience in no doubt what the man +was saying, made it almost possible to see him, and in the rising scale +of emotion, the act was a surpassingly brilliant piece of work. +Clavering rewrote it fourteen times, and Hogarth and Scores were +finally almost as excited as himself, although it was the last sort of +thing either would have "tackled." Whatever the originality of their +own ideas they were careful to stick to the orthodox in treatment, +knowing the striking lack of originality in audiences. + +Gora Dwight was more enthusiastic than he had ever known her to be over +anything, and one night he read the play to a select few at her house. +Abbott was there and two other critics, as well as Suzan Forbes and her +distinguished consort, De Witt Turner. + +The critics preserved their ferocious and frozen demeanor common to +first-nights and less common where cocktails were plentiful. Not for +them to encourage a tyro and a confrere, as if they were mere friends +and well-wishers. They left that to the others, but after the last act +had been discussed with fury, Abbott arose and said with a yawn: + +"Oh, well, what's the use? It's about the hardest play for actors ever +written and the audience will either crack on that last act or pass +away of their own emotions. It would be the former if any one else had +written the damn thing, but it'll go because it isn't time yet for the +Clavering luck to break. You'll get it in the neck, old man, one of +these days, and when you least expect it. You're one of Fate's pets, +her pampered pup, and she'll purr over you until she has you besotted, +and then she'll give you such a skinning that you'll wish you were +little Jimmy Jones, cub reporter, with a snub nose and freckles. I +only hope to be in at the death to gloat." Then he shot out his hand. +"Good stuff, Clavey. Congratulate you. Count on me." + +And he drank a highball and waddled out. + +The others, expressing their congratulations in various keys, soon +followed, and Clavering was left alone with Gora. He was flushed and +restless, but he doubted if he would feel happier on the first-night +with the entire Sophisticate body howling for "author." He had been +more afraid of Abbott and the two other critics than he, a hardened +critic himself, had dared admit. + +Gora watched him from her ottoman, where she sat stark upright, as +usual, and smoking calmly. But her cold gray eyes were softer than +usual. She knew exactly how he felt and rejoiced with him, but her +expression in the long silence grew more and more thoughtful. Finally +she threw away her cigarette and said abruptly: + +"Clavey." + +"Yes, Gora." He had been wandering about the room, but he halted in +front of her, smiling. + +She smiled also. "You do look so happy. But you're such a mercurial +creature that you'll probably wake up tomorrow morning with your soul +steeped in indigo." + +"Oh, no, I won't. It isn't as if I had nothing else in my life." Gora +alone knew of his engagement to Mary Zattiany. + +"That is it. I want to say something. I know you'll be angry with me, +but just remember that I am not speaking as a friend, merely as an +artist." + +"What are you driving at?" Some of the exultation faded from +Clavering's face. + +"This. I no longer want you to marry Madame Zattiany. She's served +her purpose." + +Clavering stared, then laughed. "Little you know about it." + +"I know more about it than you think. Remember it is my business to +know people's mental insides down to the roots----" + +"Not such a good metaphor, that." + +"Let it pass. I'm not to be diverted. I've seen her several times +alone, you know. She lunched here the other day, and I purposely asked +no one else. I believe I know her well enough to put her in a book, +complex, both naturally and artificially, as she is. Maybe I shall +some day. You once told me that she had a character of formidable +strength and the 'will to power'--something like that. Well, I agree +with you, and I don't think you'd stand a chance of becoming a great +artist if you married her." + +"You're talking utter rot." + +"Am I? Tell me that a year hence--if you marry her." + +"If? I'd tear the artist in me out by the roots before I'd give her +up." + +"You think so. I don't doubt it. But have you really projected your +imagination into the future? I mean beyond the honeymoon? She tells +me that she intends to live in Europe--that she has a great work to +accomplish----" + +"Yes, and she needs my help." + +"She doesn't need your help, nor anybody's help. For that matter she'd +be better off alone, for I don't doubt she would be in love with you +longer than might be convenient. She has formidable powers of +concentration. . . . But you--what would become of your own career? +You'd be absorbed, devoured, annihilated by that woman. You're no +weakling, but you're an artist and an artist's strength is not like the +ordinary male's. It's too messed up with temperament and imagination. +You are strong enough to impress your personality on her, win her, make +her love you to the exclusion of everything else for the moment, and +possibly hold her for a time. But you never could dominate her. What +she needs is a statesman, if she must have marital partnership at all. +Possibly not even a great executive brain could dominate her either, +but at least it could force upon her a certain equality in personality, +and that you never could do. Not only would your own career be +wrecked, but you'd end by being wretched and resentful--quite apart +from your forfeited right to express your genius in your own +way--because you've been accustomed all your life yourself to the +dominating act. You've always been a star of some sort, and you've +never discouraged yourself--except when in the dumps--out of the belief +that a fixed position was waiting for you in the stellar firmament. To +vary the metaphor, you've always been in the crack regiment, even when +the regiment was composed of cub reporters. . . . And you'd find +yourself shrinking--shrinking--nothing but a famous woman's +husband--lover, would be perhaps more like it----" + +Here Clavering swore and started down the room again. That interview +in the library two weeks ago tonight came back to him. He had banished +its memory and she had been feminine and exquisite, and _young_, ever +since. But that sudden vision of her standing by the table as he had +rushed to her succor, calm and contemptuous in her indomitable powers, +weakened his muscles and he walked unsteadily. + +Miss Dwight went on calmly. "For she's going to be a very famous +woman, make no doubt about that. It's quite on the cards that she may +have a niche in history. You might be useful to her in many ways, with +that brain of yours, but it was given to you for another purpose, and +you'd end by leaving her. You'd come home like a sick dog to its +kennel--and become a hack. Your genius would have shrivelled to the +roots. If you give her up now your very unhappiness and baffled +longings will make you do greater and greater things. Talent needs the +pleasant pastures of content to browse on but they sicken genius. If +you married her you wouldn't even have the pastures after the first +dream was over and you certainly would have neither the independence of +action nor the background of tragedy so necessary to your genius. That +needs stones to bite on, not husks. . . . Believe me, I know what I am +talking about. I have been through worse. If personal happiness were +brought to me on a gold platter with Divine assurance that it would +last--which it never does--remember that, Clavey--I should laugh in its +face. And if you let her go now you will one day say the same thing +yourself." + +But Clavering had made a violent rebound. He threw himself into a +chair and lit a cigarette, smiling at her indulgently. "The trouble +with you, Gora," he said, "is that you are--and probably always +were--artist first and woman last. If you'd got the man you thought +you wanted you'd have chucked him in about six months. But I happen to +be a man first and artist next." + +Miss Dwight shrugged her shoulders. "Will you deny that you have been +completely happy while writing that play? So happy and absorbed that +you forgot everything else on earth--and everybody?" + +"That's true enough. But if it's a mere question of happiness, that's +not the sort that lasts, and the reaction is frightful. I am beginning +to feel a hideous sense of loss and wish I had it to do all over again." + +"You can go to work on another." + +"I'll never feel to another play as I have to this." + +"That's what every artist has said to himself since the gods plucked +out a rib and invented the breed. Even if you do your comedy next your +submergence will be precisely the same. It's the creative pot boiling +that does the business." + +"I don't believe it." + +"Well, don't, then. And don't wake up as blue as paint tomorrow +morning. Reaction is the price we all have to pay for keeping the +brain too long at a pitch so high above the normal. It's the downwash +of blood from the organ it has kept at fever heat. And it's a long +sight less commonplace than reaction from too much love-making. +Especially when love-making has begun to pall--which it does sooner in +artists than in ordinary men. . . . Writers begin life all over again +with each new release of the creative faculty; and each new work is as +enthralling as the last. But love!" She sighed. "You don't look as +if I had made the slightest impression on you." + +"You haven't. A man can combine both if a woman cannot. You forget +that we return here after two or three months in Austria, and here we +remain for at least two years." + +"Why are you so sure of that? Have you her actual promise?" + +"It is understood. I told her we should return and she knew that I +meant what I said." + +"It is quite likely that she knew you meant it! But I'd like you to +promise me that you will ask her to tell you exactly what she does +intend to do--when the honeymoon is over." + +"What do you mean?" Clavering asked sharply. + +"I mean, that although she told me nothing of her plans, it was +perfectly evident from her conversation that she intends to live her +life in Europe and play a great role there. I infer that she is in +constant correspondence with political friends in Austria. Do you mean +that she has never told you this?" + +Clavering sat forward, frowning. "No. We--have had little time +together and have not wasted it on politics. Did she tell you this?" + +"Not she. But I 'got' it. I can't tell you just how, but my +intuitions are pretty good." + +"Intuitions be hanged. Your creative tract is prepared for action and +has been doing a little stunt all by itself. Better get to work on it +and plough up a new book. I don't doubt Mary has political friends in +Austria, and corresponds with them. Why shouldn't she? But she's not +committed to any definite date or action. I'll swear to that. She'd +have told me so honestly." + +"Very well. I've said my say. But I wish----" She fell silent and +sat very still for several moments regarding the point of her slipper. +Then she looked up and said brightly: "Don't you think it's time to let +the rest of them know what's going to happen? It's hardly fair to your +other friends--and they are your friends, Clavey. Of course they are +practically certain of it." + +"I don't think she'll mind, particularly as the first sensation has +pretty well run its course--she thought she'd spare her own friends two +shocks at once. But I fancy she intends to go out among them less and +less. I'll ask her, and if she agrees, suppose you announce it?" + +Miss Dwight bent down and removed a pinch of ashes from her slipper. +"Do--persuade her. It would be a tremendous feather in my cap. I'll +give you both a dinner and announce it then." + +"Settled. Well, I'm off. Got my column to write." He gathered up his +manuscript, and she went to the door with him. As he held her hand, he +felt one of those subtle whispers along his nerves that had warned him +of danger before. He dropped her hand with a frown. + +"Look here, Gora," he said. "You haven't any mistaken idea of +appealing to _her_, have you?" + +"What do you take me for?" demanded Miss Dwight angrily. "The father +in _Camille_?" + +"Well, keep off the grass, that's all. Ta, ta." + + + + +XL + +When Mary Zattiany returned home at twelve o'clock after a tiresome +morning in Judge Trent's office she told the butler to send her +luncheon upstairs, and ascended to the seclusion of her room, delighted +with the prospect of a few hours she could call her own. These hours +had been increasing during the past fortnight but were no less welcome. +Not a word of that dinner was known to any but those who had attended +it. People do not foul their own nest unless they are ready to desert +it and sometimes not then. Moreover, the women were too ashamed or too +humiliated with their failure to invite the criticism of their friends, +and although they avoided the subject among themselves, their agreement +to bury it was no less final for being tacit. The men, with something +of the deliberation of male guests at a diplomatic dinner where there +has been an unfortunate incident involving dangerous possibilities if +known, called one another up on the telephone the next day and agreed +to "forget it." Even Dinwiddie never heard of it. As for Madame +Zattiany, she could be trusted to dismiss it from her contemptuous +mind. Nevertheless, these young women, who had entertained her almost +constantly, pointedly omitted her from their luncheons and dinners and +parties--in her new lightheartedness she had been induced to attend +several parties during the past six weeks. And they had little +difficulty in persuading others to follow their example. The more +amiable of the younger women might have looked upon their attack that +night with horror if they had heard of it, as, indeed, several at the +dinner had done, but they were no more enthusiastic over the "foreign +invasion" than their militant sisters. The remonstrances of the men +were unheeded, and when one or two tried to arrange theatre parties or +dinners in Madame Zattiany's honor they received graceful regrets. + +Even the attitude of her older friends had changed, now that the +dramatic novelty of her return to them, and their first determined +enthusiasm, had worn off. They were betraying more and more their +disapproval of what she had done, the more so perhaps, as the majority +of them, being excessively thin, might have accomplished a like result +had not their standards protected them. This naturally inspired them +with a full realization of their superiority, which increased daily. + +If she had made the attempt and failed it would have been bad enough, +for such violations of the law of orthodoxy insulted the code in which +she had been born and reared: but triumphantly to have succeeded in +making herself young again while the rest of them were pursuing their +unruffled way to the grave was a deliberate insult both to themselves +and to God. + +Moreover, they hardly knew what to talk to her about, and although this +might still have been the case had she returned to them carrying aloft +the crinkled and spotted flag of time, so far apart their lines had +run, her scientific victory added an ever-increasing irritant. Also, +she had never been a "woman's woman," and it was patent that, as ever, +she was far more animated in the company of men. Inevitably, old +scandals were raked up. They had been frowned upon in the days when +she was protected by her husband and the great position he gave her, +and the rumors had been dismissed for more interesting scandals, both +public and private, at home. They no doubt would have remained in the +limbo of history had she returned looking no better than themselves, +but her ridiculous defiance of nature revived them, and these ladies +discovered that their memories were more lively than might have been +expected of their years. + +It would be too much, as Mary told Clavering, to ask a violent +contradiction of human nature from worn out glands, and she bore them +no malice. She only wondered that Jane Oglethorpe, Elinor Goodrich, +and Lily Tracy were still faithful in private--to the world all of them +preserved a united front; they would not even discuss her with their +children, much less their grandchildren; but they made up their minds +that it would be for the good of her soul to let her see, with no flaw +in their politeness, just what uncompromisingly sensible women of high +moral and social responsibilities thought of her. + +Mary, being human, felt the pin-pricks, but was glad on the whole to be +rid of them. Those first weeks of almost girlish pleasure in what was +to her a novel society, had vanished for ever on the night of her +dinner. Scornful and indifferent she might be, but although they could +not kill her youth, they drove home to her what she had guessed in the +beginning, that the society and the companionship of young +people--fashionable young people, at least--were not for her. Their +conversations, interests, shallow mental attitude to life, bored her. +That curious brief period of mental rejuvenescence had been due to the +novelty and excitement of being in love again, after long and arid +years. + +And now, Judge Trent had told her that she would be free to leave in a +fortnight. She had walked the three miles from Broad Street with a +buoyant step, and she had vowed that never, not for any consideration +whatever, would she set foot in America again. Vienna was the city of +her heart as well as of her future exploits. She would buy the old +Zattiany palace from her widowed niece-in-law and make it the most +famous rendezvous in Europe. But of all this nothing to Clavering +until they were in the Dolomites. + +She rang for her maid and exchanged her tweed walking suit for a tea +gown of violet velvet and snow white chiffon, with stockings and +slippers to match. She expected no one but it was always a delight to +her to be exquisitely and becomingly dressed. Even in the seclusion of +her Hungarian estate she had arrayed herself as appropriately for +outdoors, and as fastidiously for the house, as if she had been under +the critical eye of her world, for daintiness and luxury were as +ingrained as ordinary cleanliness and refinement. During the war she +had not rebelled at her hard and unremitting labors, but she had often +indulged in a fleeting regret for the frequent luxury of the bath, the +soft caress of delicate underwear, for charming toilettes; and she had +sometimes scowled at her white cotton stockings with a feeling of +positive hatred. + +Judge Trent, while she was still in Austria, had sent her a cheque for +forty thousand dollars. She had given half of it to relief +organizations in Vienna, and then gone to Paris and indulged in an orgy +of clothes. She looked back upon that wholly feminine reversion, when +she had avoided every one she had ever known, as one of the completely +satisfactory episodes of her life. Even with unrestored youth and +beauty, and a soberer choice of costumes, she would still have +experienced a certain degree of excited pleasure in adorning herself. + +She had always liked the light freshness of chintz in her bedroom, +leaving luxury to her boudoir; but here she had furnished no boudoir; +her stay was to be short, and her bedroom was as large as two ordinary +rooms. She spent many hours in it, when its violet and white +simplicities appealed to her mood. Today it was redolent of the lilacs +Clavering had sent her, and through the open windows came the singing +of birds in the few trees still left in the old street. + +She loved comfort as much as she loved exercise, and after her careful +toilette was finished and her maid had gone, she settled herself +luxuriously in a deep chair before her desk and opened one of the +drawers. The European mail had arrived yesterday and she had only +glanced through half of it. But she must read all of those letters +today and answer some of them before the sailings on Saturday. + +The telephone on a little stand at her elbow rang, and she took the +receiver from its spreading violet skirts and raised it to her ear. As +she had expected, it was Clavering. He told her that he had promised +Gora Dwight the evening before to ask her permission to announce their +engagement. + +For a moment she stared into the instrument. Then she said hurriedly, +almost breathlessly: "No--I'd rather not. I hate the vulgarity of +congratulations--publicity of my private affairs. I've always said +that when one marries a second time the decent thing to do is to marry +first and tell afterward." + +"But they guess it, you know." + +"That is quite different." It was Madame Zattiany who spoke now and +her tones were deliberate and final. "Quite a different thing from +being congratulated, and tormented by newspapers." She dismissed the +subject. "I shall be free two weeks from today. What do you think of +that?" Her voice was both gay and tender. "Judge Trent will see at +once about engaging my stateroom. Don't tell me that that play of +yours will prevent you from following shortly after." + +"Not a bit of it. We shall only be gone two months, and even if +Hogarth succeeds in placing it with his manager as he expects, it might +be several months before rehearsals." + +"Then it all fits in quite charmingly. You are coming to dinner +tonight?" + +"Well, rather." + +"Mind you come early. I have many things to tell you." + +"It'll not be for that I'll come early." + +Mary smiled and hung up the receiver. She would have to let him return +to New York for a time--possibly. But herself, she would go on to +Vienna. No doubt about that. + +She returned to her letters. Those that required answers she placed in +a separate heap with a pencilled note on the back, for she was neat and +methodical; she even slit the envelopes with a paper-knife that was +always at hand for the purpose, and the envelopes were dropped at once +into the waste basket. + +The contents for the most part were expected, and related to her work +in Vienna, the disposition of moneys she had sent over, and the usual +clamoring for more. But when she had read halfway through a long +letter from Baroness Tauersperg, in whose capable hands she had left +the most important of her charities, she involuntarily stiffened and +sat forward a little. + +Several pages of her friend's letters were always devoted to business, +the rest to gossip. In return Mary enlivened her own letters with many +of her American adventures, although she had made no mention of +Clavering. + +"I need not ask if you remember Hohenhauer," continued Frau von +Tauersperg, "although, I suppose, like the rest of us, you saw nothing +of him after the war. He was, as you know, not in bad standing with +the new Government, like the reactionary nobles, as he had always been +a liberal in politics, and had a good record as a generous and just +landlord. But they did not have intelligence enough to ask him to be a +member of the Cabinet, or to send him to the Peace Conference, where he +alone, of all Austrians, perhaps, might have won some advantage for +this wretched country. + +"The present Government seems to have appreciated that initial mistake +of ignoring him, for they have invited him to return from his estate in +Switzerland, where he has been staying, and to act in some advisory +capacity. That means, we think here, that he will soon have the whole +thing in his hands. The first step he took was to pay a visit to +Bavaria and have a conference with Count L., and no doubt you will +surmise what that means. He went incognito, however, and few people +even here in Vienna know of that visit, much less the rest of Europe. +Very shortly he goes to America, whether for reasons connected with his +sudden interest in Bavaria, I have no means of knowing, but ostensibly +because his New York lawyers demand his presence in regard to the large +sum of money he invested in the United States. The Government makes no +objection to this journey, as you may imagine, for they know they can +depend on him to spend it in the cause of Austria--under his +leadership! Imagine what it will mean to have the income of several +million American dollars rolling in to be exchanged for Austrian +kronen! Or the capital, if he thinks the end justifies it. + +"No doubt you will see him, for he always had the greatest respect for +your opinion--was it not you who advised him to sell out practically +everything he possessed, except the land in Galicia, and invest it in +America? I have no doubt he will confide in you and ask your advice. +You have a wonderful flair for politics, dear Marie, and you know what +we all expect of you. Hurry, hurry and come back to us. We need you +in a thousand ways. But what a rest that sojourn in the gay and +brilliant and _rich_ city of New York must have given you. It is both +wonderful and saddening to read of the almost unbelievable contrast to +our poor Vienna. But they are generous. The second cheque from your +Vienna Fund came yesterday. Do leave the _oeuvre_ in reliable and +sympathetic hands, dear Marie, so that it may go on until--well, God +only knows when." + +Mary read this portion of the letter over twice, the serenity of her +face routed by a frown. Of course she had expected to meet this man in +the future, indeed had had a very definite idea of playing his cards +immediately upon her return to Vienna. But that he should come here! +Now. That was another matter. She had succeeded in dismissing the +past, and she resented this dark reminder. Well, she could refuse to +see him, and possibly he would not arrive until after her departure. +And then she sighed again. The futility of attempting to travel +through even one brief cross-section of life on a straight line! + +Her luncheon was brought up to her and when it was finished she +answered her letters and settled down to the latest novel of one of her +new friends. But Gora Dwight was announced and she put the book aside +with a sensation of pleasant anticipation. She liked no one better, of +her new American acquaintances, and had made no objection when +Clavering had asked her to let him confide his engagement to Gora +Dwight alone. He felt that he owed her the compliment (how he was to +obtain the forgiveness of Mrs. Oglethorpe was a thought he dared not +dwell on), and Mary, little disposed as she was to intimacies, had felt +a certain release in speaking of her engagement to another woman. + + + + +XLI + +Gora was looking her best in a smart spring frock of brown tweed with a +drooping red feather on her hat, whose pointed brim almost but not +quite obscured one eye. The two women greeted each other with +something like affection, and after the usual feminine preliminaries +were over, Gora exclaimed with enthusiasm: + +"I have come to tell you how really wonderful Lee's play is, and to say +that I could have shaken him for not letting you hear it, but he seems +determined that it shall burst upon you in the unmitigated glory of a +first-night performance." + +Madame Zattiany smiled, very slightly. "Yes, he made a great point of +that. I could only let him have his way. He is very fond of having +his way, is he not?" + +"Well, we've spoiled him, you see. And those of us who have heard the +play are more excited than we have been over anything for a long time. +Those that haven't are not far behind. I believe there is a dinner or +a party in his honor projected for every night for weeks to come." + +Madame Zattiany raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. "Isn't it +rather unusual, that--to fete an author before he has made his debut?" + +"It is, rather. But in this case it's different. We've waited so long +for Clavey to do the big thing that we must let off steam at once." + +"He certainly seems to be a tremendous favorite among you. Several of +his friends were here at dinner the other night--I was so sorry you +were unable to come--and really they seemed to be able to talk of +nothing else. They are all very charming to me now, but I am wondering +if they will be more than amiably interested in me when I am merely the +wife of a famous playwright?" + +"Oh, you must do something yourself," said Miss Dwight emphatically. +"I am sure you could write. And equally sure that you will try, for +you could not live constantly with such workers as we are without being +stung by the same busy little bee. You have suggested genius to me +from the first, and I am convinced it is not merely the genius of +personality. Your life has stifled your talents, but now is the time +to discover them and take your place in American letters." + +"I had thought such talents as I possessed should be used in the +attempt to play a humble part in the reconstruction of Europe," +murmured Madame Zattiany; and one of her beautiful white hands moved +toward the cigarette box with a curious tensing of the muscles that +seemed to rob it subtly of its likeness to flesh. Nothing escaped Miss +Dwight's observing eye, and she replied casually: "Oh, Europe isn't +worth the effort, dear Madame Zattiany. It's too far gone. The future +of the world lies here in the United States. New York is the brain and +soul of the United States. Moreover, if you want to help Europe, you +can write about it here, be the one to give us all a clearer +understanding of that miserable chaos." + +"But I detest writing," said Madame Zattiany, who was lying back and +watching her smoke rings. "I like the activity of doing, and I have +had an experience that particularly fits me for political intrigue. If +this were Washington, now----" + +"Oh, Washington! Washington is merely one of the islands outside of +New York. So is Chicago, Boston, the rest of them. . . . And don't +imagine you would not become fascinated with writing as soon as you +were in your stride. Here is a simple recipe to begin with. Get up +every morning with the set intention of writing and go to your desk and +sit there for three hours, whether you accomplish anything or not. +Before long you will find that you are writing madly, not waiting for +inspiration. And you will have Clavey to criticize you. The rest is +only stern self-discipline. Here is another suggestion: when you have +brain fag go to bed for two days and starve. The result is miraculous." + +"So, that is the way American writers are made. There are so many of +them--I had often wondered----" + +"Oh, not at all!" Miss Dwight rushed to the defence of native American +genius. "But all writers, no matter what their gifts, often go through +a period of torture while forming habits of regular work." + +"It sounds like torture!" She gave Gora a glance of lazy amusement. +"Really, Miss Dwight! Are you trying to frighten me off?" + +But Gora did not blush. If she chose to concentrate her agile mind on +acting, the accomplished actress opposite could give her few points. +She replied with convincing emphasis: "Certainly not. What an odd +idea. I have the most enormous respect for your abilities, and you +should be famous for something besides beauty--and I should like to see +you live down mere notoriety." + +"I've loved the notoriety, and rather regret that it seems to have lost +flavor with time. But I'll never make a writer, Miss Dwight, and have +not the least intention of trying." + +"But surely you'll not be content to be just Lee's wife? Why, +practically every woman in our crowd does something. There used to be +a superstition that two brain-workers could not live comfortably under +the same roof, but as a matter of fact we've proved that a woman keeps +her husband far longer if her brain is as productive as his. Each +inspires and interests the other. Another old _cliche_ gone to the +dust bin. Our sort of men want something more from a woman than good +housekeeping. Not that men no longer want to be comfortable, but the +clever women of today have learned to combine both." + +"Marvellous age and marvellous America! Don't you think I could keep +Lee interested without grinding away at my desk for three hours every +morning and lying in hungry misery for days at a time?" + +"You could keep any man interested. I wasn't thinking of him, but of +you. He has more than a man's entitled to already. Men are selfish +brutes, and I waste no sympathy on them. It's women who have the +rotten deal in this world, the best of them. And men are as vain as +they are selfish. It's an enormous advantage for a woman to have her +own reputation and her own separate life. No man should be able to +feel that he possesses a woman wholly. He simply can't stand it." + +"Quite right. Discarding modesty, I may add that I am an old hand at +that game." + +Gora regarded her with frank admiration, wholly unassumed. "Oh, you +couldn't lose Clavey if you tried. He is mad about you. We can all +see that, and I knew it before he did himself. It's only--really--that +I'm afraid you'll be bored to death with so much shop if you don't set +up one for yourself." + +"Oh, I never intend to be bored again as long as I live." Mary +Zattiany was a very shrewd woman and she determined on a bold stroke. +Her suspicion lingered but had lost its edge. Gora Dwight was deep and +subtle but there was no doubt that she was honorable. "I shall tell +you something," she said, "but you must give me your word that you will +not betray me--not even to Lee." + +Miss Dwight's mind, not her body, gave a slight stir of uneasiness. +But she answered warmly: "Of course I promise." + +"Very well, then. It is this. I shall never return to America. I +sail in a fortnight. Lee follows soon after, and we shall be married +in Austria." + +"But--but--his play!" Miss Dwight was too startled to act. "He must +be here for rehearsals. Some one has said that plays are not written, +they're rewritten, and it's pretty close to the truth." + +"I shall consent to his returning in time for rehearsals. Prolonged +honeymoons are indiscreet. It is better to divide them into a series. +I fancy the series might hold out indefinitely if adroitly spaced. +Moreover, being a modern myself, I like new methods. And he will be +too busy to miss me. I shall be equally busy in Vienna." + +"But will he consent? Lee? He's not used to having his plans made for +him. He's about the most dominating male I know." + +"I feel sure he will when the time comes. It is woman's peculiar gift, +you know, to convince the dominating male that he wants what she wants." + +Gora laughed. But she also could turn mental somersaults. "I think it +a splendid arrangement. Then we should not lose Lee altogether, for we +really are devoted to him. He is an adorable creature for all his +absurdities. But I can't endure the thought of losing you." + +"You must pay me a long visit in Vienna. Many visits. I can assure +you that you will find material there, under my guidance, for a really +great novel." + +Gora's eyes sparkled. She was all artist at once. "I should like +that! How kind of you. And what a setting!" + +"Yes, Austria is the most interesting country in Europe, and the most +beautiful to look at--and describe." + +"It will be heavenly." Gora made up her mind at once that she would +waste no more ingenuity to stop this marriage. Its modernity appealed +to her, and she foresaw new impulses to creation. "The American +Scene," conceivably, might grow monotonous with time; and with these +daily recruits bent upon describing its minutiae with the relentless +efficiency of the camera. And with all her soul she loved beauty. +With the possible exception of Bavaria she knew Austria to be the +darling of nature. + +Once more she chose to believe this woman would manage Clavering to his +own good, and to the satisfaction of his friends, who, as she well +knew, were alarmed and alert. They were too polite to show it, but +much of their enthusiasm for Madame Zattiany had dimmed with the +knowledge that she was a scientific phenomenon. Fundamentally the +brilliant creative mind is quite as conservative as the worldly, or the +inarticulate millions between, for they have common ancestors and +common traditions. They feared not only to lose him, moreover, but had +begun to ask one another if his career would not be wrecked. + +Miss Dwight concluded that such an uncommon and romantic marriage might +be a spur to Clavering's genius, which might weaken in a conventional +marital drama set in the city of New York. + +She rose and for the first time kissed Madame Zattiany. "It will be +too perfect!" she said. "Let me visit you in summer when he is +rehearsing. He can arrange to have his first-nights in September, and +then write his next play in Austria, filling his time while you are +absorbed in politics. Heavens, what a theme! Some day I'll use it. +Perfectly disguised, of course." + +"And I'll give you points," said Mary, laughing. She returned the +other's embrace; but when she was alone she sighed and sank back in her +chair, without picking up her book. Miss Gora Dwight had given her +something to think of! The last thing she wanted was a serial +honeymoon. She wanted this man's companionship and his help. But she +had slowly been forced to the conclusion that Clavering's was a mind +whose enthusiasms could only be inspired by some form of creative art; +politics would never appeal to it. In her comparative ignorance of the +denaturalized brain, she had believed that a brilliant gifted mind +could concentrate itself upon any object with equal fertility and +power, but she had seen too much of the Sophisticates of late, and +studied Clavering in too many of his moods to cherish the illusion any +longer. Playwrighting seemed to her a contemptible pastime compared +with the hideous facts of Life as exemplified in Europe, and she had +restrained herself from an angry outburst more than once. But she was +too philosophical, possibly too fatalistic, not to have dismissed this +attitude eventually. Clavering could not be changed, but neither could +she. There would be the usual compromises. After all, of what was +life made up but of compromise? But the early glow of the wondrous +dream had faded. The mistress was evidently the role nature had cast +her to play. The vision of home, the complete matehood, had gone the +way of all dreams. + + + + +XLII + +She was not sorry to forego the doubtful luxury of meditation on the +sadness of life. When Miss Trevor's card was brought to her she told +the servant to show her up and bring tea immediately. She was not +interested in Agnes Trevor, a younger sister of Polly Vane, but at all +events she would talk about her settlement work and give a comfortably +commonplace atmosphere to the room in which tragic clouds were rising. +As it had happened, Mary, during these past weeks, had seen little of +New York women between the relics of her old set and their lively +Society-loving daughters. The women between forty and fifty, whether +devoted to fashion, politics, husbands, children, or good works, had so +far escaped her, and Agnes Trevor, who lived with Mrs. Vane, was +practically the only representative of the intermediate age with whom +she had exchanged a dozen words. But the admirable spinster had taken +up the cause of the Vienna children with enthusiasm and raised a good +deal of money, besides contributing liberally herself. She was +forty-two, and, although she was said to have been a beautiful girl, +was now merely patrician in appearance, very tall and thin and +spinsterish, with a clean but faded complexion, and hair-colored hair +beginning to turn gray. She had left Society in her early twenties and +devoted herself to moralizing the East Side. + +She came in with a light step and an air of subdued bright energy, very +smartly but plainly dressed in dark blue tweed, with a large black hat +in which a wing had been accurately placed by the best milliner in New +York. Her clothes were so well-worn, and her grooming was so +meticulous, her accent so clean and crisp, her manner so devoid of +patronage, yet subtly remote, her controlled heart so kind that she +perennially fascinated the buxom, rather sloppy, preternaturally acute, +and wholly unaristocratic young ladies of the East Side. + +Mary, who had a dangerous habit of characterizing people in her Day +Book, had written when she met Agnes Trevor: "She radiates +intelligence, good will, cheeriness, innate superiority and +uncompromising virginity." + +"Dear Mary!" she exclaimed in her crisp bright tones as she kissed her +amiable hostess. "How delightful to find you alone. I was afraid you +would be surrounded as usual." + +"Oh, my novelty is wearing off," said Mary drily. "But I will tell +them to admit no one else today. I find I enjoy one person at a time. +One gets rather tired in New York of the unfinished sentence." + +"Oh, do." Mary's quick eye took note of a certain repressed excitement +in the fine eyes of her guest, who had taken an upright chair. +Lounging did not accord with that spare ascetic figure. "And you are +quite right. It is seldom one has anything like real conversation. +One has to go for that to those of our older women who have given up +Society to cultivate the intellects God gave them." + +"Are there any?" murmured Mary. + +"Oh, my dear, yes. But, of course, you've had no time to meet them in +your mad whirl. Now that things have slowed down a bit you _must_ meet +them." + +"I'm afraid it's too late. I sail in a fortnight." + +"Oh!" Miss Trevor's voice shook oddly, and the slow color crept up her +cheeks. But at that moment the tea was brought in. + +"Will you pour it out?" asked Mary. "I'm feeling rather lazy." + +"Of course." Miss Trevor was brightly acquiescent. She seated herself +before the table. The man retired with instructions that Madame was +not at home to other callers. + +Mary watched her closely as she stirred the tea with a little +business-like air, warmed the cups, distributed the lemon and then +poured out the clear brown fluid. + +"Formosa Oolong," she said, sniffing daintily. "The only tea. I hate +people who drink scented teas, don't you? I'm going to have a very +strong cup, so I'll wait a minute or two. I'm--rather tired." + +"You? You look as if you never relaxed in your sleep. How do you keep +it up?" + +"Oh, think of the life the younger women lead. Mine is a quiet amble +along a country road by comparison. . . . But . . . monotonous!" + +The last word came out with the effect of a tiny explosion. It +evidently surprised Miss Trevor herself, for she frowned, poured out a +cup of tea that was almost black, and began sipping it with a somewhat +elaborate concentration for one so simple and direct of method. + +"I'm afraid good works are apt to grow monotonous. A sad commentary on +the triumphs of civilization over undiluted nature." Mary continued to +watch the torch bearer of the East Side. "Don't you sometimes hate it?" + +She asked the question idly, interested for the moment in probing under +another shell hardened in the mould of time, and half-hoping that Agnes +would be natural and human for once, cease to be the bright well-oiled +machine. She was by no means prepared for what she got. + +Miss Trevor gulped down the scalding tea in an almost unladylike +manner, and put the cup down with a shaking hand. + +"That's what I've come to see you about," she said in a low intense +voice, and her teeth set for a moment as if she had taken a bit between +them. "Mary, you've upset my life." + +"I? What next!" + +"I suppose you have troubles of your own, dear, and I hate to bother +you with mine----" + +"Oh, mine amount to nothing at present. And if I can help you----" +She felt no enthusiasm at the prospect, but she saw that the woman was +laboring under excitement of some sort, and if she could not give her +sympathy at least she might help her with sound practical advice. +Moreover, she was in for it. "Better tell me all about it." + +"It is terribly hard. I'm so humiliated--and--and I suppose no more +reticent woman ever lived." + +"Oh, reticence! Why not emulate the younger generation? I'm not +sure--although I prefer the happy medium myself--that they are not +wiser than their grandmothers and their maiden aunts. On the principle +that confession is good for the soul, I don't believe that women will +be so obsessed by--well, let us say, sex, in the future." + +Miss Trevor flushed darkly. "It is possible. . . . That's what I +am--a maiden aunt. Just that and nothing more." + +"Nothing more? I thought you were accounted one of the most useful +women in serious New York. A sort of mother to the East Side." + +"Mother? How could I be a mother? I'm only a maiden aunt even down +there. Not that I want to be a mother----" + +"I was going to ask you why you did not marry even now. It is not too +late to have children of your own----" + +"Oh, yes, it is. That's all over--or nearly. But I can't say that I +ever did long for children of my own, although I get on beautifully +with them." + +"Well?" asked Mary patiently, "what is it you do want?" + +"A husband!" This time there was no doubt about the explosion. + +Mary felt a faint sensation of distaste, and wondered if she were +reverting to type as a result of this recent association with the +generation that still clung to the distastes and the disclaimers of the +nineteenth century. "Why didn't you marry when you were a girl? I am +told that you were quite lovely." + +"I hated the thought. I was in love twice; but I had a sort of cold +purity that I was proud of. The bare idea of--of _that_ nauseated me." + +"Pity you hadn't done settlement work first. That must have knocked +prudishness out of you, I should think." + +"It horrified me so that for several years I hardly could go on with +it, and I have always refused to mix the sexes in my house down there, +but, of course, I could not help hearing things--seeing things--and +after a while I did get hardened--and ceased to be revolted. I learned +to look upon all that sort of thing as a matter of course. But it was +too late then. I had lost what little looks I had ever possessed. I +grew to look like an old maid long before I was thirty. Why is nature +so cruel, Mary?" + +"I fancy a good many American women develop very slowly sexually. You +were merely one of them. I wonder you had the climacteric so early. +But nature is very fond of taking her little revenges. You defied her +and she smote you." + +"Oh, yes, she smote me! But I never fully realized it until you came." + +"I hardly follow you." + +"Oh, don't you see? You have shown us that women can begin life over +again, undo their awful mistakes. And yet I don't dare--don't dare----" + +"Why not, pray? Better come with me to Vienna if you haven't the +courage to face the music here." + +"Oh, I haven't the courage. I couldn't carry things off with such a +high hand as you do. You were always high and mighty, they say, and +have done as you pleased all your life. You don't care a pin whether +we approve of what you've done or not. It's the way you're made. But +I--couldn't stand it. The admission of vanity, of--of--after the life +I've led. The young women would say, in their nasty slang, that I was +probably man-crazy." + +"And aren't you?" asked Mary coolly. "Isn't that just what is the +matter? The sex-imagination often outlives the withering of the +sex-glands. Come now, admit it. Forget that you are a pastel-tinted +remnant of the old order and call a spade a spade." + +"There's something terrifying about you, Mary." Miss Trevor had +flushed a dark purple, but she had very honest eyes, and they did not +falter. "But I respect you more than any woman I have ever known. And +although you are not very sympathetic you are the only person on earth +to whom I could even mention such a subject." + +"Well, go ahead," said Mary resignedly. "If you want my advice, take +your courage in your hands and do it. However people may carp, there +is nothing they so much admire as courage." + +"Yes, but they make you suffer tortures just because they do admire +it--or to keep themselves from admitting it." + +"True enough. But after all, they don't matter. Life would be so much +simpler if we'd all make up our minds that what other people think +about us does not signify in the least. It's only permitting it to +signify that permits it to exist." + +"That's all very well for you, but it's really a question of +temperament. Do you think I'd dare come back here looking like a girl +again--and I suppose I should. I'm sixteen years younger than +you. . . . You must know how many of the women hate you." + +"That sort of hate may be very stimulating, my dear Agnes," said Madame +Zattiany drily. + +"I can understand that. But I should return to what it is hardly an +exaggeration to call a life of a thousand intimacies. The ridicule! +The contempt! The merciless criticism! I don't want to live anywhere +else. I can't face it! But, oh, I do so want it! I do so want it!" + +"But just think of the compensations. No doubt you would marry +immediately. If you were happy, and with a man to protect you, how +much would you care?" + +"Oh!" Once more the thin ascetic face was dyed with an unbecoming +flush. "Oh!" And then the barriers fell with a crash and she hurried +on, the words tumbling over one another, as her memory, its inhibitions +shattered, swept back into the dark vortex of her secret past. "Oh, +Mary! You don't know! You don't know! You, who've had all the men +you ever wanted. Who, they say, have a young man now. The nights of +horror I've passed. I've never slept a wink the nights our girls +married. I could have killed them. I could have killed every man I've +met for asking nothing of _me_. It seems to me that I've thought of +nothing else for twenty years. When I've been teaching, counselling +good thoughts, virtue, good conduct, to those girls down there, it's +been in the background of my mind every minute like a terrible +obsession. I wonder I haven't gone mad. Some of us old maids do go +mad. And no one knew until they raved what was the matter with them. +When Hannah de Lacey lost her mind three years ago I heard one of the +doctors telling Peter Vane that her talk was the most libidinous he had +ever listened to. And she was the most forbidding old maid in New +York. I know if I lose my mind it will be the same, and that alone is +enough to drive any decent woman mad. . . . I thought I'd get over it +in time--I used to pray--and fight with my will--but when the time came +when I should have been released I was afraid I would, and then I +deliberately did everything I could to keep it alive. I couldn't lose +my right---- It _was_ my right. I couldn't tell you all the things +I've---- Oh, I tell you that unless I can be young again and have some +man--any man--I don't care whether he'll marry me or not--I'll go +mad--mad!" + +Her voice had risen to a shriek. She would be in hysterics in another +moment. Mary, who was on the point of nausea, went hastily into her +dressing-room and poured out a dose of sal-volatile. "Here!" she said +peremptorily. "Drink this. I'll not listen to another word. And I +don't wish to be obliged to call an ambulance." + +Miss Trevor gulped it down, and then permitted herself to be led to a +sofa, where she lay sprawled, her immaculate hat on one side, giving +her the look of a debauched gerontic virgin. She lay panting for a few +moments, while Madame Zattiany paced up and down the room. + +She turned as she heard a groan. Miss Trevor was sitting up, +straightening her hat. "Feel better?" she asked unsympathetically. + +"Oh, yes--my nerves feel better! But what have I said? What must you +think of me? I never expected to give way like that when I came. I +thought I could put it all to you in a few delicate hints, knowing that +you would understand. _What_ have I said? I can hardly remember." + +"Better not try! I'll promise to forget it myself." She sat down +beside the sofa. "Now, listen to me. It would not be wise for you to +go to Vienna. They would suspect, if not at once, then certainly when +you returned. It can be done here. The rejuvenescence is so gradual +that it would hardly be noticed. Fully a year. You do not have to go +into a hospital, nor even to bed. You are not spied on, so no one +would suspect that you were taking the treatment. At your age success +is practically assured. Take it, and don't be a fool. If you don't +it's only a question of time when that superb self-control you have +practised for so many years will go again. And, too possibly, in the +wrong place. . . . It is quite likely that you will never be +suspected, because women often bloom out in their forties, take on a +new lease of life. Begin to put on a little make-up----" + +Miss Trevor interrupted with a horrified exclamation. + +"It would be judicious. If they criticize you, remember that nothing +they can say will be as bad--from your point of view--as their finding +out the truth. They will lay it to that, and to the fact that you have +grown a little stouter. And let me tell you, you won't care in the +least, even if conservatism attacks you in solid battalions, for your +mental attitude to life will be entirely changed. Remember that you +will be young again, and too gay and happy to mind what people think of +you. Now, promise me that you will take my advice, and then go home +and to bed." + +Miss Trevor got up and went to the mirror. "Yes, I'll do it." And +then she said, no doubt for the first time in her life: "And I'll not +give a damn, no matter what happens." + +When she had left Mary Zattiany stood for a few moments striking her +hands together, her face distorted. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her. +She felt as if there had been an earthquake in her own soul and its +muck were riding the surface. She loathed herself and all women and +all men. She knew that the violence of the revulsion must be +temporary, but for the moment it was beyond her control. She went to +the telephone and called up Clavering and told him that she had a +severe headache and was going to bed. And she cut short both his +protests and his expression of sympathy by hanging up the receiver. +And then she picked up a vase and hurled it to the floor and smashed it. + + + + +XLIII + +Clavering stood on his high balcony and looked down upon Madison +Square. Spring had come. The Square looked like an oasis in a rocky +gorge. The trees were covered with the tender greens of the new birth, +and even President Arthur and Roscoe Conkling, less green than in +winter, looked reconciled to their lot. A few people were sunning +themselves on the benches, many more were on top of the busses over on +Fifth Avenue, and even the hurrying throngs, preoccupied with crass +business, seemed to walk with a lighter step, their heads up, instead +of sullenly defying winds and sleet. The eight streets that surrounded +or debouched into the Square poured forth continuous streams of +figures, constantly augmented by throngs rising out of the earth +itself. There was a vivid color running like ribbons through the +crowds, for it was nearly nine o'clock and the doors of offices and +shops and business houses were open to women as to men. Overhead a +yellow sun shone in a pale filmy sky and the air was both warm and +sharp. The doves were circling and settling. + +The prize-fighters had taken their prowess elsewhere, and a circus had +come to Madison Square Garden. Clavering had heard the roar of lions +in the night. A far different crowd would stand under the arcade in a +few hours, but the peanut venders would ply their trade, and a little +booth for candies and innocuous juices had been erected in an alcove in +the front wall, presided over by a plump pretty blonde. She alternated +"jollying" and selling with quiet intervals of beading a bag, +undisturbed either by ogling or the hideous noises of Twenty-sixth +Street. + +In spite of his disappointment two nights before he found it impossible +to feel depressed in that gay spring sunshine. He did not believe in +the headache, but she had written him a charming note and he supposed +that a man must get accustomed to the caprices of women if he intended +to live with one. And a month from now they would be in the Dolomites, +and she would be his. Let her have her caprices. He had his own. +There were times when he didn't want to see her. + +Moreover, he was still too jubilant over his play to feel depressed for +long over anything; the warm and constantly manifested enthusiasm of +his friends had kept his spirits from suffering any natural reaction. +Their demand for his companionship was almost peremptory, and his +thoughts turned to them as he stood on his balcony looking down on the +waning throngs: the great stone buildings were humming like hives, and +figures were passing busily to and fro behind the open windows. It +astonished him a little. True, it was his first play and he was very +popular. But he had a vague uneasy idea they were overdoing it. They +talked of nothing else: his play, his brilliant future, his sure place +in the crack regiment "if he hung on"; and they insisted that he must +also express himself at least once through the medium of the novel. +The great New York novel had yet to be written. They fairly dinned his +gifts into his ears, until he was almost sick of them, and wondered if +Mary were not also. She had seen a good deal of the Sophisticates +lately, and from what she had let drop he inferred that even when he +had not been present they had talked of little else. They had by no +means waited for his play to be finished and read to a select few. +Hogarth and Scores had assured them long before it was finished that it +would be a great play. + +Once or twice there was a rustling in the back of his mind. They were +not given to wild enthusiasms of this sort. They thought too highly of +themselves. He realized how genuinely fond they were of him, but he +had not hoped for more than critical appreciation, from the men, at +least. Could it be possible . . . + +But he was still in the first flush of his triumph, his brain hummed +with pleasant memories of those hours at Gora Dwight's, three nights +ago. He had cleared the base of the pedestal on whose narrow and +unaccommodating top he was soon to have his foothold, and it was not in +human nature, at this stage of his progress, to suspect the sincerity +of the adulation so generously poured at his feet. + +And Mary, during this past fortnight (when he had been present, at +least) had seemed to bask contentedly in reflected glory, and smiled +sympathetically while they talked of the many Clavering first-nights +they would attend in the sure anticipation of that class of +entertainment up to which the Little Theatres and the Theatre Guild +were striving to educate the public. They took it as a matter of +course that he was to abide in the stimulating atmosphere of New York +for the rest of his days. And they invariably insisted that "Madame +Zattiany" must always sit in a stage box and be a part of the +entertainment. They were too well-bred (and too astute) to hint at the +engagement they were positive existed, but "hoped" she would be willing +to add to the prestige of one who was now as much her friend as theirs. +It was a curious position in which to place a woman like Mary Zattiany, +but Sophisticate New York was not Diplomatic Europe, and he thought he +saw her smile deepen into humor once or twice; no doubt she was +reflecting that she had lived long enough to take people as she found +them. + +His reverie was interrupted by a buzzing at the end of his hall and he +went to the door quickly, wondering who could have sent him a special +delivery letter or a note at this hour. It proved to be a cablegram. +He read it when he returned to his living-room. It was dated Rome, +Italy, and read: + +"I'll have you yet: Janet." + +Clavering swore, then laughed. He tore the message into strips and sat +down to read his newspapers; he had merely glanced at the headlines and +his column. His eye was arrested by the picture of a man at the top of +the first page of his own newspaper. Although smooth-shaven and very +regular of feature, with no pronounced racial characteristics, it was, +nevertheless, a foreign face, although difficult to place. From its +distinction it might be Austrian, but the name below, "Prince +Hohenhauer," might as easily be German. Still, it was not a German +face, and Clavering studied it for a moment before reading the news +text, wondering faintly at his interest. + +It was unmistakably the face of a statesman, and reminded him a little +of a picture of Prince Schwarzenberg, prime minister when Franz Josef +ascended the throne, he had seen lately in a history of Austria. There +was the same broad placidity of brow, the long oval face, the thin long +slightly curved nose, the heavy lids, the slim erectness, the same +suave repose. But this man's large beautifully cut mouth was more +firmly set, had a faintly satiric expression, and the eyes a powerful +and penetrating gaze. It was the face of a man who was complete master +of himself and accustomed to the mastery of men. + +Clavering read the story under the headlines: + + + PRINCE HOHENHAUER ARRIVES IN NEW YORK + GOES AT ONCE TO WASHINGTON + +"Prince Hohenhauer, a distinguished political factor under the old +Austrian Empire, arrived yesterday morning on the _Noordam_. He +refused to be interviewed, but it is understood he has a large amount +of money invested in the United States and has come to New York at the +request of his lawyers to attend to certain necessary formalities. He +was, in fact, met at Quarantine by Judge Trent, one of the most +distinguished members of the New York Bar since his retirement from the +Bench, and they went at once to the Prince's stateroom and remained +there until it was time to leave the ship. It is significant, however, +that the Prince, after engaging a suite at the Ritz-Carlton, and +lunching there with Judge Trent, took the afternoon train for +Washington. As he recently left his estate in Switzerland to return to +Vienna and accept a position in the Cabinet, and as it is well known +that Austria desires the backing of the American Government to enable +her to overcome the opposition of France to her alliance with Germany, +or, it is whispered, with a kingdom farther south, it is not +unreasonable to infer that he has come to the United States on a +special, if secret, mission. + +"The Prince was the subject of lively interest on the boat and of much +speculation, but he took his meals in his suite and walked the deck +only in the company of his secretary. + +"He is a man of striking appearance, quite six feet in height, with a +spare erect figure, fine features, and hardly looks his sixty years, in +spite of his white hair." + +Then followed a brief biography, which illustrated the efficiency of +the newspaper "morgue," for the statesman's reputation was, so far, +wholly European. + +"Prince Moritz Franz Ernst Felix von Hohenhauer was born October 6th, +1862, on his ancestral estate in what was then known as Galicia. His +mother was a princess of the House of Schwarzenberg. He has been the +head of his own historic house for the last forty years, and has one +son and two daughters. His wife, a member of the Kalnoky family, died +several years ago. "Hohenhauer" was one of those almost unbelievably +vast estates of sixteen million acres possessed by a few of the +Austrian noblemen under the old regime. In spite of the fact that +Prince Hohenhauer was one of the greatest landlords in all Christendom +he was a liberal in politics from the first and the author of several +of the reform laws in behalf of the people which from time to time were +forced upon the most conservative monarch in Europe. He was in +sympathy with the revolution and offered his services at once to the +new Government. They were declined, and he retired to Switzerland, +where he has an estate near St. Moritz, and, it is understood, +considerable money invested. His vast estates in what is now Poland +were confiscated, but he was one of the wealthiest men in the Empire +and is said to have transferred immense sums to the United States +before the war." + +Clavering dropped the newspaper. Liberal in politics. Immense sums +invested in the United States. Judge Trent. There could be no +possible doubt as to who the man was. The floor seemed unsteady for a +moment. + +And yet there was as little doubt that Mary Zattiany bad long since +ceased to care for him. _That_ was over fifteen or sixteen years ago. +They had known each other in later years, both equally indifferent to +the other and to the past. . . . Yes . . . but she had then completely +lost the beauty and the charm that had enthralled him, while he was +still a man in his prime, who, with that appearance, no doubt had other +young and beautiful women in his life. + +He may or may not have heard of the metamorphosis. At all events they +had been political allies. He would call on her as a matter of course. +And possibly out of more than politeness: he may have brought her an +important message. Or he might find it expedient to confer with her on +his present mission. That he had come on an important mission did not +admit of a doubt; but at least he had not gone to her at once. His +interest in her, so far, was still impersonal. + +Clavering had too much of the arrogance of youth and he was too sure of +Mary Zattiany's love for himself, to be apprehensive of the charms of a +man of sixty, but he was invaded by a nameless and almost sickening +fear. He had very swift and often very sure intuitions, and he was +shaken by a premonition that in some manner, which, in his ignorance of +the facts he was unable to define, this man's presence in America boded +no good to himself. + +But Clavering was also a man of swift decisions and resource, and he +knew this was no time to lose his head, nor even to play a waiting +game. And he must tread warily. Impulsive as he was by nature he +could be as wary as a Red Indian when wariness would serve his purpose. +He called up Mr. Dinwiddie on the telephone and asked if he might see +him at once. It was only half past nine and Mr. Dinwiddie was just +finishing his breakfast in bed, but he told his favorite cordially to +"come along." + + + + +XLIV + +"What is it?" asked Mr. Dinwiddie, as Clavering entered his bedroom +fifteen minutes later. "This is an early call. Thought you didn't get +up till noon." + +"Went to bed early last night for a change. I've come to ask a favor. +I'll smoke, if you don't mind." + +He took a chair beside the bed, where Mr. Dinwiddie, in skull cap and +decorous pyjamas, leaned against high pillows, happily digesting his +breakfast, with the newspapers beside him. Clavering smoked for a few +moments in silence, while his host watched him keenly. He had never +seen his young friend in quite this mood. There was a curious deadly +stillness about him. + +"What is it, Lee?" he asked when curiosity finally got the better of +him. "Nothing wrong between you and Mary, I hope? Of course you know +it's all over town that you're engaged to her. Don't mind my saying +this, do you? And you know you can trust me. Nothing like an old +gossip for keeping a confidence sacred." + +"Well, I am. But she chooses not to announce it and that is her right. +And here is where you can help me. I want you to open your camp in the +Adirondacks and give Mary a house party. I suppose Larsing and his +wife are still there?" + +"Yes, but it's too early----" + +"Spring is early this year. The ice must have gone out. And the house +is always comfortable; we've often had fires there when people were +having sunstroke in New York. I want you to get busy, so that we can +leave tomorrow morning----" + +"Tomorrow morning? You young dynamo. It can't be done." + +"It can. I'll call up the people I want in a few minutes--from here. +You can telephone to the camp. Provisions can go tonight. I'll see to +that also----" + +"But can you get away yourself?" + +"I'd get away if I had to resign, but I shan't. I shall break away for +two months later anyhow. We have planned to marry in Austria in about +a month from now." + +"Then why in thunder do you want to run off to the woods with her now? +I never heard of anything so unreasonable. She has friends here who'd +like to see her until the last minute, you selfish young beggar----" + +"It's the most reasonable thing I ever did. Don't insist upon an +explanation, Din. Just accept my word that it's a vital matter to me." + +"Ah! But I know!" Mr. Dinwiddie's eyes glittered. "Hohenhauer is +here. That's the milk in the cocoanut." + +Clavering scowled. "What do you mean by that?" + +"I--I--well--there was a good deal of talk at the time--but then you +know, Lee, I told you the very first time we both saw her that there +had been stories about Mary." + +"Well, as it happens, she told me about this man, although not his +name. Enough, however, for me to know at once this morning who he was. +I don't intend she shall see him." + +"You don't mean to tell me that you are jealous of Hohenhauer. Why, +that was nearly twenty years ago, and he is almost as old as I am." + +"I'm not jealous, but I've got a hunch." He scowled again, for he +fancied he could see that old story unrolling itself in Dinwiddie's +mind. It is one thing to dismiss the past with a lordly gesture and +another to see it rise from the dead and peer from old eyes. He went +on calmly, however. "I've no faith, myself, in the making of bonfires +out of dead ashes, but all the same I scent danger and I intend to get +her away and keep her away until the day before she sails; and I'll +marry her the morning she does. I'll take no chances of their +travelling on the same steamer." + +"I see. Perhaps you are right. He's a damn good-looking chap, too, +and has that princely distinction peculiar to Austrians. Some European +princes look like successful businessmen of the Middle-West. I was +once stranded at Abbazia, Austria's Riviera, during a rainy spell, and +as there were only two other people in the vast dining-room I thought +I'd speak to them. I took for granted they were Americans. He was a +big heavy man, with one of those large, round, fat, shrewd, weary faces +you see by the hundreds in the lobbies of Chicago hotels. She looked +like a New England school-marm, and wore a red plaid waist. Well--he +was the reigning prince of Carlstadt-Rudolfstein, one of those +two-by-six German principalities, and she was an Austrian archduchess. +She was the only Austrian I ever saw that didn't look like one, but her +manners were charming and we became great friends and they took me home +with them to their beautiful old castle. . . . Ah, those wonderful old +German castles! Profiteers living in them today, I suppose. But +Hohenhauer is a perfect specimen of his class--and then some. I met +him once in Paris. Intensely reserved, but opened up one night at a +small dinner. I never met a more charming man in my life. And +unquestionably one of the ablest men in Europe. . . . However, he's +sixty and you're thirty-four. If he has any influence over her it's +political, and in European politics one never knows what dark business +is going on under the surface. Good idea to get Mary away. I'll get +some fun out of it, too. Who'll you ask?" + +"None of your crowd. How many bedrooms have you? I don't remember." + +"Ten. If you want a large party you can turn in with me. There are +twin beds in every room. I don't know how Mary'll like it; she's a +luxurious creature, you know, and we don't go to the woods to be +comfortable----" + +"You forget she got pretty well used to worse while she was running +that hospital. And hardy people never do mind." + +"True. I'll give her a room to herself, for I don't see her +doubling-up, at all events. That would leave eight good-sized rooms. +Don't ask all married couples, Lee, for heaven's sake. Let's have two +girls, at least. But the season is still on. Sure you can get +anybody?" + +"Of course. They're not all pinned down to regular jobs, and will be +only too glad to get out of New York after a grinding winter. The +novelty of a house party in the mountains at this season will appeal to +them. I'll call up Gora first." + +He was crossing the room to the telephone when Mr. Dinwiddie said +hesitatingly: "And so--so--you're really going to marry Mary? Have you +thought what it means? I mean your own career. She'll never live +here--she's out of the picture and knows it." + +Clavering took down the receiver and called Miss Dwight's number. Mr. +Dinwiddie sighed and shrugged his shoulders. But his eyes were bright. +He would have a love drama under his very nose. + + + + +XLV + +Mary's "headache" had continued for two days, but Clavering came to her +house by appointment that same afternoon at five o'clock. She kept him +waiting fully ten minutes, and wandered back and forth in her room +upstairs with none of her usual eagerness to welcome him after even a +brief separation. The violence of her revulsion had passed, but she +was filled with a vast depression, apathetic, tired, in no mood for +love-making. Nor did she feel up to acting, and Clavering's intuitions +were often very inconvenient. He would never suspect the black turmoil +of these past two days, nor its cause, but it would be equally +disconcerting if he attributed her low spirits to the arrival of +Hohenhauer. What a fool she had been to have made more than a glancing +reference to that last old love-affair, almost forgotten until that +night of stark revelation. She must have enjoyed talking about herself +more than she had realized, unable to resist the temptation to indulge +in imposing details. Or self-justification? Perhaps. It didn't +matter, and he must have "placed" Hohenhauer at once this morning, and +would imagine that she was depressed at the thought of meeting him. +There was no one on earth she wanted to meet less, although she felt a +good deal of curiosity as to the object of his visit to Washington. + +She heard the maid in the dressing-room and was visited by an +inspiration. She called in the woman, gave her a key and told her to +go down to the dining-room and bring her a glass of curacoa from the +wine-cupboard. + +The liqueur sent a glow of warmth through her veins and raised her +spirits. Then, reflecting that Clavering never rushed at her in the +fashion of most lovers, nor even greeted her with a perfunctory kiss, +but waited until the mood for love-making attacked him suddenly, she +took a last look at her new tea-gown of corn-flower blue chiffon and +went down stairs with a light step. + +"Shocking to keep you waiting," she said as they shook hands, "but I +came in late. You'll stay to dinner, of course. I had an engagement +but broke it, as I'm still feeling a little out of sorts." + +"Never saw you look better. Nor in blue before. You look like a lily +in a blue vase, or a snow maiden rising from a blue mist. Not that I'm +feeling poetic today, but you do look ripping. What gave you a +headache? I thought you scorned the ills of the flesh." + +"So I do, but I had spent three hours in Judge Trent's office that +morning, and you know what these American men are. They keep the heat +on no matter what the temperature outside, and every window closed. On +Tuesday the sun was blazing in besides, and Judge Trent and the two +other men I was obliged to confer with smoked cigars incessantly. It +gave me the first headache I'd had for twenty years. I felt as if I'd +been poisoned." + +She looked up at him, smilingly, from her deep chair as he stood above +her on the hearthrug. He didn't believe a word of it: he was convinced +she had been advised of Hohenhauer's coming, and that for some reason +the news had upset her; but he had no intention of betraying himself. +Moreover, he didn't care. He was too intent on his own plans. + +"The rest has done you good," he said, smiling also. "But as you were +looking rather fagged before you came down with that two-days' +headache, I made up my mind that you needed a change and dropped Din a +hint to open his camp in the Adirondacks and give you a farewell +house-party. He jumped at the idea and it's all arranged. You'll have +eight days of outdoor life and some sport, as well as a good rest. +He's got a big comfortable camp on a beautiful lake, where we can boat +and fish----" + +"But Lee----" She was almost gasping. + +"No buts. Not only do you need a rest before that long journey but I +want these last days with you in the mountains where I can have you +almost to myself. It seems to me sometimes that I do not know you at +all--nor you me. And to roam with you in the woods during the day and +float about that lake at night--it came to me suddenly like a foretaste +of heaven. I couldn't stand the thought of the separation otherwise. +Besides, here you'd be given a farewell luncheon or dinner every day +until you sailed. I'd see nothing of you. And you'd be worn out. You +must come, Mary dear." + +Mary felt dimly suspicious, but it was possible that he had read his +morning papers hastily, or that in his mental turmoil that night she +had told him her story he had paid little attention to details, or +forgotten them later. He certainly had never alluded to the man since. +And this sudden impetuous plan was so like him that he needed no +foreign impulse. + +But she answered with some hesitation: "I'd like it, of course. And +Judge Trent has nothing more for me to sign until the last minute. +But--a woman always has a thousand things to do before going on a +journey----" + +"Your maid can do all that. And pack your trunks. She goes with you, +doesn't she? And you'll only need warm sweaters and skirts up there. +We never dress. You'll not need a maid." + +"Well--but--do you mean to tell me that the whole thing is settled?" + +"To the last detail. There'll be twelve of us, including Din." + +"Really, Lee, you _are_ high-handed. You might have consulted me +first." + +"No time to waste on argument. We'll only have a little over a week +there as it is. It takes a day to go and another to return, and you'll +need one day here in New York before you sail. I made up my mind you +should go if I had to take you by force. I _will_ have those last days +in the Adirondacks." + +Her faint resentment vanished and she felt a languid sense of +well-being in this enveloping atmosphere of the tactless imperious +male, so foreign to her experience; of freedom from the necessity for +independent action; and the prospect was certainly enchanting. +Moreover, she would be able to avoid seeing Hohenhauer in surroundings +where this strange love-affair of hers had obliterated the past (for +the most part!), and she had found, for a time at least, happiness and +peace. She would see him in Vienna, of course, and she had no wish to +avoid him there; no doubt they would work together and as impersonally +as they had sometimes done in the past; but to see him here, even in +the drawing-room, which held no sacred memories, would be but another +and uglier blot on her already dimming idyl; and a subtle infidelity to +this man whose every thought seemed to be of her in spite of all he had +to inflame and excite his ego. + +And if she remained and Hohenhauer wished to see her she could hardly +keep on making excuses for nearly a fortnight. So she merely smiled up +at Clavering, who was gazing down at her intently, and said softly: "Of +course I'll go. I always have sport things in my wardrobe and I think +it a wonderful idea. Now tell me who is going. Miss Dwight, I +suppose--and hope. And the De Witt Turners?" Madame Zattiany had no +respect whatever for the Lucy Stone League, and invariably forgot the +paternal names of the emancipated young wives of the men she found +interesting. + +"They can't get away. Gora, yes; and Rolly Todd, the Boltons, the +Minors, Eva Darling, Babette Gold, Gerald Scores." + +"Miss Darling is rather a nuisance. She flung her arms round me the +other night at the Minors' and left a pink kiss on my neck. She was +very tight. Still, she is amusing, and a favorite of Din's." + +"I would have submitted the list to you in the first place, darling, +but I knew I should have to take what I could get on such short notice. +The only two I really care about are Gora and Todd. But there wasn't a +moment to lose. I wish to heaven I'd thought of it before, but that +play had to be finished, and it looked as if the date of your sailing +might be postponed, after all." + +He had no intention of letting her suspect that the wonderful plan was +just eight hours old. + +"I understand," she said. "When do we start?" + +"Tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty. Grand Central." + +"Tomorrow morning!" She looked almost as dismayed as Mr. Dinwiddie had +done, then laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Of course it can be +done--but----" + +"Anything can be done," he said darkly. And then, having got his way, +he suddenly felt happy and irresponsible, and made one of his abrupt +wild dives at her. + + + + +XLVI + +The "camp," a large log house, with a great living-room, a small room +for guns and fishing-tackle, two bedrooms, besides the servants' wing, +downstairs, and eight bedrooms above, stood in a clearing on the +western shore of a lake nearly two miles long, and about three-quarters +of a mile wide in the centre of its fine oval sweep. The lake itself +was in a cup of the mountains, whose slopes in the distance looked as +if covered with fur, so dense were the woods. Only one high peak, +burnt bare by fire, was still covered with snow. + +The camp was in a grove of pines, but the trees that crowded one +another almost out into the lake among the lily pads were spruce and +balsam and maple. + +The party arrived at half-past nine in the evening, and crossed the +lake in a motor launch. It was very dark and the forest surrounding +the calm expanse of water looked like an impenetrable wall, an +unscalable rampart. There was not a sound but the faint chugging of +the motor. The members of the party, tired after their long trip on +the train and two hours' drive up the rough road from the station to +the lake, surrendered to the high mountain stillness, and even Rollo +Todd, who had been in his best spirits all day, fell silent and forgot +that he was a jolly good fellow, remembered only that he was a poet. +Eva Darling, who had flirted shamelessly with Mr. Dinwiddie from New +York to Huntersville, forgot to hold his hand, and he forgot her +altogether. + +Mary had a sudden and complete sense of isolation. Memory had played +her a trick. These were the mountains of her girlhood, and she was +Mary Ogden once more. Even the future that had been so hard of outline +in her practical mind, that unescapable future just beyond a brief +interval in an Austrian mountain solitude, seemed to sink beyond a +horizon infinitely remote. Europe was as unreal as New York. She +vowed, if it were necessary to vow, that she would give neither a +thought while she was here in the wilderness. And as she was a +thorough-going person she knew she would succeed. + +She took her first step when Mr. Dinwiddie was showing them to their +rooms. She drew Gora into her own room and shut the door. + +"I want you to do me a favor--if you will, dear Miss Dwight," she said. + +"Of course." Gora wondered what was coming. + +"I want you to ask the others to abandon their subtle game while we are +up here and ignore the subjects of Lee's play, his future, his genius, +which will wither outside of New York, and cease to attempt to strike +terror into my soul. You may tell them that we are to be married in a +month or two from now--in Austria--but that I shall do nothing to +interfere with his career; nor protest against his passing a part of +each year in the United States. Ask them kindly to refrain from +congratulations, or any allusion to the subject whatever. We have only +eight days here, and I should like it to be as nearly perfect as +possible." + +Gora had had the grace to blush. "They have been worried, and I'm +afraid they hatched a rather naughty plot. But they'll be delighted to +have their apprehensions banished--and of course they'll ignore the +entire matter. They won't say a word to Clavey, either." + +"They've not made the slightest impression on him, so it really doesn't +matter whether they do or not. But--when it dawned on me what they +were up to, and the sound reasoning beneath it, I will confess that I +had some bad half-hours. Of course, Lee has a right to his own life. +I had hoped he would help me in my own field, but he could not if he +would. I have come to see that plainly. I do not mean to say that +these amiable machinations of your friends caused me for a moment to +consider giving him up. I have survived worse----" She shuddered as +she recalled that hideous hour with Agnes Trevor, but promptly whipped +the memory back to cover. "But it made me very uncomfortable, and I +realized there was nothing to do but compromise. We must take what we +can get in this world, my dear Miss Dwight, and be thankful for a +candle when we cannot have the sun." + +And Gora, feeling unaccountably saddened, summoned the others to her +room and told them of Madame Zattiany's announcement and request. Some +gasped with astonishment and delight, others were darkly suspicious, +but all gave their word unhesitatingly to "forget it" while they were +in camp. Those that regarded Madame Zattiany as the most fascinating +woman they had ever known, but also as an intrigante of dark and +winding ways, made a mental reservation to "say a few things to Clavey" +before he had time to buy his ticket for the Dolomites. + +Mary, having accomplished her purpose, swept the whole thing from her +mind and looked about her room with pleasure. The walls were ceiled +with a wood that gleamed like gold in the candle-light, and gave out a +faint scent of the forest. On the bare floor were two or three small +blue rugs, there were pretty blue counterpanes on the beds, and blue +curtains on the small windows. It looked like a young girl's room and +was indescribably sweet and fresh. Her own room at her father's camp, +on another lake many miles away, had been not unlike it. Moreover, it +was pleasantly warm, for the caretaker had made a fire in the furnace +the day before. A window was open and she could hear the soft lap of +the water among the lily pads, but there was no moon and she could see +nothing but a dim black wall on the opposite shore. And the silence! +It might not have been broken since the glacial era, when mighty masses +of ice ground these mountains into permanent form, and the air was +filled with the roaring horrors of desolation. But they had gone, and +left infinite peace behind them. That peace had endured for many +thousands of years and it was unimaginable that any but the puny sounds +of man would disturb that vast repose for thousands of years to come. +The peaks of those old Adirondacks, their quiet lakes, their massive +forests, looked as deathless as time itself. "The Great North Woods" +could not have been more remote from, more scornful of the swarming +cities called civilization, if they had been on another star. + +Luxury in camp did not extend to hot water in the bedrooms, +particularly as Mr. Dinwiddie had had no time to assemble a corps of +servants, and as Mary washed her face and hands in what felt like +melted ice, the shock made her tingle and she would have liked to sing. + +A deep bell sounded. Doors flew open up and down the corridor, which +was immediately filled with an eager chatter. Rollo Todd stamped down +the stair singing "Oh, Hunger, Sweet Hunger!" The others took it up in +various keys, and when Mary went down a moment later they were all +swarming about the dining-table at the end of the living-room. + +This room, which was fully fifty feet long and half as wide, was lit by +lamps suspended from the ceiling and heated by an immense fireplace in +which logs, that looked like half-sections of trees, were blazing in a +pile as high as a small bonfire. The walls were ceiled and decorated +with antlered deerheads, woven bright Indian blankets, snap-shots of +Mr. Dinwiddie's many guests, and old Indian weapons. In one corner, +above a divan covered with gay cushions, were bookshelves filled with +old novels. A shelf had been built along one side of the room for fine +specimens of Indian pottery and basket weaving. The comfortable chairs +were innumerable, and there was another divan, and a victrola. The +guide had filled the vases with balsam, whose pungent odor blended with +the resinous fumes of the burning logs; and through the open door came +the scents of the forest. + +"Ideal place for everything but spooning," cried Todd. "The woods and +the lake are all right in fine weather, but what do you expect us to do +if it rains, mine host? D'you mean to say you haven't any little +retiring rooms?" + +"Not a thing unless you retire to the gun-room, but who comes up to the +woods to spoon in the house?" + +"Rolly never spoons, anyhow," announced Eva Darling, whose blue eyes, +however, were languishing toward the table. "But it makes him unhappy +to think he can't burst in on somebody----" + +"Hold your tongue, Evy. You don't know what you're talking about. +Because I'm quite insensible to your charms, don't fool yourself that +I'm an anchorite. I merely prefer brunettes." + +"Come, come, children!" Mr. Dinwiddie was rubbing his hands at the end +of the table covered with blue china and mounds of home-made cake. +"Stop quarrelling and sit down. Anywhere. No ceremony here." + +Some of the guests were in their seats. The others fairly swooped into +theirs, entirely regardless of anything so uneatable as neighbors. +Mrs. Larsing, a tall, red-haired, raw-boned New England woman, had +entered, bearing an enormous platter of fried trout, fresh from the +lake. Larsing, burnt almost as dark as an Indian, followed with a +plate of potatoes boiled in their jackets balanced on one hand, and a +small mountain of johnny cake on the other. He returned in a moment +with two large platters of sliced ham and cold boiled beef, and the +guests were left to wait on themselves. + +The dinner was the gayest Mary had ever attended, for even the +Sophisticates, however lively, preserved a certain formality in town; +when she was present, at all events. Rollo Todd, broke into periodical +war whoops, to Mr. Dinwiddie's manifest delight. The others burst into +song, while waiting for the travelling platters. Eva Darling got up +twice and danced by herself, her pale bobbed head and little white face +eerily suspended in the dark shadows of the great room. Other feet +moved irresistibly under the table. Good stories multiplied, and they +laughed uncontrollably at the worst of the jokes. + +They drank little, for the supply was limited, but the altitude was +four thousand feet and the thin light air went to their heads. They +were New Yorkers suddenly snatched from the most feverish pitch of +modern civilization, but no less primitive in soul than woodsmen who +had never seen a city, and the men would have liked to put on war paint +and run through the forest with tomahawks. + +Todd, when the dinner was over, did seize a tomahawk from the wall, +drape himself in an Indian blanket, and march up and down the room +roaring out terrific battle-cries. Three minutes later, Minor and +Bolton had followed his example, and marched solemnly behind him, +brandishing their weapons and making unearthly noises. Mary, from her +chair by the hearth, watched them curiously. At first it was merely +the exuberant spirits of their release and the unaccustomed altitude +that inspired them, but their countenances grew more and more sombre, +their eyes wilder, their voices more war-like. They were no longer +doing a stunt, they were atavistic. Their voices reverberated across +the lake. + +One by one the other men had joined them, until even Mr. Dinwiddie was +in the procession, marching with loud stamping feet round and round the +big room. The cries became shorter, menacing, abrupt, imperative. The +high lamps cast strange shadows on their lost faces. The voices grew +hoarse, dropped to low growls, their faces changed from ferocity to a +mournful solemnity until they looked even more like primal men than +before; but they continued their marching and stamping until Gora, who, +with the other women, had begun to fear that the rhythm would bring +down the house, had the inspiration to insert a Caruso disk into the +victrola; and as those immortal notes flung themselves imperiously +across that wild scene, the primitive in the men dropped like a leaden +plummet, and they threw themselves on the floor by the fire. But they +smoked their pipes in silence. They had had something that no woman +could give them nor share, and there was an ungallant wish in every +manly heart that they had left the women at home. + +Caruso was succeeded by Emma Eames, and the great lost diva by Farrar +and Scotti. Then, the concert over, a yawning party stumbled upstairs +to bed and not a sound was heard from them until the first bell rang at +seven o'clock next morning. + + + + +XLVII + +"You forgot me last night." + +"Yes, I did." Clavering smiled unrepentantly. + +"You looked horribly primitive." + +"No more so than I felt." + +They were in a boat on the lake. The air was crisp and cold although +the sun blazed overhead. Clavering was happy in a disreputable old +sweater that he kept at the camp, and baggy corduroy trousers tucked +into leggins, but Mary wore an angora sweater and skirt of a vivid +grass green and a soft sport hat of the same shade, the rim turned down +over eyes that might never have looked upon life beyond these woods and +mountains. Clavering was hatless and smoked his pipe lazily as he +pulled with long slow strokes. + +Other boats were on the lake, the women in bright sweaters and hats +that looked like floating autumn leaves, and the lake was liquid amber. +A breeze blew warm scents out of the woods. The water lilies had +opened to the sun and looked oddly artificial in their waxen beauty, at +the feet of those ancient trees. Stealthy footsteps behind that wall +of trees, or a sudden loud rustling, told of startled deer. The +distant peak looked to be enamelled blue and white, and the long slopes +of the nearer mountains were dark green under a blue mist, the higher +spruce rising like Gothic spires. + +Clavering smiled into her dancing eyes. "You look about fourteen," he +said tenderly. + +"I don't feel much more. I spent a month or two every year in these +woods--let us play a game. Make believe that I am Mary Ogden and you +have met me here for the first time and are deliberately setting out to +woo me. Begin all over again. It--you, perhaps!--was what I always +dreamed of up here. I used to row on the lake for hours by myself, or +sit alone in the very depths of the woods. Do you think that famous +imagination of yours could accomplish a purely personal feat? I +haven't nearly as much but I'm quite sure I could. And then--after--we +could just go on from here." + +He looked at her in smiling sympathy. "Done. We met last night, Miss +Ogden, and I went down at the first shot. I'm now out to win you or +perish in the attempt. But before we get down to business I'll just +inform you of a resolution I took a day or two ago. I shall get a +license the day we return and marry you the morning you sail." + +"Oh!" And then she realized in a blinding flash what she had fought +out of her consciousness: that she had shrunk from the consummation of +marriage, visualized a long period of intermittent but superficial +love-making and delightful companionship, an exciting but incomplete +idyl of mind and soul and senses. . . . Underneath always an undertone +of repulsion and incurable ennui . . . the dark residuum of immedicable +disillusion . . . that what she had really wanted was love with its +final expression eliminated. + +But she realized it only as a fact, . . . a psychological study of +another . . . buried down there in an artificial civilization she had +forgotten . . . in that past that belonged to Marie Zattiany . . . with +which Mary Ogden had nothing to do . . . her mind at last was as young +as her body, and this man had accomplished the miracle. The present +and the future were his. + +She looked up into his eyes, anxious but imperious, and answered +softly: "Why not?" + +"Exactly. I've no desire to take that long journey with you, but I'm +not going to take any chances, either. . . . Ah! Here's an idea that +beats the other hollow. When the party breaks up we'll go down to +Huntersville with them, marry there, and return to the camp. I don't +see how your Dolomites could beat this for a honeymoon. Why in thunder +should we trail all the way over to Europe to find seclusion when we +must return in two or three months, anyhow? It's a scandalous waste. +We can go to the Dolomites for our second honeymoon--we'll have one +every year. And this is much more in the picture if you want to be +Mary Ogden again. She never would have proposed anything so elaborate +and unnecessary. Say yes, and don't be more than a minute about it." + +Mary drew in her breath sharply. The plan made a violent and +irresistible appeal. There would be no long interval for possible +reversal, for contacts in which it might be difficult to hold fast to +her new faith. But what excuse could she make to leave him +later? . . . Later? Did Austria really exist? Did she care? Let the +future take care of itself. Her horizon, a luminous band, encircled +these mountains. . . . She smiled into his ardent eyes. "Very well. +I'll write to Hortense today and tell her to send me up a trousseau of +sorts. And now--you are to understand that you have not dared to +propose to me yet and are suffering all the qualms of uncertainty, for +I am a desperate flirt, and took a long walk in the woods this morning +with Mr. Scores." + +"Very well, Miss Ogden, I will now do my best to make a fool of myself, +and as soon as we return to camp will telegraph to New York for a +five-pound box of chocolates." + +"Hark! Hark! The Lark!" shouted Todd as he rowed past with Babette +Gold. "Only there isn't a lark or any other bird in these woods that +I've been able to discover." + +"Birds sing one at a time," shouted back Clavering. "Choir of jealous +soloists." + +He rowed into a little cove and they gazed into the dim green woods, +but the maple leaves grew almost to the ground, and it was like peering +through the tiny changing spaces of a moving curtain through which one +glimpsed green columns flecked with gold. + +He beached the boat, and they walked, single file, up a narrow run-way +made by the deer. Everywhere was that leafy whispering curtain. +Between the rigid spruce and soft maples were fragrant balsams, and +ferns, and an occasional pine with its pale green spikes. They passed +enormous boulders detached from the glaciers that had ground mountains +in their embrace, but today things of mere beauty in their coats of +pink and green and golden moss. + +Their footsteps made no sound on the mossy path, and they came suddenly +upon a deer and his doe drinking at a pool. But the antlered head was +flung back instantly, the magnificent buck wheeled on his hind legs, +gave a leap and went crashing through the forest snorting his +protesting fury. The doe scampered after, her white-lined tail +standing up perfectly straight. + +They sat down on a log, dried and warmed by the sun in this open space, +and talked for two hours. There was no need for careful avoidance of +dangerous subjects. Clavering had come to these woods nearly every +year since he had made the north his home, and she had forgotten +nothing of her woodland lore. When one is "in the woods," as the great +Adirondacks are familiarly called, one rarely talks of anything but +their manifold offerings. It is easy enough to forget the world. They +both had had their long tramps, their rough campings-out, more or less +exciting adventures. When a loud bell, hung in a frame outside the +camp, summoned them to dinner, they walked out briskly. Once, as the +trail widened, he touched her fingers tentatively. She let her own +curl for a moment, then gave him a provocative glance over her shoulder +and hurried on. + + + + +XLVIII + +Clavering, when making up his list with Mr. Dinwiddie (by courtesy), +had, with the exception of Todd, who was always the life of any party, +Gora, whom he always liked to have at hand, and Eva Darling, who was a +favorite of "The Ambassador to the Court of the Sophisticates," as Todd +had long since dubbed him, chosen his guests at random, taking whom he +could get, careful merely to ask those who, so far as he knew, were on +speaking terms. + +But he hardly could have gathered together a more congenial and lively +party, nor one more delighted to leave New York for the woods. Henry +Minor, editor of one of the intellectual and faintly radical magazines, +whose style was so involved in his efforts to be both "different" and +achieve an unremitting glitter, that he had recently received a +petition to issue a glossary, was as amiable as a puppy in the society +of his friends and when in the woods talked in words of one syllable +and discovered a mighty appetite. His wife, who had demonstrated her +originality by calling herself Mrs. Minor, was what is known as a +spiffing cook and a top-notch dresser. She had, in fact, the most +charming assortment of sports clothes in the camp. Eva Darling, who +danced for pastime and illustrated for what little bread she was +permitted to eat at home, was as lively as a grasshopper and scarcely +less devastating. Babette Gold wore her black hair in smooth bands on +either side of the perfect oval of her face, and had the sad and +yearning gaze of the unforgiven Magdalen, and she had written two +novels dealing with the domesticities of the lower middle class, +treating with a clinical wealth of detail the irritable monotonies of +the nuptial couch and the artless intimacies of the nursery. She +smoked incessantly, could walk ten miles at a stretch, and was as +passionless as a clam. Gerald Scores, who wore a short pointed beard +and looked the complete artist, was one of the chief hopes of the +intellectual drama cunningly commercialized; and as capable as +Clavering of shutting up his genius in a water-tight compartment, and +enjoying himself in the woods. He was mildly flirtatious, but looked +upon emotional intensity in the personal life of the artist as a +criminal waste of force. Halifax Bolton, who claimed to be the +discoverer of the Younger Generation (in fiction) and was just +twenty-eight himself, was a critic of formidable severity and the +author of at least five claques. The intense concentration of writing +routed his sense of humor, but he had as many droll stories in his +repertoire as Todd. His wife, the famous "Alberta Jones," fierce Lucy +Stoner, was the editor, at a phenomenal salary, of one of the "Woman's +Magazines," and wrote short stories of impeccable style and indifferent +content for the _Century_ and the _Dial_. + +They were all intimate friends and argued incessantly and amiably. And +they were all devoted to Mr. Dinwiddie, whom they addressed as +Excellence, without accent. + +[Illustration: At Dinwiddie's mountain lodge Clavering (Conway Tearle) +pleaded with Madame Zattiany (Corrine Griffith) to marry him. (_Screen +version of "The Black Oxen."_)] + +When Mary and Clavering arrived at the camp in response to the dinner +bell, Eva Darling, who wore very pretty pink silk bloomers under her +sport skirt, was turning hand-springs down the living-room, while the +rest of the party applauded vociferously, and Mrs. Larsing, who was +entering with the fried chicken, nearly dropped the platter. + +"Just in time, Madame Zattiany," cried Minor. "This is the sixth round +and she is panting----" + +But she interrupted him. "'Mary'--from this time on. I insist. You +make me feel an outsider. I won't be addressed in that formal manner +nor answer to that foreign name again." + +"Mary! Mary! Mary!" shouted the party with one accord, and Clavering +drew a long breath. He had wondered how she would manage to feel Mary +Ogden under the constant bombardment of a name that was a title in more +ways than one. But he might have trusted her to manage it!' + +In the afternoon Mrs. Minor suggested having tea in the woods, and they +all walked--single file--five miles to drink their tea and eat their +cakes (Larsing carrying the paraphernalia) in a pine grove on the +summit of a hill, and then walked back again, clamoring for supper. +Mary had been monopolized by Scores and Bolton, occasionally +vouchsafing Clavering a glance. During the evening they were all too +pleasantly tired and replete to dance or to play the charades they had +planned, but lay about comfortably, listening to a concert of alternate +arias and jazz. Clavering did not have a word alone with Mary. She +sat on one of the divans between Gora and Todd, while Scores lay on the +floor at her feet, his head on a cushion, one foot waving over a lifted +knee, the perfect picture of the contented playwright. They kept up a +continuous murmur, punctuated with gales of laughter. Clavering had +sulkily taken a chair beside Babette Gold, whose metallic humor +sometimes amused him, but she went sound asleep before his eyes, and he +could only gaze into the fire and console himself with visions of a +week hence, when these cursed people had gone and he was the most +fortunate man on earth. + +His room was downstairs next to Mr. Dinwiddie's, and he made up his +mind to let himself out softly at midnight, throw pebbles at her window +and whisper to her as she leaned from her casement. It was a scene +that if introduced into a modern play would have driven him from the +theatre and tipped his pen with vitriol next morning, but it appealed +to him, somehow, as a fitting episode in his own high romance. But he +was asleep before his head touched the pillow, and did not lift an +eyelash until the first bell roused him at seven o'clock. Then, +however, he lay for some time thinking, soberly. + + + + +XLIX + +The hour between seven and eight was a lively one in the upper +corridor. There was only one bathroom on the second floor. Scores and +Miss Gold took their morning plunge in the lake, but the rest preferred +the less drastic shower, and there was a continual darting to and fro +of forms clad in bath-robe or kimono; the vanquished peeping through +door-cracks waiting for the bathroom door to open--signal for another +wild rush down the hall, a scuffle at the door, a triumphant slam and +hoot, and loud vituperations from the defeated. Mary cannily waited +until the last, and came down, clad in a white sweater and heavy white +tweed skirt, after the others had cleared the generous platter of ham +and eggs, and the mountain of corn bread was a hillock of crumbs. + +"Oh, Mary!" said Mr. Dinwiddie, reprovingly, "and you as prompt as +royalty. In camp----" + +"I've no thought of going without my breakfast," said Mary +unrepentantly. "Ring the bell, Din." + +The men had risen, but Clavering alone had determination in his eye. +He pulled out a chair beside his own, and Mary accepted it gracefully, +waving a morning greeting to the others. + +"How good of you to keep this chair for me, Mr. Clavering," she +murmured. "It is shocking of me to be so lazy." + +"I'm sick of this game," growled Clavering. "If you act today----" + +"Shh! I am sure you are going to take me out on the lake immediately +after breakfast." + +His amiability was immediately restored, but his gaiety was somewhat +forced. "You are looking charming this morning, Miss Ogden. I wished +last night that there was a guitar or even a banjo in the camp, that I +might serenade beneath your window." + +And Mary actually blushed. She had slept dreamlessly, and between the +light mountain air and her new role, she felt as light-hearted as Eva +Darling, who was holding Mr. Dinwiddie's hand openly. + +"Oh, Excellence!" cried Mrs. Minor from the other end of the table. +"What do you say to having a picnic lunch? Didn't you tell me that you +knew of a lovely gorge about six miles from here? Steak broiled +between forked sticks! Potatoes roasted in the ashes! Flapjacks! +Heavenly." + +"Anything you say," replied Mr. Dinwiddie rather tonelessly. "Want to +put it to the vote?" + +"Let me answer for the crowd," commanded Todd. "It is our duty when in +the woods to eat our meals after as much unnecessary toil, and to enjoy +as much discomfort, as is humanly possible. Otherwise we might as well +stay in town. We'll hilariously tramp six miles with packs, sit on the +damp ground, extract earwigs, eat burnt steak and half-cooked potatoes, +and then tramp back again, our spirits gradually rising at the prospect +of a decent meal eaten in comfort----" + +"Kill-joy!" cried Minor. "Don't we come to the woods to tramp? I want +to lose twenty pounds this trip, and if you don't you ought to. I vote +we make Rolly carry a sack of potatoes." + +"It's agreed then?" asked Mr. Dinwiddie, veiling his hope that it was +not. But the assent was general. They were all as excited over the +prospect of a picnic as if they were slum children about to enjoy their +first charitable outing, and it was settled that they were to start at +ten o'clock. Mrs. Minor and Miss Gold went into the kitchen to help +Mrs. Larsing make sandwiches and salads, and the others ran down to the +lake. + + + + +L + +Clavering had tied the boat to a tree in a little inlet far down the +lake, and they were walking through a wood of spruce trees and balsam. +There was no leafy curtain here, although they could see one swaying on +either side through open vistas between the rigid columns of the spruce. +A trail was hardly necessary for there was no undergrowth, and although +the trees were set close together they were easily circumnavigated. + +It was some time since they had spoken. His face was graver than she had +ever seen it, and she waited for him to speak. She almost could feel +those unuttered words beating on the silence of the woods. There was +nothing else to break that silence but the faint constant murmur in the +tree-tops, and once, beyond that leafy curtain, the sudden trilling of a +solitary bird. Again, the tremendousness of this high isolation swept +over her. The camp and its gay party might have been on some far distant +lake. + +He put his arm around her firmly. "I am not going to pretend any +further," he said. "It is too big for that. And you have never been +anything but Mary Ogden to me, except, perhaps, on that night I have +practically dismissed from my mind. I called you Mary Ogden to myself +until I learned your new name, and I don't think that name has ever come +into my thoughts of you. And although you slipped on another skin with +it you were always Mary Ogden underneath. You needed a new name for your +new role, but, like any actress on the stage, it had nothing to do with +your indestructible personality. I say this because I want you to +understand that although I cannot play up to your little comedy any +longer and go through the forms of wooing you as if you were a girl--I +shouldn't like you half as well if you were--I do not think of you or +wish you to think of yourself as anything but Mary Ogden." + +He paused a moment, and she slipped her arm about him and they walked on +through the wood. + +"I cannot go on with it because these days up here that we can spend +almost altogether alone, if we will, are too sacred to waste on an +amusing but futile game. Do you realize that we do not know each other +very well? I sometimes wonder if you know me at all. From the time I +fell in love with you until you promised to marry me, I was at one sort +of fever-pitch, and when I got to work on that play I was at another. No +writer while exercising an abnormal faculty is quite sane. His brain is +several pitches above normal and his nerves are like hot taut wires--that +hum like the devil. If this were not the case he would not be an +imaginative writer at all. But he certainly is in no condition to reveal +himself to a woman. I have made wild and sporadic love to you--sporadic +is the word, for between my work and your friends, we have had little +time together--and I don't think I have ever taken you in my arms with +the feeling that you were the woman I loved, not merely the woman I +desired. And I believe that I love you even more than I desire you. You +are all that, but so much--so much--more." + +She had fixed her startled eyes on him, but he did not turn his head. + +"There has always been a lot of talk about the soul. Sentimentalists +wallow in the word, and realists deride it. What it really is I do not +pretend to know. Probably as good a word as any--and certainly a very +mellifluous word--for some obscure chemical combination of finer essence +than the obvious material part of us, that craves a foretaste of +immortality while we are still mortal. Perhaps we are descended from the +gods after all, and unless we listen when they whisper in this +unexplorable part of our being, we find only a miserable substitute for +happiness, and love turns to hate. Whatever it is that golden essence +demands, I have found it in you, and if circumstances had been different +I should have known it long ago. I know now what you meant that night +when you told me you had spent many distracted years looking for what no +man could give you, and although I doubted at that time I could even +guess what your own mysterious essence demanded, I know now--still +vaguely, for it is something as far beyond the defining power of words as +the faith of the Christian. It can never be seen, nor heard, nor +expressed, but it is there. And only once in a lifetime does any one +mortal have it to give to another. A man may love many times, but he is +a god-man only once." + +He held her more closely, for she was trembling, but he continued to walk +on, guiding her automatically through the trees, for his eyes were almost +vacant, as if their vision had been reversed. + +"I have had some hours of utter despair, in spite of the double +excitement of these past weeks, for it has seemed to me that I was no +nearer to you than I had been in the beginning. There was a sense of +unreality about the whole affair. At first it seemed to me the most +romantic thing that could happen to any man, and it was incredible that I +had been chosen the hero of such an extraordinary romance--intensified, +if anything, by the fact that it was set in roaring New York, where you +have to talk at the top of your voice to hear yourself think. . . . But +that passed--in a measure. I was beset by the fear--at times, I mean: I +was not always in a state to look inward--that you were slipping away. +Not that I doubted for a moment you would marry me, but that your +innermost inscrutable self had withdrawn, and that you accepted what must +have appeared to be my own attitude--that we were merely two vital +beings, who saw in each other a prospect of a superior sort of sensual +delight----" + +"That is not true," she interrupted him fiercely. "But you seemed to me +to be in that phase when a man can think of nothing else. If I hadn't +hoped--and believed--in you against all I knew of men, I'd never have +gone on with it." + +"I'm sure that is true. I must have disappointed you horribly. You had +felt the bond from the beginning, and I can imagine what you must have +dreamed I alone could give you. The trouble was that I didn't realize +that I alone was in fault, at the time. That boiling pot in my brain was +making too much noise. But I can assure you that I have returned to +normal, and if I thought I couldn't satisfy you I'd let you go without a +word. But you know that I can, don't you?" + +She nodded. + +"What is it, I wonder?" He sighed. "I wish I knew. But it is enough to +feel. . . . You must understand that in spite of the erratic creature +you have known since you refused to marry me at once and left me with no +resource but to let that play boil out, I am man first and a writer +incidentally. I also have a stronger ambition to be your husband than to +write plays. If I don't strangle what talent I have it is because I must +have the money to be independent of newspaper work. Otherwise I should +have neither peace of mind nor be able to live abroad with you. I know +that you cannot be happy here, and I am not a victim of that ancient myth +that two people who love each other can be happy anywhere. Environment +is half the battle--for the super-civilized, at all events. But you +shall never have another dose of the writer. I'll write my plays in New +York and rush production. The greater part of the year I shall spend +with you in Europe, and I cannot think of anything I'd like more--why, +the very night I first saw you I was longing with all my soul to get out +of New York and over to the other side of the world---- Why, Mary! You +are not crying? You! I never believed you could----" + +"I--I--did not believe it either. . . . But, are you sure? Could you +reconcile yourself? You seem so much a part of New York, of this strange +high-pitched civilization. If you are not sure--if you are only tired of +New York for the moment. . . . I--yes, I will! I'll give it all up and +live here. Of course I love New York itself--was it not my Mary Ogden +home? And there are delightful people everywhere. . . . No doubt my +dream of doing great things in Europe was mere vanity----" + +"Do you believe that?" + +"Perhaps not. But, after all, what I tried to do might be so easily +frustrated in that cauldron--why should I risk personal happiness--the +most precious and the rarest thing in life, for what may be a +chimera--wasted years and a wasted life. Why are we made as we are, if +to coax that hidden spark into a steady flame is not our highest destiny? +It certainly is our manifest right. . . . Dreams of doing great things +in this world are nine-tenths personal vanity. I believe that when we +leave this planet we go to a higher star, where our incompleteness here +will be made complete; and perhaps we are spared a term of probation if +we make ourselves as complete here as mortal conditions will permit. +And, possibly, once in a great while, two human beings are permitted to +effect that completeness together." + +They were both in an exalted mood. The wood was very still, its beauty +incomparable. And they might already have been on another star. + +Across that divine balsam-scented stillness came the deep imperative +notes of a bell. + +Clavering twitched his shoulders impatiently. + +"Let them go on their screaming picnic," he said. "We stay here. Did +you mean that, Mary?" + +"Yes, I meant it. We will not go to Europe at all--except to visit my +Dolomites some day. When you are writing I'll come up here." + +"I don't know that I shall ask that sacrifice of you. A part of your +brain is asleep now, but it is a very active and insistent part when +awake. In time you might revert--and resentment is a fatal canker; but +let's leave it open. It is generally a mistake to settle things +off-hand. Let them alone and they settle themselves." + +"Very well. At all events, while we are here, I shall not give it +another thought. The present at least is perfect." + +"Yes, it is perfect!" He put both arms about her. The past was a blank +to both. Their pulsing lips met in the wonder and the ecstasy of the +first kiss of youth, of profound and perfect and imperishable love. They +clung together exalted and exulting and for the moment at least they were +one. + + + + +LI + +They ate their dinner under the amused eyes of Mrs. Larsing, who had +served dinners a deux before to couples that had "lost their way." +Afterward they sat by the fire and talked desultorily: a great deal +about themselves; sometimes wandering to the subjects that had +interested them most before they had met each other. Clavering told +her of the many plays he had written, and burned; because in his +inordinate respect for the drama he had found them, when not wholly +bad, too good to be good enough. But the long practice had given him a +certain mastery of technique, and when she had set his brain on fire he +had had less trouble than most young playwrights in compelling his +imagination to adapt itself to the inexorable framework. He had always +felt that the imagination, what is called, for want of a better term, +the "creative faculty," was there, but it was lethargic; it sometimes +roused itself to spurts and flashes during wakeful nights, but slept +like a boa-constrictor that had swallowed a pig when he tried to invoke +it. No doubt, as Gora had told him, his life had been too easy and +agreeable; he made a good deal of money with no particular effort, he +was a favorite with the cleverest men and women in New York, and he had +no one to think of but himself. His mother was dead and his sisters +married. And there was no doubt that if you were on top, a +personality, New York was the most enchanting place in the world to +live in, just as it must be the most unsatisfactory for the poor and +insignificant. To have conquered New York meant more--several thousand +times more--than conquering all the rest of the United States put +together, with New York left out. Moreover, it was the only place +where you could have any real fun, if you wanted your fun with the sort +of men who drifted to New York from all parts of the nation as +naturally as pilgrims went to Mecca. If it was your fate to be a +politician, Washington, of course, was the goal, but that, in his +opinion, was merely moving from a little small-town to a big one, and +he thanked his stars he did not have to live in a place where there was +nothing but politics and society. In New York you had only to help +yourself to any phase of life you wanted. + +Mary smiled as she remembered the contemptuous remark of another New +York convert: "Oh, Washington is merely an island outside of New York," +and she fell to wondering what New York would have been like if it had +not been fed so persistently by those streams of eager and ambitious +brains debouching into it from every part of a by no means unambitious +and negligible commonwealth. Another island, probably. Certainly it +was the most exhilarating place in the world today, with its atmosphere +of invincible security and prosperity, its surging tides of life. No +wonder it was impossible for the intensive New Yorker to realize that +four thousand miles away a greater world was falling to ruin. + +She told him something of the old political life of Vienna, continually +agitated by some "Balkan Question"; of the general dislike of the +"Heir," whose violent death at Sarajevo had been the death knell of +European peace; apprehensions of the day when he should ascend the +throne, for he was intensely clerical and reactionary. If he had +survived until the old Emperor's death, and there had been no war, it +was doubtful if there would not have been a "palace revolution" within +six months of his succession. It was also possible that the people +would have had their revolution, for they were becoming enlightened and +discontented, and powerful men in the highest offices of the Government +were in sympathy with them. + +"I suppose you mean this Prince Hohenhauer for one," said Clavering. + +"Hohenhauer believed that every throne in Europe would be overturned +before the middle of the twentieth century, and that it was the part of +wise leaders to prepare not only themselves but the people for a +republican form of government. He had the greatest admiration for the +principles on which this Republic was founded, and said that Europe was +to be congratulated that we had made the mistakes for her to avoid. +Much as the rest of the world congratulates itself that Bolshevism was +tried out in Russia and made a ghastly mess of improving the condition +of the underdog before the masses in other countries had time to lose +their heads. I've no doubt that he will be the next Chancellor of +Austria, and that when he gets the reins of power in his hands, he'll +keep a firm hold on them, which is more than any one else has done----" + +"What do you suppose has brought him to this country?" + +"I fancy he has come to obtain the moral support of the American +Government in whatever plan he may have made for putting Austria on her +feet again." + +"Have you any idea of what that plan may be?" Clavering was watching +her intently, his ear attuned to every inflection of her voice. But +her tones were as impersonal as if reciting a page out of ancient +history, and her gaze was frank and direct. + +"I can only guess. Personally I should think his present plan would be +an alliance with Bavaria and other South German States--a South German +Confederacy. That would make a powerful combination, and as Bavaria +has always hated Prussia, she would be the last to lend herself to any +schemes of vengeance the north may cherish--particularly if she remains +a republic. And, of course, she would assume her share of the Allied +debt. . . . It would be a wonderful thing if it could be brought off. +Vienna"--her eyes sparkled--"Vienna, of course, would be the +capital--and again one of the great capitals of Europe. Perhaps the +greatest." + +"Were you ever closely associated with Hohenhauer in any of his +schemes?" + +"He had no immediate schemes then. He only awaited events. While the +old Emperor lived no move was possible; he was most illogically adored +by his people. But Hohenhauer told me more than once that he was only +biding his time." + +"And what of that preposterous estate of his in the old +Galicia--sixteen million acres, wasn't it? Did he expect to hang on to +that under a popular form of government?" + +"He would have retained the castle and a few hundred acres, for he +naturally had a great affection for his birthplace; and divided the +rest among the people, whose natural inheritance it was. But he could +do nothing until the proper time, for such an act would undoubtedly +have resulted in confiscation and banishment. He would have +accomplished no good, and lost his immediate power for usefulness +besides. Like all those old-world statesmen, he knows how to play a +waiting game." + +"Sounds like a great man--if there are any such." + +"I should certainly call him a great man," said Mary, but still with +that note of complete personal indifference in her voice. "He not only +has immense brain power and personality, but farsight and a thorough +understanding of the people, and sympathy with them. Even the +Social-Democrats liked and trusted him. And he has more than the +ordinary politician's astuteness in trimming his sails; but coming out, +nevertheless, at the end of the course exactly at the point he had +aimed for. If he captures the bridge, to change the simile, he'll +steer Austria out of her deep waters. No doubt of that." + +"Exactly what was the part you intended to play in Austria?" he asked. +"You have never told me." + +"I thought we were not to talk of that. It is impossible to make +deliberate plans, anyhow. Only, there is a part for any one who loves +the country and has the brains and the wealth and the political +knowledge to help her." + +"I have never quite understood why it should be Austria. Why not +Hungary? After all----" + +"I never cared for anything in Hungary but the castle, which was +wonderfully situated in the mountains of Transylvania. The +surroundings were wild beyond description and the peasants the most +picturesque and interesting in Europe. But even if Buda Pesth had +appealed to me socially, which it never did, there were deep personal +reasons that made me dislike Hungary--I never spent a night in the +Zattiany palace until I turned it into a hospital. But Vienna! I +always lived in Vienna when I could, even during my first years in +Europe, and later I made it my home. It is the most fascinating city, +to me at least, in the world. Besides, Hungary is in the hands of +Horthy and Bethlen, who have no more idea of making a republic of it +than of permitting any one else to be king. There is no role for----" + +"Hullo! Hullo! Hullo!" + +Clavering sprang to his feet. "Shall we take the bull by the horns and +go to meet them?" he asked. "Poor devils! They'll hate us for looking +so fresh." + + + + +LII + +They were forced to submit to a vast amount of good-natured chaffing, +for they had invited it, but it was the sort of chaffing with which +this amiable company would have victimized any pair that had recently +met, and found each other's society suddenly preferable to that of the +crowd. + +They were all very tired. Mr. Dinwiddie, after refreshing his guests +and himself with highballs, went to his room and to bed. Rollo Todd +announced that it was time to go back to New York to rest, and all fell +down on the divans or floor for half an hour before going up to revive +themselves with a hot and cold shower. + +But fatigue passes away quickly in the mountains. They were as lively +as ever the next morning, although they unanimously elected to spend +the day on the lake or idling in the woods. Clavering and Mary walked +to another gorge he knew of and sat for hours among boulders and ferns +on the brink of the stream, and surrounded by the maples with their +quietly rustling leaves. + +When they returned, Miss Darling, attired in ferns, was executing what +she called the wood-nymph's dance, and Todd and Minor were capering +about her making horrible faces and pretending to be satyrs. The rest +were keeping time with hands and feet. All had agreed that not a +letter nor a newspaper should be brought to the camp during their eight +days' absence from civilization. Freedom should be complete. It +seemed to Clavering that the expression of every face had changed. +They all wore the somewhat fixed and dreamy look one unconsciously +assumes "in the woods." It was only a few moments before the onlookers +had joined hands and were dancing around the central figures; chanting +softly; closing in on them; retreating; turning suddenly to dance with +one another . . . but with a curious restraint as if they were reviving +some old classic of the forest and were afraid of abandonment. Almost +unconsciously Clavering and Mary joined in the dance. Only Mr. +Dinwiddie, a smile half-puzzled, half-cynical, in his eyes, remained a +spectator. They swayed rhythmically, like tides, the chanting was very +low and measured, the faces rapt. Even Todd and Minor looked exalted. +Impossible to imagine they had ever been Sophisticates. They were +creatures of the woods, renegades for a time, perhaps, but the woods +had claimed them. + +Then Mr. Dinwiddie did an impish thing. He inserted a disk in the +victrola, and at once they began to jazz, hardly conscious of the +transition. + + + + +LIII + +At nine o'clock the moon was on the lake, and several couples, +announcing their need of exercise, went out in boats. + +Clavering rowed with long swift strokes until the others were far +behind. Mary, muffled in a warm white coat and with a scarf twisted +round her head like an Oriental turban, lay on a pile of cushions in +the bottom of the boat, her head against the seat. She had the +sensation of floating in space. From the middle of the lake the forest +on every side was a mass of shadows, and nothing was visible but that +high vast firmament sprinkled with silver--silver dust scattered by the +arrogant moon. The great silver disk, which, Mary murmured, looked +like the tomb of dead gods, seemed to challenge mortals as well as +planets to deny that he was lord of all, and that even human emotions +must dwindle under his splendor. + +"The moon is so impersonal," she sighed. "I wonder why the poets have +made so much of it? I'm sure it cares nothing about lovers--less about +poets--and thinks the old days, when the world was a heaving splitting +chaos, and glaciers were tearing what was already made of it to bits, +were vastly superior to the finished perfection of form today. Like +all old things. If it has the gods in there, no doubt it wakes them up +periodically to remind them how much better things were in their time. +Myself, I prefer the sun. It is far more glamoring." + +"That is because you can't look it in the eye," said Clavering, smiling +down on her. "You really don't know it half as well, and endow it with +all sorts of mysterious attributes. I think I prefer the moon, because +it is inimitable. You can counterfeit the light and warmth and heat of +the sun, and even its color. But silver is used to describe the +complexion of the moon only for want of a better word. It is neither +silver nor white, but is the result of some mysterious alchemy known +only to itself. And its temperature does not affect our bodies at all. +You cannot deny that it has exercised a most beneficent effect on the +spirits of lovers and poets for all the centuries we know of. Every +pair of lovers has some cherished memories of moonlight, and poets +would probably have starved without its aid. It is a most benevolent +old god, and the one thing connected with Earth that doesn't mind +working overtime." + +"I'm sure it must be frayed at the edges and hollow at the core. And +when it is in the three-quarters it looks exactly like a fish that has +lost its platter." + +"If you continue to insult the moon, I shall take you back to camp and +ask Minor to teach you how to jazz." + +"I love the moon," said Mary contentedly, and pushing a cushion between +her head and the sharp edge of the seat, "I'd like to stay out all +night." + +They continued to talk nonsense for a while and then fell silent. When +the boat was almost at the head of the lake Clavering turned it into a +long water lane where the maples met overhead and the low soft leaves +kept up a continual whispering. It was as dark as a tunnel, but he +knew every inch of the way and presently shot out into another lake, +small enough for its shores to be sharply outlined under the full light +of the moon, which appeared to have poised itself directly overhead. + +Here it was less silent than on the larger lake. There was a chorus of +frogs among the lily pads, an owl hooted wistfully in the forest, and +they heard an angry snort from the underbrush, followed by a trampling +retreat. + +"I fancy if we had lingered quietly in that passage we should have seen +deer drinking from that patch of sward over there," said Clavering. +"But I was not thinking of deer." + +"What were you thinking of?" + +"Why--you--in a way, I suppose. If I was thinking at all. I was +merely filled with a vast content. God! I have found more than I ever +dreamed any man could imagine he wanted. Vastly more than any man's +deserts. It is an astonishing thing for a man to be able to say." + +Mary sat up suddenly. "Be careful. A little superstition is a good +thing to keep in one's bag of precautions." + +"I feel good enough to disdain it. Of course I may be struck by +lightning tomorrow, or the car may turn turtle when we go down to be +married, but I refuse to contemplate anything of the sort. I feel as +arrogant as that moon up there, who may have all the gods inside him, +and do not mind proclaiming aloud that earth is heaven." + +"Well--it is." She was not superstitious herself, but she was suddenly +invaded by a sinister inexplicable fear, and smiled the more brightly +to conceal it. But she lowered her eyelids and glanced hastily about +her, wondering if an enemy could be hiding in those dark woods. She +was not conscious of possessing enemies venomous enough to assassinate +her, but she knew little of Clavering's life after all, and he was the +sort of man who must inspire hate as well as love . . . danger +assuredly was lurking somewhere . . . it seemed to wash against her +brain, carrying its message. . . . But there were no wild beasts in +the Adirondacks, nor even reptiles. . . . Nor a sound. The owl had +given up his attempt to entice his lady out for a rendezvous and the +frogs had paused for breath. There was not the faintest rustle in the +forest except those eternally whispering leaves and the faint surging +tide in the tree-tops. That ugly invading fear was still in her eyes +as she met his. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. "You look frightened." + +"I am a little--I have a curious feeling of uneasiness--as if something +were going to happen." + + + "'Out of the depths of the hollow gloom, + On her soul's bare sands she heard it boom, + The measured tide of the sea of doom,'" + +he quoted lightly. "I fancy when one is too happy, the jealous gods +run the quicksilver of our little spiritual barometers down for a +moment, merely to remind us that we are mortals after all." + +The shadow on her face lifted, and she smiled into his ardent eyes. + +"Ah, Mary!" he whispered. "Mary!" + + + + +LIV + +As they left the boathouse an hour later and walked up the steep path +to the camp, once more that sense of coming disaster drove into her +mind and banished the memory of the past hour, when she had forgotten +it. What did it mean? She recalled that she had had dark +presentiments before in her life, and they had always come in the form +of this sudden mental invasion, as if some malignant homeless spirit +exulted in being the first to hint at the misfortune to come. + +But the camp was silent. Every one, apparently, had gone to bed, and +slept the sleep of valiant souls and weary bodies. One lamp burned in +the living-room, and Clavering turned it out and they parted +lingeringly, and she went up to her room. + +She had barely taken off her coat and scarf when she heard a tap on her +door. She stared for a moment in panic, then crossed the room swiftly +and opened it. Mr. Dinwiddie, wrapped against the cold in a padded +dressing-gown and with noiseless slippers on his feet, entered and +closed the door behind him. + +"What has happened?" she demanded sharply. "Something. I know it." + +"Don't look so frightened, my dear. I have no bad news for you. Only +it's rather annoying, and I knew I shouldn't get a word alone with you +in the morning." + +"What is it? What is it?" + +"I had this telegram an hour ago from Trent." He took a sheet of paper +from the pocket of his dressing-gown, covered with handwriting. "Of +course those bumpkins down in Huntersville took their time about +telephoning it up. Luckily the telephone is over in Larsing's room----" + +Mary had snatched the paper from his hand and was reading it aloud. + + +"Hohenhauer took morning train for Huntersville stop will spend night +there and go to camp in morning stop must see M. Z. stop don't let +anything prevent stop very important stop he will not ask you to put +him up stop thought best to warn you as you might be planning +expedition. Trent." + + +"Hohenhauer!" exclaimed Mary, and now, oddly enough, she felt only +astonishment and annoyance. "Why should he come all this way to see +me? He could have written if he had anything to say." And then she +added passionately, "I won't have him here!" + +"I thought perhaps you'd rather go down to Huntersville to see him," +said Mr. Dinwiddie, looking out of the window. "Besides, he would make +thirteen at table. I can take you down in the morning and telephone +him to wait for us at the same time I order the motor to be sent up." + +"I don't know that I'll see him at all." + +"But you must realize that if you don't go down he'll come here. I +don't fancy he's the sort of man to take that long journey and be put +off with a rebuff. From what I know of him he not only would drive up +here, but, if you had gone off for the day, wait until you returned. I +don't see how you can avoid him." + +"No, you are right. I shall have to see him--but what excuse can I +give Lee? He must never know the truth, and he'll want to go with us." + +"I've thought of that. I'll tell him that Trent is sending up some +important papers for you to sign, and as some one is obliged to go to +Huntersville to check up the provisions that will arrive on the train +tomorrow morning, I've told Trent's clerk to wait there, as I prefer to +see to the other matter myself. I--I--hate deceiving Lee----" + +"So do I, but it cannot be helped. Did he bring me up here to get me +away from Hohenhauer?" + +Mr. Dinwiddie's complexion suddenly looked darker in the light of the +solitary candle. "Well--you see----" + +"I suspected it for a moment and then forgot it. No doubt it is the +truth. So much the more reason why he should know nothing about that +man's following me. Why should he be made uneasy--perhaps unhappy? +But what excuse to go off without him?" + +"They have a Ford down there. I'll tell them to send that. With the +provisions there'll be no room for four people." + +"That will answer. And I'll give Hohenhauer a piece of my mind." + +"But, Mary, you don't suppose that one of the most important men in +Europe, with limited time at his disposal, would take that journey +unless he had something very important indeed to say to you? Not even +for your _beaux yeux_, I should think, or he'd have asked Trent to get +him an invitation to spend several days at the camp. I must say I'm +devoured with curiosity----" + +Mary shrugged her shoulders. "I'm too sleepy for curiosity. What time +must we start?" + +"About nine, if the car gets here on time. It takes two hours to come +up the mountain, and they'll hardly be induced to start before seven. +I'll tell Larsing to telephone at six." + +"It's now eleven. We have eight hours for sleep. Good night, and +believe that I am immensely grateful. You've arranged it all +wonderfully." + +She stamped her foot as Mr. Dinwiddie silently closed the door. + +"Moritz! _What_ does he want? _Why_ has he followed me here? But he +has no power whatever over my life, so why should I care what he wants? +. . . But that this--this--should be interrupted!" + +She undressed without calm and slept ill. + + + + +LV + +The flight next morning proved simpler of accomplishment than she had +anticipated. The men were going to a neighboring lake to fish, Larsing +having excited them with the prospect of abundant trout; and why fish +in your own lake when you may take a tramp of several miles through the +woods to another? They begged Clavering to go with them, and as man +cannot exist for long in the rarefied atmosphere of the empyrean +without growing restive, he was feeling rather let down, and cherished +a sneaking desire for a long day alone with men. + +But he told Mary that he did not want to go out of their woods and down +to that hideous village for any such purpose as to watch her sign +papers, and he stood on the landing waving his hat as she and Mr. +Dinwiddie crossed the lake in the motor boat to the waiting Ford. For +once his intuitions failed him, and he tramped off with the other men, +his heart as light as the mountain air, and his head empty of woman. + +Mary looked back once at the golden-brown lake, set like a jewel in its +casket of fragrant trees, and wondered if she would see it again with +the same eyes. She was both resentful and uneasy, although she still +was unable to guess what harm could come of this interview. If +Hohenhauer wanted her to go to Washington she could refuse, and he had +long since lost his old magnetic power over her. + +But as the Ford bumped down the steep road between the woods she felt +less like Mary Ogden every moment . . . those mists of illusion to +withdraw from her practical brain . . . returning to the heights where +they belonged . . . she wondered how she could have dared to be so +unthinkingly happy . . . the sport of the cynical gods? . . . +sentimental folly that she had called exaltation? After all! After +all! + +Could she recapture that mood when she returned? Certainly, whatever +this man wanted of her, it would be hard facts, not illusions, he would +invite her to deal with. Even when he had been the most passionate of +lovers, his brain had always seemed to stand aloof, luminous and +factual. He had not an illusion. He saw life as it was, and although +his manners were suave and polished, and his voice the most beautiful +she had ever heard, he could be brutally direct when it suited his +purpose. For a moment she hated him as ardently as she had for a time +after he left her. + +They descended into lower and lower altitudes until the air grew +intensely hot, physically depressing after the cold wine of the +mountains; finally, ten minutes ahead of time, they drove into the +doubly depressing village of Huntersville. It was no uglier than +thousands of other villages and small towns that look as if built to +demonstrate the American contempt for beauty, but the fact mitigated +nothing to eyes accustomed to the picturesqueness of mountain villages +in Europe, where the very roofs are artistic and the peasants have the +grace to wear the dress of their ancestors. + +There were a few farms in the valley, but if Huntersville had not been +a junction of sorts, it is doubtful if it would have consisted of +anything but a "general store," now that the saloons were closed. +There was one long crooked street, with the hotel at one end, the Store +at the other (containing the post office), and a church, shops for +automobile supplies, two garages, a drug store, and a candy store; +eight or ten cottages filled the interstices. Men were working in the +fields, but those in Huntersville proper seemed to be exhausted with +loafing. Campers going in and out of the woods needing shelter for a +night, and people demanding meals between trains, kept the dismal +looking hotel open and reasonably clean. + +The situation was very beautiful, for the mountains rose behind and +there was a brawling stream. + +Mr. Dinwiddie having ascertained that "Mr." Hohenhauer had received his +message and gone for a walk, leaving word he would return at ten +o'clock, Mary went into the hotel parlor to wait for him. The room was +seldom used, patrons, local and otherwise, preferring the Bar of happy +memories, and it smelled musty. She opened the windows and glanced +about distastefully. The walls were covered with a faded yellow paper, +torn in places, and the ceiling was smoked and fly-specked. The worn +thin carpet seemed to have been chosen for its resemblance to turtle +soup squirming with vermicelli. Over the pine mantel, painted yellow, +were the inevitable antlers, and on a marble-topped table were badly +executed water lilies under a glass dome. The furniture was horsehair, +and she wondered how she and the Austrian statesman were to preserve +their dignity on the slippery surface. Then she heard his voice in the +hall as he stopped to speak to Mr. Dinwiddie, and she glanced out +curiously. + +She had not seen him since a year before the war, but he was little +changed; improved if anything, for there was more color in his formerly +pale face. He was as straight and as thin as ever, his fine head +erect, without haughtiness; his dark eyes under their heavy lids had +the same eagle glance. He was still, she concluded dispassionately, +the handsomest man she had ever seen, even for an Austrian, the +handsomest race on earth; he combined high intelligence with a classic +regularity of feature, grace, dignity; and when the firm lips relaxed +he had a delightful smile. If it had not been for his hair, very thick +white hair, he would have passed for little over forty. He wore loose +gray travelling clothes, and every detail was as quietly faultless as +ever. + +She went hastily to the speckled mirror beneath the antlers and +surveyed herself anxiously. Her own travelling suit of dark green +tweed, with its white silk shirt, was as carelessly perfect as his own, +and the little green turban, with its shaded, drooping feather, +extremely becoming. No color set off her fairness like green, but she +turned away with a sigh. It was not the eyes of the past three days +that looked back at her. + +And then she remembered that he had not seen her since the renaissance. +The moment was not without its excitements. + +Their meeting was excessively formal. + +"Frau Graefin." + +"Excellenz." + +She lifted her hand. He raised it to his lips. + +And then he drew back and looked at her with penetrating but smiling +eyes. + +"I had heard, of course," he said gallantly, "but I hardly was +prepared. May I say, Frau Graefin, that you look younger than when I +had the pleasure of meeting you first?" + +"I assure you that I feel many years younger," she replied lightly. +"May I add that I am delighted to see that you are in the best of +health? Your rest in Switzerland has done you good, although it would +have been better for Austria had it been shorter. Shall we sit down?" + +Two tall dignified bodies adjusted themselves to chairs both slippery +and bumpy. He had closed the door behind him. + +"Now that the amenities are over, Excellenz," she said with the +briskness she had picked up from her American friends, "let us come to +the point. I infer you did not take a day's journey and put up with +this abominable hotel to tell me that you are forming a Federation of +Austria and the South German States. You were sometimes kind enough to +ask my help in the past, but I have no influence in Washington." + +"No, dear Graefin. I do not need your assistance in Washington. But I +do need it in Austria, and that is why I am here." + +"But it is--was--my intention to return to Austria almost immediately. +Surely Judge Trent must have told you." + +"Yes, dear Graefin, he told me, but he also told me other things. I +shall not waste the little time at our disposal in diplomacy. He told +me that you have the intention to marry a young American." There was +the faintest accent on the _young_. + +Mary was annoyed to feel herself flushing, but she answered coldly, "It +is quite true that I intend to marry Mr. Clavering." + +"And I have come here to ask you to renounce that intention and to +marry me instead." + +"You!" Mary almost rose from her chair. "What on earth do you mean?" + +"My dear Marie." He renounced formalities abruptly. "I think you will +be able to recall that whether I wrapped my meaning in diplomatic +phrases or conveyed it by the blunter method, it was always +sufficiently clear to the trained understanding. I have never known a +more trained or acute understanding than yours. I wish you to marry +me, and I beg you to listen to my reasons." + +She gave the little foreign shrug she had almost forgotten. "I will +listen, of course. Need I add that I am highly honored? If I were not +so astonished, no doubt I should be more properly appreciative of that +honor. Pray let me hear the reasons." Her tone was satirical, but she +was beginning to feel vaguely uneasy. + +Neither her words nor her inflections ruffled the calm of that long +immobile face with its half-veiled powerful eyes. + +"Let us avert all possible misunderstandings at the beginning," he said +suavely. "I shall not pretend that I have fallen in love with you +again, for although my gallantry prompts me to such a natural +statement, I have not the faintest hope of deceiving you. What I felt +for you once can never be revived, for I loved you more than I have +ever loved any woman; and when such love burns itself out, its ashes +are no more to be rekindled than the dust of the corpse. You thought I +fell in love with my pretty young wife, but I was merely fond and +appreciative of her. I knew that the end had come for us, and that if +I did not recognize that sad fact, you would. My marriage, which, as +you know, was imperative, afforded a graceful climax to a unique +episode in the lives of both of us. There was no demoralizing interval +of subterfuge and politely repressed ennui. On the other hand, it did +not degenerate into one of those dreary and loosely knit _liaisons_, +lasting on into old age. We left each other on the heights, although +the cliff was beginning to crumble." + +"Really, Moritz! I hope you have not come up here to indulge in +sentimental reminiscence. Why rake up that old--episode? I assure you +I have practically forgotten it." + +"And I can assure you that I never felt less sentimental. I wish +merely to emphasize the fact that it was complete in itself, and +therefore as impossible of resuscitation as the dead. Otherwise, you +might naturally leap to the conclusion that I was an elderly romantic +gentleman----" + +"Oh, never! It is obvious that you are inclined to be brutally frank. +But, as you said, time is short." + +"If what I said sounded brutal, it was merely to remind you that +love--the intense passionate love I have no doubt you feel for this +young man who helps you to realize your renewed youth--never lasts. +And when this new love of yours burns itself out--you never had the +reputation of being very constant, dear Marie--you will have an alien +young man on your hands, while that remarkable brain of yours will be +demanding its field of action. You are European, not American--why, +even your accent is stronger than mine! That may be due to an +uncommonly susceptible ear, but as a matter of fact your mind has a +stronger accent still. You became thoroughly Europeanized, one of us, +and--I say this quite impartially--the most statesman-like woman in +Europe. Your mind was still plastic when you came to us--and your +plastic years are long over, _ma chere_. If your mind had become as +young as your body, you would have bitterly resented it. You were +always very proud of that intellect of yours--and with the best of +reasons." + +Mary was staring out of the window. She recalled that she had faced +the fact of the old mind in the young brain when she first discovered +that she loved Clavering. How could she have forgotten . . . for a few +short weeks--and up there? . . . She raised her eyes to the mountain. +From where she sat she could not see the top. It looked like an +impenetrable rampart, rising to the skies. + +"Can you tell me with honesty and candor," he continued in those same +gentle tones that had always reminded her of limpid water running over +iron, "--and for all your subtlety your mind is too arrogant and +fearless to be otherwise than honest _au fond_--that you believe you +could remain satisfied with love alone? For more, let us say, than a +year?" + +She moved restlessly. "Perhaps not. But I had planned to live in +Vienna. He would spend only a part of the year there with me. His own +interests are here, of course. It would be a perfectly workable +arrangement." + +"Are you sure? If you are, I must conclude that in the mental +confusion love so often induces, you have lost temporarily your +remarkable powers of clear and coherent thought. Do you not realize +that you would no longer be Graefin Zattiany, you would be Mrs. Lee +Clavering? Do you imagine for a moment that you could play the great +role in Austrian affairs you have set yourself, handicapped by an +American name--and an American husband? Not with all your gifts, your +wealth, your genius for playing on that complex instrument called human +nature. Austria may be a Republic of sorts, but it is still Austria. +You would be an American and an outsider--a presumptuous interloper." + +She stared at him aghast. "I--oh!--I had not thought of that. It +seems incomprehensible--but I had never thought of myself as Mrs. +Clavering. I have been Graefin Zattiany so long!" + +"And your plans were well-defined, and your ambition to play a great +role on the modern European stage possessed you utterly until you met +this young man--is it not so?" + +"Oh, yes, but----" + +"I understand. It must have been a quite marvellous experience, after +those barren years, to feel yourself glowing with all the vitalities of +youth once more; to bring young men to your feet with a glance and to +fancy yourself in love----" + +"Fancy!" She interrupted him passionately. "I am in love--and +more--more than I ever was with you. Until I met him I did not even +guess that I had the capacity to love again. It was the last thing I +wanted. Abhorrent! But . . . but . . . he has something for me that +you--not even you--ever had . . . that I had given up hope of finding +long before I met you. . . ." + +She stopped, coloring and hesitating. She had an intense desire to +make this man understand, but she shivered, as if her proud reserve +were a visible garment that she had torn off and flung at his feet, +leaving her naked to his ironic gaze. + +He was leaning forward, regarding her through his veiled eyes. Their +light was not ironic, but it was very penetrating. + +"And what is that something, Marie?" he asked softly. + +"I--you know those things cannot be put into words." + +"I fancy they can. It is merely one more delusion of the senses. One +of the imagination's most devilish tricks. I had it for you and you +for me--for a time! In the intimacies of either a _liaison_ or +matrimony that supreme delusion is soon scattered, _ma chere_." + +"But I believe it." She spoke obstinately, although that brawling +stream seemed to take on a note of derision. + +"Do you? Not in the depths of your clear brain. The mist on top is +dense and hot--but, alas for those mists!" + +"I refuse to discuss it," she said haughtily. "Why do you wish to +marry me yourself?" + +"Because I need your partnership as much as you need mine. Even if you +returned to Austria unencumbered, you could accomplish less alone than +with a man of equal endowments and greater power beside you. Two +strong brains and characters with similar purpose can always accomplish +more together than alone. I intend to rule and to save Austria, and I +need you, your help, your advice, your subtlety, your compelling +fascination, and your great personality." + +"Do you intend to make yourself king?" she asked insolently, although +his words had thrilled her. + +"You know that is a foolish question. I do not even use my title +there. But I intend to make Vienna the capital of a great and powerful +Republic, and I therefore ask you to renounce, before it is too late, +this commonplace and unworthy dream of young love, and stand beside me. +Youth--real youth--and the best years of maturity are the seasons for +love. You and I have sterner duties. Do you suppose that I would +sacrifice Austria for some brief wild hope of human happiness? And you +are only two years younger than I am. Nothing can alter the march of +the years. Moreover, you owe to Austria this wonderful rejuvenescence +of yours. Steinach is not an American." + +She stamped her foot. "You descend to quibbling. And I have more than +repaid Austria all that I owe her." + +"You have given her money and service, but she expects more, and you +pledged yourself to her before you left. And don't forget that she is +the country of your deliberate adoption. A far more momentous thing +than any mere accident of birth. You did not return to America when +Zattiany died. You never even paid her a brief visit after your +marriage. You would not be here now but for the imperative necessities +of business. You are Austrian to your marrow." + +"I had a role thrust on me and I played it. My parents came to Europe +every year until they died. When Zattiany went, there were no ties to +draw me back and habit is strong. But--underneath--I don't believe +that I have ever been other than Mary Ogden." + +She blushed as she said it, and he looked at her keenly. + +"I think I understand. He is a very clever young man--of an +outstanding cleverness, I am told. Or it may be that he is merely in +love, and love's delusions are infinite--for a time. I doubt if a +young man with so brilliant an intellect would, if he faced himself in +honest detachment, admit that he believed anything of the sort. Nor do +you, my dear Marie, nor do you." + +She twisted her hands together, but would not raise her eyes. He bent +forward again and said harshly: + +"Marie! Glance inward. Do you see nothing that causes you to feel +ashamed and foolish? Do you--_you_--fail to recognize the indecency of +a woman of your mental age permitting herself to fancy that she is +experiencing the authentic passions of youth? Are you capable of +creating life? Can you love with unsullied memory? Have you the +ideals of youth, the plasticity, the hopes, the illusions? Have you +still even that power of desperate mental passion, so often +subordinating the merely physical, of the mature woman who seeks for +the last time to find in love what love has not? The final delusion. +No, Marie. Your revivified glands have restored to you the appearance +and the strength of youth, but, although you have played with a role +that appealed to your vanity, to your histrionic powers--with yourself +as chief audience--your natural desire to see if you could not be--to +yourself, again--as young as you appear, you have no more illusion in +your soul than when you were a withered old woman in Vienna." + +She looked at him with hostile but agonized eyes. + +"Your calculated brutality does not affect me in the least. And you +are merely one more victim of convention--like those old women in New +York. It never has been, therefore it never can be. Many women are +not able to bear children, even in youth." + +"It is your turn to quibble. Tell me: until you were attracted to this +young man--attracted, no doubt, because he was so unlike the European +of your long experience--had you deviated from the conclusion, arrived +at many years before, that you had had enough of love--of sex--to +satisfy any woman? You implied as much to me a few moments since. I +know the mental part of you so well that I am positive the mere thought +would have disgusted you. If you had been starved all your life it +would be understandable, but you had experimented and deluded yourself +again and again--and you were burnt out when you came to Vienna to +live--burnt out, not only physically but spiritually. Your imagination +was as arid as a desert without an oasis. If any man had made love to +you then, you would merely have turned on him your weary disillusioned +eyes, or laughed cynically at him and yourself. Your keen aesthetic +sense would have been shocked. You were playing then an important and +ambitious role, you had the greatest political salon in Vienna--in +Europe--and you went away to rest that you might continue to play it, +not that you might feel fresh enough once more to have _liaisons_ like +other foolish old women. . . . But the part you played then was a +bagatelle to the one awaiting you now. With your splendid mental +gifts, your political genius, your acquired statecraft, your wealth, +and your restored beauty, you could become the most powerful woman in +Europe. But only as my wife. Even you are not strong enough to play +the part alone. There is too much prejudice against women to permit +you to pull more than hidden strings. Masculine jealousy of women is +far more irritable in a democracy than in a monarchy, where women of +rank are expected to play a decorative--and tactful part in politics. +But if they step down and come into conflict with ambitious men of the +people, class jealousy aggravates sex jealousy. You might have a salon +again and become a power somewhat in the old fashion, but you never +would be permitted to play a great public role. But as the consort (I +think the word will pass) of the President--or Chancellor--you could +wield almost sensational power." + +"I should probably be quite overshadowed by you," she murmured; but she +was hardly conscious of speaking. Her brain was whirling. + +"Your position would be too eminent for that, even if I wished it, +which I assuredly should not. I value you too highly. Perhaps I am +one of the few men in Europe who admit--and believe--that a woman may +have as powerful and accomplished an intellect as any man. I did not +appreciate your mind as you deserved when I loved you, but I did during +those subsequent years in Vienna." + +"You did not ask me to marry you then--when you appreciated me so +highly. You never seemed to know whether you were talking to a man or +a woman when you were with me. And yet I was, possibly, more +interesting psychologically than I had ever been." + +"No man is interested in an old woman's psychology. I am not +interested in your psychology today. And I did not ask you to marry me +then for a great many reasons. I was too handicapped to play a great +role myself, you will remember. Nor could you have been of the same +service to me. Even if your fatigued mind had been refreshed, by your +stay in Hungary, you had lost the beauty and the energy, the power of +ardent interest in the affairs of state, which have now been restored +to you. With your rare gifts and your renewed youth, I repeat you have +it in your power to be the most famous woman in Europe, and perhaps the +most useful. But not with a young alien husband. Not only would you +automatically revert to the status of an American, but the dignity +which, unlike so many women of your age who had been _dames galantes_, +you took care to impress on the world, would be hopelessly sacrificed. +Incredible. To spend yourself on a love affair, wantonly to throw away +an historic career, merely because a young man has hypnotized you into +the delusion that you may once more enjoy the passions of youth----" + +"Stop! You shall not!" She had sprung to her feet. Her face was +drawn and pinched but her eyes were blazing. "Every word you say is +for a purpose. If that were all I should have hated him. As much as I +hate you. My mind never dwelt on that--not for a moment--I--I never +faced it. You don't know what you're talking about." + +"Ah, but I do." He had risen also, and he put his hands on her +shoulders. They were long thin hands but very powerful, and it seemed +to her that they sank slowly through her flesh, until, however +painlessly, they gripped the skeleton underneath. "Look at me, Marie. +Your Mary Ogden died many, many years ago. She died, I should say, at +the first touch of Otto Zattiany. There was nothing in your new life +to revive her, assuredly not your first lover. Certainly you were +Marie Zattiany, the most subtle, complex, and fascinating woman in +Europe when I met you--but abominably disillusioned even then. I +revived your youth for a time, but never your girlhood. You have been +able to deceive yourself here in the country of that girlhood, for a +time, with this interesting young gentleman in love with you, and, no +doubt, extremely ardent." + +"Oh!" Her head sank. But she could not turn away, for his hands still +gripped her shoulders. The roar of the stream sounded to her horrified +ears like the crash of falling ruins. + +"Listen, Marie," he said more gently. "If I have been brutal, it was +merely because there was no other way to fling you head first out of +your fool's paradise. If I had not known the common sense that forms +the solid lower stratum of your mind, I should not have come here to +say anything at all. You would not have been worth it. But remember, +Marie, that under this new miracle of science, the body may go back but +never the mind. You, your ego, your mind, your _self_, are no younger +than your fifty-eight hard-lived years. And what object in being young +again for any of us if we are to make the same old mistakes? Remember, +that when you were as young as you look now you had no such opportunity +offered you as in this terrible period of European history. Nor could +you have taken advantage of it if you had, for mere mental brilliancy +and ambition cannot take the place of political experience and an +intellect educated by the world. It may be that we shall both be +destroyed, that our efforts will avail nothing, and we shall all be +swallowed up in chaos. But at least we shall have done what we could. +And I know you well enough to believe that such an implacable end would +give you greater satisfaction than dallying in the arms of a handsome +young husband." + +He pushed her back into her chair, and resumed his own. "Would you +like to smoke?" he asked. + +"Yes." She looked at him with bitter eyes, but she had recaptured her +threatened composure. He regarded her with admiration but they smoked +in silence for several moments. Then he spoke again. + +"You remember Elka Zsaky, I suppose? She was several years older than +you and one of the _dames galantes_ of her day. She has taken the +treatment and looks many years younger, at least, than when she was a +painted old hag with a red wig. She is still forced to employ +artifice, but she has lovers again, and that is all she did it for. +Vienna is highly amused. No doubt all women of her sort will take it +for no other purpose. But many of the intellectual women of Europe are +taking it, too--and with the sole purpose of reinvigorating their +mental faculties and recapturing the physical endurance necessary to +their work. I happen to know of a woman scientist, Frau Bloch, who is +now working sixteen hours a day, and she had had a bitter struggle with +her enfeebled forces to work at all. Lorenz is no more remarkable. He +seems to be the only disciple besides yourself that this country has +heard of, but I could name a hundred men, out of my own knowledge, who +are once more working with all the vigor of youth----" + +"Yes," she interrupted sarcastically. "And without a thought of women, +of course." + +"Probably not." He waved his hand negligently. "But incidentally. +That is where men have the supreme advantage of women. The woman is an +incident in their lives, even when sincerely in love. And if these men +indulge occasionally in the pleasures of youth, or even marry young +wives, the world will not be interested. But with women, who renew +their youth and return to its follies, it will be quite another matter. +If they are not made the theme of obscene lampoons they may count +themselves fortunate. There will certainly be verbal lampoons in +private." + +"Orthodoxy! Orthodoxy!" + +"Possibly. But orthodoxy is a fixed habit of mind. The average man +and woman hug their orthodoxies and spit their venom on those that +outrage them. How it may be some years hence, when this cure for +senescence has become a commonplace, I do not pretend to say. But so +it is today. Personally, no doubt, you would be indifferent, for you +have a contemptuously independent mind. But your career and your +usefulness would be at an end." + +"And suppose I am quite indifferent to that?" + +"Ah, but you are not. I will not say that I have killed Mary Ogden +during this painful hour, for it is impossible to kill the dead, but I +have exorcised her ghost. She will not come again. If you marry this +young man it will be out of defiance, or possibly out of a mistaken +consideration for him--although he will be an object for sympathy later +on. And you will marry him as Marie Zattiany, without an illusion left +in that clear brain of yours--from which the mists have been blown by +the cold wind of truth. And in a year--if you can stand self-contempt +and ineffable ennui so long--you will leave him, resume your present +name--the name by which Europe knows you--and return to us. But it may +be too late. Vienna would still be laughing. The Viennese are a +light-hearted race, and a lax, but when they laugh they cease to take +seriously the subject of that good-natured amusement. . . . It is not +aesthetic, you know, it is not aesthetic. Are you really quite +indifferent, Marie?" + +She shrugged and rose. "It must be time for luncheon," she said. "It +will no doubt be horrible, but at least we can have it in here. The +public dining-room would be impossible. I will find Mr. Dinwiddie and +ask him to order it." + + + + +LVI + +When the men returned from their fishing trip at six o'clock they saw +several of the women on the lake, but there was no one in the +living-room. Clavering tapped at Mr. Dinwiddie's door, but as there +was no answer, concluded that he and Mary had not yet returned from +Huntersville. He was too desirous of a bath and clean clothes, +however, to feel more than a fleeting disappointment, and it was not +until his return to his room that he saw a letter lying on the table. + +It was addressed in Mary's handwriting, and he stared at it in +astonishment for a second, then tore it open. It was dated +"Huntersvilie, Monday afternoon," and it read: + + +"Dear Lee: + +"Mr. Dinwiddie will tell you that unforeseen circumstances have arisen +which compel me to go to New York for a few days. It is excessively +annoying, but unavoidable, and I do not ask you to follow me as I +should hardly be able to see anything of you. If there is a prospect +of being detained it will not be worth while to return and I'll let you +know at once--on Thursday night by telephone; and then I hope you will +not wait for the others, but join me here. Indeed, dear Lee, I wish +this need not have happened, but at least we had three days.----M." + + +Clavering read this letter twice, hardly comprehending its purport. +She made no mention of Judge Trent. The whole thing was ambiguous, +curt. A full explanation was his right; moreover, it was the reverse +of a love letter. Even its phrases of regret were formal. Something +was wrong. + +He put on his clothes hurriedly in order to go in search of Dinwiddie, +but before he had finished he heard a sound in the next room and opened +the connecting door unceremoniously. + +Mr. Dinwiddie braced himself as he saw Clavering's set face. + +"Too bad," he muttered, but Clavering cut him short. + +"I want the truth. What took Mary to New York?" + +"Surely she explained in her letter." + +"She explained nothing. There's some mystery here and I want it +cleared up at once." + +"By God! I'll tell you!" Mr. Dinwiddie burst out. "Mary exacted no +promise--I suppose she took for granted I'd not tell you, for she told +me what she had written. But if she had I'd tell you anyhow. I'd +rather break a promise to a woman than lie to a friend. Believe men +should stand by one another. She went down there this morning to meet +Hohenhauer." + +"Hohenhauer!" Clavering's face turned almost black. + +"Yes. Trent telegraphed me yesterday that Hohenhauer was arriving at +Huntersville last night and would come up here in the morning to see +Mary. He said the matter was most important. I went to Mary's room +after you came in from the lake and showed her the message. She was +extremely annoyed and said at first that she wouldn't see him. But I +pointed out that she couldn't possibly avoid it. Then she said he +shouldn't come up here, and she was very emphatic about it. The only +thing to do was to take her down. Of course you will be reasonable and +see there was nothing else to be done." + +"What did that infernal blackguard want of her? And why did she go off +with him?" + +"She didn't go off with him. She hired a car directly after lunch +intending to drive as far as Saratoga and take a train from there. She +left Hohenhauer to cool his heels until it was time to take the local +for the Adirondack Express. She could easily have taken him along, but +I think she was meting out punishment." + +"Punishment?" + +"Yes. They had a private conference for nearly two hours, and, +whatever happened, it put her in an infernally bad humor. She scarcely +opened her mouth during luncheon, and as Mary is a woman of the world, +used to concealing her feelings, I thought it highly significant. She +looked as if she were in a secret frozen rage. Hohenhauer, however, +was quite himself, and the meal--corned beef and cabbage!--went off +very well." + +"What did he want of her?" + +"Of that I haven't the vaguest idea. Something momentous, beyond a +doubt. If I may hazard a guess, it has something to do with this +special mission of his, and it is quite possible that he has asked her +to go to Washington--insisted upon it--appealing to her love of +Austria. I confess I don't see what she can accomplish there, for she +never did have any Washington connections--of course she could get +letters from Trent and trust to her personal power and prestige. But +let me tell you that she didn't do it to please him. She looked as if +she hated him." + +"Is he still in love with her? Are you sure he didn't come here to ask +her to marry him?" + +"If he did he had his journey for his pains--although I can see that it +would be a highly desirable combination from his point of view. But +he's not in love with her. I'll stake all I know of men on that." + +"You are sure?" + +"As sure as that I'm alive." + +"Well, I take the morning train for New York." + +"Lee," said Mr. Dinwiddie impressively, "take the advice of an old man, +who has seen a good deal of men and women in his day, and stay where +you are until you hear from Mary. Some sort of crisis has arisen, no +use blinking the fact, but if you burst in on her now, while she is +Madame Zattiany, encased in a new set of triple-plated armor, you may +ruin all your chances of happiness. Whatever it is let her work it +out--and off--by herself. I made her promise she would not leave the +country without seeing you again--for I didn't know what might be in +the wind--and when she had given her word she added that she had not +the least intention of not seeing you again, and that it was quite +possible she would return to the camp. If you go down you'll spoil +everything." + +"I suppose I can trust you, Din, but I've seen plainly that you don't +want me to marry her." + +"That is true enough. I want nothing less--for your sake; and +Hohenhauer would be a far more suitable match for her. But I don't +believe you even question my faith----" + +"No. I don't. You're a brick, Din. But I'm unspeakably +worried--almost terrified. I have never felt that I really knew her. +She may have only imagined--but that is impossible! How in God's name +am I to sit round here for three days and twiddle my thumbs?" + +"Don't. Take one of the men and go off on a three days' tramp. Climb +Mount Moose. That will give you no chance to think. All your thinking +will be in your muscles." + +"And suppose she should return--or telegraph me to go to her?" + +"If she returns and finds you gone it'll serve her right. And she +won't telegraph before Thursday--if she's going to Washington. Now +take my advice and don't be a fool." + +Clavering shrugged his shoulders, but he set his lips. "Very well. I +won't follow her. Nor will I forgive her in a hurry, either." + +"That's healthy. Give her a piece of your mind, have a good row, and +then make it up. But let me tell you, my dear boy, that she was +horrified at the thought of that man coming up here, and she only +refrained from telling you of the summons, so to speak, because she +wanted to spare you any anxiety. There's no doubt in my mind that +she's as much in love with you as you are with her. . . . You have +none, I suppose?" + +"None. Particularly lately. I hadn't told you, but I had intended, in +a day or two, to ask you if you would let me have the camp for a few +weeks. We intended to marry in Huntersville the day the rest of you +went out." + +Mr. Dinwiddie whistled. "No wonder she was furious at having her +preliminary honeymoon disturbed. But if that is the case of course +she'll return. You're more than welcome to the camp, and I'll send +whatever you need from time to time. You've only to command me. . . . +It makes it all the more comprehensible. Whatever it was that man said +to her, she wanted to get over it by herself before coming back to the +place where she had forgotten that Hohenhauers and politics existed. I +could see how it was with her here. She looked exactly as she used to +in the old days, and I don't doubt felt like it, too. No wonder she +resented being forced back into the role of Madame Zattiany, or +Graefin--countess--as he calls her. You must let her thresh it out by +herself." + +"You believe she will come back." + +"If that was your plan, I assuredly do. There isn't a spark of human +affection between those two, and Mary never placed herself in any man's +power. I am more and more inclined to believe that he appealed to her +for help in his mission here, whatever it is--and it's not so difficult +to guess--and that against her inclination and out of her love for +Austria, she consented." + +"Well, it's no use to speculate. There's the supper bell. I'll decide +in the morning whether I go off for a tramp or not." + + + + +LVII + +Clavering slept when he first went to bed, for he was healthily tired, +but he awoke suddenly at midnight with body refreshed and mind +abnormally clear. He knew that he would sleep no more that night, and +he put on his trousers and coat over his pyjamas, thrust his feet into +bedroom slippers and went out into the living-room. There he put a log +on the fire and paced up and down, not unlike a tiger round its cage. + +He felt as if black bats were flying about his brain, each charged with +a different portent of disaster. Once more the unreality of the whole +affair overwhelmed him. How could he have been so fatuous as to +believe that he had really won such a woman? He remembered his first +impression: that she was on a plane above, apart. They hadn't an +interest in common, not even a memory that antedated their meeting a +few short weeks ago. She had lived a life of which he knew nothing +outside of European novels and memoirs. She had known nothing of any +other world until he had introduced her to his friends, and he made no +doubt that her interest in them was about as permanent as a highly +original comedy on the stage would inspire. There was nothing, +literally, between them but a mutual irresistible attraction, and that +bond recognized so unerringly by both. + +That bond. + +Would it hold? + +Had this man offered her something that would make love seem +insignificant and trivial? She, who had had a surfeit of love long +since? Whose eyes had looked a thousand years old until he had given +her mind back its youth as the great Vienna biologist had rejuvenated +her body. + +He was entirely indifferent to her old love affair with Hohenhauer. It +was those years of political association and mutual interdependence in +Vienna that he feared. He had, when he first met her, appraised her as +a woman to whom power was the breath of life. Ambition--in the grand +manner--incarnate. She had all the appearance and the air of a woman +to whom the wielding of power, however subtly, was an old story. He +recalled that that terrifying suggestion of concealed ruthless forces +behind those charming manners, those feminine wiles, had almost made +him resolve to "avoid her like the plague." And then he had fallen +madly in love with her and forgotten everything but the woman. + +He had divined even before these last miraculous days that she had +looked upon love with abhorrence for almost half as many years as he +had lived, an abhorrence rooted in a profound revulsion of body and +mind and spirit. For nearly twenty years that revulsion had endured +and eaten into the very depths of her being. . . . He had a sudden +blaze of enlightenment. She had frequently alluded to that Lodge of +hers in the Dolomites and their sojourn there together, but always in +the terms of romance. . . . She had never given him a glance of +understanding. . . . And she had put off the wedding until the last +possible moment. . . . If she had really been as eager as himself she +would have left her power of attorney with Trent and started for +Austria six weeks ago. Or the papers could have been sent to her to +sign, if her signature were imperative. . . . And in spite of the fact +that everybody had taken the engagement for granted, she had, with +wholly insufficient reasons,--as he saw, now that he was removed from +the influence of her plausible and dominating self,--refused to +announce it. Could it be that in the depths of her mind--unadmitted by +her consciousness--she had never intended to marry him? Was that old +revulsion paramount? . . . Sixteen years! . . . A long time, and +nothing in life is more corroding than habit. + +Perhaps--as long as they were down there in New York. But not up here. +That he would be willing to swear. There had been another revolution, +involuntary perhaps, but the stronger for that; and every shackle that +memory and habit can forge had dropped from her. She had been youth +incarnate. The proof was in her joyful consent to marry him +immediately and remain in the mountains . . . and then her complete +surrender of the future into his hands. . . . She had during those +three brief days loved him wholly, and without a shadow in her soul. + +But now? Whatever had happened, she was not Mary Ogden tonight, +hastening to New York, nor would she be when in her own house on the +morrow. She might hate Hohenhauer, but his mere presence would have +made the past live again. She must have known when she went down that +mountain that even with her strong will and powers of self-delusion, +things could not be quite the same again. Not even if she had returned +with Dinwiddie. Why in heaven's name had she been so mad as to go? +She could have sent Hohenhauer a peremptory refusal to see him and then +gone off on a camping trip that could have lasted until he gave up the +game. She must have been mad--mad. + +And he did not believe for a moment that she had gone to Washington. + +She had gone home to think--think. + +And if he followed Dinwiddie's advice and remained here she might think +too long. And if he followed and insisted upon seeing her, the result +might be more fatal still. He knew nothing of those personalities she +may have concealed from him. For all he knew she might have depths in +her nature as black as the bottomless pit. + +And God only knew what the man had said to her. . . . Should he let +her fight it out by herself? What in heaven's name should he do? +Whatever happened, this divine interval, like some exquisitely adjusted +musical instrument, had been hopelessly jarred out of tune. He almost +hoped she would not return. Let it remain a perfect memory. . . . +They could marry in New York and return here, when she was his +wife. . . . If he had not already lost her. . . . What in God's name +was the thing for him to do? He'd go mad if he stayed here, and if he +went he might regret it for the rest of his days. Why could not light +be vouchsafed him? + +Gora. + +Fortunately he knew her room for he had carried up her luggage. He ran +lightly up the stairs and tapped on her door. A startled sleepy voice +answered. He opened the door and put in his head. + +"Come downstairs at once, Gora," he said peremptorily. "I must talk to +you." + +She came down in a moment, clad in a scarlet kimono, her hair hanging +in thick braids. With her large round forehead exposed she looked not +unlike a gnome, but curiously young. + +"What on earth is the matter, Clavey?" she asked as she pushed her +chair as close to the fire as possible. "It has something to do with +this sudden trip of Mary's, I suppose. Mr. Dinwiddie said she had been +called to New York on important business, and the others accepted the +explanation as a matter of course; but I'll confess I wondered." + +Clavering, still too nervous to sit down, jerked out the whole story, +omitting only the old love affair with the man who had exercised so +strong an influence on Mary Zattiany's later life. + +"You see," he concluded, "there are two things: Austria had taken the +place in her affections that women of her age generally concentrate on +human beings--it became almost a sacrament. And then--for nearly +twenty years she had hated everything in men but their minds. Sex was +not only dead but a detestable memory. After that rejuvenescence she +had never cast a thought to loving any man again. That mental habit, +at least, was fixed. When I met her she was a walking intellect. . . . +I thought I had changed all that . . . up here I had not a doubt +left . . . but now . . . I don't know. . . . Put that cold-blooded +mind of yours on it and tell me what to do." + +"Let me think a minute, Clavey." + +As he resumed his restless march, Gora sent her mind travelling out of +the mountains and far to the south, and tried to penetrate the brain of +Mary Zattiany. She could not visualize her in the bed of a casual +hotel or sitting in the chair of a parlor car, so she skipped the +interval and saw her next day in that intimate room of hers upstairs; +the room, assuredly, where she would think out her problem. + +Gora had studied Madame Zattiany with all the avidity of the artist for +a rare human theme, and she believed that she knew her as well as +Clavering did, if not better. She had also not failed to observe +Prince Hohenhauer's picture, and had read the accompanying text with +considerable interest, an interest augmented, not unnaturally, by his +exceeding good looks. That same day she had met a Viennese at dinner +who had talked of him with enthusiasm and stated definitely that he was +the one hope of Austria. + +Gora Dwight was a very ambitious woman and revelled in the authority +that fame and success had brought her. She was also as disillusioned +in regard to men as any unmarried woman could be; although quite aware +that if she had lacked a gift to entice her emotions to her brain, she +no doubt would even now be looking about for some man to fall in love +with. But her pride was spared a succession of humiliating +anti-climaxes, and she had learned, younger than most women, or even +men, that power, after sex has ceased from troubling, is the dominant +passion in human nature. + +And Madame Zattiany was twenty years older than herself, and had +drained the jewelled chalice to the dregs. And for many years more she +had enjoyed power, revelled in it, looked forward, Gora made no doubt, +to a greater and greater exercise of it. Power had become the master +passion of her life. + +Like men in the same case, she had indulged herself, during a period of +enforced inaction, with an exciting love adventure. That she had +fallen in love, romantically in love, with this young man, whom so many +women loved, and who, no doubt, had given her the full benefit of all +his pent-up ardors--Gora could imagine those love scenes--she had not +questioned, in spite of Madame Zattiany's carefully composed tones when +speaking of him, and her avoidance of so much as the exchange of a +meaning glance with him in public. Up here "Mary" had ceased to be a +woman of the world, she had looked like a girl of twenty: and that she +was in love and recklessly happy in the fact, was for all to see. That +had been one of her most interesting divagations to the novelist, Gora +Dwight--but a phase. Gora was not deluded. + +And this man Hohenhauer had brought her to her senses; no doubt of that +either to a mind both warmly imaginative and coldly analytical. And +what had he come up here for except to ask her to marry him--to share +his power? She dismissed the Washington inference with the contempt it +deserved. Mr. Dinwiddie was a very experienced and astute old +gentleman, but he always settled on the obvious like a hen on a +porcelain egg. . . . What a manifest destiny! What an ideal +match. . . . She sighed, almost envying her. But it would be almost +as interesting to write about as to experience. After all, a novelist +had things all her own way, and that was more than even the Zattianys +could hope for. + +Then she remembered poor Clavering and looked up at him with eyes that +were wholly sympathetic. + +"I don't think there's a doubt," she said, "that Prince Hohenhauer came +up here to ask her to marry him. You can see for yourself what such a +match would mean for him, for aside from that indisputable genius of +hers--trained in later years by himself--she has great wealth and few +scruples; and where he failed to win men to his purpose, she, with her +superlative charm, and every feminine intuition sharpened by an +uncommon experience of men and public life, would succeed. She may +hate him, as Mr. Dinwiddie says--for the moment. But even if she +continued to hate him that would not prevent her from marrying him if +she believed he could help her to power. If it had not been for you I +don't believe she would have hesitated a moment." + +"Do you mean to say you believe she'll throw me over?" demanded +Clavering fiercely. + +"I think you're in danger, and if I were you I'd throw Mr. Dinwiddie's +advice to the winds and take the morning train for New York." + +"Don't you believe that she loves me?" + +"Oh, yes. As love goes." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"I mean that Madame Zattiany has long since reached the age when power +means more than love--in a woman of that calibre. But you, in turn, +have tremendous power over her. Sweep her off her feet again and make +her marry you." + +"You don't believe she's gone to Washington?" + +"I do not. If that was all he wanted of her, why didn't he telephone? +I am sure he could be ambiguous enough to defeat the curiosity of any +listeners-in. But a man of that sort does not ask a woman to marry him +over the telephone----" + +"But Din thinks----" + +"How long do you think you can stand inaction?" + +"Not another hour, by God! I'm nearly mad as it is." + +"I thought so. You are about the last man on earth equipped to play +the waiting game." + +"You don't think she means to return here?" + +"Never. She's too much of an artist for one thing. She might be +willing to begin a new chapter, but she knows that asterisks in the +wrong place are fatal. This interruption has done for your idyl!" + +"I had thought the same thing." He sighed heavily. + +"Oh, yes, Clavey dear, you are an artist yourself. No matter what +happens never forget that it is your destiny to be a great one." + +"Artist be damned. If--if--God! if I lose her--I'll never write +another line." + +"I don't doubt you think so. But you're only just beginning to know +yourself. You got a few glimpses, I should think, while you were +writing that play." + +"Don't mention that play to me. I hate it. If I hadn't let myself go +with the damned thing I'd have had my wits about me and would have +married her off-hand." + +"I wonder. Was she so very anxious to marry?" + +He turned cold. Fear flared up again. "What do you mean by that?" + +"Well, I don't know that I mean anything. Except that like all women +she probably wanted to enjoy the thrilling hopes and fears and +uncertainties of that never to be repeated prelude, to the limit. Now, +better wake up Larsing and order the car if you mean to catch that +morning train. If you don't want to go back to bed I'll sit up with +you. You can sleep on the train." + + + + +LVIII + +He left the next morning in a dense fog. As Larsing rowed him across +the lake he could not see its surface nor the wall of trees on the +opposite bank, and in a moment the camp was obliterated. + +Only Gora and Larsing knew of his departure. Even Dinwiddie was still +asleep. Larsing had made him a cup of coffee, and Gora had packed his +bag, moving like a mouse in his room. She kissed him good-bye and +patted him on the back. + +"I'll go out myself in a day or two," she said. "You may need me down +there." + +The fog thinned gradually and the Ford made its usual comfortless speed +down the mountain. When they reached Huntersville the valley was +bathed in early morning sunlight, and Huntersville, asleep, shared the +evanescent charm of the dawn. It was a beautiful and a peaceful scene +and Clavering, whose spirits had descended into utter gloom while +enwrapped in that sinister fog, accepted it as a happier portent; and +when he was so fortunate as to find an empty drawing-room on the +Express, he went to bed and slept until the porter awoke him at +Tarrytown. + +It was his first impulse to rush direct to Murray Hill, but he knew the +folly of doing anything of the sort. He needed a bath and a shave and +a fortifying dinner. + +He concluded that it would be unwise to telephone, and at nine o'clock +he approached her house, reasonably calm and quite determined to have +his own way. But the house was dark from cellar to roof. Every window +was closed although it was a warm night. He sprang up the steps and +rang the bell. He rang again, and then kept his finger on the button +for nearly five minutes. + +He descended into the area, but the iron bars were new, and immovable. +Moreover, a policeman was sauntering opposite. He approached the man +in a moment and asked him if he knew whether the house had been open +earlier in the evening. Yes, the officer told him, he had seen one of +the servants go in about half an hour ago. + +Clavering walked away slowly. If Mary had gone to Washington, why had +the servants not answered his ring? It was too early for them to be in +bed. Then his spirits, which had descended to zero, rose jubilantly. +Hohenhauer! It was against him she was barricading herself. No doubt +she would feel herself in a state of siege as long as the man remained +in the country. + +He went to the nearest hotel and telephoned. He was prepared to be +told, after an interminable wait, that there was "no answer"; but in a +moment he heard the voice of the butler. Obeying a sudden impulse he +disguised his own. + +"I should like to speak to Madame Zattiany." + +"Madame has retired." + +He hung up. He had ascertained that she was at home and his spiritual +barometer ascended another notch. He'd see her tomorrow if he spent +the day on her doorstep. He bought an evening paper, picked out a new +play, and spent a very agreeable evening at the theatre. + + + + +LIX + +His nervous excitement returned next morning, but he forced himself to +eat a good breakfast and read his newspapers. He was determined to +show her that he was completely master of himself. She should be able +to draw no unfavorable comparisons with Hohenhauer, whose composure had +probably not been ruffled in forty years. His comparative youth might +be against him, but after all a man of thirty-four was no infant, and +in some respects he was as old as he would ever be. He knew the value +of dignity and self-control, and whatever might come he would sacrifice +neither. But he sighed heavily. "Whatever might come." But he +refused to dwell on alternatives. + +It was ten o'clock when he presented himself at Madame Zattiany's door. +As he had hoped, his ring was answered. Hohenhauer was not the man to +call on a woman at ten in the morning. + +The footman permitted himself to stare, and said deprecatingly: "I am +very sorry, Mr. Clavering, but Madame told me to admit no visitors----" + +"Did she?" He entered and tossed his hat on a high Italian chair. +"Kindly tell her that I am in the library and shall remain there until +she is ready to come down." + +The man hesitated, but after all Clavering had had the run of the +house, and it was possible that Madame believed him still to be in the +mountains. At all events he knew determination when he saw it, and +marched reluctantly up the stairs. + +Clavering went into the library. He was filled with an almost +unbearable excitement, but at least the man's assertion that she was at +home to no one cemented his belief that she meant to see nothing +further of Hohenhauer. + +He glanced round the beautiful mellow room so full of memories. After +all he had been happier here than he had ever been in his life--until +they had gone up to the woods! The room's benignant atmosphere seemed +to enfold him, calmed his fears, subdued that inner quiver. Surely she +would surrender to its influence and to his--whatever had happened. He +knew she had always liked him the better because he did not make love +to her the moment they met, but today he would take her by surprise, +give her no time to think. + +But, as Mrs. Oglethorpe had once told him, a clever man is no match for +a still cleverer woman. + +At the end of fifteen minutes the footman opened the door and announced: + +"Madame is in the car, sir, and begs you will join her." + +Clavering repressed a violent start and an imprecation. But there was +nothing to do but follow the man; fortunately he did not have what was +known as an "open countenance." Let her have her own way for the +moment. He could--and would--return with her. For the moment he felt +primitive enough to beat her. + +She was wearing a black dress with a long jade necklace and a large +black hat, and, as he ran down the steps, he had time further to +observe that she was even whiter than usual and had dark rings under +her eyes. + +"It is too beautiful a morning to remain indoors," she said, as she +gave him her hand and he took the seat beside her. "We will drive in +the Park and then up the river for a bit." + +She was completely at her ease, and she was the Madame Zattiany of the +night he had met her. But she did not elaborate the role, and asked +him how he had left his friends at the camp and if he had enjoyed his +fishing trip. + +"Enough of this," he interrupted, when he had mastered his excitement +at being close to her once more. After all, he had expected something +of the sort. She was just the woman to fall back on her infernal +technique. "I know that you went down to Huntersville to meet +Hohenhauer, and that the result of that interview was an abrupt flight +from me--possibly from him. I want the truth." + +Her face had flushed, but as the color ebbed she looked almost waxen. +"I relied on Din----" + +"Well, I guessed it and he admitted the fact. And if he hadn't I'd +have come after you, anyhow. Your note was enough to tell any man +something was wrong. I shall not be put off and I will have an answer +to my questions. Do you love me no longer?" + +"Oh, yes," she said softly. "I love you." But when he tried to take +her hand she drew it away. + +"Do you still intend to marry me?" + +"Won't you give me a few days more to think it over?" + +"No, I will not. And--do you need them? Haven't you already made up +your mind?" + +She sighed and looked out of the window. They were driving up Fifth +Avenue and the bright street was full of color and life. The busses +and motors were filled with women on their way to the shops, whose gay +windows were the most enticing in the world. New York, in this, her +River of Delight, looked as if she had not a care in the world. + +Madame Zattiany did not speak again until they were in the Park. + +"I have promised to marry you, remember; and I do not lightly go back +on my word. . . . But . . . I had intended to ask if you would be +willing to let me go alone to Vienna for six months--and then join +me----" + +"After I had lost you completely! I shall marry you here, today, or +not at all. I love you but I'll not let you play with me. I'll go to +Austria with you, and you may do as you choose when you get there. +You'll belong to me and I'll make the best of it." + +"If I married you now it would not be worth my while to return to +Austria. . . . You see, I'd be an American. I'd no longer be Graefin +Zattiany. . . . I could accomplish nothing. . . . It is the strangest +thing in the world, but I never had thought of changing my name----" + +"Until Hohenhauer reminded you, I suppose. Well, I could have told you +that myself. I had counted on it, if you want to know the truth." + +"Ah! Then you counted on that to--to----" + +"To have you altogether. Yes." And then he added hastily: "But up +there--you must believe this--I never gave it a thought--after--after +you promised to marry me at once." + +He doubted if she had listened to this protest that there had been an +hour when in the complete baring of his soul he had been above plotting +and subterfuge. She was still looking out of the window. He saw her +long upward-curving nostril grow rigid. + +But she said quietly: "And what do you think you would have done with +me, Lee, after we were on the plane of common mortals once more? +Transports do not last for ever, you know, and we are not heedless +young things with no thought of the future. You have acknowledged +there is no place for me here, and there would be no place for me in +Europe if I married you. Do you wonder that I came away to think, +after Prince Hohenhauer--who, remember, knows me far better than you +do--pointed out the inexorable truth? What would you do with me, Lee?" + +He stared out of the window in his turn--at the tender greens of the +Park. He could hear the birds singing. Spring! The chill of winter +was in the car, and it emanated from the woman beside him. + +"I don't know," he said miserably. "I only know that I love you and +would take any chances." + +"But, you see, although it is my misfortune to love you, I recognize +that there is a long generation between us. I thought I had spanned +it, but--do you realize that we have literally nothing to give each +other but love? That we are as unlike----" + +"Oh, yes, I realized all that the night you left. But I don't care. +Cannot you trust me?" + +"There is that long generation, Lee. And it is I who have lived it, +not you. Lived it and outlived the woman who began it. The gods in a +sportive mood made us for each other--and then sent me into the world +too soon. . . . I must go on. It is not in me to go back nor to +remain becalmed. Hohenhauer told me many cruel truths. Those women at +my dinner might have enlightened me if I had not deliberately bandaged +the eyes of my mind. I chose to forget them at once. But +Hohenhauer----" She shuddered. "Well, although I was infuriated with +him at the time--what he said was true. Every word. I must go +forward. I cannot--cannot go back." + +"He appealed to your ambition, your love of power, I suppose----" + +"He showed me to myself for exactly what I am," she said emphatically. +"No appeal would have made the slightest impression on me if I had +really and finally returned to my Mary Ogdenhood up there in the woods +of my real youth. My God! What incredible folly! What powers of +self-delusion! But we both have that memory. Let us be grateful. I +at least shall hold it apart from all memories as long as I live." + +"Are you going to marry that man?" + +"That is so purely incidental that it is not worth talking about. I +came away to think out my own problem. I love you and I believe that I +shall always love you--but I don't see any way out. I have killed once +and for all that fatal talent for self-delusion that I had thought was +as dead--well, as dead as my love for Moritz Hohenhauer; and nothing +could be more dead than that. My brain feels like a crystal house +illuminated by searchlights, strong enough to penetrate every corner +but not strong enough to blind. I could never, if I would, deceive +myself again, nor make another mistake, so far as human prescience will +serve me." + +He looked at her hands. Her gloves were black suede and they made +those hands look smaller, but he had an idea that if he lifted one it +would fall of its own rigid weight. + +He made no comment and she said in a moment: "Perhaps you may have an +inspiration. If there is any solution for us, believe me when I say +that it would make me as happy as it could make you." + +But her hands did not relax. + +"What is the solution, Lee?" + +He had buried his face in his hands. "There is none, I suppose. +Unless you have the courage to drive down to the City Hall and marry +me . . . and"--he lifted his head with a faint gleam of hope--"remember +that you are young again. You have many years to live. You are a +woman. Can you go through life without love?" + +"Far better than with it. Love is a very old story to me," she said +deliberately. "It could never be to me again the significant thing it +is even to the woman of middle age, much less to the young. And +now--with a world falling to ruins--in the most critical period of its +history--to imagine that love has any but a passing significance---- +Oh, no, my friend. Oh, no! Let those women who have it in their power +to repeople the earth which has lost so many millions of its sons, +cherish that delusion of the supreme importance of love; but not I! I +have had my dream, but it is over. If we had met in Vienna it would +never have claimed me at all. In New York one may be serious in the +romantic manner when one is temporarily free from care, but seriousness +is of another and a portentous quality over there." + +"Why did you ask me to wait six months and then join you in Vienna?" + +She turned her eyes on him with what he had once called her look of +ancient wisdom. There was not an expiring flicker of youth in them, +nor in the faint smile on her lips. He had thrown himself back in his +corner and folded his arms; he had no desire to attract the attention +of the passers-by. But his face was as white as a dark man's can be +and his eyes were both stricken and bitter. + +"To give you time to get over it," she said. "To write another play. +To settle down into your old life--and look back upon this episode as +upon a dream, a wonderful dream, but difficult to recall as anything +more substantial." + +"So I inferred. And you have not the courage to marry me--here--today?" + +"No, that is the one thing for which I have no courage whatever. In +three months I should hate you and myself. I should not have even one +memory in my life that I had no wish to banish--the sustaining memory +of love undestroyed I may take back with me now. Courage! I could +contemplate going back to certain death at the hands of an assassin, or +in another revolution; to stand on the edge of the abyss, the last +human being alive in Europe, and look down upon her expiring throes +before I went over the brink myself. But I have not the courage to +marry you." + +Clavering picked up the tube and told the driver to stop. + +He closed the door and lifted his hat. + +"Good-bye, Madame Zattiany," he said. And as the driver was listening, +he added: "A pleasant journey." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK OXEN*** + + +******* This file should be named 25542.txt or 25542.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/5/4/25542 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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