the titan-第21章

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s　and　talks　on　pensive　afternoons　when　the　city　swam　in　a　golden　haze；　and　the　thing　was　done。　　There　was　a　sudden　Saturday　afternoon　marriage；　a　runaway　day　to　Milwaukee；　a　return　to　the　studio　now　to　be　fitted　out　for　two；　and　then　kisses；　kisses；　kisses　until　love　was　satisfied　or　eased。

But　life　cannot　exist　on　that　diet　alone；　and　so　by　degrees　the　difficulties　had　begun　to　manifest　themselves。　　Fortunately；　the　latter　were　not　allied　with　sharp　financial　want。　　Rita　was　not　poor。　　Her　father　conducted　a　small　but　profitable　grain　elevator　at　Wichita；　and；　after　her　sudden　marriage；　decided　to　continue　her　allowance；　though　this　whole　idea　of　art　and　music　in　its　upper　reaches　was　to　him　a　strange；　far…off；　uncertain　thing。　　A　thin；　meticulous；　genial　person　interested　in　small　trade　opportunities；　and　exactly　suited　to　the　rather　sparse　social　life　of　Wichita；　he　found　Harold　as　curious　as　a　bomb；　and　preferred　to　handle　him　gingerly。　　Gradually；　however；　being　a　very　human　if　simple　person；　he　came　to　be　very　proud　of　itboasted　in　Wichita　of　Rita　and　her　artist　husband；　invited　them　home　to　astound　the　neighbors　during　the　summer…time；　and　the　fall　brought　his　almost　farmer…like　wife　on　to　see　them　and　to　enjoy　trips；　sight…seeing；　studio　teas。　　It　was　amusing；　typically　American；　naive；　almost　impossible　from　many　points　of　view。

Rita　Sohlberg　was　of　the　semi…phlegmatic　type；　soft；　full…blooded；　with　a　body　that　was　going　to　be　fat　at　forty；　but　which　at　present　was　deliciously　alluring。　　Having　soft；　silky；　light…brown　hair；　the　color　of　light　dust；　and　moist　gray…blue　eyes；　with　a　fair　skin　and　even；　white　teeth；　she　was　flatteringly　self…conscious　of　her　charms。　　She　pretended　in　a　gay；　childlike　way　to　be　unconscious　of　the　thrill　she　sent　through　many　susceptible　males；　and　yet　she　knew　well　enough　all　the　while　what　she　was　doing　and　how　she　was　doing　it；　it　pleased　her　so　to　do。　　She　was　conscious　of　the　wonder　of　her　smooth；　soft　arms　and　neck；　the　fullness　and　seductiveness　of　her　body；　the　grace　and　perfection　of　her　clothing；　or；　at　least；　the　individuality　and　taste　which　she　made　them　indicate。　　She　could　take　an　old　straw…hat　form；　a　ribbon；　a　feather；　or　a　rose；　and　with　an　innate　artistry　of　feeling　turn　it　into　a　bit　of　millinery　which　somehow　was　just　the　effective　thing　for　her。　She　chose　naive　combinations　of　white　and　blues；　pinks　and　white；　browns　and　pale　yellows；　which　somehow　suggested　her　own　soul；　and　topped　them　with　great　sashes　of　silky　brown　（or　even　red）　ribbon　tied　about　her　waist；　and　large；　soft…brimmed；　face…haloing　hats。　She　was　a　graceful　dancer；　could　sing　a　little；　could　play　feelingly　sometimes　brilliantlyand　could　draw。　　Her　art　was　a　makeshift；　however；　she　was　no　artist。　　The　most　significant　thing　about　her　was　her　moods　and　her　thoughts；　which　were　uncertain；　casual；　anarchic。　　Rita　Sohlberg；　from　the　conventional　point　of　view；　was　a　dangerous　person；　and　yet　from　her　own　point　of　view　at　this　time　she　was　not　so　at　alljust　dreamy　and　sweet。

A　part　of　the　peculiarity　of　her　state　was　that　Sohlberg　had　begun　to　disappoint　Ritasorely。　　Truth　to　tell；　he　was　suffering　from　that　most　terrible　of　all　maladies；　uncertainty　of　soul　and　inability　to　truly　find　himself。　　At　times　he　was　not　sure　whether　he　was　cut　out　to　be　a　great　violinist　or　a　great　composer；　or　merely　a　great　teacher；　which　last　he　was　never　willing　really　to　admit。　　〃I　am　an　arteest；〃　he　was　fond　of　saying。　　〃Ho；　how　I　suffer　from　my　temperament！〃　And　again：　〃These　dogs！　These　cows！　These　pigs！〃　This　of　other　people。　　The　quality　of　his　playing　was　exceedingly　erratic；　even　though　at　times　it　attained　to　a　kind　of　subtlety；　tenderness；　awareness；　and　charm　which　brought　him　some　attention。　As　a　rule；　however；　it　reflected　the　chaotic　state　of　his　own　brain。　　He　would　play　violently；　feverishly；　with　a　wild　passionateness　of　gesture　which　robbed　him　of　all　ability　to　control　his　own　technic。

〃Oh；　Harold！〃　Rita　used　to　exclaim　at　first；　ecstatically。　　Later　she　was　not　so　sure。

Life　and　character　must　really　get　somewhere　to　be　admirable；　and　Harold；　really　and　truly；　did　not　seem　to　be　getting　anywhere。　　He　taught；　stormed；　dreamed；　wept；　but　he　ate　his　three　meals　a　day；　Rita　noticed；　and　he　took　an　excited　interest　at　times　in　other　women。　　To　be　the　be…all　and　end…all　of　some　one　man's　life　was　the　least　that　Rita　could　conceive　or　concede　as　the　worth　of　her　personality；　and　so；　as　the　years　went　on　and　Harold　began　to　be　unfaithful；　first　in　moods；　transports；　then　in　deeds；　her　mood　became　dangerous。　　She　counted　them　upa　girl　music　pupil；　then　an　art　student；　then　the　wife　of　a　banker　at　whose　house　Harold　played　socially。　　There　followed　strange；　sullen　moods　on　the　part　of　Rita；　visits　home；　groveling　repentances　on　the　part　of　Harold；　tears；　violent；　passionate　reunions；　and　then　the　same　thing　over　again。　　What　would　you？

Rita　was　not　jealous　of　Harold　any　more；　she　had　lost　faith　in　his　ability　as　a　musician。　　But　she　was　disappointed　that　her　charms　were　not　sufficient　to　blind　him　to　all　others。　　That　was　the　fly　in　the　ointment。　　It　was　an　affront　to　her　beauty；　and　she　was　still　beautiful。　　She　was　unctuously　full…bodied；　not　quite　so　tall　as　Aileen；　not　really　as　large；　but　rounder　and　plumper；　softer　and　more　seductive。　　Physically　she　was　not　well　set　up；　so　vigorous；　but　her　eyes　and　mouth　and　the　roving　character　of　her　mind　held　a　strange　lure。　　Mentally　she　was　much　more　aware　than　Aileen；　much　more　precise　in　her　knowledge　of　art；　music；　literature；　and　current　events；　and　in　the　field　of　romance　she　was　much　more　vague　and　alluring。　　She　knew　many　things　about　flowers；　precious　stones；　insects；　birds；　characters　in　fiction；　and　poetic　prose　and　verse　generally。

At　the　time　the　Cowperwoods　first　met　the　Sohlbergs　the　latter　still　had　their　studio　in　the　New　Arts　Building；　and　all　was　seemingly　as　serene　as　a　May　morning；　only　Harold　was　not　getting　along　very　well。　　He　was　drifting。　　The　meeting　was　at　a　tea　given　by　the　Haatstaedts；　with　whom　the　Cowperwoods　were　still　friendly；　and　Harold　played。　　Aileen；　who　was　there　alone；　seeing　a　chance　to　brighten　her　own　life　a　little；　invited　the　Sohlbergs；　who　seemed　rather　above　the　average；　to　her　house　to　a　musical　evening。　　They　came。

On　this　occasion　Cowperwood　took　one　look　at　Sohlberg　and　placed　him　exactly。　　〃An　erratic；　emotional　temperament；〃　he　thought。　　〃Probably　not　able　to　place　himself　for　want　of　consistency　and　application。〃　But　he　liked　him　after　a　fashion。　　Sohlberg　was　interesting　as　an　artistic　type　or　figurequite　like　a　character　in　a　Japanese　print　might　be。　　He　greeted　him　pleasantly。

〃And　Mrs。　Sohlberg；　I　suppose；〃　he　remarked；　feelingly；　catching　a　quick　suggestion　of　the　rhythm　and　sufficiency　and　naive　taste　that　went　with　her。　　She　was　in　simple　white　and　bluesmall　blue　ribbons　threaded　above　lacy　flounces　in　the　skin。　　Her　arms　and　throat　were　deliciously　soft　and　bare。　　Her　eyes　were　quick；　and　yet　soft　and　babyishpetted　eyes。

〃You　know；〃　she　said　to　him；　with　a　peculiar　rounded　formation　of　the　mouth；　which　was　a　characteristic　of　her　when　she　talkeda　pretty；　pouty　mouth；　〃I　thought　we　would　never　get　heah　at　all。　　There　was　a　fire〃she　pronounced　it　fy…yah〃at　Twelfth　Street〃　（the　Twelfth　was　Twalfth　in　her　mouth）　〃and　the　engines　were　all　about　there。　　Oh；　such　sparks　and　smoke！　And　the　flames　coming　out　of　the　windows！　The　flames　were　a　very　dark　redalmost　orange　and　black。　　They're　pretty　when　they're　that　waydon't　you　think　so？〃

Cowperwood　was　charmed。　　〃Indeed；　I　do；〃　he　said；　genially；　using　a　kind　of　superior　and　yet　sympathetic　air　which　he　could　easily　assume　on　occasion。　　He　felt　as　though　Mrs。　Sohlberg　might　be　a　charming　daughter　to　himshe　was　so　cuddling　and　shyand　yet　he　could　see　that　she　was　definite　and　individual。　　Her　arms　and　face；　he　told　himself；　were　lovely。　　Mrs。　Sohlberg　only　saw　before　her　a　smart；　cold；　exact　mancapable；　very；　she　presumedwith　brilliant；　incisive　eyes。　　How　different　from　Harold；　she　thought；　who　would　never　be　anything　muchnot　even　famous。

〃I'm　so　glad　you　brought　your　violin；〃　Aileen　was　saying　to　Harold；　who　was　in　another　corner。　　〃I've　been　looking　forward　to　your　coming　to　play　for　us。〃

〃Very　nize　ov　you；　I'm　sure；〃　Sohlberg　replied；　with　his　sweety　drawl。　　〃Such　a　nize　plaze　you　have　hereall　these　loafly　books；　and　jade；　and　glass。〃

He　had　an　unctuous；　yielding　way　which　was　charming；　Aileen　thought。　He　should　have　a　strong；　rich　woman　to　take　care　of　him。　　He　was　like　a　stormy；　erratic　boy。

After　refreshments　were　served　Sohlberg　played。　　Cowperwood　was　interested　by　his　standing　figurehis　eyes；　his　hairbut　he　was　much　more　interested　in　Mrs。　Sohlberg；　to　whom　his　look　constantly　strayed。　　He　watched　her　hands　on　the　keys；　her　fingers；　the　dimples　at　her　elbows。　　What　an　adorable　mouth；　he　thought；　and　what　light；　fluffy　hair！　But；　more　than　that；　there　was　a　mood　that　invested　it　alla　bit　of　tinted　color　of　the　mind　that　reached　him　and　made　him　sympathetic　and　even　passionate　toward　her。　　She　was　the　kind　of　woman　he　would　like。　　She　was　somewhat　like　Aileen　when　she　was　six　years　younger　（Aileen　was　now　thirty…three；　and　Mrs。　Sohlberg　twenty…seven）；　only　Aileen　had　always　been　more　robust；　more　vigorous；　less　nebulous。　　Mrs。　Sohlberg　（he　finally　thought　it　out　for　himself）　was　like　the　rich　tinted　interior　of　a　South　Sea　oyster…shellwarm；　colorful；　delicate。　　But　there　was　something　firm　there；　too。　　Nowhere　in　society　had　he　seen　any　one　like　her。　She　was　rapt；　sensuous；　beautiful。　　He　kept　his　eyes　on　her　until　finally　she　became　aware　that　he　was　gazing　at　her；　and　then　she　looked　back　at　him　in　an　arch；　smiling　way；　fixing　her　mouth　in　a　potent　line。　　Cowperwood　was　captivated。　　Was　she　vulnerable？　was　his　one　thought。　　Did　that　faint　smile　mean　anything　more　than　mere　social　complaisance？　Probably　not；　but　could　not　a　temperament　so　rich　and　full　be　awakened　to　feeling　by　his　own？　When　she　was　through　playing　he　took　occasion　to　say：　〃Wouldn't　you　like　to　stroll　into　the　gallery？　Are　you　fond　of　pictures？〃　He　gave　her　his　arm。

〃Now；　you　know；〃　said　Mrs。　Sohlberg；　quaintlyvery　captivatingly；　he　thought；　because　she　was　so　pretty〃at　one　time　I　thought　I　was　going　to　be　a　great　artist。　　Isn't　that　funny！　I　sent　my　father　one　of　my　drawings　inscribed　'to　whom　I　owe　it　all。'　You　would　have　to　see　the　drawing　to　see　how　funny　that　is。〃

She　laughed　softly。

Cowperwood　responded　with　a　refreshed　interest　in　life。　　Her　laugh　was　as　grateful　to　him　as　a　summer　wind。　　〃See；〃　he　said；　gently；　as　they　entered　the　room　aglow　with　the　soft　light　produced　by　guttered　jets；　〃here　is　a　Luini　bought　last　winter。〃　It　was　〃The　Mystic　Marriage　of　St。　Catharine。〃　He　paused　while　she　surveyed　the　rapt　expression　of　the　attenuated　saint。　　〃And　here；〃　he　went　on；　〃is　my　greatest　find　so　far。〃　They　were　before　the　crafty　countenance　of　Caesar　Borgia　painted　by　Pinturrichio。

〃What　a　strange　face！〃　commented　Mrs。　Sohlberg；　naively。　　〃I　didn't　know　any　one　had　ever　painted　him。　　He　looks　somewhat　like　an　artist　himself；　doesn't　he？〃　She　had　never　read　the　involved　and　quite　Satanic　history　of　this　man；　and　only　knew　the　rumor　of　his　crimes　and　mach