The Titan 3 страница

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so much in Philadelphia, and others. By right of financial intellect

and courage he was first, and would so prove it. Men must swing

around him as planets around the sun.

Moreover, since his fall from grace in Philadelphia he had come

to think that never again, perhaps, could he hope to become socially

acceptable in the sense in which the so-called best society of a

city interprets the phrase; and pondering over this at odd moments,

he realized that his future allies in all probability would not

be among the rich and socially important--the clannish, snobbish

elements of society--but among the beginners and financially strong

men who had come or were coming up from the bottom, and who had

no social hopes whatsoever. There were many such. If through

luck and effort he became sufficiently powerful financially he

might then hope to dictate to society. Individualistic and even

anarchistic in character, and without a shred of true democracy,

yet temperamentally he was in sympathy with the mass more than he

was with the class, and he understood the mass better. Perhaps

this, in a way, will explain his desire to connect himself with a

personality so naive and strange as Peter Laughlin. He had annexed

him as a surgeon selects a special knife or instrument for an

operation, and, shrewd as old Laughlin was, he was destined to be

no more than a tool in Cowperwood's strong hands, a mere hustling

messenger, content to take orders from this swiftest of moving

brains. For the present Cowperwood was satisfied to do business

under the firm name of Peter Laughlin & Co. --as a matter of fact,

he preferred it; for he could thus keep himself sufficiently

inconspicuous to avoid undue attention, and gradually work out one

or two coups by which he hoped to firmly fix himself in the financial

future of Chicago.

As the most essential preliminary to the social as well as the

financial establishment of himself and Aileen in Chicago, Harper

Steger, Cowperwood's lawyer, was doing his best all this while to

ingratiate himself in the confidence of Mrs. Cowperwood, who had

no faith in lawyers any more than she had in her recalcitrant

husband. She was now a tall, severe, and rather plain woman, but

still bearing the marks of the former passive charm that had once

interested Cowperwood. Notable crows'-feet had come about the

corners of her nose, mouth, and eyes. She had a remote, censorious,

subdued, self-righteous, and even injured air.

The cat-like Steger, who had all the graceful contemplative air

of a prowling Tom, was just the person to deal with her. A more

suavely cunning and opportunistic soul never was. His motto might

well have been, speak softly and step lightly.

" My dear Mrs. Cowperwood, " he argued, seated in her modest West

Philadelphia parlor one spring afternoon, " I need not tell you

what a remarkable man your husband is, nor how useless it is to

combat him. Admitting all his faults--and we can agree, if you

please, that they are many" --Mrs. Cowperwood stirred with

irritation--" still it is not worth while to attempt to hold him

to a strict account. You know" --and Mr. Steger opened his thin,

artistic hands in a deprecatory way--" what sort of a man Mr.

Cowperwood is, and whether he can be coerced or not. He is not

an ordinary man, Mrs. Cowperwood. No man could have gone through

what he has and be where he is to-day, and be an average man. If

you take my advice you will let him go his way. Grant him a

divorce. He is willing, even anxious to make a definite provision

for you and your children. He will, I am sure, look liberally

after their future. But he is becoming very irritable over your

unwillingness to give him a legal separation, and unless you do

I am very much afraid that the whole matter will be thrown into

the courts. If, before it comes to that, I could effect an

arrangement agreeable to you, I would be much pleased. As you

know, I have been greatly grieved by the whole course of your

recent affairs. I am intensely sorry that things are as they are. "

Mr. Steger lifted his eyes in a very pained, deprecatory way. He

regretted deeply the shifty currents of this troubled world.

Mrs. Cowperwood for perhaps the fifteenth or twentieth time heard

him to the end in patience. Cowperwood would not return. Steger

was as much her friend as any other lawyer would be. Besides, he

was socially agreeable to her. Despite his Machiavellian profession,

she half believed him. He went over, tactfully, a score of

additional points. Finally, on the twenty-first visit, and with

seemingly great distress, he told her that her husband had decided

to break with her financially, to pay no more bills, and do nothing

until his responsibility had been fixed by the courts, and that

he, Steger, was about to retire from the case. Mrs. Cowperwood

felt that she must yield; she named her ultimatum. If he would

fix two hundred thousand dollars on her and the children (this was

Cowperwood's own suggestion) and later on do something commercially

for their only son, Frank, junior, she would let him go. She

disliked to do it. She knew that it meant the triumph of Aileen

Butler, such as it was. But, after all, that wretched creature

had been properly disgraced in Philadelphia. It was not likely

she could ever raise her head socially anywhere any more. She

agreed to file a plea which Steger would draw up for her, and by

that oily gentleman's machinations it was finally wormed through

the local court in the most secret manner imaginable. The merest

item in three of the Philadelphia papers some six weeks later

reported that a divorce had been granted. When Mrs. Cowperwood

read it she wondered greatly that so little attention had been

attracted by it. She had feared a much more extended comment.

She little knew the cat-like prowlings, legal and journalistic,

of her husband's interesting counsel. When Cowperwood read it on

one of his visits to Chicago he heaved a sigh of relief. At last

it was really true. Now he could make Aileen his wife. He

telegraphed her an enigmatic message of congratulation. When

Aileen read it she thrilled from head to foot. Now, shortly, she

would become the legal bride of Frank Algernon Cowperwood, the

newly enfranchised Chicago financier, and then--

" Oh, " she said, in her Philadelphia home, when she read it, " isn't

that splendid! Now I'll be Mrs. Cowperwood. Oh, dear! "

Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood number one, thinking over her

husband's liaison, failure, imprisonment, pyrotechnic operations

at the time of the Jay Cooke failure, and his present financial

ascendancy, wondered at the mystery of life. There must be a God.

The Bible said so. Her husband, evil though he was, could not

be utterly bad, for he had made ample provision for her, and the

children liked him. Certainly, at the time of the criminal

prosecution he was no worse than some others who had gone free.

Yet he had been convicted, and she was sorry for that and had

always been. He was an able and ruthless man. She hardly knew

what to think. The one person she really did blame was the wretched,

vain, empty-headed, ungodly Aileen Butler, who had been his

seductress and was probably now to be his wife. God would punish

her, no doubt. He must. So she went to church on Sundays and

tried to believe, come what might, that all was for the best.

Chapter VI

The New Queen of the Home

The day Cowperwood and Aileen were married--it was in an obscure

village called Dalston, near Pittsburg, in western Pennsylvania,

where they had stopped off to manage this matter--he had said to

her: " I want to tell you, dear, that you and I are really beginning

life all over. Now it depends on how well we play this game as

to how well we succeed. If you will listen to me we won't try to

do anything much socially in Chicago for the present. Of course

we'll have to meet a few people. That can't be avoided. Mr. and

Mrs. Addison are anxious to meet you, and I've delayed too long

in that matter as it is. But what I mean is that I don't believe

it's advisable to push this social exchange too far. People are

sure to begin to make inquiries if we do. My plan is to wait a

little while and then build a really fine house so that we won't

need to rebuild. We're going to go to Europe next spring, if

things go right, and we may get some ideas over there. I'm going

to put in a good big gallery, " he concluded. " While we're traveling

we might as well see what we can find in the way of pictures and

so on. "

Aileen was thrilling with anticipation. " Oh, Frank, " she said to

him, quite ecstatically, " you're so wonderful! You do everything

you want, don't you? "

" Not quite, " he said, deprecatingly; " but it isn't for not wanting

to. Chance has a little to say about some of these chings, Aileen. "

She stood in front of him, as she often did, her plump, ringed

hands on his shoulders, and looked into those steady, lucid

pools--his eyes. Another man, less leonine, and with all his

shifting thoughts, might have had to contend with the handicap of

a shifty gaze; he fronted the queries and suspicions of the world

with a seeming candor that was as disarming as that of a child.

The truth was he believed in himself, and himself only, and thence

sprang his courage to think as he pleased. Aileen wondered, but

could get no answer.

" Oh, you big tiger! " she said. " You great, big lion! Boo! "

He pinched her cheek and smiled. " Poor Aileen! " he thought. She

little knew the unsolvable mystery that he was even to himself--to

himself most of all.

Immediately after their marriage Cowperwood and Aileen journeyed

to Chicago direct, and took the best rooms that the Tremont provided,

for the time being. A little later they heard of a comparatively

small furnished house at Twenty-third and Michigan Avenue, which,

with horses and carriages thrown in, was to be had for a season

or two on lease. They contracted for it at once, installing a

butler, servants, and the general service of a well-appointed home.

Here, because he thought it was only courteous, and not because he

thought it was essential or wise at this time to attempt a social

onslaught, he invited the Addisons and one or two others whom he

felt sure would come--Alexander Rambaud, president of the Chicago

& Northwestern, and his wife, and Taylor Lord, an architect whom

he had recently called into consultation and whom he found socially

acceptable. Lord, like the Addisons, was in society, but only as

a minor figure.

Trust Cowperwood to do the thing as it should be done. The place

they had leased was a charming little gray-stone house, with a neat

flight of granite, balustraded steps leading up to its wide-arched

door, and a judicious use of stained glass to give its interior

an artistically subdued atmosphere. Fortunately, it was furnished

in good taste. Cowperwood turned over the matter of the dinner

to a caterer and decorator. Aileen had nothing to do but dress,

and wait, and look her best.

" I needn't tell you, " he said, in the morning, on leaving, " that

I want you to look nice to-night, pet. I want the Addisons and

Mr. Rambaud to like you. "

A hint was more than sufficient for Aileen, though really it was

not needed. On arriving at Chicago she had sought and discovered

a French maid. Although she had brought plenty of dresses from

Philadelphia, she had been having additional winter costumes

prepared by the best and most expensive mistress of the art in

Chicago--Theresa Donovan. Only the day before she had welcomed

home a golden-yellow silk under heavy green lace, which, with her

reddish-gold hair and her white arms and neck, seemed to constitute

an unusual harmony. Her boudoir on the night of the dinner presented

a veritable riot of silks, satins, laces, lingerie, hair ornaments,

perfumes, jewels--anything and everything which might contribute

to the feminine art of being beautiful. Once in the throes of a

toilet composition, Aileen invariably became restless and energetic,

almost fidgety, and her maid, Fadette, was compelled to move quickly.

Fresh from her bath, a smooth, ivory Venus, she worked quickly

through silken lingerie, stockings and shoes, to her hair. Fadette

had an idea to suggest for the hair. Would Madame let her try a

new swirl she had seen? Madame would--yes. So there were movings

of her mass of rich glinting tresses this way and that. Somehow

it would not do. A braided effect was then tried, and instantly

discarded; finally a double looping, without braids, low over the

forehead, caught back with two dark-green bands, crossing like an

X above the center of her forehead and fastened with a diamond

sunburst, served admirably. In her filmy, lacy boudoir costumeof

pink silk Aileen stood up and surveyed herself in the full-length

mirror.

" Yes, " she said, turning her head this way and that.

Then came the dress from Donovan's, rustling and crisping. She

slipped into it wonderingly, critically, while Fadette worked at

the back, the arms, about her knees, doing one little essential

thing after another.

" Oh, Madame! " she exclaimed. " Oh, charmant! Ze hair, it go weeth

it perfect. It ees so full, so beyutiful here" --she pointed to

the hips, where the lace formed a clinging basque. " Oh, tees

varee, varee nize. "

Aileen glowed, but with scarcely a smile. She was concerned. It

wasn't so much her toilet, which must be everything that it should

be--but this Mr. Addison, who was so rich and in society, and Mr.

Rambaud, who was very powerful, Frank said, must like her. It was

the necessity to put her best foot forward now that was really

troubling her. She must interest these men mentally, perhaps, as

well as physically, and with social graces, and that was not so

easy. For all her money and comfort in Philadelphia she had never

been in society in its best aspects, had never done social

entertaining of any real importance. Frank was the most important

man who had ever crossed her path. No doubt Mr. Rambaud had a

severe, old-fashioned wife. How would she talk to her? And Mrs.

Addison! She would know and see everything. Aileen almost talked

out loud to herself in a consoling way as she dressed, so strenuous

were her thoughts; but she went on, adding the last touches to her

physical graces.

When she finally went down-stairs to see how the dining and reception

rooms looked, and Fadette began putting away the welter of discarded

garments--she was a radiant vision--a splendid greenish-gold figure,

with gorgeous hair, smooth, soft, shapely ivory arms, a splendid

neck and bust, and a swelling form. She felt beautiful, and yet

she was a little nervous--truly. Frank himself would be critical.

She went about looking into the dining-room, which, by the caterer's

art, had been transformed into a kind of jewel-box glowing with

flowers, silver, gold, tinted glass, and the snowy whiteness of

linen. It reminded her of an opal flashing all its soft fires.

She went into the general reception-room, where was a grand piano

finished in pink and gold, upon which, with due thought to her one

accomplishment--her playing--she had arranged the songs and

instrumental pieces she did best. Aileen was really not a brilliant

musician. For the first time in her life she felt matronly--as

if now she were not a girl any more, but a woman grown, with some

serious responsibilities, and yet she was not really suited to the

role. As a matter of fact, her thoughts were always fixed on the

artistic, social, and dramatic aspects of life, with unfortunately

a kind of nebulosity of conception which permitted no condensation

into anything definite or concrete. She could only be wildly and

feverishly interested. Just then the door clicked to Frank's

key--it was nearing six--and in he came, smiling, confident, a

perfect atmosphere of assurance.

" Well! " he observed, surveying her in the soft glow of the

reception-room lighted by wall candles judiciously arranged.

" Who's the vision floating around here? I'm almost afraid to touch

you. Much powder on those arms? "

He drew her into his arms, and she put up her mouth with a sense

of relief. Obviously, he must think that she looked charming.

" I am chalky, I guess. You'll just have to stand it, though.

You're going to dress, anyhow. "

She put her smooth, plump arms about his neck, and he felt pleased.

This was the kind of a woman to have--a beauty. Her neck was

resplendent with a string of turquoise, her fingers too heavily

jeweled, but still beautiful. She was faintly redolent of hyacinth

or lavender. Her hair appealed to him, and, above all, the rich

yellow silk of her dress, flashing fulgurously through the closely

netted green.

" Charming, girlie. You've outdone yourself. I haven't seen this

dress before. Where did you get it? "

" Here in Chicago. "

He lifted her warm fingers, surveying her train, and turned her

about.

" You don't need any advice. You ought to start a school. "

" Am I all right? " she queried, smartly, but with a sense of

self-distrust for the moment, and all because of him.

" You're perfect. Couldn't be nicer. Splendid! "

She took heart.

" I wish your friends would think so. You'd better hurry. "

He went up-stairs, and she followed, looking first into the

dining-room again. At least that was right. Surely Frank was a

master.

At seven the plop of the feet of carriage-horses was heard, and a

moment later Louis, the butler, was opening the door. Aileen went

down, a little nervous, a little frigid, trying to think of many

pleasant things, and wondering whether she would really succeed

in being entertaining. Cowperwood accompanied her, a very different

person in so far as mood and self-poise were concerned. To himself

his own future was always secure, and that of Aileen's if he wished

to make it so. The arduous, upward-ascending rungs of the social

ladder that were troubling her had no such significance to him.

The dinner, as such simple things go, was a success from what might

be called a managerial and pictorial point of view. Cowperwood,

because of his varied tastes and interests, could discuss railroading

with Mr. Rambaud in a very definite and illuminating way; could

talk architecture with Mr. Lord as a student, for instance, of

rare promise would talk with a master; and with a woman like Mrs.

Addison or Mrs. Rambaud he could suggest or follow appropriate

leads. Aileen, unfortunately, was not so much at home, for her

natural state and mood were remote not so much from a serious as

from an accurate conception of life. So many things, except in a

very nebulous and suggestive way, were sealed books to Aileen--merely

faint, distant tinklings. She knew nothing of literature except

certain authors who to the truly cultured might seem banal. As

for art, it was merely a jingle of names gathered from Cowperwood's

private comments. Her one redeeming feature was that she was truly

beautiful herself--a radiant, vibrating objet d'art. A man like

Rambaud, remote, conservative, constructive, saw the place of a

woman like Aileen in the life of a man like Cowperwood on the

instant. She was such a woman as he would have prized himself in

a certain capacity.

Sex interest in all strong men usually endures unto the end,

governed sometimes by a stoic resignation. The experiment of such

attraction can, as they well know, be made over and over, but to

what end? For many it becomes too troublesome. Yet the presence

of so glittering a spectacle as Aileen on this night touched Mr.

Rambaud with an ancient ambition. He looked at her almost sadly.

Once he was much younger. But alas, he had never attracted the

flaming interest of any such woman. As he studied her now he

wished that he might have enjoyed such good fortune.

In contrast with Aileen's orchid glow and tinted richness Mrs.

Rambaud's simple gray silk, the collar of which came almost to her

ears, was disturbing--almost reproving--but Mrs. Rambaud's ladylike

courtesy and generosity made everything all right. She came out

of intellectual New England--the Emerson-Thoreau-Channing Phillips

school of philosophy--and was broadly tolerant. As a matter of

fact, she liked Aileen and all the Orient richness she represented.

" Such a sweet little house this is, " she said, smilingly. " We've

noticed it often. We're not so far removed from you but what we

might be called neighbors. "

Aileen's eyes spoke appreciation. Although she could not fully

grasp Mrs. Rambaud, she understood her, in a way, and liked her.

She was probably something like her own mother would have been if

the latter had been highly educated. While they were moving into

the reception-room Taylor Lord was announced. Cowperwood took his

hand and brought him forward to the others.

" Mrs. Cowperwood, " said Lord, admiringly--a tall, rugged, thoughtful

person--" let me be one of many to welcome you to Chicago. After

Philadelphia you will find some things to desire at first, but we

all come to like it eventually. "

" Oh, I'm sure I shall, " smiled Aileen.

" I lived in Philadelphia years ago, but only for a little while, "

added Lord. " I left there to come here. "

The observation gave Aileen the least pause, but she passed it

over lightly. This sort of accidental reference she must learn

to expect; there might be much worse bridges to cross.

" I find Chicago all right, " she replied, briskly. " There's nothing

the matter with it. It has more snap than Philadelphia ever had. "

" I'm glad to hear you say that. I like it so much. Perhaps it's

because I find such interesting things to do here. "

He was admiring the splendor of her arms and hair. What need had

beautiful woman to be intellectual, anyhow, he was saying to

himself, sensing that Aileen might be deficient in ultimate

refinement.

Once more an announcement from the butler, and now Mr. and Mrs.

Addison entered. Addison was not at all concerned over coming

here--liked the idea of it; his own position and that of his wife

in Chicago was secure. " How are you, Cowperwood? " he beamed,

laying one hand on the latter's shoulder. " This is fine of you

to have us in to-night. Mrs. Cowperwood, I've been telling your

husband for nearly a year now that he should bring you out here.

Did he tell you? " (Addison had not as yet confided to his wife the

true history of Cowperwood and Aileen. )

" Yes, indeed, " replied Aileen, gaily, feeling that Addison was

charmed by her beauty. " I've been wanting to come, too. It's his

fault that I wasn't here sooner. "

Addison, looking circumspectly at Aileen, said to himself that she

was certainly a stunning-looking woman. So she was the cause of

the first wife's suit. No wonder. What a splendid creature! He

contrasted her with Mrs. Addison, and to his wife's disadvantage.

She had never been as striking, as stand-upish as Aileen, though

possibly she might have more sense. Jove! if he could find a woman

like Aileen to-day. Life would take on a new luster. And yet he

had women--very carefully, very subterraneously. But he had them.

" It's such a pleasure to meet you, " Mrs. Addison, a corpulent,

bejeweled lady, was saying to Aileen. " My husband and yours have

become the best of friends, apparently. We must see more of each

other. "

She babbled on in a puffy social way, and Aileen felt as though

she were getting along swiftly. The butler brought in a great

tray of appetizers and cordials, and put them softly on a remote

table. Dinner was served, and the talk flowed on; they discussed

the growth of the city, a new church that Lord was building ten

blocks farther out; Rambaud told about some humorous land swindles.

It was quite gay. Meanwhile Aileen did her best to become

interested in Mrs. Rambaud and Mrs. Addison. She liked the latter

somewhat better, solely because it was a little easier to talk to

her. Mrs. Rambaud Aileen knew to be the wiser and more charitable

woman, but she frightened her a little; presently she had to fall

back on Mr. Lord's help. He came to her rescue gallantly, talking

of everything that came into his mind. All the men outside of

Cowperwood were thinking how splendid Aileen was physically, how

white were her arms, how rounded her neck and shoulders, how rich

her hair.

Chapter VII

Chicago Gas

Old Peter Laughlin, rejuvenated by Cowperwood's electric ideas,

was making money for the house. He brought many bits of interesting

gossip from the floor, and such shrewd guesses as to what certain

groups and individuals were up to, that Cowperwood was able to

make some very brilliant deductions.

" By Gosh! Frank, I think I know exactly what them fellers are

trying to do, " Laughlin would frequently remark of a morning, after

he had lain in his lonely Harrison Street bed meditating the major

portion of the night. " That there Stock Yards gang" (and by gang

he meant most of the great manipulators, like Arneel, Hand, Schryhart

and others) " are after corn again. We want to git long o' that

now, or I miss my guess. What do you think, huh? "

Cowperwood, schooled by now in many Western subtleties which he

had not previously known, and daily becoming wiser, would as a

rule give an instantaneous decision.

" You're right. Risk a hundred thousand bushels. I think New York

Central is going to drop a point or two in a few days. We'd better

go short a point. "

Laughlin could never figure out quite how it was that Cowperwood

always seemed to know and was ready to act quite as quickly in

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