THE TITAN. Theodore DreiserЧитать онлайн книгу.
her apparent triumph as a hostess in her own home, there could be so marked a decline in her local importance. Of a possible seventy-five or fifty who might have called or left cards, within three weeks after the housewarming only twenty responded. A week later it had declined to ten, and within five weeks, all told, there was scarcely a caller. It is true that a very few of the unimportant — those who had looked to her for influence and the self-protecting Taylor Lord and Kent McKibben, who were commercially obligated to Cowperwood — were still faithful, but they were really worse than nothing. Aileen was beside herself with disappointment, opposition, chagrin, shame. There are many natures, rhinoceros-bided and iron-souled, who can endure almost any rebuff in the hope of eventual victory, who are almost too thick-skinned to suffer, but hers was not one of these. Already, in spite of her original daring in regard to the opinion of society and the rights of the former Mrs. Cowperwood, she was sensitive on the score of her future and what her past might mean to her. Really her original actions could be attributed to her youthful passion and the powerful sex magnetism of Cowperwood. Under more fortunate circumstances she would have married safely enough and without the scandal which followed. As it was now, her social future here needed to end satisfactorily in order to justify herself to herself, and, she thought, to him.
“You may put the sandwiches in the ice-box,” she said to Louis, the butler, after one of the earliest of the “at home” failures, referring to the undue supply of pink-and-blue-ribboned titbits which, uneaten, honored some fine Sevres with their presence. “Send the flowers to the hospital. The servants may drink the claret cup and lemonade. Keep some of the cakes fresh for dinner.”
The butler nodded his head. “Yes, Madame,” he said. Then, by way of pouring oil on what appeared to him to be a troubled situation, he added: “Eet’s a rough day. I suppose zat has somepsing to do weeth it.”
Aileen was aflame in a moment. She was about to exclaim: “Mind your business!” but changed her mind. “Yes, I presume so,” was her answer, as she ascended to her room. If a single poor “at home” was to be commented on by servants, things were coming to a pretty pass. She waited until the next week to see whether this was the weather or a real change in public sentiment. It was worse than the one before. The singers she had engaged had to be dismissed without performing the service for which they had come. Kent McKibben and Taylor Lord, very well aware of the rumors now flying about, called, but in a remote and troubled spirit. Aileen saw that, too. An affair of this kind, with only these two and Mrs. Webster Israels and Mrs. Henry Huddlestone calling, was a sad indication of something wrong. She had to plead illness and excuse herself. The third week, fearing a worse defeat than before, Aileen pretended to be ill. She would see how many cards were left. There were just three. That was the end. She realized that her “at homes” were a notable failure.
At the same time Cowperwood was not to be spared his share in the distrust and social opposition which was now rampant.
His first inkling of the true state of affairs came in connection with a dinner which, on the strength of an old invitation, they unfortunately attended at a time when Aileen was still uncertain. It had been originally arranged by the Sunderland Sledds, who were not so much socially, and who at the time it occurred were as yet unaware of the ugly gossip going about, or at least of society’s new attitude toward the Cowperwoods. At this time it was understood by nearly all — the Simms, Candas, Cottons, and Kingslands — that a great mistake had been made, and that the Cowperwoods were by no means admissible.
To this particular dinner a number of people, whom the latter knew, had been invited. Uniformly all, when they learned or recalled that the Cowperwoods were expected, sent eleventh-hour regrets —“so sorry.” Outside the Sledds there was only one other couple — the Stanislau Hoecksemas, for whom the Cowperwoods did not particularly care. It was a dull evening. Aileen complained of a headache, and they went home.
Very shortly afterward, at a reception given by their neighbors, the Haatstaedts, to which they had long since been invited, there was an evident shyness in regard to them, quite new in its aspect, although the hosts themselves were still friendly enough. Previous to this, when strangers of prominence had been present at an affair of this kind they were glad to be brought over to the Cowperwoods, who were always conspicuous because of Aileen’s beauty. On this day, for no reason obvious to Aileen or Cowperwood (although both suspected), introductions were almost uniformly refused. There were a number who knew them, and who talked casually, but the general tendency on the part of all was to steer clear of them. Cowperwood sensed the difficulty at once. “I think we’d better leave early,” he remarked to Aileen, after a little while. “This isn’t very interesting.”
They returned to their own home, and Cowperwood to avoid discussion went down-town. He did not care to say what he thought of this as yet.
It was previous to a reception given by the Union League that the first real blow was struck at him personally, and that in a roundabout way. Addison, talking to him at the Lake National Bank one morning, had said quite confidentially, and out of a clear sky:
“I want to tell you something, Cowperwood. You know by now something about Chicago society. You also know where I stand in regard to some things you told me about your past when I first met you. Well, there’s a lot of talk going around about you now in regard to all that, and these two clubs to which you and I belong are filled with a lot of two-faced, double-breasted hypocrites who’ve been stirred up by this talk of conspiracy in the papers. There are four or five stockholders of the old companies who are members, and they are trying to drive you out. They’ve looked up that story you told me, and they’re talking about filing charges with the house committees at both places. Now, nothing can come of it in either case — they’ve been talking to me; but when this next reception comes along you’ll know what to do. They’ll have to extend you an invitation; but they won’t mean it.” (Cowperwood understood.) “This whole thing is certain to blow over, in my judgment; it will if I have anything to do with it; but for the present —”
He stared at Cowperwood in a friendly way.
The latter smiled. “I expected something like this, Judah, to tell you the truth,” he said, easily. “I’ve expected it all along. You needn’t worry about me. I know all about this. I’ve seen which way the wind is blowing, and I know how to trim my sails.”
Addison reached out and took his hand. “But don’t resign, whatever you do,” he said, cautiously. “That would be a confession of weakness, and they don’t expect you to. I wouldn’t want you to. Stand your ground. This whole thing will blow over. They’re jealous, I think.”
“I never intended to,” replied Cowperwood. “There’s no legitimate charge against me. I know it will all blow over if I’m given time enough.” Nevertheless he was chagrined to think that he should be subjected to such a conversation as this with any one.
Similarly in other ways “society”— so called — was quite able to enforce its mandates and conclusions.
The one thing that Cowperwood most resented, when he learned of it much later, was a snub direct given to Aileen at the door of the Norrie Simmses’; she called there only to be told that Mrs. Simms was not at home, although the carriages of others were in the street. A few days afterward Aileen, much to his regret and astonishment — for he did not then know the cause — actually became ill.
If it had not been for Cowperwood’s eventual financial triumph over all opposition — the complete routing of the enemy — in the struggle for control in the gas situation — the situation would have been hard, indeed. As it was, Aileen suffered bitterly; she felt that the slight was principally directed at her, and would remain in force. In the privacy of their own home they were compelled eventually to admit, the one to the other, that their house of cards, resplendent and forceful looking as it was, had fallen to the ground. Personal confidences between people so closely united are really the most trying of all. Human souls are constantly trying to find each other, and rarely succeeding.
“You know,” he finally said to her once, when he came in rather unexpectedly and found her sick in bed, her eyes wet, and her maid dismissed for the day, “I understand what this is all about. To tell you the truth, Aileen, I rather expected it.