the titan-第78部分

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　of　her　life　with　Cowperwood　walked　side　by　side　with　her　wherever　she　went。　　Once　occasionally　indulging　in　cigarettes；　she　now　smoked　almost　constantly。　　Once　barely　sipping　at　wines；　cocktails；　brandy…and…soda；　she　now　took　to　the　latter；　or；　rather；　to　a　new　whisky…and…soda　combination　known　as　〃highball〃　with　a　kind　of　vehemence　which　had　little　to　do　with　a　taste　for　the　thing　itself。　　True；　drinking　is；　after　all；　a　state　of　mind；　and　not　an　appetite。　　She　had　found　on　a　number　of　occasions　when　she　had　been　quarreling　with　Lynde　or　was　mentally　depressed　that　in　partaking　of　these　drinks　a　sort　of　warm；　speculative　indifference　seized　upon　her。　　She　was　no　longer　so　sad。　　She　might　cry；　but　it　was　in　a　soft；　rainy；　relieving　way。　　Her　sorrows　were　as　strange；　enticing　figures　in　dreams。　　They　moved　about　and　around　her；　not　as　things　actually　identical　with　her；　but　as　ills　which　she　could　view　at　a　distance。　　Sometimes　both　she　and　they　（for　she　saw　herself　also　as　in　a　kind　of　mirage　or　inverted　vision）　seemed　beings　of　another　state；　troubled；　but　not　bitterly　painful。　The　old　nepenthe　of　the　bottle　had　seized　upon　her。　　After　a　few　accidental　lapses；　in　which　she　found　it　acted　as　a　solace　or　sedative；　the　highball　visioned　itself　to　her　as　a　resource。　　Why　should　she　not　drink　if　it　relieved　her；　as　it　actually　did；　of　physical　and　mental　pain？　There　were　apparently　no　bad　after…effects。　The　whisky　involved　was　diluted　to　an　almost　watery　state。　　It　was　her　custom　now　when　at　home　alone　to　go　to　the　butler's　pantry　where　the　liquors　were　stored　and　prepare　a　drink　for　herself；　or　to　order　a　tray　with　a　siphon　and　bottle　placed　in　her　room。　　Cowperwood；　noticing　the　persistence　of　its　presence　there　and　the　fact　that　she　drank　heavily　at　table；　commented　upon　it。

〃You're　not　taking　too　much　of　that；　are　you；　Aileen？〃　he　questioned　one　evening；　watching　her　drink　down　a　tumbler　of　whisky　and　water　as　she　sat　contemplating　a　pattern　of　needlework　with　which　the　table　was　ornamented。

〃Certainly　I'm　not；〃　she　replied；　irritably；　a　little　flushed　and　thick　of　tongue。　　〃Why　do　you　ask？〃　She　herself　had　been　wondering　whether　in　the　course　of　time　it　might　not　have　a　depreciating　effect　on　her　complexion。　　This　was　the　only　thing　that　still　concerned　herher　beauty。

〃Well；　I　see　you　have　that　bottle　in　your　room　all　the　time。　　I　was　wondering　if　you　might　not　be　forgetting　how　much　you　are　using　it。〃

Because　she　was　so　sensitive　he　was　trying　to　be　tactful。

〃Well；〃　she　answered；　crossly；　〃what　if　I　am？　It　wouldn't　make　any　particular　difference　if　I　did。　　I　might　as　well　drink　as　do　some　other　things　that　are　done。〃

It　was　a　kind　of　satisfaction　to　her　to　bait　him　in　this　way。　　His　inquiry；　being　a　proof　of　continued　interest　on　his　part；　was　of　some　value。　　At　least　he　was　not　entirely　indifferent　to　her。

〃I　wish　you　wouldn't　talk　that　way；　Aileen；〃　he　replied。　　〃I　have　no　objection　to　your　drinking　some。　　I　don't　suppose　it　makes　any　difference　to　you　now　whether　I　object　or　not。　　But　you　are　too　good…looking；　too　well　set　up　physically；　to　begin　that。　　You　don't　need　it；　and　it's　such　a　short　road　to　hell。　　Your　state　isn't　so　bad。　　Good　heavens！　many　another　woman　has　been　in　your　position。　I'm　not　going　to　leave　you　unless　you　want　to　leave　me。　　I've　told　you　that　over　and　over。　　I'm　just　sorry　people　changewe　all　do。　　I　suppose　I've　changed　some；　but　that's　no　reason　for　your　letting　yourself　go　to　pieces。　　I　wish　you　wouldn't　be　desperate　about　this　business。　　It　may　come　out　better　than　you　think　in　the　long　run。〃

He　was　merely　talking　to　console　her。

〃Oh！　oh！　oh！〃　Aileen　suddenly　began　to　rock　and　cry　in　a　foolish　drunken　way；　as　though　her　heart　would　break；　and　Cowperwood　got　up。　　He　was　horrified　after　a　fashion。

〃Oh；　don't　come　near　me！〃　Aileen　suddenly　exclaimed；　sobering　in　an　equally　strange　way。　　〃I　know　why　you　come。　　I　know　how　much　you　care　about　me　or　my　looks。　　Don't　you　worry　whether　I　drink　or　not。　　I'll　drink　if　I　please；　or　do　anything　else　if　I　choose。　If　it　helps　me　over　my　difficulties；　that's　my　business；　not　yours；〃　and　in　defiance　she　prepared　another　glass　and　drank　it。

Cowperwood　shook　his　head；　looking　at　her　steadily　and　sorrowfully。　〃It's　too　bad；　Aileen；〃　he　said。　　〃I　don't　know　what　to　do　about　you　exactly。　　You　oughtn't　to　go　on　this　way。　　Whisky　won't　get　you　anywhere。　　It　will　simply　ruin　your　looks　and　make　you　miserable　in　the　bargain。〃

〃Oh；　to　hell　with　my　looks！〃　she　snapped。　　〃A　lot　of　good　they've　done　me。〃　And；　feeling　contentious　and　sad；　she　got　up　and　left　the　table。　　Cowperwood　followed　her　after　a　time；　only　to　see　her　dabbing　at　her　eyes　and　nose　with　powder。　　A　half…filled　glass　of　whisky　and　water　was　on　the　dressing…table　beside　her。　　It　gave　him　a　strange　feeling　of　responsibility　and　helplessness。

Mingled　with　his　anxiety　as　to　Aileen　were　thoughts　of　the　alternate　rise　and　fall　of　his　hopes　in　connection　with　Berenice。　　She　was　such　a　superior　girl；　developing　so　definitely　as　an　individual。　　To　his　satisfaction　she　had；　on　a　few　recent　occasions　when　he　had　seen　her；　unbent　sufficiently　to　talk　to　him　in　a　friendly　and　even　intimate　way；　for　she　was　by　no　means　hoity…toity；　but　a　thinking；　reasoning　being　of　the　profoundest　intellectual；　or；　rather；　the　highest　artistic　tendencies。　　She　was　so　care…free；　living　in　a　high　and　solitary　world；　at　times　apparently　enwrapt　in　thoughts　serene；　at　other　times　sharing　vividly　in　the　current　interests　of　the　social　world　of　which　she　was　a　part；　and　which　she　dignified　as　much　as　it　dignified　her。

One　Sunday　morning　at　Pocono；　in　late　June　weather；　when　he　had　come　East　to　rest　for　a　few　days；　and　all　was　still　and　airy　on　the　high　ground　which　the　Carter　cottage　occupied；　Berenice　came　out　on　the　veranda　where　Cowperwood　was　sitting；　reading　a　fiscal　report　of　one　of　his　companies　and　meditating　on　his　affairs。　　By　now　they　had　become　somewhat　more　sympatica　than　formerly；　and　Berenice　had　an　easy；　genial　way　in　his　presence。　　She　liked　him；　rather。　　With　an　indescribable　smile　which　wrinkled　her　nose　and　eyes；　and　played　about　the　corners　of　her　mouth；　she　said：　〃Now　I　am　going　to　catch　a　bird。〃

〃A　what？〃　asked　Cowperwood；　looking　up　and　pretending　he　had　not　heard；　though　he　had。　　He　was　all　eyes　for　any　movement　of　hers。　　She　was　dressed　in　a　flouncy　morning　gown　eminently　suitable　for　the　world　in　which　she　was　moving。

〃A　bird；〃　she　replied；　with　an　airy　toss　of　her　head。　　〃This　is　June…time；　and　the　sparrows　are　teaching　their　young　to　fly。〃

Cowperwood；　previously　engrossed　in　financial　speculations；　was　translated；　as　by　the　wave　of　a　fairy　wand；　into　another　realm　where　birds　and　fledglings　and　grass　and　the　light　winds　of　heaven　were　more　important　than　brick　and　stone　and　stocks　and　bonds。　　He　got　up　and　followed　her　flowing　steps　across　the　grass　to　where；　near　a　clump　of　alder　bushes；　she　had　seen　a　mother　sparrow　enticing　a　fledgling　to　take　wing。　　From　her　room　upstairs；　she　had　been　watching　this　bit　of　outdoor　sociology。　　It　suddenly　came　to　Cowperwood；　with　great　force；　how　comparatively　unimportant　in　the　great　drift　of　life　were　his　own　affairs　when　about　him　was　operative　all　this　splendid　will　to　existence；　as　sensed　by　her。　　He　saw　her　stretch　out　her　hands　downward；　and　run　in　an　airy；　graceful　way；　stooping　here　and　there；　while　before　her　fluttered　a　baby　sparrow；　until　suddenly　she　dived　quickly　and　then；　turning；　her　face　agleam；　cried：　〃See；　I　have　him！　He　wants　to　fight；　too！　Oh；　you　little　dear！〃

She　was　holding　〃him；〃　as　she　chose　to　characterize　it；　in　the　hollow　of　her　hand；　the　head　between　her　thumb　and　forefinger；　with　the　forefinger　of　her　free　hand　petting　it　the　while　she　laughed　and　kissed　it。　　It　was　not　so　much　bird…love　as　the　artistry　of　life　and　of　herself　that　was　moving　her。　　Hearing　the　parent　bird　chirping　distractedly　from　a　nearby　limb；　she　turned　and　called：　〃Don't　make　such　a　row！　I　sha'n't　keep　him　long。〃

Cowperwood　laughedtrig　in　the　morning　sun。　　〃You　can　scarcely　blame　her；〃　he　commented。

〃Oh；　she　knows　well　enough　I　wouldn't　hurt　him；〃　Berenice　replied；　spiritedly；　as　though　it　were　literally　true。

〃Does　she；　indeed？〃　inquired　Cowperwood。　　〃Why　do　you　say　that？〃

〃Because　it's　true。　　Don't　you　think　they　know　when　their　children　are　really　in　danger？〃

〃But　why　should　they？〃　persisted　Cowperwood；　charmed　and　interested　by　the　involute　character　of　her　logic。　　She　was　quite　deceptive　to　him。　　He　could　not　be　sure　what　she　thought。

She　merely　fixed　him　a　moment　with　her　cool；　slate…blue　eyes。　　〃Do　you　think　the　senses　of　the　world　are　only　five？〃　she　asked；　in　the　most　charming　and　non…reproachful　way。　　〃Indeed；　they　know　well　enough。　　She　knows。〃　She　turned　and　waved　a　graceful　hand　in　the　direction　of　the　tree；　where　peace　now　reigned。　　The　chirping　had　ceased。　　〃She　knows　I　am　not　a　cat。〃

Again　that　enticing；　mocking　smile　that　wrinkled　her　nose；　her　eye…corners；　her　mouth。　　The　word　〃cat〃　had　a　sharp；　sweet　sound　in　her　mouth。　　It　seemed　to　be　bitten　off　closely　with　force　and　airy　spirit。　　Cowperwood　surveyed　her　as　he　would　have　surveyed　the　ablest　person　he　knew。　　Here　was　a　woman；　he　saw；　who　could　and　would　command　the　utmost　reaches　of　his　soul　in　every　direction。　If　he　interested　her　at　all；　he　would　need　them　all。　　The　eyes　of　her　were　at　once　so　elusive；　so　direct；　so　friendly；　so　cool　and　keen。　　〃You　will　have　to　be　interesting；　indeed；　to　interest　me；〃　they　seemed　to　say；　and　yet　they　were　by　no　means　averse；　apparently；　to　a　hearty　camaraderie。　　That　nose…wrinkling　smile　said　as　much。　　Here　was　by　no　means　a　Stephanie　Platow；　nor　yet　a　Rita　Sohlberg。　　He　could　not　assume　her　as　he　had　Ella　Hubby；　or　Florence　Cochrane；　or　Cecily　Haguenin。　　Here　was　an　iron　individuality　with　a　soul　for　romance　and　art　and　philosophy　and　life。　　He　could　not　take　her　as　he　had　those　others。　　And　yet　Berenice　was　really　beginning　to　think　more　than　a　little　about　Cowperwood。　　He　must　be　an　extraordinary　man；　her　mother　said　so；　and　the　newspapers　were　always　mentioning　his　name　and　noting　his　movements。

A　little　later；　at　Southampton；　whither　she　and　her　mother　had　gone；　they　met　again。　　Together　with　a　young　ma