The Stoic

THE STOIC

As for Berenice and Stane, ah, well, he would wait and see as to that also. He was sixty years old, and except for fame and public acclaim, it might, in a very few years, make no particular difference. Actually, because of the relentless whirl of duties now threatening to engulf him, he was beginning to feel a little weary. Sometimes, at the close of a busy day, he felt this whole London venture to be such a senseless thing for him to be undertaking at this time. Why, only a year or two before, in Chicago, he had been saying to himself that if he could but achieve the extension of his franchises there, he would be willing to disassociate himself from the direction, and retire and travel. He had even thought at the time that if Berenice finally refused his offer, and he were left to himself again, he might patch up some form of peace with Aileen and return to his New York house and such amusements and activities as would not overtax what he looked upon as a deserved leisure.

But now, here he was. And what was it all about? What was he to get out of it, other than the pleasure with Berenice, which, had she willed it otherwise, he might have found in a more peaceful way. At the same time, there was the point made by her, and even by himself, that he owed it to himself, to his life, his reputation as representing an immense creative force, a financial figure of the first rank, to go forward and round out his career in some such climactic fashion as this. But could it be effected without impairing his reputation as well as his fortune? Would it be possible, in view of the present state of opinion of him at home, to go back and, in a reasonably brief time, assemble the required money?

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Meanwhile, Aileen, in Paris, at the end of a month, was, as all her new friends declared, «a different person!» Twenty pounds lighter; her color, her eyes, as well as her mood brighter; her hair arranged à la chanticleer , as Sarah Schimmel described it; her gowns designed by M. Richard, her shoes by M. Kraussmeier, all as Tollifer had planned. She had achieved a real friendship with Madame Rezstadt, and the sheik, though his attentions were a little bothersome, was an amusing individual. He seemed to like her for herself alone; in fact, seemed bent on developing an affair with her. But that costume! White, and of the finest silk and wool, with a white silk cord binding it at his waist. And his oily, savage-looking black hair! And the small silver rings in his ears! And long, thin, pointed and up- ward-curling red leather slippers on his feet, which were certainly not small. And that hawklike nose and dark piercing eyes! When with him, one became part of a show, gazed at by all. And if she entertained him alone, she spent most of the time trying to avoid his caresses.

«Now, please, Ibrihim», she would say. «Don’t forget, I’m married, and in love with my husband. I like you, I really do. But you mustn’t be begging me to do what I don’t want to do, because I won’t, and if you keep on, I won’t see you at all».

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«But, you see», he insisted, in quite good English, «we have so mooch in common. You like to play, and so do I. We like to talk, ride, gamble, play ze races a little. But still, you are like me, sober, not so... so... ».

«Flighty?» interjected Aileen.

«What you mean, ‘flighty’?» he inquired.

«Oh, I don’t know». She felt as though she were talking to a child. «Fussy, jumpy». She waved her hands to indicate instability, mental as well as emotional.

«So? So? Ha, ha! Flighty! It is so! I understan’. You are not flighty! Gudd! So I like you, mooch. Ha, ha! Very mooch. And me? You like me – the Sheik Ibrihim?»

Aileen laughed. «Yes, I do», she said. «Of course, I think you drink too much. And I think you are anything but a good man – cruel and selfish and a lot of things. But I like you just the same, and... ».

«Tchk, tchk», clucked the sheik. «That is not mooch for a man like me. If I do not love, I do not sleep».

«Oh, stop being silly!» exclaimed Aileen. «Do go over there and fix yourself a drink. And then go away and come back tonight and take me to dinner. I’d like to go to that Mr. Sabinal’s place again».

And so Aileen’s days were passing agreeably enough.

Her former tendency toward melancholia was dispelled, and she began to feel that her state was not as hopeless as it had been. Cowperwood had written her that he would be coming to Paris, and in anticipation of his arrival she was prepared to surprise him with the most impressive of M. Richard’s creations. And Tollifer had suggested that they take him to Or-

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signat’s for dinner, an interesting little place recently discovered by him. It was charming, located right in the shadow of Notre Dame. Sabinal was to furnish Orsignat, for the occasion, with the wines, brandies, liqueurs, aperitifs, and cigars. And Orsignat, under the direction of Tollifer, was to furnish a repast of which no gourmet could complain. For this time it was Tollifer who was seeking to make an impression. Among the guests were to be Madame Rezstadt, the devoted sheik, and Marigold, who because of her interest in Tollifer was still in Paris and, by his orders, reconciled to Aileen.

«You and your husband», he said to Aileen, «are so familiar with all the well-known places. I think it would be more original if we got up something quite simple for a change». And he explained his plan to her.

To make sure of Cowperwood’s presence, Tollifer had her cable him a pressing invitation to the dinner which they had arranged in his honor. And Cowperwood, on receipt of this, smiled, and wired his acceptance. To his genuine surprise, on his arrival, he found Aileen more attractive physically than he had thought she could be at this time in her life, and particularly after all she had endured. Her hair was a study in swirls that emphasized the good points of her face. And her dress was designed to show the lines of her much reduced figure.

«Aileen!» he exclaimed, on seeing her, «I’ve never seen you looking better! What in the world have you been doing? That dress is most effective. And I like your hair. What have you been living on, birdseed?»

«Well, just about that», returned Aileen, smiling. «I haven’t had a single meal that I would call a meal in thirty days. But you

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may be sure of one thing! Now that I’ve gotten it off, it’s going to stay off! But did you have an easy trip over?» As she talked she was supervising the services of Williams, who was arranging glasses and liqueurs on a table in preparation for guests.

«The Channel was smooth as a pond», he said, «except for about fifteen minutes, when it looked as though everybody would go under. But we were all fine when we landed.

«Oh, that dreadful Channel!» said Aileen, conscious all the while of his eyes upon her, and, in spite of herself, nervously excited by his complimentary remarks.

«But what about this banquet tonight?»

«Well, Mr. Tollifer and I have arranged a little party. You know, that man Tollifer is a perfect jewel. I like him ever so much. And I think you’ll be interested in some of the people who are coming, especially my friend, Madame Rezstadt. She and I have been going around together a great deal. She is charming, and different from any woman I have ever known».

Now that she had lived for a month in the company of Tollifer and his colourful group, she felt at ease in pointing out to Cowperwood a woman of Madame Rezstadt’s charm, where previously she would have jealously intrigued to prevent his noticing any woman as attractive as her new friend. He noted her new air of confidence, her assurance, good nature, and revived interest in life. If things were going to go as well as this, decidedly there might be no further cause for bitterness between them. At the same time ran the thought that this development was his doing, not hers. And she so unconscious of it. But no sooner had that thought been indulged in than he realized that it was really because of Berenice that this had happened. For he could

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feel that Aileen was inspired, not so much by his presence as by that of the man whom he had employed.

But where was he? Cowperwood felt he had no right to inquire. He was in the position of a man who contrives a show, a masquerade, but is not permitted to announce himself as showman. But there was Aileen saying: «Frank, you’ll want to dress. And I have some things to do before the others arrive».

«That’s right», he said. «But I have a piece of news for you. Do you think you could leave Paris just now and run back to New York with me?»

«What do you mean?» Her voice was full of surprise. For she had been hoping that they might visit at least a few of the principal resorts of Europe this summer, and now here he was talking of returning to New York. Perhaps he was giving up his London plans entirely in order to return to America for good. She was a little disturbed, for somehow this seemed to shadow and even threaten all that she had so recently achieved.

«Oh, nothing at all serious», said Cowperwood, smiling. «Nothing has gone wrong in London. I haven’t been thrown out. In fact, it looks as though they might like me to stay. But only on condition that I go back home and return with a lot of money». He smiled ironically, and Aileen, relieved, smiled with him. Knowing so much of his past experiences, she could not help sharing his cynicism.

«Well, that doesn’t surprise me», she said. «But let’s talk about it tomorrow. Suppose you dress now».

«Right! I’ll be ready in a half-hour».

Aileen covered him with her eyes as he passed into another room. As usual, he was certainly looking the picture of suc-

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Before Cowperwood reappeared, Tollifer breezed in. Handing his top hat and stick to Williams, he marched briskly over to Aileen’s bedroom door and knocked.

«Hello!» she called out to him. «Mr. Cowperwood is here; he’s dressing. I’ll be with you in a second».

«Righto! The others should be here any moment now».

As he spoke, he heard a slight noise and turned just in time to note Cowperwood’s entrance into the reception room by another door. The two gave each other a swift glance of recognition. Tollifer conscious of his obligation, stepped quickly and cordially forward. But Cowperwood anticipated his address by saying: «Well, we meet again. How are you enjoying Paris?»

«Oh, very much», said Tollifer. «This season is particularly gay. I’ve been running into all sorts of people. And the weather has been perfect. You know Paris in the spring. I find it the gayest and most refreshing time».

«I hear we are to be the guests of my wife this evening». «Yes, along with some others. I’m afraid I’m a little early». «Suppose we have something to drink!»

They were off on a casual conversation regarding London and Paris, both doing their best to ignore the relationship between them, and both succeeding. Aileen entered and greeted

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Tollifer. And then Ibrihim arriving, and ignoring Cowperwood as he would a sheepherder of his own land, proceeded to pay his compliments to Aileen.

Cowperwood was at first a little astonished, then amused. The gleaming eyes of the Arab intrigued him. «Interesting», he said to himself. «This fellow Tollifer is actually creating something here. And this robed Bedouin covets my wife. This should be a fine evening!»

Next entered Marigold Brainerd. Her personality pleased him, and the appreciation appeared to be mutual. But this rapprochement was soon interrupted by the arrival of the serene and exotic Rezstadt, swathed in a cream white shawl, the long silken fringe trailing over one arm and about her feet. Cowperwood looked with approval on her olive-tinted face, framed so attractively by sleek black hair and a pair of heavy jet earrings which hung almost to her shoulders.

Observing him, and impressed, as were most women, Madame Rezstadt readily comprehended Aileen’s plight. This was not a man for any one woman. One must sip only and be content with that. Aileen should be brought to comprehend that truth.

But Tollifer was impatiently urging that it was time to leave, and obeying his insistence they departed for Orsignat’s.

A private dining room that was half-balcony commanded, through open French windows, a full view of Notre Dame and the green square before it. But all, as they entered, commented on the seeming lack of preparation for their dinner party, for there was only a plain wooden table completely bare. Tollifer, entering last, exclaimed:

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