Chapter 35

The importance of Tollifer’s job was impressed on him by the receipt, on the third day after Aileen’s arrival, of an additional $2, 000 in cash from the Paris fiscal agent of the Central Trust of New York, which, before his leaving, had notified him to keep their London and Paris offices advised of his address.

There was no doubt of Aileen’s compliant mood in regard to him. Telephoning her some five hours after their visit to Sabinal’s, and suggesting they have lunch together, he could tell from the tone of her voice that she was glad to hear from him again. It was the feeling of companionship with someone who seemed to take a personal interest in her that made her happy. In some respects, he was so like the Cowperwood of old, energetic, cordial, and not a little managerial.

He left the telephone whistling. His attitude toward her was more kindly than it had been when he first considered the task. For in studying her so far, he was fully able to grasp what the favor and affection of Cowperwood must have meant to her, and what its complete loss must spell to her now. Often moody himself, and for not dissimilar reasons, he could sympathize with her.

The night before, at Sabinal’s when Marigold and Mrs. Thorne had at times so casually and indifferently excluded her from their conversation, he had noticed a neglected and helpless look on her face. It had moved him to take her away from the group for a few minutes’ play at the roulette wheel. Unquestionably, she was going to prove a difficult proté gé e. But that was his job, and on the success of it rested his future.

But, my God, he said to himself: she ought to take off at least twenty pounds! And she needs the right clothes, and a few attractive mannerisms. She’s too tame. She needs to be made to respect herself, and then these other people will respect her. If I can’t do that for her, she’ll do me more harm than good, money or no money!

Always the industrious struggler for what he wanted, he decided upon immediate and intensive action. Conscious that inspiration for Aileen depended upon his own smart appearance, he took the utmost pains to look his best. He smiled as he contrasted himself with the figure he had cut in New York six months before. Rosalie Harrigan, that wretched room, his disappointing efforts to get a job!

His apartment in the Bois was but a few moments’ walk from the Ritz, and he stepped forth this morning with the air of a Parisian favorite. He thought of the various dressmakers, hairdressers, milliners, he would enlist in the making-over of Aileen. Around the corner was Claudel Richard. He would take her to Richard, and persuade him to impress upon her that if she would take off twenty pounds he would design costumes for her that would arrest attention and that she should be among the first to wear. Then there was Kraussmeier, in the Boulevard Haussmann. His footwear was rumored to excel that of all bootmakers. Tollifer had satisfied himself as to that. In the Rue de la Paix, what ornaments, perfumes, jewels! In the Rue Dupont, what salon de beauté with Sarah Schimmel’s as the favored establishment in this particular field. Aileen should learn of her.

At Natasha Lubovsky’s balcony restaurant overlooking the park across from Notre Dame, lingering over iced coffee and eggs Sudanoff, he lectured Aileen on current modes and tastes. Had she heard that Teresa Bianca, the Spanish dancing sensation, was wearing Kraussmeier slippers? And Francesca, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Toller, was one of his patronesses. And had she heard of the marvels of beautifying accomplished by Sarah Schimmel? He recited a dozen instances.

Followed a visit to Richard’s, then to Kraussmeier’s, and certain Luti, newly favored vendor of perfumes, and the afternoon ended with tea at Germay’s. And at nine in the evening, at the Café de Paris, there was a dinner, at which appeared Rhoda Thayer, of American light-opera fame, and her summer companion, the Brazilian Mello Barrios, under-secretary of the Brazilian Embassy. Also a guest was a certain Maria Rezstadt, of Czech and Hungarian extraction. On one of his earlier visits to Paris, Tollifer had met her as the wife of one of the Austria’s secret military representatives in France. Lunching in Marguery’s one day recently, he had met her again, in company with Santos Castro, a baritone of the French opera, who was singing opposite the new American opera star, Mary Garden. He learned her husband had died, and noted she seemed a little bored with Castro. If Tollifer were free, she would be glad to see him again. And since her mood as well as her natural intelligence and suave maturity seemed better suited to Aileen than some of the younger women he knew, Tollifer had immediately planned to introduce her to Aileen.

And, on presentation, Aileen was strongly impressed by her. She was a woman of arresting appearance: tall, with smooth black hair and strange gray eyes, and this evening dressed in what appeared to be a single length of ruby velvet, draped seductively around her. In sharp contrast to Aileen, she wore no jewels, and her hair was drawn back smoothly from her face. Her attitude toward Castro suggested that he meant little to her, except maybe the publicity which contact with him might bring her. Turning to Aileen and Tollifer, she proceeded to relate that only recently she and Castro had made a tour of the Balkans, an admission—and coming so soon after Tollifer’s explanation to Aileen that the two were merely good friends—which somewhat startled Aileen, since always, and regardless of her personal and private transgressions, she was a little overawed by convention. Yet this woman •was so suave and assured as practically to laugh at the demands of organized society. Aileen was fascinated.

“You see, in the East, ” said Madame Rezstadt, commenting on her trip, “the women are slaves. Truly, only the gypsies appear to be free, and they, of course, have no position. The wives of most of the officials and men of title are really slaves, living in fear of their husbands.”

Aileen smiled wanly at this. “That is probably not true of the East alone, ” she said.

Madame Rezstadt smiled wisely. “No, ” she said, “not exactly. We have slaves here, too. In Ahmayreecah, too, yaays? ” She showed her even white teeth.

Aileen laughed, thinking of her emotional enslavement to Cowperwood. How was it that a woman like this could be so wholly emancipated, caring apparently for no man, at least not deeply or torturingly, whereas she... At once she wished that she might know her better, perhaps by contact gather some of her emotional calm and social indifference.

Curiously enough, Madame Rezstadt appeared to show more than a casual interest in her. She asked Aileen about her life in America. How long was she to be in Paris? Where was she staying? She suggested they have lunch together on the following day, to which Aileen agreed with alacrity.

At the same time, her head was swimming with all of the practical business of the afternoon, and Tollifer’s part in it. For most certainly, and by the pleasant indirection of shopping, there had been conveyed to her a sense of her personal lacks, which, at the same time, she had been convinced could be remedied. There was to be a doctor, a masseuse, a diet, and a new method of facial massage. She was to be changed, and by Tollifer. But for what purpose? And to what end? Plainly, he was not attempting familiarities. There was only this platonic relationship. She was puzzled. Yet what difference? Cowperwood was not interested, and she must find some way to go on with her life.

Back in her hotel suite, Aileen felt a sudden and poignant longing for one person, in all the world, to whom she could confide her troubles, one person with whom she could relax and be natural. She would like a friend whose criticism she need not fear, whose confidence she could trust. There was something about Maria Rezstadt, as she had pressed Aileen’s hand in parting, that made her feel that in her she might find these things or a semblance of them.

But the original ten days which she had planned for this visit passed swiftly enough. In fact, when they were gone, she was by no means ready to return to London. For, as she suddenly sensed, Tollifer, with his advice and his array of skilled workers, had launched a campaign which meant a physical as well as aesthetic improvement which would require time, and might even result in a change of attitude on the part of Cowperwood. She was not old, she now said to herself, and now that he was involved in this engrossing commercial struggle, he might be willing to accept her on an affectionate, if not a sensual, basis. He would, in England, she fancied, require a stabilization of his social life and might find it advisable as well as agreeable to live with her more constantly, to make a more open and public profession of his interest and satisfaction in so doing.

And so, eagerly, she began to scan herself in the mirror, to take painstaking care to obey the dietary and beautifying instructions given to her daily by Sarah Schimmel. She began to recognize the effectiveness of the unique costumes being chosen for her. And so, rapidly, as she gained in self-confidence, and accordingly in poise, she began to think constantly of Cowperwood, so much so that she was quite gay in her anticipation of what must be his surprise and, she hoped, pleasure, when he saw her again. For that reason she decided to remain in Paris until she had lost at least twenty pounds in weight, and so could wear the creations which Monsieur Richard so enthusiastically planned for her. And she wished also to test the new coiffures that were being suggested by her hairdresser. Ah, if only this might not be all in vain!

In consequence, she wrote Cowperwood that her Paris visit was proving so interesting—thanks to Mr. Tollifer—that she was staying on three or four weeks longer. “For once in my life, ” she added, with a trace of gaiety, “I’m getting along very well without you, and am well looked after.”

When Cowperwood read this, it had a strangely saddening effect on him. For he had so slyly arranged it all. At the same time there flashed into his mind the thought that Berenice had also had a part in it. Primarily, it had been her suggestion. He had seized upon it as the only way to happiness with her, and so it was. Still, what of a mind that could think so shrewdly and ruthlessly? Might it not one day be turned on him? And then, what, since he cared so much? The idea was irritating. To dismiss it, he reasoned that as he had met all things, so, when the time came, he would meet that.