It was not because she had been reared in rather a theatrical
atmosphere that she transcribed his attitude thus。 She knew that
he was noble。 That she did not know his rank was of no consequence。
Cutty's narrative； which she had pretended to believe； had set this
man in the middle class。 Never in this world。 There was only one
middle class out of which such a personality might； and often did；
emerge … the American middle class。 In Europe； never。 No peasant
blood； no middle…class corpuscle； stirred in this man's veins。 The
ancient boyar looked down at her。
〃Play！〃 said Kitty。 There was a smile on her lips； but there was
fiery challenge in her slate…blue eyes。 The blood of Irish kings
… and what Irishman dares deny it？ … surged into her throat。
We wear masks； we inherit generations of masks； and a trivial
incident reveals the primordial which lurks in each one of us。
Savages … Kitty with her stone hatchet and Hawksley swinging the
curved blade of Hunk。
He began one of those tempestuous compositions； brilliant and
bewildering； that submerge the most appreciative lay mentality
… because he was angry； a double anger that he should be angry
over he knew not what … and broke off in the middle of the
composition because Kitty sat upright； stonily unimpressed。
Tschaikowsky's 〃Serenade Melancolique。〃 Kitty； after a few
measures； laid aside her stone hatchet； and her body relaxed。
Music！ She began to absorb it as parched earth absorbs the tardy
rain。 Then came the waltz which had haunted her。 Her face grew
tenderly beautiful； and Hawksley； a true artist； saw that he had
discovered the fifth string； and he played upon it with all the
artistry which was naturally his and which had been given form by
the master who had taught him。
For the physical exertions he relied upon nerve energy again。
Nature is generous when we are young。 No matter how much we draw
against the account she always has a little more for us。 He forgot
that only an hour gone he had been dizzy with pain； forgot
everything but the glory of the sounds he was evoking and their
visible reaction upon this girl。 The devil was not only in his
heart； but in his hand。
Never had Kitty heard such music。 To be played to in this manner
… directly； with embracing tenderness； with undivided fire … would
have melted the soul of Gobseck the money lender； and Kitty was
warm…blooded； Irish； emotional。 The fiddle called poignantly to the
Irish in her。 She wanted to go roving with this man； with her hand
on his shoulder to walk in the thin air of high places。 Through it
all； however； she felt vaguely troubled； the instinct of the trap。
The sinister and cynical idea which had clandestinely taken up
quarters in her mind awoke and assailed her from a new angle； that
of youth。 Something in her cried out： 〃Stop！ Stop！〃 But her lips
were mute； her body enchained。
Suddenly Hawksley laid aside the fiddle and advanced。 He reached
down and drew her up。 Kitty did not resist him； she was numb with
enchantment。 He held her close for a second； then kissed her … her
hair； eyes； mouth … released her and stepped back； a bantering smile
on his lips and cold terror in his heart。 The devil who had
inspired this phase of the drama now deserted his victim； as he
generally does in the face of superior forces。
Kitty stood perfectly still for a full minute； stunned。 It was that
smile … frozen on his lips … that brought her back to intimacy with
cold realities。 Had he asked her pardon； had he shown the least
repentance； she might have forgiven； forgotten。 But knowing mankind
as she did she could give but one interpretation to that smile … of
which he was no longer conscious。
Without anger； in quiet； level tones she said： 〃I had foolishly
thought that we two might be friends。 You have made it impossible。
You have also abused the kindly hospitality of the man who has
protected you from your enemies。 A few days ago he did me the honour
to ask me to marry him。 I am going to。 I wish you no evil。〃 She
turned and walked from the room。
Even then there was time。 But he did not move。 It was not until
he heard the elevator gate crash that be was physically released
from the thraldom of the inner revelation。 Love … in the blinding
flash of a thunderbolt！ He had kissed her not because he was the
son of his father； but because he loved her！ And now he never
could tell her。 He must let her go； believing that the man she
had saved from death had repaid her with insult。 On top of all
his misfortunes； his tragedies … love！ There was a God； yes； but
his name was Irony。 Love！ He stepped toward the divan； stumbled；
and fell against it； his arms spread over the pillows； and in
this position he remained。
For a while his thoughts were broken； inconclusive； he was like a
man in the dark； groping for a door。 Principally； his poor head
was trying to solve the riddle of his never…ending misfortunes。
Why？ What had he done that these calamities should be piled upon
his head？ He had lived decently； his youth had been normal； he
had played fair with men and women。 Why make him pay for what his
forbears had done？ He wasn't fair game。
He！ A singular revelation cleared one corner。 Kitty had spoken of
a problem； and he； by those devil…urged kisses； had solved it for
her。 She had been doddering； and his own act had thrust her into
the arms of that old thoroughbred。 That cynical suggestion of his
the other morning had been acted upon。 God had long ago deserted
him； and now the devil himself had taken leave。 Hawksley buried
his face in the pillow once made wet with Kitty's tears。
The great tragedy in life lies in being too late。 Hawksley had
learned this once before； it was now being driven home again。 Cutty
was to find it out on the morrow； for he missed his train that night。
The shuttles of the Weaver in this pattern of life were two green
stones called the drums of jeopardy； inanimate objects； but perfect
tools in the hands of Destiny。 But for these stones Hawksley would
not have tarried too long on a certain red night； Cutty would not
now be stumbling about the labyrinths into which his looting
instincts had thrust him； and Kitty Conover would have jogged along
in the humdrum rut； if not happy at least philosophically content
with her lot。
CHAPTER XXVIII
Decision is always a mental relief； hesitance a curse。 Kitty；
having shifted her burdens to the broad shoulders of Cutty； felt
as she reached the lobby as if she had left storm and stress
behind and entered calm。 She would marry Cutty； she had published
the fact； burned her bridges。
She had stepped into the car； her heart full of cold fury。 Now she
began to find excuses for Hawksley's conduct。 A sick brain； he was
not really accountable for his acts。 Her own folly had opened the
way。 Of course she would never see him again。 Why should she？
Their lives were as far apart as the Volga and the Hudson。
Bernini met her in the lobby。 〃I've got a cab for you； Miss
Conover；〃 he said as if nothing at all had happened。
〃Have you Cutty's address？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Then take me at once to a telegraph office。 I have a very important
message to send him。〃
〃All right； Miss Conover。〃
〃Say： 'Decision made。 It is yes。' And sign it just Kitty。〃
Without being conscious of it her soul was still in the clouds；
where it had been driven by the music of the fiddle； thus； what
she assumed to be a normal sequence of a train of thought was only
a sublime impulse。 She would marry Cutty。 More； she would be his
wife； his true wife。 For his tenderness； his generosity； his
chivalry； she would pay him in kind。 There would be no nonsense；
love would not enter into the bargain； but there would be the
fragrance of perfect understanding。 That he was fifty…two and she
was twenty…four no longer mattered。 No more loneliness； no more
genteel poverty； for such benefits she was ready to pay the score
in full。 A man she was genuinely fond of； a man she could look up
to； always depend upon。
Was there such a thing as perfect love？ She had her doubts。 She
reasoned that love was what a body decided was love； the
psychological moment when the physical attraction became irresistible。
Who could tell before the fact which was the true and which the false？
Lived there a woman； herself excepted； who had not hesitated between
two men … a man who had not doddered between two women … for better
or for worse？ What did the average woman know of the man； the
average man know of the woman … until afterward？ To stake all upon
a guess！
She knew Cutty。 Under her own eyes he had passed through certain
proving fires。 There would be no guessing the manner of man he was。
He was fifty…two； that is to say； the grand passion had come and
gone。 There would be mutual affection and comradeship。
True； she had her dreams； but she could lay them away without any
particular regret。 She had never been touched by the fire of
passion。 Let it go。 But she did know what perfect comradeship was；
and she would grasp it and never loose her hold。 Something out of
life。
〃A narrow squeak； Miss Conover；〃 said Berumi； breaking the long
silence。
〃A miss is as good as a mile；〃 replied Kitty； not at all grateful
for the interruption。
〃We've done everything we could to protect you。 If you can't see
now … why； the jig is up。 A chain is as strong as its weakest link。
And in a game like this a woman is always the weakest link。〃
〃You're quite a philosopher。〃
〃I have reason to be。 I'm married。〃
〃Am I expected to laugh？〃
〃Miss Conover； you're a wonder。 You come through these affairs with
a smile； when you ought to have hysterics。 I'll bet a doughnut that
when you see a mouse you go and get it a piece of cheese。〃
〃Do you want the truth？ Well； I'll tell it to you。 You have all
kept me on the outer edge of this affair； and I've been trying to
find out why。 I have the reportorial instinct； as they say。 I
inherited it from my father。 You put a strange weapon in my hands；
you tell me it is deadly； but you don't tell me which end is deadly。
Do you know who this Russian is？〃
〃Honestly； I don't。〃