Jennie Gerhardt - Драйзер Теодор. Страница 66
were ignored. The idea was to frame up a Romeo and Juliet story in
which Lester should appear as an ardent, self-sacrificing lover, and Jennie as a poor and lovely working- girl, lifted to great financial and social
heights by the devotion of her millionaire lover. An exceptional
newspaper artist was engaged to make scenes depicting the various steps
of the romance and the whole thing was handled in the most approved
yellow-journal style. There was a picture of Lester obtained from his
Cincinnati photographer for a consideration; Jennie had been
surreptitiously "snapped" by a staff artist while she was out walking.
And so, apparently out of a clear sky, the story appeared—highly
complimentary, running over with sugary phrases, but with all the dark,
sad facts looming up in the background. Jennie did not see it at first.
Lester came across the page accidentally, and tore it out. He was stunned and chagrined beyond words. "To think the damned newspaper would do
that to a private citizen who was quietly minding his own business!" he thought. He went out of the house, the better to conceal his deep inward
mortification. He avoided the more populous parts of the town,
particularly the downtown section, and rode far out on Cottage Grove
Avenue to the open prairie. He wondered, as the trolley-car rumbled
along, what his friends were thinking—Dodge, and Burnham Moore, and
Henry Aldrich, and the others. This was a smash, indeed. The best he
could do was to put a brave face on it and say nothing, or else wave it off with an indifferent motion of the hand. One thing was sure—he would
prevent further comment. He returned to the house calmer, his self-poise
restored, but he was eager for Monday to come in order that he might get
in touch with his lawyer, Mr. Watson. But when he did see Mr. Watson it
was soon agreed between the two men that it would be foolish to take any
legal action. It was the part of wisdom to let the matter drop. "But I won't stand for anything more," concluded Lester.
"I'll attend to that," said the lawyer, consolingly.
Lester got up. "It's amazing—this damned country of ours!" he
exclaimed. "A man with a little money hasn't any more privacy than a public monument."
"A man with a little money," said Mr. Watson, "is just like a cat with a bell around its neck. Every rat knows exactly where it is and what it is
doing."
"That's an apt simile," assented Lester, bitterly.
Jennie knew nothing of this newspaper story for several days. Lester felt that he could not talk it over, and Gerhardt never read the wicked Sunday newspapers. Finally, one of Jennie's neighbourhood friends, less tactful
than the others, called her attention to the fact of its appearance by
announcing that she had seen it. Jennie did not understand at first. "A story about me?" she exclaimed.
"You and Mr. Kane, yes," replied her guest. "Your love romance."
Jennie coloured swiftly. "Why, I hadn't seen it," she said. "Are you sure it was about us?"
"Why, of course," laughed Mrs. Stendahl. "How could I be mistaken? I have the paper over at the house. I'll send Marie over with it when I get back. You look very sweet in your picture."
Jennie winced.
"I wish you would," she said, weakly.
She was wondering where they had secured her picture, what the article
said. Above all, she was dismayed to think of its effect upon Lester. Had he seen the article? Why had he not spoken to her about it?
The neighbour's daughter brought over the paper, and Jennie's heart stood still as she glanced at the title-page. There it all was— uncompromising
and direct. How dreadfully conspicuous the headline—"This Millionaire Fell in Love With This Lady's Maid," which ran between a picture of
Lester on the left and Jennie on the right. There was an additional caption which explained how Lester, son of the famous carriage family of
Cincinnati, had sacrificed great social opportunity and distinction to
marry his heart's desire. Below were scattered a number of other pictures
—Lester addressing Jennie in the mansion of Mrs. Bracebridge, Lester
standing with her before an imposing and conventional-looking parson,
Lester driving with her in a handsome victoria, Jennie standing beside the window of an imposing mansion (the fact that it was a mansion being
indicated by most sumptuous-looking hangings) and gazing out on a very
modest working-man's cottage pictured in the distance. Jennie felt as
though she must die for very shame. She did not so much mind what it
meant to her, but Lester, Lester, how must he feel? And his family? Now
they would have another club with which to strike him and her. She tried
to keep calm about it, to exert emotional control, but again the tears
would rise, only this time they were tears of opposition to defeat. She did not want to be hounded this way. She wanted to be let alone. She was
trying to do right now. Why couldn't the world help her, instead of
seeking to push her down?
CHAPTER XLII
The fact that Lester had seen this page was made perfectly clear to Jennie that evening, for he brought it home himself, having concluded, after
mature deliberation, that he ought to. He had told her once that there was to be no concealment between them, and this thing, coming so brutally to
disturb their peace, was nevertheless a case in point. He had decided to
tell her not to think anything of it—that it did not make much difference, though to him it made all the difference in the world. The effect of this chill history could never be undone. The wise—and they included all his
social world and many who were not of it—could see just how he had
been living. The article which accompanied the pictures told how he had
followed Jennie from Cleveland to Chicago, how she had been coy and
distant and that he had to court her a long time to win her consent. This was to explain their living together on the North Side. Lester realised that this was an asinine attempt to sugar-coat the true story and it made him
angry. Still he preferred to have it that way rather than in some more
brutal vein. He took the paper out of his pocket when he arrived at the
house, spreading it on the library table. Jennie, who was close by,
watched him, for she knew what was coming.
"Here's something that will interest you, Jennie," he said dryly, pointing to the array of text and pictures.
"I've already seen it, Lester," she said wearily. "Mrs. Stendahl showed it to me this afternoon. I was wondering whether you had."
"Rather high-flown description of my attitude, isn't it? I didn't know I was such an ardent Romeo."
"I'm awfully sorry, Lester," said Jennie, reading behind the dry face of humour the serious import of this affair to him. She had long since
learned that Lester did not express his real feeling, his big ills in words.
He was inclined to jest and make light of the inevitable, the inexorable.
This light comment merely meant "this matter cannot be helped, so we will make the best of it."
"Oh, don't feel badly about it," he went on. "It isn't anything which can be adjusted now. They probably meant well enough. We just happen to be in
the limelight."
"I understand," said Jennie, coming over to him. "I'm sorry, though, anyway." Dinner was announced a moment later and the incident was