"Aw--deucedly fine show to-night, Miss Carmen," the youth ventured one evening, as he took his accustomed place close to her.
"The music is always beautiful," the girl responded. "But the play, like most of Grand Opera, is drawn from the darkest side of human life. It is a sordid picture of licentiousness and cruelty. Only for its setting in wonderful music, Grand Opera is generally such a depiction of s.e.x-pa.s.sion, of l.u.s.t and murder, that it would not be permitted on the stage. A few years from now people will be horrified to remember that the preceding generation reveled in such blood scenes--just as we now speak with horror of the gladiatorial contests in ancient Rome."
The young man regarded her uncertainly. "But--aw--Miss Carmen," he hazarded, "we must be true to life, you know!" Having delivered himself of this oracular statement, the youth adjusted his monocle and settled back as if he had given finality to a weighty argument.
The girl looked at him pityingly. "You voice the cant of the modern writer, "true lo life." True to the horrible, human sense of life, that looks no higher than the l.u.s.t of blood, and is satisfied with it, I admit. True to the unreal, temporal sense of existence, that is here to-day, and to-morrow has gone out in the agony of self-imposed suffering and death. True to that awful, false sense of life which we must put off if we would ever rise into the consciousness of _real_ life, I grant you. But the production of these horrors on the stage, even in a framework of marvelous music, serves only to hold before us the awful models from which we must turn if we would hew out a better existence. Are you the better for seeing an exhibition of wanton murder on the stage, even though the partic.i.p.ants wondrously sing their words of vengeance and pa.s.sion?"
"But--aw--they serve as warnings; they show us the things we ought not to do, don"t you know."
She smiled. "The sculptor who would chisel a beautiful form, does he set before him the misshapen body of a hunchback, in order that he may see what not to carve?" she asked. "And we who would transform the human sense of life into one of freedom from evil, can we build a perfect structure with such grewsome models as this before us? You don"t see it now," she sighed; "you are in the world, and of it; and the world is deeply under the mesmeric belief of evil as a stern reality. But the day is coming when our musicians and authors will turn from such base material as this to n.o.bler themes--themes which will excite our wonder and admiration, and stimulate the desire for purity of thought and deed--themes that will be beacon lights, and true guides. You don"t understand. But you will, some day."
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles frowned heavily as she listened to this conversation, and she drew a sigh of relief when Carmen, sensing the futility of any attempt to impress her thought upon the young man, turned to topics which he could discuss with some degree of intelligence.
Late in the evening Ames dropped in and came directly to the Hawley-Crowles box. He brought a huge box of imported candy and a gorgeous bouquet of orchids, which he presented to Carmen. Mrs.
Hawley-Crowles beamed upon him like the effulgent midday sun.
"Kathleen wants you, Reggy," Ames abruptly announced to the young man, whose lips were molding into a pout. "Little gathering up at the house. Take my car." His huge bulk loomed over the younger man like a mountain as he took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the exit.
"But I wish to see the opera!" protested the youth, with a vain show of resistance.
Ames said nothing; but his domineering personality forced the boy out of the box and into the corridor.
"But--Uncle Wilton--!"
Ames laughed curtly. Then he took the seat which his evicted nephew had vacated, and bent over Carmen. With a final hopeless survey of the situation, Reginald turned and descended to the cloak room, muttering dire but futile threats against his irresistible relative.
"Now, little girl!" Ames"s manner unconsciously a.s.sumed an air of patronage. "This is the first real opportunity I"ve had to talk with you. Tell me, what do you think of New York?"
Carmen smiled up at him. "Well," she began uncertainly, "since I have thawed out, or perhaps have become more accustomed to the cold, I have begun to make mental notes. Already I have thousands of them. But they are not yet cla.s.sified, and so I can hardly answer your question, Mr.
Ames. But I am sure of one thing, and that is that for the first few months I was here I was too cold to even think!"
Ames laughed. "Yes," he agreed, "the change from the tropics was somewhat abrupt. But, aside from the climate?"
"It is like awaking from a deep sleep," answered Carmen meditatively.
"In Simiti we dream our lives away. In New York all is action; loud words; harsh commands; hurry; rush; endeavor, terrible, materialistic endeavor! Every person I see seems to be going somewhere. He may not know where he is going--but he is on the way. He may not know why he is going--but he must not be stopped. He has so few years to live; and he must pile up money before he goes. He must own an automobile; he must do certain things which his more fortunate neighbor does, before his little flame of life goes out and darkness falls upon him. I sometimes think that people here are trying to get away from themselves, but they don"t know it. I think they come to the opera because they crave any sort of diversion that will make them forget themselves for a few moments, don"t you?"
"H"m! well, I can"t say," was Ames"s meaningless reply, as he sat regarding the girl curiously.
"And," she continued, as if pleased to have an auditor who at least pretended to understand her, "the thing that now strikes me most forcibly is the great confusion that prevails here in everything, in your government, in your laws, in your business, in your society, and, in particular, in your religion. Why, in that you have hundreds of sects claiming a monopoly of truth; you have hundreds of churches, hundreds of religious or theological beliefs, hundreds of differing concepts of G.o.d--but you get nowhere! Why, it has come to such a pa.s.s that, if Jesus were to appear physically on earth to-day, I am sure he would be evicted from his own Church!"
"Well, yes, I guess that"s so," commented Ames, quite at sea in such conversation. "But we solid business men have found that religious emotion never gets a man anywhere. It"s weakening. Makes a man effeminate, and utterly unfits him for business. I wouldn"t have a man in my employ who was a religious enthusiast."
"But Jesus was a religious enthusiast," she protested.
"I doubt if there ever was such a person," he answered dryly.
"Why, the Bible--"
"Is the most unfortunate and most misunderstood piece of literature ever written," he interrupted. "And the Church, well, I regard it as the greatest fraud ever perpetrated upon the human race."
"You mean that to apply to every church?"
"It fits them all."
She studied his face for a few moments. He returned her glance as steadily. But their thoughts were running in widely divergent channels. The conversational topic of the moment had no interest whatsoever for the man. But this brilliant, sparkling girl--there was something in those dark eyes, that soft voice, that brown hair--by what anomaly did this beautiful creature come out of desolate, mediaeval Simiti?
"Mr. Ames, you do not know what religion is."
"No? Well, and what is it?"
"It is that which binds us to G.o.d."
"And that?"
"Love."
No, he knew not the meaning of the word. Or--wait--did he? His thought broke restraint and flew wildly back--but he caught it, and rudely forced it into its wonted channel. But, did he love his fellow-men?
Certainly not! What would that profit him in dollars and cents? Did he love his wife? his children? The thought brought a cynical laugh to his lips. Carmen looked up at him wonderingly. "You will have to, you know," she said quixotically.
Then she reached out a hand and laid it on his. He looked down at it, so soft, so white, so small, and he contrasted it with the huge, hairy bulk of his own. This little girl was drawing him. He felt it, felt himself yielding. He was beginning to look beyond the beautiful features, the rare grace and charm of physical personality, which had at first attracted only the baser qualities of his nature, and was seeing glimpses of a spiritual something which lay back of all that--infinitely more beautiful, unspeakably richer, divine, sacred, untouchable.
"Of course you will attend the Charity Ball, Mr. Ames?" The thin voice of Mrs. Hawley-Crowles jarred upon his ear like a shrill discord. Ames turned savagely upon her. Then he quickly found himself again.
"No," he laughed harshly. "But I shall be represented by my family.
And you?" He looked at Carmen.
"Most a.s.suredly," returned Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, taking the query to herself. "That is, if my French dressmaker does not fail me. She is dreadfully exasperating! What will Mrs. Ames wear, do you think?" She arched her brows at him as she propounded this innocent question.
Ames chuckled. "I"ll tell you what it is this year," he sagely replied. "It"s diamonds in the heels!" He gave a sententious nod of his head. "I overheard Kathleen and her mother discussing plans.
And--do you want to know next season"s innovation? By George! I"m a regular spy." He stopped and laughed heartily at his own treasonable deceit.
"Yes! yes!" whispered Mrs. Hawley-Crowles eagerly, as she drew her chair closer. "What is it?"
"One condition," replied Ames, holding up a thick finger.
"Of course! Anything!" returned the grasping woman.
"Well, I want to get better acquainted with your charming ward," he whispered.
"Of course; and I want you to know her better. That can be arranged very easily. Now what"s the innovation?"
"Colored wigs," said Ames, with a knowing look.
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles settled back with a smile of supreme satisfaction.
She would boldly antic.i.p.ate next season at the coming Charity Ball.
Then, leaning over toward Ames, she laid her fan upon his arm. "Can"t you manage to come and see us some time, my sister and Carmen? Any time," she added. "Just call me up a little in advance."
The blare of trumpets and the crash of drums drew their attention again to the stage. Ames rose and bowed his departure. A business a.s.sociate in a distant box had beckoned him. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles dismissed him reluctantly; then turned her wandering attention to the play.