Yes,he is,though I've got to oppose him."I smiled at this from Theodore Watling,though I admired him the more for it.And suddenly,oddly,I happened to remember what Krebs had said,that our troubles were not due to individuals,but to a disease that had developed in industrial society.If the day should come when such men as the President and the great banker would be working together,was it not possible,too,that the idea of Mr.Watling and the vision of Krebs might coincide?I was struck by a certain seeming similarity in their views;but Mr.Watling interrupted this train of thought by continuing to express his own.
"Well,--they're running right into a gale when they might be sailing with it,"he said.
"You think we'll have more trouble?"I asked.
"More and more,"he replied."It'll be worse before it's better I'm afraid."At this moment a club servant announced his cab,and he rose.
"Well,good-bye,my son,"he said."I'll hope to see you in Washington soon.And remember there's no one thinks any more of you than I do."I escorted him to the door,and it was with a real pang I saw him wave to me from his cab as he drove away.My affection for him was never more alive than in this hour when,for the first time in my experience,he had given real evidence of an inner anxiety and lack of confidence in the future.
XXI.
In spite of that unwonted note of pessimism from Mr.Watling,I went home in a day or two flushed with my new honours,and it was impossible not to be conscious of the fact that my aura of prestige was increased--tremendously increased--by the recognition I had received.A certain subtle deference in the attitude of the small minority who owed allegiance to the personage by whom I had been summoned was more satisfying than if I had been acclaimed at the station by thousands of my fellow-citizens who knew nothing of my journey and of its significance,even though it might have a concern for them.To men like Berringer,Grierson and Tallant and our lesser great lights the banker was a semi-mythical figure,and many times on the day of my return I was stopped on the street to satisfy the curiosity of my friends as to my impressions.
Had he,for instance,let fall any opinions,prognostications on the political and financial situation?Dickinson and Scherer were the only other men in the city who had the honour of a personal acquaintance with him,and Scherer was away,abroad,gathering furniture and pictures for the house in New York Nancy had predicted,and which he had already begun to build!With Dickinson I lunched in private,in order to give him a detailed account of the conference.By five o'clock I was ringing the door-bell of Nancy's new mansion on Grant Avenue.It was several blocks below my own.
"Well,how does it feel to be sent for by the great sultan?"she asked,as I stood before her fire."Of course,I have always known that ultimately he couldn't get along without you.""Even if he has been a little late in realizing it,"I retorted.
"Sit down and tell me all about him,"she commanded.
"I met him once,when Ham had the yacht at Bar Harbor.""And how did he strike you?""As somewhat wrapped up in himself,"said Nancy.
We laughed together.
"Oh,I fell a victim,"she went on."I might have sailed off with him,if he had asked me.""I'm surprised he didn't ask you.""I suspect that it was not quite convenient,"she said."Women are secondary considerations to sultans,we're all very well when they haven't anything more serious to occupy them.Of course that's why they fascinate us.What did he want with you,Hugh?""He was evidently afraid that the government would win the coal roads suit unless I was retained.""More laurels!"she sighed."I suppose I ought to be proud to know you.""That's exactly what I've been trying to impress on you all these years,"I declared."I've laid the laurels at your feet,in vain."She sat with her head back on the cushions,surveying me.
"Your dress is very becoming,"I said irrelevantly.
"I hoped it would meet your approval,"she mocked.
"I've been trying to identify the shade.It's elusive--like you.""Don't be banal....What is the colour?""Poinsetta!""Pretty nearly,"she agreed,critically.
I took the soft crepe between my fingers.
"Poet!"she smiled."No,it isn't quite poinsetta.It's nearer the red-orange of a tree I remember one autumn,in the White Mountains,with the setting sun on it.But that wasn't what we were talking about.Laurels!
Your laurels."
"My laurels,"I repeated."Such as they are,I fling them into your lap.""Do you think they increase your value to me,Hugh?""I don't know,"I said thickly.
She shook her head.
"No,it's you I like--not the laurels."
"But if you care for me--?"I began.
She lifted up her hands and folded them behind the knot of her hair.
"It's extraordinary how little you have changed since we were children,Hugh.You are still sixteen years old,that's why I like you.If you got to be the sultan of sultans yourself,I shouldn't like you any better,or any worse.""And yet you have just declared that power appeals to you!""Power--yes.But a woman--a woman like me--wants to be first,or nothing.""You are first,"I asserted."You always have been,if you had only realized it."She gazed up at me dreamily.
"If you had only realized it!If you had only realized that all I wanted of you was to be yourself.It wasn't what you achieved.I didn't want you to be like Ralph or the others.""Myself?What are you trying to say?""Yourself.Yes,that is what I like about you.If you hadn't been in such a hurry--if you hadn't misjudged me so.It was the power in you,the craving,the ideal in you that I cared for--not the fruits of it.
The fruits would have come naturally.But you forced them,Hugh,for quicker results.""What kind of fruits?"I asked.
