A MISERABLE TRIUMPH
After Ernst's departure Christine reclined wearily in her chair, quite
exhausted by even the slight effort she had made, but her thoughts
were busy.
"What a unique character that Dennis Fleet is! And yet, in view of
what he believes and professes, he is both natural and consistent. He
seems humble only in station, and that is not his fault. Everything
he does seems marked by unusual good taste and intelligence. His earlier
position and treatment in the store must have been very galling. I can
hardly believe that the gentleman I sang Mendelssohn's music with the
other evening was the same that I laughed at as he blacked old
Schwartz's boots. And yet he saw me laugh, and blacked the boots,
conscious that he was a gentleman. It must have been very hard. And
yet I would rather do such work myself than live on charity, and so
undoubtedly he felt. It is very fortunate that we nearly finished the
rearrangement of the pictures before all this occurred, for I could
not order him about now as I have done. The fact is, I like servants,
not dignified helpers; and knowing what I do, even if he would permit
it, I could not speak to him as formerly. But he did show wonderful
taste and skill in his help. See now that little ivy-twined basket of
luscious fruit: it looks just like him. If he were only rich and titled,
what a genuine nobleman he would make! He is among the few men who do
not weary or disgust me; so many are coarse and commonplace. I cannot
understand it, but I, who fear and care for no one except my father,
almost feared him when under Miss Brown's insolence he looked as few
men can. What a jumble the world is! He sweeps the store, while
insignificant atoms of men are conspicuous in their littleness by
reason of high position.
"It was very kind of him to send me this tasteful gift after the
miserable experience I caused him the other day. I suppose he does it
on the principle of returning good for evil, as his creed teaches.
Moreover, he seems grateful that father gave him employment, and a
chance to earn twice what he receives. He certainly must be promoted
at once.
"Perhaps," thought she, smiling to herself, while a faint tinge of
color came into her cheeks--"perhaps, like so many others, he may be
inclined to be a little sentimental also, though he will never be as
silly as some of them.
"What a noble part he acted toward those Bruders! The heart of a pagan
could not fail to be touched by that poor little fellow's story, and
it has made me believe that I have more heart than I supposed.
Sometimes, especially when I hear or read of some such noble deed, I
catch glimpses of a life infinitely better than the one I know, like
the sun shining through a rift in the clouds; then they shut down
again, and father's practical wisdom seems the best there is.
"At any rate," she said aloud, getting up and walking the floor with
something of the old restless energy, "I intend to live while I live,
and crowd into life's brief day all that I can. I thank Mr. Fleet for
a few sensations in what would otherwise have been a monotonous, dreary
afternoon."
"What, strawberries!" said Mr. Ludolph, coming in. "Where did you get
these? They are the first I have seen."
"Your man-of-all-work sent them to me," said Christine, daintily dipping
one after another in sugar.
"Well, that is a good joke."
"A most excellent one, which I am enjoying, and in which you may share.
Help yourself."
"And what has led him to this extravagant favor?"
"Consistency, I suppose. As a good Christian he would return good for
evil; and I certainly caused him many and varied tortures the other
day."
"No, he is grateful; from first to last the callow youth has been
overwhelmed with gratitude that I have permitted him to be worth to
me double what I paid him."
"Well, you have decided to promote him, have you not?"
"Yes, he shall have charge of the hanging of new pictures, and the
general arrangement of the store, so as to keep up your tasteful and
artistic methods. Moreover, he shall meet customers at the door, and
direct them just where to find what they want. He is fine-looking,
polite, speaks English perfectly, and thus takes well. I can gradually
work him in as general salesman, without creating troublesome
jealousies."
"What will old Schwartz say?"
"Schwartz is good at finance and figures. I can trust him, and he must
relieve me more in this respect. He of course knows that this is the
more important work, and will feel honored. As to the others, if they
do not like it I can find plenty who will. Fleet's good fortune will
take him quite by surprise. He was performing his old humble duties
as briskly and contentedly as usual to-day."
"I am surprised at that, for I should have supposed that he would have
been on his dignity somewhat, indicating by manner at least that the
time for a change had come. He can indicate a great deal by manner,
as you might have learned had you seen him under Miss Brown's insults
and my lack of courtesy. Well, it does me good to find one American
whose head is not turned by a little success. You are right though,
I think, father; that young fellow can be very useful to you, and a
decided help in hastening the time when we can leave this shop life,
and enter our true sphere. I am more impatient to go than words can
express, for life seems so brief and uncertain that we must grasp
things as soon as possible or we lose them forever. Heavens! what a
scare I have had! Everything seemed slipping from under my feet
yesterday, and I sinking I know not where. Surely by concentrating
every energy we can be ready to go by a year from next fall."
"Yes, that is my plan now."
On the following day Dennis was again promoted and his pay increased.
A man more of the Pat Murphy type was found to perform the coarse work
of the store. As Mr. Ludolph had said, Dennis could hardly realize his
good fortune. He felt like one lifted out of a narrow valley to a
breezy hillside. He was now given a vantage-point from which it seemed
that he could climb rapidly, and his heart was light as he thought of
what he would be able to do for his mother and sisters. Hope grew
sanguine as he saw how he would now have the means to pursue his beloved
art-studies to far greater advantage. But, above all, his promotion
brought him nearer the object of his all-absorbing passion. What he
feared would take him one or two years to accomplish he had gained in
a day. Hope whispered that perhaps it was through her influence in
some degree that he had obtained this advance. Could she have seen and
read his ardent glances? Lovers' hopes will grow like Jonah's gourd,
and die down as quickly. Words could not express his longing to see
her again, but for several days she did not come to the store. She
merely sent him word to complete the unfinished show-room in accordance
with the plan on which they had been working, leaving space on the
sides of the room opposite each other for two large pictures. Though
much disappointed, Dennis had carefully carried out her bidding.
Every evening the moment his duties permitted he sought his instructor,
Mr. Bruder, and, with an eagerness that his friends could not
understand, sought to educate hand and eye. Dennis judged rightly that
mere business success would never open to him a way to the heart of
such a girl as Christine. His only hope of winning even her attention
was to excel in the world of art, where she hoped to shine as a queen.
Then to his untiring industry and eager attention he added real genius
for his tasks, and it was astonishing what progress he made. When at
the close of his daily lesson Dennis had taken his departure, Mr.
Bruder would shake his head, and cast up his eyes in wonder, and
exclaim: "Dot youth vill astonish de vorld yet. Never in all Germany
haf I seen such a scholar."
Often till after midnight he would study in the solitude of his own
little room. And now, relieved of duties in the early morning, he
arranged an old easel in the attic of the store, a sort of general
lumber-room, yet with a good light for his purpose. Here he secured
two good hours daily, and often more, for painting; and his hand grew
skilful, and his eye true, under his earnest efforts. But his intense
application caused his body to grow thin and his face pale.
Christine had rapidly recovered from her illness, her vital and elastic
constitution rebounding back into health and vigor like a bow rarely
bent. She, too, was working scarcely less eagerly than Dennis, and
preparing for a triumph which she hoped would be the earnest of the
fame she meant to achieve. She no longer came to the store with her
father in the morning, but spent the best and early hours of the day
in painting, riding out along the lake and in the park in the afternoon.
Occasionally she came to the store in the after part of the day, glanced
sharply round to see that her tasteful arrangement was kept up, and
ever seemed satisfied.
Dennis was usually busy with customers at that time, and, though
conscious of her presence the moment she entered, found no excuse or
encouragement to approach. The best he ever received from her was a
slight smile and a cold bow of recognition, and in her haste and
self-absorption she did not always give these. She evidently
had something on her mind by which it was completely occupied.
"She does not even think of me," sighed Dennis; "she evidently imagines
that there is an immeasurable distance between us yet."
He was right; she did not think of him, and scarcely thought of any
one else, so absorbed was she in the hope of a great success that now
was almost sure. She had sent her thanks for the berries by her father,
which so frightened Dennis that he had ventured on no more such favors.
She had interceded for his promotion. Surely she had paid her debt,
and was at quits. So she would have been if he had only given her a
basket of strawberries, but having given his heart, and lifelong love,
he could scarcely be expected to be satisfied. But he vowed after each
blank day all the more resolutely that he would win her attention,
secure recognition of his equality, and so be in position for laying
siege to her heart.
But a deadly blight suddenly came over all his hopes.
One bright morning late in May two large flat boxes were brought to
the store. Dennis was busy with customers, and Mr. Schwartz said, in
his blunt, decided way, that he would see to the hanging of those
pictures. They were carried to the show-room in the rear of the store,
and Dennis at once concluded that they were something very fine,
designed to fill the spaces he had left, and was most anxious to see
them. Before he was disengaged they were lifted from their casing and
were standing side by side on the floor, opposite the entrance, the
warm rich morning light falling upon them with fine effect. Mr. Schwartz
seemed unusually excited and perplexed for him, and stared first at
one picture, then at the other, in a manner indicating that not their
beauty, but some other cause disturbed him.
Dennis had scarcely had time to exclaim at the exquisite loveliness
and finish of the two paintings before Mr. Ludolph entered, accompanied
by Mr. Cornell, a well-known artist, Mr. French, proprietor of another
large picture-store, and several gentlemen of taste, but of lesser
note, whom Dennis had learned to know by sight as habitues of the
"Temple of Art." He also saw that Christine was advancing up the store
with a lady and gentleman. Feeling that his presence might be regarded
as obtrusive, he passed out, and was about to go away, when he heard
his name called.
Looking up he saw Miss Winthrop holding out her hand, and in a moment
more she presented him to her father, who greeted him cordially.
Christine also gave him a brief smile, and said: "You need not go away.
Come and see the pictures."
Quick-eyed Dennis observed that she was filled with suppressed
excitement. Her cheeks, usually but slightly tinged with pink, now by
turns glowed and were pale. Miss Winthrop seemed to share her
nervousness, though what so excited them he could not divine. The
paintings, beautiful as they were, could scarcely be the adequate
cause; and yet every eye was fastened on them.
One seemed the exact counterpart of the other in frame and finish as
well as subject. A little in the background, upon a crag overhanging
the Rhine, was a castle, massive, frowning, and built more for security
and defence than comfort. The surrounding landscape was bold, wild,
and even gloomy. But in contrast with these rugged and sterner features,
was a scene of exquisite softness and tenderness. Beneath the shadow
of some great trees not far from the castle gate, a young crusader was
taking leave of his fair-haired bride. Her pale, tearful face, wherein
love and grief blent indescribably, would move the most callous heart,
while the struggle between emotion and the manly pride that would not
permit him to give way, in the young chieftain's features, was scarcely
less touching. Beautiful as were the accessories of the pictures, their
main point was to portray the natural, tender feeling induced by a
parting that might be forever. At first they all gazed quietly and
almost reverently at the vivid scene of human love and sorrow, save
old Schwartz, who fidgeted about as Dennis had never seen him before.
Clearly something was wrong.
"Mr. Schwartz," said Mr. Ludolph, "you may hang the original picture
on the side as we enter, and the copy opposite. We would like to see
them up, and in a better light."
"Dat's it," snorted Mr. Schwartz; "I'd like to know vich is vich."
"You do not mean to say that you cannot tell them apart? The original
hung here some time, and you saw it every day."
"I do mean to say him," said Mr. Schwartz, evidently much vexed with
himself. "I couldn't have believed dat any von in de vorld could so
impose on me. But de two pictures are just de same to a pin scratch
in frame, subject, and treatment, and to save my life I cannot tell
dem apart."
Christine's face fairly glowed with triumph, and her eyes were all
aflame as she glanced at her friend. Miss Winthrop came and took her
cold, quivering hands into her own warm palms, but was scarcely less
excited. Dennis saw not this side scene, so intent was he on the
pictures.
"Do you mean to say," said Mr. Cornell, stepping forward, "that one
of these paintings is a copy made here in Chicago, and that Mr. Schwartz
cannot tell it from the original?"
"He says he cannot," said Mr. Ludolph.
"And I'd like to see the von who can," said old Schwartz, gruffly.
"Will you please point out the original," said one of the gentlemen,
"that we may learn to distinguish them? For my part they seem like the
twins whose mother knew them apart by pink and white ribbons, and when
the ribbons got mixed she could not tell which was which."
Again Christine's eyes glowed with triumph.
"Well, really, gentlemen," said Mr. Ludolph, "I would rather you would
discover the copy yourselves. Mr. Cornell, Mr. French, and some others,
I think, saw the original several times."
"Look at Mr. Fleet," whispered Miss Winthrop to Christine.
She looked, and her attention was riveted to him. Step by step, he had
drawn nearer, and his eyes were eagerly glancing from one picture to
the other as if following up a clew. Instinctively she felt that he
would solve the question, and her little hands clenched, and her brow
grew dark.
"Really," said Mr. Cornell, "I did not know that we had an artist in
Chicago who could copy the work of one of the best European painters
so that there need be a moment's hesitancy in detecting differences,
but it seems I am mistaken. I am almost as puzzled as Mr. Schwartz."
"The frames are exactly alike," said Mr. French.
"There is a difference between the two pictures," said Mr. Cornell,
slowly. "I can feel it rather than see it. They seem alike, line for
line and feature for feature, in every part; and just where the
difference lies and in what it consists I cannot tell for the life of
me."
With the manner of one who had settled a difficult problem, Dennis
gave a sigh of relief so audible that several glanced at him.
"Perhaps Mr. Fleet from his superior knowledge and long experience can
settle this question," said Christine, sarcastically.
All eyes were turned toward him. He flushed painfully, but said nothing.
"Speak up," said Mr. Ludolph, good-naturedly, "if you have any opinion
to give."
"I would not presume to give my opinion among so many more competent
judges."
"Come, Mr. Fleet," said Christine, with a covert taunt in her tone,
"that is a cheap way of making a reputation. I fear the impression
will be given that you have no opinion."
Dennis was now very pale, as he ever was under great excitement. The
old look came again that the young ladies remembered seeing at Miss
Brown's entertainment.
"Come, speak up if you can," said Mr. Ludolph shortly.
"Your porter, Mr. Ludolph?" said Mr. Cornell, remembering Dennis only
in that capacity. "Perhaps he has some private marks by which he can
enlighten us."
Dennis now acted no longer as porter or clerk, but as a man among men.
Stepping forward and looking Mr. Cornell full in the face he said: "I
can prove to you, sir, that your insinuation is false by simply stating
that I never saw those pictures before. The original had been removed
from the store before I came. I have had therefore no opportunity of
knowing the copy from the original. But the pictures are different,
and I can tell precisely wherein I think the difference lies."
"Tell it then," said several voices. Christine stood a little back and
on one side, so that he could not see her face, or he would have
hesitated long before he spoke. In the firm, decided tones of one
thoroughly aroused and sure of his ground, he proceeded.
"Suppose this the copy," said he, stepping to one of the pictures.
(Christine breathed hard and leaned heavily against her friend.) "I
know of but one in Chicago capable of such exquisite work, and he did
not do it; indeed he could not, though a master in art."
"You refer to Mr. Bruder?" said Mr. Cornell.
Dennis bowed and continued: "It is the work of one in whom the imitative
power is wonderfully developed; but one having never felt--or unable
to feel--the emotions here presented cannot portray them. This picture
is but the beautiful corpse of that one. While line for line, and
feature for feature, and even leaf for leaf on the trees is faithfully
exact, yet the soul, the deep, sorrowful tenderness that you feel in
that picture rather than see, is wanting in this. In that picture you
forget to blame or praise, to criticise at all, so deeply are your
sympathies touched. It seems as if in reality two human hearts were
being torn asunder before you. This you know to be an exquisite picture
only, and can coolly criticise and dwell on every part, and say how
admirably it is done."
And Dennis bowed and retired.
"By Jove, he is right," exclaimed Mr. Cornell; and approving faces and
nodding heads confirmed his judgment. But Dennis enjoyed not his
triumph, for as he turned he met Christine's look of agony and hate,
and like lightning it flashed through his mind, "She painted the
picture."