The Woman Who Vowed (The Demetrian)

by Ellison Harding

  CHAPTER XVII

  DESIGNS ON ANNA OF ANN

  My stay at the Pater's farm was altogether delightful, for most of theday was spent in shooting. October was the only month open to all; butone permit was given to every ten inhabitants during November, and asthere were forty-four, including the Pater's family, on the farm, it waseasy to spare one to me. The Pater's younger son Phaines had another; hewas not only a keen sportsman but an agreeable companion, and we killedmuch game, great and small. During a period of twenty years the shootingof bear had been prohibited, and now, with the extension of forests,bear had increased so as to be extremely plentiful. Deer, elk, caribou,moose, wild boar, and such destructive animals as lynxes, foxes, andwild cats, furnished all that a sportsman could ask in the way ofvariety. As the amount of game we killed far exceeded the consumingpower of the neighborhood we daily telephoned to the County SupplyDepartment for instructions where to ship it, and we received our paytherefor.

  During the winter, country people took their principal meal in theevening, the morning and midday hours being the pleasantest for being inthe open air. The farm hands and we sportsmen took our luncheon with usand came home prepared for a large meal. Those who prepared the mealpreferred to spend the dark hours from four to seven in the preparationof it, and to be free during the earlier part of the day.

  The evening passed pleasantly. Every large farmhouse--and there were fewsmall ones, except such as were, so to speak, dependent upon thelarge--had a room with a stage, specially applied to music andtheatrical performances; it could also be used for such indoor games assquash or badminton. In this room those who wanted to practice music,etc., would assemble, and here they would occasionally giveperformances. When these farms sent their inmates to the city for a fewmonths in the winter, hospitality was gladly extended them for thevariety of performances which they could furnish; and by this exchangeof population, the city people going to the country to harvest in thesummer, and the farmers going to the city for amusement and instructionduring the winter, monotony of life was eliminated.

  One day when I was returning from a day's sport with Phaines, a buckpacked on each of our horses, we were talking of marriage, and I askedhim whether he did not intend to marry.

  "I want to marry very much," said he.

  I looked at him inquiringly.

  "I have asked Anna of Ann a dozen times to marry me and she won't,"continued he. "I can't see why she won't, either; she doesn't seem tocare for anyone else; she might as well marry me, and then she couldgive all her time to that art of hers she is so devoted to."

  "But she would have to work some part of the day at the farm, wouldn'tshe?"

  "No; we are quite well enough off to let her give all her time to herart if she wanted to. It's this way: we have to furnish so much butter,or its equivalent in eggs, poultry, stock, etc., to the state for theamount of land we cultivate; then we have to support our farm hands,that is to say, either we have to give to each wages out of the surplusproduce of the farm, over and above what we pay the state as rent, or wehave to furnish the state extra produce for every farm hand we have.Well, our hands prefer the former of these plans. The amount we giveeach farm hand depends on the amount of the surplus; every one of us isinterested in making this surplus as large as possible. In this way wereally have a great deal more than we can spend, and I could easilyafford, out of my share of the surplus, to support Anna, so that sheneed not work at all."

  "You are very prosperous then?"

  "Yes, and why shouldn't we be? Now that we get grain at what it reallycosts instead of paying middlemen and speculators, railroadstockholders, elevators, etc., etc., everything is half the price itused to be. Then we need never fear that no one will buy our produce.The Supply Department can always tell us just where what we have isneeded, and pays us for it on the spot. It does the transportation; andso the state needn't ask us an exorbitant rent, and can always pay us aremunerative price for our surplus."

  "But you don't suppose Anna of Ann would be induced to marry you justbecause you could support her, do you?"

  "She's a fool if she doesn't, as she apparently does not care for anyone else."

  * * * * *

  That night after dinner most of the party adjourned to the music room,so I took a chair near the Mater who was knitting by the big fire inthe hall.

  A benign smile lightened up her dear old round face as she made room forme to get close to the fire. I was curious to know what she thought ofAnna, and said to her:

  "Phaines tells me he wants to marry Anna of Ann."

  "Isn't she foolish now not to marry him?" answered the Mater, puttingdown her work. "I am so fond of her, and Phaines and she would make anideal couple. She could work all day at the art she is fond of and bothought to be as happy, all the year long, as larks in the spring."

  "I have sometimes thought," said I, wishing to draw the Mater out, "thatAnna looked sad."

  "Well, she is a genius, and all geniuses look sad sometimes. It seems asthough somebody has to be sad in order that others may be happy. Now, Iam glad I am a plain farmer's wife and don't have to be sad. And yet,"she added, taking up her knitting again, "I love to look at sad things.Have you ever seen Anna's statue of Bacchus?"

  I had seen it and wondered at it until it was explained to me that thebetter Greek notion of Bacchus as the god of enthusiasm had beenrestored to the Dionysan cult. Then I perceived that Anna had given tothe wine god something of the discontent that lends charm to the statuesof Antinoues.

  "Anna's thought doubtless is," said I, "that the highest enthusiasmsprings from a sense of an unsatisfied need."

  "Well, I like to look at it but I don't care to think about it. I likejust to toast my toes by the fire these long winter evenings and knowthat our storehouse is full and our boys happy. But I do wish Anna wouldmarry Phaines."

  Assuredly, thought I, man is a variable thing--constructed upon lines sodifferent that it is surprising one variety of man can at all understandthe other. And yet, in view of the variety of occupations in which manmust engage if he wants to satisfy his complex needs, how fortunate thatthe Mater could be happy only on her farm, and Anna happy only in herstudio! And for the Mater and Phaines the question of marriage with Annawas one that could tarry for its solution year after year; while forAnna, her love for Ariston tormented her life, intruded into her art,saddened and inspired it.

  I was interested, however, to discover that she had escaped from thethraldom of it for the time at any rate; for on the next day, when Ipeeped into her studio early in the morning, she no longer threw a clothover her clay, but, on the contrary, beckoned me in.

  And I saw dimly growing out of a gigantic mass of clay the noblelineaments of an old man with shaggy projecting eyebrows and a beardthat rivalled that of the Moses of Michael Angelo.

  "It is only the bust," she said. She looked very lovely as withsuppressed excitement she explained to me her thought, and her eyesusually dim grew bright. "It is to be a colossal figure, standing; Ithink there is something in it that is going to be suggested by theCreator of the Sixtine chapel as he stands creating Eve; but then, too,I see in the clay before me something more kindly, reminding me ratherof Prospero; and yet he is to be triumphant; I think one arm will belifted, half in joy and half in benediction, but his brow will bethoughtful and sad."

  "And you have got rid of Ariston altogether?" asked I.

  She blushed and pouted a little.

  "You must never speak to me of Ariston again. I am glad to be free fromhim, in this at any rate--and it is your Tithonus that has rescued me.If I were to put a legend to this sculpture--of course, I won't--but ifI were to do so, it should be 'Me only, cruel immortality consumes.'"

  "And yet this would express only a small part of the whole thing."

  "And that is why no legend should ever be attached to sculpture;sculpture must tell her own story in her own way--legends belong toliterature. Sculpture must owe nothing to any other art than her own.
"She was looking critically at the bust now, as though I were not in theroom, but presently becoming conscious of my existence again, she added:"I value this legend because it started me on a new line of thoughtunhaunted by the old."

  For days Anna was so gay that I began to wonder whether Ariston had notlost his opportunity, and I wondered so all the more when I saw littleadvances to Anna on his part unresponded to. One evening when he hadfelt himself discouraged by her, he said to me:

  "I don't think Anna will ever care for anything but her art. I asked herto show me what she is doing and she refused--a little curtly, Ithought."

  "My dear Ariston," answered I, "do you suppose Anna is going to fallinto your arms the moment you open them to her? You have treated herfor years as though she did not exist, and now you are disappointedbecause at a first lordly approach she does not at once fall tremblingat your feet."

  "Am I really such a coxcomb as that?" asked Ariston.

  "Don't take me too seriously," said I. "All I mean to suggest is that ifAnna is worth winning she is worth wooing; she is absorbed in herwork--her life is quite filled with it--and if you want her life to befilled with you, you must take some little trouble and exercise somelittle patience."

  Ariston laughed good humoredly, and asked me how Lydia was doing. I hadseen little of her. We met at meal-time, but so many sat down to everymeal that I seldom found myself near her. I knew that she heard dailyfrom Chairo and wrote daily to him, but more than this no one knew.Ariston explained to me that the forces marshalled in opposition to oneanother were now fairly organized, but that it was impossible to tellwith whom the victory would rest. The leader of the government, Peleas,was not a big man; on the contrary, many charged him with being narrow.He was bitterly opposed to the amnesty bill; regarded Chairo as afirebrand who must be suppressed, and asked, if blood could deluge thestreets of New York one day and amnesty be voted to those responsibletherefor the next, what security could the community hope for in thefuture? Would not such action serve to encourage all discontent to takethe shape of riot and revolt?

  There was, of course, much truth in his view. The Demetrian council hadmet, but their decision was kept absolutely secret. Irene had nowaltogether recovered and was expected to direct the Demetrian forces inthe legislature; she would not, however, take the floor; it wasconsidered that their spokesman ought to be a man. Ariston wasdisqualified by the fact that he was acting for Chairo; so they decidedon an extremely judicious, though not very eloquent speaker, by nameArkles. Ariston returned to New York the next day.