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It
was
during
this
period
of
social
dullness
,
however
,
which
somewhat
resembled
,
though
it
did
not
exactly
parallel
his
first
years
with
his
first
wife
,
that
Cowperwood
finally
met
a
woman
who
was
destined
to
leave
a
marked
impression
on
his
life
.
He
could
not
soon
forget
her
.
Her
name
was
Rita
Sohlberg
.
She
was
the
wife
of
Harold
Sohlberg
,
a
Danish
violinist
who
was
then
living
in
Chicago
,
a
very
young
man
;
but
she
was
not
a
Dane
,
and
he
was
by
no
means
a
remarkable
violinist
,
though
he
had
unquestionably
the
musical
temperament
.
You
have
perhaps
seen
the
would-be
's
,
the
nearly
's
,
the
pretenders
in
every
field
--
interesting
people
all
--
devoted
with
a
kind
of
mad
enthusiasm
to
the
thing
they
wish
to
do
.
They
manifest
in
some
ways
all
the
externals
or
earmarks
of
their
professional
traditions
,
and
yet
are
as
sounding
brass
and
tinkling
cymbals
.
You
would
have
had
to
know
Harold
Sohlberg
only
a
little
while
to
appreciate
that
he
belonged
to
this
order
of
artists
.
He
had
a
wild
,
stormy
,
November
eye
,
a
wealth
of
loose
,
brownish-black
hair
combed
upward
from
the
temples
,
with
one
lock
straggling
Napoleonically
down
toward
the
eyes
;
cheeks
that
had
almost
a
babyish
tint
to
them
;
lips
much
too
rich
,
red
,
and
sensuous
;
a
nose
that
was
fine
and
large
and
full
,
but
only
faintly
aquiline
;
and
eyebrows
and
mustache
that
somehow
seemed
to
flare
quite
like
his
errant
and
foolish
soul
.
He
had
been
sent
away
from
Denmark
(
Copenhagen
)
because
he
had
been
a
never-do-well
up
to
twenty-five
and
because
he
was
constantly
falling
in
love
with
women
who
would
not
have
anything
to
do
with
him
.
Here
in
Chicago
as
a
teacher
,
with
his
small
pension
of
forty
dollars
a
month
sent
him
by
his
mother
,
he
had
gained
a
few
pupils
,
and
by
practising
a
kind
of
erratic
economy
,
which
kept
him
well
dressed
or
hungry
by
turns
,
he
had
managed
to
make
an
interesting
showing
and
pull
himself
through
.
He
was
only
twenty-eight
at
the
time
he
met
Rita
Greenough
,
of
Wichita
,
Kansas
,
and
at
the
time
they
met
Cowperwood
Harold
was
thirty-four
and
she
twenty-seven
.
She
had
been
a
student
at
the
Chicago
Fine
Arts
School
,
and
at
various
student
affairs
had
encountered
Harold
when
he
seemed
to
play
divinely
,
and
when
life
was
all
romance
and
art
.
Given
the
spring
,
the
sunshine
on
the
lake
,
white
sails
of
ships
,
a
few
walks
and
talks
on
pensive
afternoons
when
the
city
swam
in
a
golden
haze
,
and
the
thing
was
done
.
There
was
a
sudden
Saturday
afternoon
marriage
,
a
runaway
day
to
Milwaukee
,
a
return
to
the
studio
now
to
be
fitted
out
for
two
,
and
then
kisses
,
kisses
,
kisses
until
love
was
satisfied
or
eased
.
But
life
can
not
exist
on
that
diet
alone
,
and
so
by
degrees
the
difficulties
had
begun
to
manifest
themselves
.
Fortunately
,
the
latter
were
not
allied
with
sharp
financial
want
.
Rita
was
not
poor
.
Her
father
conducted
a
small
but
profitable
grain
elevator
at
Wichita
,
and
,
after
her
sudden
marriage
,
decided
to
continue
her
allowance
,
though
this
whole
idea
of
art
and
music
in
its
upper
reaches
was
to
him
a
strange
,
far-off
,
uncertain
thing
.
A
thin
,
meticulous
,
genial
person
interested
in
small
trade
opportunities
,
and
exactly
suited
to
the
rather
sparse
social
life
of
Wichita
,
he
found
Harold
as
curious
as
a
bomb
,
and
preferred
to
handle
him
gingerly
.
Gradually
,
however
,
being
a
very
human
if
simple
person
,
he
came
to
be
very
proud
of
it
--
boasted
in
Wichita
of
Rita
and
her
artist
husband
,
invited
them
home
to
astound
the
neighbors
during
the
summer-time
,
and
the
fall
brought
his
almost
farmer-like
wife
on
to
see
them
and
to
enjoy
trips
,
sight-seeing
,
studio
teas
.
It
was
amusing
,
typically
American
,
naive
,
almost
impossible
from
many
points
of
view
.
Rita
Sohlberg
was
of
the
semi-phlegmatic
type
,
soft
,
full-blooded
,
with
a
body
that
was
going
to
be
fat
at
forty
,
but
which
at
present
was
deliciously
alluring
.
Having
soft
,
silky
,
light-brown
hair
,
the
color
of
light
dust
,
and
moist
gray-blue
eyes
,
with
a
fair
skin
and
even
,
white
teeth
,
she
was
flatteringly
self-conscious
of
her
charms
.
She
pretended
in
a
gay
,
childlike
way
to
be
unconscious
of
the
thrill
she
sent
through
many
susceptible
males
,
and
yet
she
knew
well
enough
all
the
while
what
she
was
doing
and
how
she
was
doing
it
;
it
pleased
her
so
to
do
.
She
was
conscious
of
the
wonder
of
her
smooth
,
soft
arms
and
neck
,
the
fullness
and
seductiveness
of
her
body
,
the
grace
and
perfection
of
her
clothing
,
or
,
at
least
,
the
individuality
and
taste
which
she
made
them
indicate
.
She
could
take
an
old
straw-hat
form
,
a
ribbon
,
a
feather
,
or
a
rose
,
and
with
an
innate
artistry
of
feeling
turn
it
into
a
bit
of
millinery
which
somehow
was
just
the
effective
thing
for
her
.
She
chose
naive
combinations
of
white
and
blues
,
pinks
and
white
,
browns
and
pale
yellows
,
which
somehow
suggested
her
own
soul
,
and
topped
them
with
great
sashes
of
silky
brown
(
or
even
red
)
ribbon
tied
about
her
waist
,
and
large
,
soft-brimmed
,
face-haloing
hats
.
She
was
a
graceful
dancer
,
could
sing
a
little
,
could
play
feelingly
--
sometimes
brilliantly
--
and
could
draw
.
Her
art
was
a
makeshift
,
however
;
she
was
no
artist
.
The
most
significant
thing
about
her
was
her
moods
and
her
thoughts
,
which
were
uncertain
,
casual
,
anarchic
.
Rita
Sohlberg
,
from
the
conventional
point
of
view
,
was
a
dangerous
person
,
and
yet
from
her
own
point
of
view
at
this
time
she
was
not
so
at
all
--
just
dreamy
and
sweet
.
A
part
of
the
peculiarity
of
her
state
was
that
Sohlberg
had
begun
to
disappoint
Rita
--
sorely
.
Truth
to
tell
,
he
was
suffering
from
that
most
terrible
of
all
maladies
,
uncertainty
of
soul
and
inability
to
truly
find
himself
.
At
times
he
was
not
sure
whether
he
was
cut
out
to
be
a
great
violinist
or
a
great
composer
,
or
merely
a
great
teacher
,
which
last
he
was
never
willing
really
to
admit
.
"
I
am
an
arteest
,
"
he
was
fond
of
saying
.
"
Ho
,
how
I
suffer
from
my
temperament
!
"
And
again
:
"
These
dogs
!
These
cows
!
These
pigs
!
"
This
of
other
people
.
The
quality
of
his
playing
was
exceedingly
erratic
,
even
though
at
times
it
attained
to
a
kind
of
subtlety
,
tenderness
,
awareness
,
and
charm
which
brought
him
some
attention
.
As
a
rule
,
however
,
it
reflected
the
chaotic
state
of
his
own
brain
.
He
would
play
violently
,
feverishly
,
with
a
wild
passionateness
of
gesture
which
robbed
him
of
all
ability
to
control
his
own
technic
.
"
Oh
,
Harold
!
"
Rita
used
to
exclaim
at
first
,
ecstatically
.
Later
she
was
not
so
sure
.
