# Woman Without Love?/Chapter 18

Chapter XVIII
Somehow or other Madame Leota succeeded in giving a certain tone to the house. It was almost as though it absorbed her personality. It was expansive and friendly. The halls echoed with laughter.
When occasionally neighbors complained, nothing happened. Madame seemed to be beyond the law. She was simply running a high class boarding-house. Certainly there was never any loud noise or commotion about her establishment. It was impossible to obtain indictments. After all there was no evidence of criminality.
Madame was in right with the politicians and many of the politicians were fortunate in being in right with her. In their eyes she could do no wrong. And possibly she couldn't. Certainly her philanthropies were many.
No house in the neighborhood was better cared for. The flowers in the garden were exquisite. They were happy because they were tended by old Marlow who loved them. Old Marlow went serenely about his work without a care or trouble in the world. He had faith. He believed that everything would eventually turn out all right. In the meantime Madame Leota saw to it that he did not work too hard nor want for anything. Had it not been for her he would have been living on the fringe of poverty.
Terese, Madame's maid, had been with her ever since she opened the establishment. For twenty years she watched over her mistress, nor did she mind her endless scoldings and fault-findings. To Terese, Madame was merely a lovable grumbler. She would not have changed her. At least Madame with her raucous voice and ever-changing moods was never dull.
Next in importance to Terese at the house was Marigold Gray, the housekeeper. She helped plan the meals and saw to it that the rooms were always clean and well-aired. But she ​had nothing whatever to do with the girls. Madame Leota dealt with them direct. She knew that if she put too much power in the hands of any of her servants they would have a tendency to be domineering. This as far as possible she wished to avoid.
In her house the girls were never overcharged for anything and many of the little luxuries with which they were supplied were not billed to them at all. Madame was getting old. She could afford to be liberal. She was rich. Her funds were well invested, for the most part in bank stocks and government bonds. She also kept a very large bank balance so that in an emergency she would never be short.
There were six girls at Madame's establishment. Once a girl entered that house it was her home for as long as she cared to remain. However, she had to behave herself. It was almost as hard for a girl to be taken on by Madame as for one to be starred in a Broadway show.
At present she had only five girls. Liane Carewe had left to be married. She had married a rich lawyer who knew what she was but loved her anyway. The remaining five were all young and, needless to say, gorgeous girls. There was Lucille, tall and stately, whom everyone called, "The Slim Princess"; Frances, a platinum blonde; Belle, smiling and inclined to be buxom; Dolores, a languorous Latin and in love with love; Minetta, a carefree little thing always singing or telling funny stories.
Madame was proud of her girls and her girls were proud of her. Nevertheless there came a day when Madame grew restless. She ceased to take an active interest in anything. She even paid scant attention to her ruffled, ribboned gowns. She withered and drooped like a flower, albeit a rather large sun-flower. It is hard for a woman of massive proportions to grow wan and listless, but somehow she accomplished the feat.
Ivan Alter looked at her in amazement. "I have beheld a miracle," he declared.
"That sounds like a dirty dig," she said.
"It wasn't meant that way but you positively seem to be shrinking."
​"Why not add like a burst balloon?"
"It is an apt expression."
"One more comment of that sort," she threatened, "and I'll throw you down the stairs. It is quite awhile since I have indulged in such exercise and I rather need it to keep in practice."
"I have no desire to be smashed against the floor," he said in mock gravity. "I am very sensitive. Besides I chip easily."
"Then be warned. Mend your ways."
"I'll be darned if I do."
"I am far too weak to be subjected to putrid puns."
"Forgive me, then."
"I need a rest."
"I have thought so for some time. I am surprised you so persistently avoid it."
"One thing at least I have to be thankful for," she sighed. "I never did like you and I always will."
"Now that we understand each other," said he, "why not tell me exactly what is troubling your precious head?"
"I'm homesick," she confessed. "I who haven't been home for forty-five years am now pining to return. But it is too late. My home has vanished. Now it is merely a house that some one else lives in. We never appreciate our blessings until we have lost them. Always we talk about the good old days but in the good old days we were never happy. They seem sweeter because they are seasoned with remembrance."
Madame Leota took a pinch of snuff from her solid gold snuffbox. Not till she had sneezed twice did she resume her meditations and when she did there were tears in her eyes. They may have been accounted for by the fact that the snuff was unusually strong.
"Nevertheless," she said, "I am soil-born and the call of the earth is in my blood. Broad fields are calling to me. I long to climb a mountain. I never climbed one in my life. I also would like to watch a sunrise. When I had the chance I never bothered. I want to walk bare-footed in new turned soil. There is no surer way to walk close to God."
"Well," he drawled, "you have money enough to have all ​your wishes fulfilled. No man is so poor that he cannot buy a sunrise. It doesn't cost much to climb a mountain. And you can walk in the fields without your shoes if you want to, but personally I would rather wear rubbers. A few seasons ago I spent the summer in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was the most restful summer of my life. I traveled for miles in a khaki suit, smoking an old corn-cob pipe. I searched for fossils in the Badlands. I visited the great Homestake mine at Lead, South Dakota. I journeyed to Wind Cave on the state highway running from Custer to Hot Springs. I spent half a day at Ranger's Lookout on Harney Peak. But the thing that impressed me most was Devil's Tower, the far Western Sentinel to the Black Hills. Unfortunately His Highness, the Devil, wasn't home and I couldn't wait. It was a delightful summer and I can understand your longing to return to rustic things." Then he slapped his knee. "By Jove," he exclaimed, "why not go off with me for a few weeks to the Black Hills?"
Her face brightened up at that. "It's a swell idea," she said jubilantly, "and exactly the sort of vacation I need."
"Swell," said he. "When can you leave?"
"I can arrange to get away Saturday morning," she told him. "I'll put Terese in charge of the house. With Marigold's help she is capable of looking after everything."
That trip to the Black Hills was one long to be remembered. It was a droll affair. They stopped at a rustic farmhouse and drove from the station in a carriage so rickety that Louella was momentarily afraid that the vehicle would split in half and slice her neatly in two. The two horses that pulled the contraption were so ancient they looked as though they were falling apart.
"They need painting," chuckled Ivan, "or better still they ought to be re-shingled to keep out the rain."
The farmhouse was on a par with the carriage and the horses. It hadn't been painted since the flood and evidently there hadn't been any floods recently. However, there was plenty of food for their supper of a coarse, simple variety. Louella was ravenously hungry and she ate a tremendous quantity. She thought of Edna Ferber's new book, "So Big," which she had recently read. Edna Ferber was her favorite author. Louella believed as do ​many others that she is the foremost writer in America today. The book was right. Cabbages were beautiful, especially when they were well-cooked and mashed up with plenty of butter.
After supper she was in a surprisingly good humor. She followed Mrs. Nordstrom, her landlady, up stairs that screamed in terror at every step she took. Opening off the upper hall were four rooms. Louella's room was big and bleak and bare. The bed seemed lost in a corner and a washstand that sloped at a perilous angle stood beside it. On the washstand was a huge basin and a large jug of water. The only other furniture in the room was a chair and a kerosene lamp.
"Stayin' long?" asked Mrs. Nordstrom, nervously twitching her apron string with her bony fingers.
She was a tall, thin, slatternly woman and she was overworked and lonesome. Her nearest neighbor lived three miles away and it was seldom she had time to go calling. This huge, well-dressed lady from the cities outside appealed to her. It was a diversion. She stood in awe of her.
"Oh, a few days, perhaps a week," replied Louella lightly.
Then she noticed Mrs. Nordstrom's sad expression, almost haunting. This woman might have been beautiful if she were not so gaunt. She had plenty of food and yet she was starving; starving for beauty. Louella decided that before she returned home she would give Mrs. Nordstrom most of her clothes. Of course they'd be too large but she could make them over. Farm women are usually handy with the needle. She would use care in bestowing her gifts, make it appear that she wasn't doing it for the sake of charity.
When she decided to make a person like her, Louella always succeeded. She had a magnetic personality. It was easy for her to work her spell upon this sweet farm woman who so much longed for beautiful things.
When Louella bade Ivan good-night some hours later, she was in excellent spirits.
"I'm so glad I came!" she gushed. "Tomorrow morning I intend to get up to see the sunrise."
"Good!" he cried. "I'll go along. I'll do more. I'll wake you. Then you'll be sure not to miss it."
​A single night can bring many changes and by morning Louella had other plans.
A half hour before dawn when Ivan knocked at her door, she murmured drowsily: "What's the matter?"
"Time to get up," he reminded her.
"What a weird idea."
"Don't you want to see the sunrise?"
"I'd rather something to settle my stomach. I've got gas."
"Come on. Don't keep me waiting. One would imagine you were a bride, so reluctant you are to leave your bed."
"Don't be vulgar," she said irritably.
"I'm a Vulgarian born," he said. "I'm only an American by adoption and because nobody opposed my application for citizenship."
"I intend to apply for an injunction," said she, "and have you put away. Then maybe I could get some sleep."
"If you are going to sleep," he said mournfully, "at least unlock your door and move over so I can snatch a few snores, also."
"Sooner than that," said she, "I'll get up."
"Shall I get a derrick?"
"No insults, but I wish you could get Terese."
"What for?"
"So she could fix my bath."
"I didn't know your bath was broken."
"It's worse than that. I can't even find the damn thing in this house."
Later as they trudged across the fields, she said: "Isn't it chilly?"
"Yes," he replied. "I wish I'd brought my coat along."
"I wish I'd brought my bed," said she.
They sat on a flat rock and waited impatiently as the sun rose into view.
"So that's a sunrise," she said at last between shivers.
"It's the nearest thing we have to one around the place," said he.
"Well," she sniffed, "I don't think it's so hot."
"It gets hotter around noon," he told her meekly.
​That afternoon they decided they would climb a mountain. It was an important day for Louella for she was about to attain one of her life's ambitions. In her excitement she forgot all about her weak heart and her fallen arches. But it was not long before these slight physical imperfections began to get irksome.
"My word!" she puffed. "Let's sit down on this log awhile."
"You don't mean to say you are tired already?" he exclaimed. "Why I don't believe we're up three hundred feet."
"It's enough," she growled. "Anyway it is my altitude record."
"Why, Louella," he said, "this isn't anything. There are mountains in South Dakota higher than the clouds. Terry Peak is over seven thousand feet and Flag Mountain is almost as high."
She commenced mopping her brow with her handkerchief.
"As far as I am concerned," she said, "it's so-much wasted space. Whoever invented mountains ought to be ashamed of himself."
He laughed. "So another of your pet desires is exploded," said he.
"Yes," said she ruefully. "And I nearly exploded too."
For the next week Louella was content to remain about the house. She and Mrs. Nordstrom spent many an interesting hour together. Mrs. Nordstrom used to pray at night that this elegant lady would remain with her always. Madame Leota knew that her presence was appreciated. That is why she did not return to her establishment at once.
One morning after breakfast she decided she would go out and walk barefoot in a new-plowed field. It was a noteworthy plan but it failed miserably for she cut her big toe on a sharp stone and howled like a coyote.
So much of an uproar did she cause, Ivan Alter came running to her.
"What's the matter?" he asked breathlessly.
"Matter enough," she cried. "My toe hurts like hell. I've got a touch of asthma and I've lost my goddam snuff-box."
Ivan scratched his head. "It appears to me," he said dryly, "that you are in an awful mess. Our grand tour has turned into somewhat of a fiasco."
​"We've been victimized," said she. "This farm-life stuff has been immensely over-rated."
"You mean you don't like it?" he queried.
"That," she told him, "only expresses my true feelings vaguely. I think it is ghastly."