Ancestors: A Novel

by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton

  XXXIII

  The old-fashioned interior of the Polk House, with, on the lower floor,its double parlors connected by sliding doors, its narrow central hall,and its many shapeless rooms of varying size, had been entirelyremodelled by the essentially modern Mrs. Hofer. Her husband had wishedto build an imposing mass of shingles and stones, but Mrs. Hofer was fartoo impatient to wait a year--perhaps two, if there were strikes--totake up her abode on Nob Hill, and the Polk House was in the market.Perhaps something in the stolid uncompromising exterior of the oldbarrack appealed to her irresistibly, mausoleum that it was of anaristocratic past. But upon the interior she wasted no sentiment, andsome half a million of her husband's dollars. There were now three greatrooms on the lower floor and four small ones, besides a circular hallwith a spiral marble stair. The drawing-room, which ran from east towest, was one of the most notable rooms in the country, had been thesubject of violent controversy, newspaper and verbal, and was aperpetual delight to the dramatic soul of its mistress. The mostoriginal artist the State had produced had painted a deep frieze whichwas a series of the strange moonlight scenes that had made his fame: thedeep sulphurous blue of the California night sky, the long blackshadows, the wind-driven trees, the low desolate adobe houses abandonedin the towns settled by Spain. Now and again a cluster of lightsindicated a window-pane and a belated tenant, but the garden walls werein ruins, the tiled roofs sagging, the ancient whitewash was peeling;all blended and lifted into a harmony of color and pathos by the geniusof the artist. The expanse of dull green-blue walls of rough plasterbelow the frieze was unbroken; on the marble floor there were bluevelvet rugs. The furniture was of ebony and dull-blue brocade. There wasnot even a picture on an easel, but there were several Rodins andMeuniers. At the lower or west end of the room the wall had been removedand replaced by a single immense pane of plate glass. From this window,always curtainless, there was a startling view of the steep drop of thehill, beetling with houses and steeples, Telegraph Hill beyond and alittle to the north; then the bay, and the towns on its opposite rim. Atnight the scene, with its blue above and black below, picked out with athousand lights--massed into a diadem beyond the bay--looked like asublimation of the painter's work. Within, the cunningly arranged lightssaved the room at all times from being too sombre, and were set toreveal every detail of paintings far too precious to have beenrecklessly lavished upon a wooden house in the most recklessly built ofall great cities.

  The dining-room--which had the proportions of a banqueting-hall, with analcove for family use--was hung with tapestries and furnished withchairs lifted bodily from a castle in Spain; and it was a room in whichno one would remember to look for ancestors. The library also commandeda view of the bay and had been decorated by native artists withimitations of the Giorgione frescoes, charmingly pink and smudgy. Thehangings and furniture were of royal crimson brocade, and the walls werecovered with books. Mr. Toole, who was a scholar of the old-fashionedsort, of which California still holds so many, had selected the books;and the contents were as noteworthy as the bindings. In a special alcovewas a large number of priceless Fourteenth and Sixteenth Centuryeditions. From this sumptuous room curved an iron balcony, where the oldgentleman might be seen sunning himself any fine day, his steelspectacles half-way down his nose, and a volume propped on the shelf ofan easy-chair furnished with all the modern improvements.

  On the white satin panels of the large round hall were a few of the mostvaluable old masters as yet brought to the country, but Mrs. Hofer, whowas a patriot or nothing, did not hesitate to mix them with the bestefforts of her fellow-citizens, nor to proclaim her preference for thenative product. It was all very well to have old masters, and modernEuropeans, if it was the thing, but she never felt quite at home withthem, and liked her California inside as well as out.

  The four little reception-rooms, or boudoirs, were so many cabinets fortreasures, and on the night of the ball, like the rest of the rooms onthis floor, were entirely without further adornment; only the whitemarble of the spiral stair was festooned with crimson roses; and thenarrow hall that led from the rotunda to the new ballroom was dressed inimitation of a long arbor of grape-vines, and hung with clusters ofhot-house grapes and Chinese lanterns. The ballroom had been built outfrom the back of the house upon the steep drop of the hill, and as evenits graduated foundation did not lift it to the level of the firstfloor, it was reached by a short flight of steps. For three months Mrs.Hofer's judicious hints had excited the curiosity of the town, and allthat were not bedridden had presented themselves at as early an hour asself-respect would permit. Mrs. Hofer, to use her own phrase, had"turned herself loose," on this room, and even her husband, who hadgasped at the sum total, indulgent as he was, admitted to-night that"she knew what she was about." The immense room was built to simulate apatio in Spain. The domed roof, in the blaze of light below, looked tobe the dim blue vault of the night sky. The gallery that encircled theroom was divided into balconies, and from them depended Gobelintapestries, Eastern rugs, silken shawls--yellow embroidered with red,blue embroidered with white--after the manner of Spain on festa days.The background of the gallery was a mass of tropical plants alternatingwith latticed windows and long glass doors. Sitting with an arm or elbowon the railing, was every California woman of Mrs. Hofer's acquaintancethat had the inherited right to wear a mantilla, a rose over her ear,and wield a large black fan; that is to say, those that were too old ortoo indifferent to dance. How Ada Hofer induced them to form a part ofher decorations nobody ever knew, themselves least of all; but there, tothe amazement and delight of the hundreds below, they were, and it wasmany years since the majority of them had looked so handsome. Beneaththe balcony was an arcade where many seats were disposed among palms andpampas grass. The inevitable fountain was at the end of the room; it wasof white stone, and colored lights played upon its foaming column. Themusicians were in the gallery above it.

  When Gwynne and Isabel descended the steps and stood looking down uponthe scene for a moment, the younger people were dancing. Every womanseemed to have been fired with the ambition to contribute her own partto the brilliancy of the night. There were tiaras by the score in thesedays, and the gowns had journeyed half-way round the world. There hadbeen imported gowns in the immortal Eighties, when Mrs. Yorba reigned,but never a tiara; and Isabel for the first time fully realized thesignificant changes worked by the vast modern fortunes and theirambitious owners. Blood might have been enough for their predecessors,but the outward and visible sign for them.

  And all sets were represented to-night. It is doubtful if any woman haddone as much to entice them to a common focus as the surmounting Mrs.Hofer. She was not the leader of San Francisco society, for that officewas practically an elective one, and meant an infinite amount of troublewith corresponding perquisites; it must be held by a woman of supremetact, experience, executive ability, and practically nothing else to do.The present incumbent, to the infinite credit of San Francisco, was amember of one of the oldest and most distinguished families inCalifornia; or in America, for that matter; and although still young,and with less to spend in a year than the Hofers wasted in a week, shehad been chosen, after the death of the old leader, and some acrimoniousdiscussion, to rule; and rule she did with a rod of iron. But she tookher good where she found it, and was grateful for what Mrs. Hofer, withher beautiful house and irresistible energy had already accomplished.For Mrs. Hofer was by no means too democratic. If she had drawn allfactions to her house she had taken care that only the best of her ownkind came too, and this best was very good indeed; for it was educatedand accomplished, more often than not had mingled in society abroad; anhonor to which many of the ancient aristocracy had never aspired. No onerecognized this fact, and the irresistible law of progress, better thanthe Leader, in spite of her Spanish blood; and to-night she sat in thevery centre of the north gallery, her charming dark face draped in amantilla some two centuries old. Beside her sat Anne Montgomery who hadnot a drop of Spanish in her, but whom Mrs. Hofer had done up with ab
rand-new mantilla of white lace and an immense black fan. MissMontgomery had a lingering sense of humor, but it suited her to lookyoung and pretty once more, if only for a night. Mrs. Trennahan, who wasreally fond of Mrs. Hofer, particularly as she had been adroitlypersuaded that this party was to be a mere setting for her lovely youngdaughter, also decorated the gallery in one of the old Yorbamantillas--it had belonged to the beautiful aunt for whom this house hadbeen built by the husband she scorned--and wore it for the first time inher life. Trennahan had shaken with a fit of inward laughter, but hadcompelled his eyes to express only admiration and approval.

  Other dowagers sat below, some bediamonded and others not: the "oldSouthern Set" lived on diminishing incomes; new industries weredecreasing the values of the old. They had lost none of their pride, butphilosophy had mellowed them, and they were honestly grateful for suchsplendid diversion; and Mrs. Hofer's suppers cost a small fortune, evenin San Francisco. Their offspring cared as little for traditions as forsupper, and had married or were marrying into the newer sets, rapidlyobliterating what lines were left. As for the new, they were legion, andnot to be distinguished by the casual eye from those that traced theirdescent to the crumbling mansions of South Park and Rincon Hill; andthey had the earnest co-operation of the best of the world's milliners.The pick of Bohemia was also present, those that were distinguishingthemselves in art and letters, or even on the stage, for Mrs. Hofer hadlearned some of her lessons in London. All that were now looked upon ascounty families, spending as they did but one or two months of the yearin the city, had come to town for this ball, but the country towns wererepresented only by Gwynne and Isabel and the Tom Coltons. The group ofmen so desperately interested in the municipal affairs of the citydisliked and distrusted Colton; but Mrs. Leslie had been born on RinconHill, and all doors, old and new, were open to her daughter. Isabelcaught a glimpse of Anabel among the dancers, in a gown of primrosesatin almost the color of her hair, and a little diamond tiara made fromsome old stones of her mother's.

  "Well!" exclaimed Isabel. "What do you think of us? Is it not awonderful scene?"

  Gwynne nodded. "All that is wanting is a background of caballeros in thegallery, silk and ruffles, and hair tied with ribbons. But I suppose theold gentlemen objected. There must be some limit to Mrs. Hofer's powersof persuasion. But--yes--it is a wonderful scene, and you are awonderful people to take so much trouble."

  The waltz finished and Mrs. Hofer bore down upon them. She wore whitebrocade, the flowers outlined with jewels, shimmering under a cloud oftulle, and her neck and her fashionably dressed head were hardly to beseen for the rubies and diamonds that bound them. She was fairlypalpitating with youth and triumph, and delight in the dance, andalthough without beauty or a patrician outline, there was no moreradiant vision in the room. She reproached Isabel for being late,informed her that she had ordered all the best men to keep dances forher, summoned several, and then bore off Gwynne to introduce him to theprettiest of the girls. In a few moments Isabel was engaged for everydance before supper; she had given the _cotillon_ to Gwynne.

  She had realized immediately, that upon such a scene, with such abackground, she could hope to make no such overwhelming impression ashad fallen to the lot of Helena Belmont; surrounded by buff-coloredwalls and a small exclusive society--for the most part disdainful ofdress. Nevertheless, she was soon pleasurably aware that she was thesubject of much comment, not only in the gallery, but among the hundredsof smart young girls and women on the floor, the men that danced, andthose that supported the walls. The old beaux, left over from the dayswhen Nina Randolph and Guadalupe Hathaway had reigned, who had put thestamp of an almost incoherent approval upon the dazzling Helena, thatfamous night of her debut, were dead and dust; but another group,including the quartet that had as promptly declared themselves thesuitors and slaves of the exacting beauty, were present to-night,critically regarding the debutantes. Their comparisons were lessimpassioned than those of their old mentors, for they were tired; theyhad disposed of much of their superfluous enthusiasm in the increaseddifficulties of making an income, since the brief reign of a heartlesswitch, whom they still remembered with an occasional pang of sentiment,but more gratitude that they had not had her as well as fortune tosubdue. None had prospered exceedingly, but all had done well. They werestill in their forties, but as gray as their fathers had been at sixty;indeed, looked older than Trennahan, who had disdained to add to his ownand his wife's fortunes, and lived merely to enjoy life; and they wouldfar rather have been in bed. But three of them were indulgent familymen. Eugene Fort had clung to the single state, but the others werecontributing one or more daughters to the evening's entertainment; andthey had all drifted naturally together to discuss the new beautiesbefore retreating to the haven at the top of the house where there was abilliard-table and much good whiskey and tobacco. They were disputingover the respective claims of Inez Trennahan, who was a replica of theCalifornia _Favoritas_ of a century ago, and Catalina Over with theIndian blood on her high cheek-bones, and her mouth like an Indian'sbow, when Isabel descended the stairs. They promptly gave her the palm,although they did not turn pale, nor lose their breath.

  "The grand style," said Trennahan. "I wonder will the home-bred youthappreciate it? In your day she would have had a better chance, but mostof these worthy young men, when they have been to college at all, havepatronized Stanford or Berkeley; in other words, never been out of theState, and, no doubt, prefer the more vivid, frivolous, and essentiallymodern product."

  "If it lay with us," said Alan Rush, sadly. "But it is as you say. Shewill frighten most of the young fellows. By Jove, she looks as if shehad danced at Washington's first ball. But that's it. Nothing free andeasy, there. It's no longer the fashion to be too aristocratic."

  But Isabel, if she did not create a _furore_ among the young men, whowould have thought such a performance beneath their dignity, was, atleast, generally admitted to be "Pretty well as stunning a girl as youmight see in a long day's journey," "a regular ripper," "the handsomestof the bunch," and as far as "mere looks went" the "pick of the lot."The girls viewed her with no great favor, but the majority of the women,especially those in the galleries, sustained the verdict of the men; andthe Leader, in the course of the evening, descended and introducedherself, claimed relationship, and graciously intimated that if Isabelcared to join the _cotillon_ clubs and the skating-rink--_The_skating-rink--an exclusive yet hospitable wing would be lifted. Ayounger brother of Mr. Hofer, who had also multiplied his paternalmillion, devoted himself to her seriously, and Gwynne, who soon hadenough of dancing, gracefully renounced his claims to the german. Theyhad one waltz together and then he did not see her again until the hourof departure, when he stood in the hall and watched her descend thewinding white stair between the roses. He thought her a charming picturein her long white coat, with a lace scarf over her head, and her armsfull of costly toys. When she reached his side she ordered him to puther favors into the pockets of his overcoat, and keep his hand on hispistol, as she would not risk losing one of them, much less her jewels.Her eyes were very bright, and her cheeks deeply flushed, but were thecause a fully satisfied ambition, he could only guess.