sister carrie

Chapter 21 (1)

Chapter 12 The Lights of the Building: The Messenger's Plea (1)
Mrs. Hurstwood was unaware of her husband's moral treachery, though she was easily suspicious of his penchant, which she was well aware of.She was the kind of woman you never knew what she would do when provoked.Hurstwood himself knew nothing of what she would do in any given situation.He never saw her actually having a seizure.In fact, she's not the type to throw a fit.She has too little faith in human beings who don't know that they often go the wrong way.She was too scheming to resort to futile quarrels that would prevent her from gaining the upper hand because of some information.Her anger will not be quenched with a sudden blow.She would wait, calculate, study the details, build up, until she had accumulated enough strength to satisfy her bitter resentment.At the same time, she will never be polite to anyone who can hurt people, no matter how serious, enough to make the object of hatred even unclear where the harm came from.She was a grim self-centered woman who was always scheming but never showing it, not even batting an eye.

Hurstwood knew something of her character, though he didn't really get it.He lived a very peaceful life with her, and he was also satisfied.He wasn't afraid of her in the slightest—there was no reason to be afraid.She still had a little praise for him, which was further reinforced by her desire to maintain her social status.She was secretly pleased with the fact that much of her husband's property came into her name, as Hurstwood had done when his sense of family was stronger than it was now.His wife had never had the slightest reason to fear that something might go wrong in the house, but the shadows which preceded it sometimes made her think of the advantages of such an arrangement.She was in a favorable position for the stalemate, and Hurstwood had to proceed with caution, for he was not sure what she would do if she got upset.

One evening when Hurstwood, Carrie, and Drouet were sitting in a box at the McVicar Theatre, little George happened to be sitting in the sixth row of the anteroom, with H. B. Carmichael's daughter, he is the third largest shareholder of a silk, satin and woolen wholesale store in this city.Hurstwood did not see his son, for he sat as far back as was customary, and even when he leaned forward he was only partially seen by those six rows ahead.That was the old custom of sitting in every theater--to keep out of the spotlight as much as possible, and it would do him no good to do the opposite.

He always sits still and doesn't move, for fear that his behavior will be misunderstood or misrepresented, he looks around cautiously, and considers every step of his appearance.

At breakfast the next day, his son said:
"I saw you last night, Dad."

Hurstwood said, "Are you at the McVicar's?" as if pleased.

"Yes," said little George.

"Who are you with?"

"Miss Carmichael."

Mrs. Hurstwood cast an inquiring glance at her husband.From his countenance, however, it was difficult to tell whether he had happened to go to the theater just mentioned.

"How did the play go?" she asked.

"Very well," replied Hurstwood, "but it's an old show, Lip Van Winkle."

"Who did you go with?" his wife asked, as if casually.

"Charlie Drouet and his wife. They're friends of Moai's, and they're here to visit."

Given the peculiar nature of his profession, disclosure of such a matter would normally cause little trouble.His wife took it for granted that his position required some kind of social engagement, which didn't have to include her.But recently her wife wants to go to an evening party with him, and he always shirks that there is something going on in the store.Only yesterday morning he had said the same thing about the evening.

"I thought you were busy," she said very carefully.

"Well," he went on, "it's always interrupted, and I can't help it, but I made it up afterward, and I worked till two o'clock."

This conversation is over for the time being.However, leaving some tails is not very satisfactory.Never before had his wife's request been flatly rejected like this time.For years, he was adjusting his notions of fidelity and found his partner boring.Now that a new star has risen in the sky, the old constellation is dimmed in the western sky.He turned his face away completely, no matter how you asked him to look back, it was just annoying.

On the contrary, she demanded that all the obligations of the conjugal relationship be fully fulfilled, nothing less--at least in the literal sense, although the spirit may be lacking.

"We're coming down to the town this afternoon," she said a few days later. "I want you to come to the Kingsley Hotel and meet Mr. Phillips and his wife. They're staying at the Tremont Hotel and we're going to keep them company." play."

After what had happened on Wednesday he could not escape it, though the Phillips were dull, vain, and stupid.He agreed, but very reluctantly.He was very angry when he left home.

"It can't go on like this," he thought, "I have work to do and I can't be bothered like this, fooling around with visitors."

Shortly after this, Mrs. Hurstwood made the same request, only this time for a matinee.

"Honey," he replied, "I don't have time. Too busy."

"But you have time to go out with other people," she replied, disgusted.

"There's no such thing," he replied. "There's no getting away from business. That's the thing."

"Okay, never mind," she yelled, biting her lip.Mutual hostility deepened.

On the other hand, his interest in Drouet's young shopgirl grew in proportion to what has been said above.The young lady was greatly changed by circumstances and by the advice of her new friend.She has the talents of a struggler for liberation.Compared with the former prosperous life, the light shines on her, and it is not without influence on her.The extent to which her knowledge has increased cannot keep up with the extent to which she has awakened in desire.Mrs. Hale's long discourses on the subjects of wealth and social status taught her how to recognize the various degrees of wealth.

Mrs. Hale likes to go for a drive in the car when the sun clears in the afternoon, watching the tall buildings and garden houses that are beyond her financial means to satisfy her spiritual desire.In the North District, many gorgeous high-rise buildings were built along the avenue called "North Shore Avenue" today. Today's plaster and granite lake embankments were not there at that time. But the road has been paved, and the lawn in the middle of the road is very beautiful. Nice, the houses are new and stately. Just after the winter, and as soon as the beautiful days of early spring arrived, Mrs. Hale got a little carriage and invited Carrie to go with her. They went through Lincoln Park and arrived in Evanston. , and back at four o'clock, arriving at Lakeside Drive around five o'clock. The days are short at this time of year. The shadows of twilight are beginning to fall over the big city. It seemed to be watery and glittering. There was a soft breath in the air, whispering to flesh and soul with infinite affection. Carrie thought it was a lovely day. It triggered many associations in her, which called her spiritually. Coming of age. They drive down the level road, occasionally a car passes by.

She saw one stop, the driver got out, opened the door, and a gentleman stepped out, as if he had returned happily after an afternoon of travelling.On the other side of the spacious lawn, there is a piece of fresh green, and further on, I can see the soft lights illuminating the magnificent furnishings in the house.Looking around, but seeing a chair here, a table there, and a richly furnished corner here, she felt that there was nothing else so pleasing to the eye.All kinds of childhood fantasies about fairy gardens and emperor's palaces came to mind again.In her imagination, these ornately carved porticoes, illuminated by globes of crystal chandeliers that cast light over the paneled doors of pane glass, must have contained carefree people who could get what they wanted.She was absolutely sure that this was happiness.If only she could wander the wide sidewalks, the stately doorways.In her opinion, it was as beautiful as a pearl.Dressed in elegant and luxurious clothing, swaggering in to be the master of the house and give orders.Oh! How swiftly will all sorrows fly away, and all troubles will end.She looked suspiciously, stared again, dreamy, pleasing, full of longing, while the restless banshee voice whispered in her ear all the time.

"If only we could have such a home!" said Mrs. Hale sentimentally, "how happy it would be?"

"But people do say," said Carrie, "that no one is ever happy."

How many times has she heard the hypocritical philosophy of a fox saying that grapes are sour if he can't eat grapes?

"I've noticed," said Mrs. Hale, "but they're desperate to suffer their pain in a high-rise."

(End of this chapter)