sister carrie

Chapter 26 (1)

Chapter 15 The old love is boring: the charm of youth (1)
Hurstwood's affection for Carrie grew so high that he left his own home altogether.He is always confused about all matters related to the family.In the morning, I had breakfast with my wife and children, and while I was eating, I was indulging in my own fantasies, which developed to the point that it had nothing to do with their interests.He reads his newspaper, which is all the more interesting by comparison because of the extremely limited topics his sons and daughters talk about.Between himself and his wife there was a gulf of indifference.

Now that Carrie had come, he could be happy again.Go to the downtown area in the evening, which has its own fun.In the short season, he walked there. Along the way, the street lights flickered, which was really beautiful.The strands of thoughts that have been almost forgotten, urging the lover to quicken his pace, are now beginning to be felt again.When he looked at his elegant suit, he saw it with her eyes--and her eyes were the eyes of youth.

When he was immersed in such a passionate feeling, he heard his wife's voice.The rigors of conjugal life dragged him out of his dreams and back into the dullness of life, which was annoying.Only then did he realize that his feet were bound with iron chains.

"George," said Mrs. Hurstwood, in a tone which had long associated in his mind with demands, "we want you to get us a monthly ticket to the racetrack. "

"Do you all go every time?" he said.His voice grew louder as he spoke.

"Yes," she replied.

The horse racing in question here will soon begin in earnest at Washington Park on the South Side, a social affair for those who aren't old-school pretending to be religious.Mrs. Hurstwood had never asked for a season's pass before, but today something made her decide to get a box.Just to mention a little bit, one of her neighbors, a couple named Rensay, has set up a box. This person is in the coal business and has a lot of money.Besides, the doctor she liked, Dr. Peale, a gentleman who loved horses and bets, had spoken of the need to enter a two-year-old horse into a race.Thirdly, she deliberately wanted Jessica to show her face. Jessica was grown up and beautiful, and she hoped to marry a rich man in the future.Her own desire to take part in those events, to show off to acquaintances and the general public, was also a motive.

Hurstwood considered the idea for a moment without answering.They were waiting for dinner in the sitting room on the second floor.It was the hour of the evening when he invited Carrie and Drouet to see The Oath, for which he came home to change.

"Are you sure zero votes are okay?" he asked, not daring to be too rude.

"No." She replied impatiently.

"Well," he said, annoyed at the way she had spoken, "why are you so mad about it. I'm just pointing it out to you."

"I'm not crazy," she said suddenly, "I just want you to get a monthly pass."

"I was going to tell you," he replied, fixing her wide eyes, "that it's not easy to get. I'm not sure if the manager will give it to me."

Lately he's been wondering how much influence he has over the giants who run the races and sell the lottery.

"Then we'll just buy it," she screamed.

"You put it lightly," he said, "a family monthly ticket costs 150 yuan."

"I'm not arguing with you," she replied determinedly. "I want tickets, that's all."

She stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Okay, let's get one." He said resentfully, although his tone softened a bit.

As usual, there was one person missing from the dinner table.

He was much calmer the next night, and later got the ticket, though the unhappiness was not over.He doesn't care about allocating a considerable part of what he earns to his family, but he just doesn't like to force him to do it against his will.

"You know, Ma," Jessica said one day, "the Spencers are getting ready to go."

"I don't know. Where are you going?"

"Europe," said Jessica, "I met Jokien yesterday and she told me that. She's putting on airs."

"Did she say when?"

"Monday, I think. They'll be in the papers again--they always do."

"Never mind," said Mrs. Hurstwood comfortingly, "we'll be there some other day."

Hurstwood rolled his eyes slowly over the paper, but said nothing.

"We're driving from New York to Liverpool," Jessica said, imitating her friend, "to spend most of the summer in France—showy guy. Seems like going to Europe would be a big deal."

"If you're jealous, that's a sign of something," put in Hurstwood.

This display of affection by his daughter displeased him greatly.

"Don't worry about them, my dear," said Mrs. Hurstwood.

"Is George gone?" Jessica asked her mother one day.It showed that there were things Hurstwood hadn't heard.

"Where is he going?" he asked, looking up.He has never been unaware of going out in the past.

"He's going to Whedon," said Jessica, not noticing her father's disrespect.

"To what?" he said, secretly exasperated at having to question the news like this.

"A tennis match," Jessica said.

"He didn't say anything to me," said Hurstwood, with a touch of irritation in his tone.

"I suppose he forgot," said his wife softly.

In the past, he had always been respected, a mixture of admiration and awe.He and his daughter are still a little close, and he himself pays attention to preserving this relationship.In fact, sometimes it’s just a matter of speaking casually, and the tone is still measured.But love was lacking anyway, and now that he'd seen what they were doing, he couldn't figure it out.He no longer knew their circumstances affectionately.Sometimes he saw them at the dinner table, sometimes not.Just hear from them occasionally.Some days he found that he was completely ignorant of what they were talking about, whether they were going to do it, or what they were doing in his absence.What made him sadder was that he felt that some little thing was still going on, but he was not told.Jessica is starting to think her business is her own.Little George strutted about, as if he was a grown-up now, and some things had to be kept secret.All this Hurstwood saw clearly, and thus left a certain trace on the feeling.Because he had always been respected—at least as a parent—and felt that his status here should not be lowered.Worst of all, he saw his wife becoming as uncaring as they were, acting alone while he watched, paying the bills.

Still, he consoled himself with the thought that after all he wasn't unkind to him.At home they could do as they liked, but outside he had Carrie.With the eye of his mind (from Shakespeare.—Translator), he looked into her cozy room in Ogton's flat, where he had enjoyed several happy evenings , thinking how nice it would be to be completely free from Drouet, to have her waiting for him every night in the evening in that cozy little room.He thought it very hopeful that nothing would happen so that Drouet would consequently tell Carrie that he himself was married.Things were running smoothly, and he didn't think anything would change.It would not be long before he would convince Carrie that all would be satisfactory.

After that day at the theater together, he began writing to her every day—a letter every morning.Ask her to write to me every day too.He can't talk about any literary accomplishments, but his letters have a unique style based on his life experience and growing love.He wrote these letters from his desk, very carefully.He bought a box of brightly colored, scented, bearing stationery and locked it in a drawer.His friends were puzzled to see that he was still busy with paperwork and official duties in his position.Seeing such a person doing so much paperwork, the five fellows couldn't help being in awe.

Hurstwood's writing was so fluent that even he himself was quite surprised.According to the laws of nature which govern all things, whatever he writes reacts upon him.He began to feel those subtle emotions that he could find words to express.Every time you express it, your imagination will increase by one point.His innermost inspiration, which he seeks to express in words, governs him.He thought that Carrie was well deserved for the infinite affection he expressed.

If it is said that youth and beauty should be praised by life when they bloom like flowers, then Carrie is indeed worthy of love.The soul, which is the embodiment of bodily charms, has not yet been robbed of its delicious vitality by the experience of life.There was no shadow of disappointment in her tender, watery eyes.In a sense, she was tormented by doubt and longing, but that gave the impression of a glance, or a vision of something in words, and that was all.Sometimes, whether speaking or silent, the mouth expresses a certain emotion, as if it is about to cry.This is not to say that sadness can never be shaken off.The sounding of a syllable makes the lips take a certain shape—but a sadness.

There was nothing reckless or disrespectful about her actions.Life hadn't taught her to control people--that defiant demeanor that happened to be what some women were.Her need to be cared for was not strong enough for her to ask for it.Even now, she still lacks self-confidence, but the imprint left on her heart by her little life experience has made her no longer timid.She wants happiness, she wants status, but what these things will look like, she is still in a mess.Every hour the kaleidoscope of the world casts a ray of light upon something which becomes the object of her desire—her all.As soon as the kaleidoscope turns, something else becomes something beautiful and fulfilling.

In her spiritual life, too, she was a sentimental being, as is often the nature of such people.The sorrow in her heart was caused by many sights—an irrepressible sorrow for the weak and the helpless.She often sees pale, ragged people desolately, staggering past her, looking numb and miserable, and she feels pain.Seeing those girls in shabby clothes wandering by her window in the evening, rushing home from some store in the West End, she pitied them from the bottom of her heart.She always stood there, biting her lip, shaking her head, lost in thought, as they passed.How poor they were, she thought.What a misfortune to be in rags and penury.Wearing shabby clothes, this is horrible for her.

"And they have to work so hard!" was her only remark.

(End of this chapter)