sister carrie

Chapter 35

Chapter 20 The Attraction of the Spirit: The Pursuit of the Flesh
(The former refers to Carrie, the latter to Hurstwood.)
In a man of Hurstwood's character, passion takes a violent form.It's not something like meditation or lovesickness in dreams.Nor is it like singing out of a loved one's window -- haggard and lamenting before obstacles.He can't sleep all night because he thinks too much; he wakes up early in the morning, and in an instant his heart is hung on the lovely goal, which he wants to pursue vigorously.He felt uncomfortable all over, and his mind was in a mess.For hadn't he loved Carrie more in a new way? Hadn't Drouet stood in the way? The thought of his lover in the palm of the salesman, beaming with triumph, wrenched his heart.It seemed to him that he would give anything to get the whole mess out of the way--to make Carrie submit to an arrangement which would effectively rid her of Drouet forever.

what to do.He thought while dressing.He walked up and down the room he shared with his wife, without her presence in his mind at all.

While eating breakfast, I found myself not wanting to eat.The meat on his plate didn't move at all.He flipped through the newspaper aimlessly, even the coffee was cold.I see a piece of news here and there, and forget it as I read it.Jessica hadn't come downstairs yet.His wife sat at the other end of the table, thinking silently about her own business.A new maid came, and she forgot the mop.For this, a reprimand broke the silence.

"I've told you already, Maggie," said Mrs. Hurstwood, "I don't need to say any more."

Hurstwood glanced at his wife.She frowned.Her present attitude repelled him very much.The following sentence was addressed to him:
"George, have you made up your mind when you will take your vacation?"

At this time of the year, they routinely discuss summer travel.

"Not yet," he said, "I'm very busy."

"Well, we want you to make up your mind quickly, if you're going out. Will you?" she replied.

"I think it's still a few days," he said.

"Hey," she replied, "don't wait and wait until the seasons are over."

She burst into flames when she said that.

"Here you go again," he said, "as if I'd never done anything, as you said at the beginning."

"Well, that's what I want to know," she repeated.

"You'll have to wait a few days," he insisted. "You won't start until the races are over."

He was very disgusted that something like this happened when he was thinking about other things.

"Well, we might start. Jessica doesn't want to wait until the race is over."

"So, what are your monthly passes for?"

"Uh!" she said, the yelling voice seemed to disdain to say more, "I won't argue with you." Then she stood up and left the dinner table.

"Listen," he said, rising to his feet, sounding so determined that she stopped, "what's the matter with you lately? What else can I say to you?"

"Of course, you can talk to me," she replied, putting the emphasis on the last word.

"Well, the way you do it, people don't think so. Now you want to know when I'm ready to stop—you have to wait another month. Maybe not then."

"We'll go without you."

"Yeah, huh?" he snorted.

"Yes, we will."

He was amazed at the firmness of this woman, but it repelled him all the more.

"Well, we'll see. From what I can see, you've been acting high-handed lately. You've been talking as if my business was all up to you. Well, you can't do that. It's none of your business to worry about me." .If you want to go, just go, but you don't have to use this way of speaking to force me."

He was really on fire right now.His blackened eyes blinked and he crumpled the paper as he laid it on the table.Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing more.She turned and walked out of the dining room and down the stairs, and by that time he was done too.He paused, as if hesitating, then sat down and drank some coffee.After this he got up and went upstairs to fetch his hat and gloves.

It was true that his wife had not expected such a quarrel beforehand.When she came down to breakfast she felt a little ill, and was thinking of a plan of her own.Jessica reminds her that horse racing isn't as much fun as they first thought.This year's networking opportunities are also not as good as they originally thought.The beautiful girl thought the days were dull.Anyone of any stature had been out earlier this year, heading for the seaside or Europe.In her familiar circle of people, the young man she was somewhat interested in had gone to Waukexia.She began to think that she should go too, and her mother agreed.

Mrs. Hurstwood, therefore, made up her mind to ask the question.It was on her mind when she came down to breakfast, but for some reason the air was not right.After the incident, she still couldn't figure out how the quarrel started.Now, however, she decided that her husband was a beast, and she would not under any circumstances let the matter go unchallenged.She deserved to be treated like a lady, otherwise she would have to find out why.

As for the manager, he too was preoccupied by the quarrel till he reached the office, and from there set out to meet Carrie.As a result, love, lust, and various obstacles entangled him fascinated.His thoughts raced, soaring through the air as if on eagle's wings.He could not wait any longer and was anxious to see Carrie face to face.What night was night without her—and what day was day? She had to be his.It should be his man!
As for Carrie, since parting with him the night before, she had plunged into a world of fantasy and affection.She listened to Drouet's excited babble, which was mostly concerned with her performance.As for bragging about himself, she rarely listened to it.She kept her distance from him as much as possible, because she was thinking about her own success in the show.She sees Hurstwood's exuberance as a welcome foil to her own success.She wondered what he had to say.And she felt sorry for him, too, a peculiar kind of sadness which is rewarded in a way for sympathizing with other people's misfortunes.She was now going through the first stages of that delicate change of feeling which makes one withdraw from the ranks of begging and join the ranks of giving.All in all, she is very, very happy.

The next morning, however, there was nothing in the papers about the fair, which, in the ordinary course of life, had lost all the glory of the night before.Drouet was not so much talking about her as monopolizing the conversation by himself.He felt instinctively that he needed to adjust his relationship with Carrie.

"I think," he said the next day, combing in his bedroom before heading downtown. "I'm going to get my affairs in order this month and then we'll get married. I was talking to Moshe about it yesterday."

"No, you won't," said Carrie.She felt as if she had some faint ability to tease the salesman.

"Yes, I will," he cried, more emotionally than usual, and pleadingly, "don't you believe what I told you?"

Carrie laughed.

"Of course I do," she replied.

Drouet's promise made him worry.Due to the shallowness of his conceptual ability, for some things, his little analytical ability is really useless.Carrie was still living with him, but not alone or begging.There was a lilt in her voice which had only recently appeared.When she looked at him, she didn't show the kind of eyes that everything was subordinate to him.The salesman sensed some shadows looming.In this way, his feelings are given a certain color, which makes him be careful in some small things, and pay more attention to some words, which are only some preventive measures against danger.

After a while he was gone, and Carrie was going to meet Hurstwood.She hurriedly washed and washed, and after a while, she went downstairs.At the corner she passed Drouet, but neither of them noticed the other.

The salesman forgot to bring some invoices to the store.He hurried upstairs and rushed into the house, but saw only the maid who was making the room.

"Ha," he cried, speaking partly to himself, "is Carrie gone?"

"Your wife? Yes, she's only been out for a few minutes."

"It's strange," thought Drouet, "she hasn't said a word to me. I don't know where she is?"

He hurriedly searched here and there, rummaging in the travel bag, looking for what he was looking for, and finally put it in his pocket.Then turn your attention to the maid.The maid was good-looking and treated him kindly.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a smile.

"Clean," she replied, pausing to roll a rag in her hand.

"Are you tired?"

"Not very tired."

"Let me show you something," he said kindly, and as he approached he drew from his pocket a small lithograph issued by the Wholesale Tobacco Company.There is a little girl printed on it, holding a striped umbrella in her hand, and the color of the umbrella changes with the rotation of the small disc behind, red, yellow, blue, green, all determined by the top of the umbrella. Changed out of a small space.

"Is this dexterous?" He said, handing it to her, and showing her how to turn it, "You've never seen this before, have you?"

"How fun, isn't it?" she replied.

"Keep it if you want," he said.

"Your ring is beautiful," he said, touching the jeweled ring on her hand that held the picture.

"Do you see it that way?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking her fingers as he pretended to look carefully. "so beautiful."

Now that the ice was broken, he went on talking further, pretending to forget that he had grabbed her finger, but she quickly withdrew it and stepped back, leaning against the window sill.

"I haven't seen you for a long time," she said delicately, while rejecting his eagerness to get close. "You must be going out."

"Yes," said Drouet.

"Go far?"

"Quite far—yes."

"do you like it?"

"Oh, not much. You get bored after a while."

"I wish I could go out and play." The girl stared out the window blankly.

"How is your friend Hurstwood?" she asked suddenly.She thought of the manager, who, as she judged, was promising.

"He's in the city. Why did you ask him?"

"Oh, nothing, except that you haven't seen him here since you came back."

"How do you know him?"

"Didn't I announce his name a dozen times in the last month?"

"Nonsense," said the salesman flatly. "He hasn't been here five or six times since we moved here."

"No, er," said the girl, smiling, "that's all you know."

Drouet spoke with seriousness.He didn't know if she was joking or what.

"Naughty boy," he said, "why are you laughing like that?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Have you seen him lately?"

"I haven't seen you since you came back." She laughed.

"What about before?"

"of course."

"How many times?"

"Well, almost every day."

She's a news-lad, obsessed with knowing the repercussions of what she says.

"Who is he coming to see?" the salesman asked suspiciously.

"Mrs. Drouet."

He looked like a fool when he got the answer, and then he tried to make it right so he wouldn't really look like a dupe.

"Well," he said, "so what?"

"Nothing," replied the girl, tilting her head coquettishly to one side.

"He's an old friend," he went on.But after saying this, he got deeper and deeper, and it was hard to change his words.

He would have liked to continue this little flirtation, but was unable to succeed for a while.Someone downstairs called the girl's name, and he had to go down the steps.

"I have to go." She walked away from him briskly.

"I'll see you later," he said, pretending to be disturbed by the interruption.

Once she was gone, his feelings came out more fully.He had never been good at controlling his expression, and now he showed the doubts and annoyance he felt deeply.Could it be that Carrie has met so many times without saying anything? Is Hurstwood lying? What does that maid mean? He thought about it, and Carrie looked a little strange at that time.He asked her how many times Hurstwood had been, why was she flustered? God, he remembered now.There's something odd about the whole thing.

He sat down in the rocking chair to think better.He crossed his legs and frowned.His heart was galloping like a wild horse.

But Carrie wasn't off the rails.God, it couldn't be that she was deceiving him.She never did.Oh, just last night, she had been good to him, and to Hurstwood as well.Look at them in action! He couldn't believe they were going to trick him.

He thought and thought, and the words rushed out of his mouth.

"She is indeed a little strange sometimes. This morning, she got dressed and walked out the door without saying a word."

He scratched his head, ready to go downtown.He still frowned.He went into the hall and met the maid again, who was cleaning another room.On her head she wore a little white hat for dusting, under which her plump face shone with kindness.She smiled at him, and immediately told him to sweep away all his troubles.He put his hand on her shoulder affectionately, as if greeting her as he passed her.

"Crazy?" she said, still playing tricks on him.

"I'm not crazy," he replied.

"I thought you were crazy," she said with a smile.

"Stop fooling around," he said casually. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," she replied.Then, with an unintentionally provocative air, "He's been here so many times. I thought you knew."

Drouet gave up trying to hide it.He wasn't going to pretend to be indifferent anymore.

"Is he here some evenings?" he asked.

"Several times. A few times they went out."

"In the evening?"

"Yes. But you can't be mad."

"I haven't," he said. "Has anyone else seen him?"

"Of course," said the girl, as if all this was nothing special.

"How long has it been like this?"

"Just before you came back."

The salesman bit his lip nervously.

"Don't say anything, okay?" he said, squeezing the girl's arm lightly.

"Of course not," she replied, "I wouldn't worry about that."

"Very well," he said, walking on, seriously meditating, not unaware that he had made a very favorable impression on the maid.

"I'm going to find out about her," he said to himself, agitated, thinking he had been hurt for no reason. "My God, I'm going to find out, and see what the truth is."

(End of this chapter)