sister carrie

Chapter 49 (1)

Chapter 29 The Comfort of the Journey: Small Boats at Sea (1)
There is always, without exception, a fascination for the untraveled to see places other than the bush with which he is familiar.This brings comfort and joy to people, second only to love.New things are too important to be neglected, and the human heart is only the reflection of sensory impressions, so new scenes come flooding in, and the human heart is always overwhelmed by them.Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows are cast away, and death is concealed. "I'm leaving."——Behind this ordinary and dramatic language, there is an emotional world.

Looking at the passing scenery outside the window, Carrie almost forgot that she was cheated and forced to make this long trip without even the necessary items for the trip.There were times when she almost forgot Hurstwood existed, and looked with wonder at the lost villages, their simple farmhouses and cozy huts.It was an interesting world for her, her life was just beginning, and she didn't feel like she was ruined.She didn't give up hope, there were boundless futures in the big city, maybe she could break free and run to freedom - who could say for sure? Maybe she would be happy.These lines of thought kept her from thinking about whether she had done something wrong.She's optimistic and thus not helpless.

The next morning, when the train arrived in Mondrian, they got off.Hurstwood was glad to be out of danger, and Carrie was fresh in the new atmosphere of the northern city.Hurstwood had been here long ago, and now he remembered the hotel where he had stayed.As soon as they came out of the main exit of the station, he heard the name of the hotel mentioned by a motorist.

"Let's go straight to book a room," he said.

In the counting room, Hurstwood looked through the passenger register, and the attendant came up.At this moment he was thinking about what name he should register.Now that the waiter was right in front of him, he had no time to hesitate.He immediately thought of a name he had seen outside the car window, and it was very cute.He wrote G. U. Murdoch and his wife casually.This was the greatest concession he could allow under the circumstances of the present situation.His initials can never give up.

They were shown into the room, and Carrie decided at once that a lovely room had been found for her.

"There's a bathroom there," he said, "and you can wash when you're settled."

Carrie came and looked out of the window at Hurstwood looking in the mirror.He felt that he was dusty and unclean.He had no suitcase, no change of shirt, not even a comb.

"I've come to ring for soap, towels," he said, "and a comb for you. Then you can bathe and get ready for breakfast. I'll go and shave and come back to you and go out into the street , find some clothes for you."

As he spoke, he smiled amiably.

"All right," said Carrie.

She sat down in a rocking-chair, and Hurstwood waited for the waiter.The waiter knocked on the door soon.

"Soap, towels and a jug of ice water."

"Yes, sir."

"I've got to go," he said to Carrie, coming up to her and holding out his hands, but she didn't move, didn't shake.

"You're not mad at me, are you," he said softly.

"Oh no!" she replied, rather nonchalantly.

"Did you take me to heart?"

She didn't answer, just stared at the window.

"Could you love me a little more?" he pleaded, taking one of her hands, which she was about to withdraw. "You once said you loved me."

"Who told you to deceive me so much?" asked Carrie.

"I'm really helpless," he said, "I need you so badly."

"You have no right to me," she replied, hitting the nail on the head.

"Oh, yes, Carrie," he replied, "it's too late. Will you try to put me on your mind a little bit?"

Standing in front of her, he looked devastated and helpless.

She shook her head negatively.

"Let's start over and be my wife from today on."

Carrie rose, as if to move away, and he took her hand.He stretched out his arms and hugged her body, she struggled, but it was useless, he hugged her tightly.Immediately his overwhelming desire burned through him, and his love blazed fiercely.

"Let me go," said Carrie, and she was held tightly by him.

"Can you love me?" he said, "From now on, you're mine, aren't you?"

Carrie never felt ill at ease with him.Even a moment before, she had listened obediently to him, and the affection she had felt for him had welled up in her heart.He's so pretty and spunky!
However, at the moment, this feeling has turned into resistance, into a weak resistance.This dominated her for a while, but, being hugged tightly, it gradually disappeared.Something else in her mind was speaking.The man who is hugging her tightly now is strong, passionate, and loves her, but she is so lonely.If she hadn't turned to him—received his love—where would she have been? Her resistance, at least half-melted under the torrent of his passion, had been.

She felt him holding her head, looking straight into her eyes.It was impossible for her to understand what kind of attraction was at work.However, all his crimes were instantly forgotten.

He hugged her tightly and kissed her, and she felt that it was useless to resist.

"Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting (how).

"Just today," he said, with the utmost joy.

Right now, the small tea room was knocking loudly on the door, and he let her go very reluctantly.

"Now you get ready, all right," he said, "right now, okay?"

"Okay," she replied.

"I'll be back in three quarters of an hour."

Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he opened the door to let the waiter in.

He went downstairs, stopped in the aisle, and looked for the barber shop.At this time, he is elated.The recent victories over Carrie seemed to make up for the hard work of the last few days.Life seemed worth fighting for.Fleeing eastward this time, throwing away all traditional habits or worrying things, it seems that it may be exchanged for future happiness.The storm has brought a rainbow, and where the end of the rainbow touches the ground, dig down and you will find a pot of gold.

Seeing a small column with red and white stripes (it is the sign of a barber shop.——Translator) hanging beside the door, he was stepping over when he heard a familiar voice greet him.He immediately sank.

"Oh, hello, George, old chap!" said the voice, "what are you doing here?"

Hurstwood had now met his old friend, stockbroker Kenny, and recognized him.

"Just to attend to some personal matters," he replied.His heart seemed to be beating like the keyboard of a telephone exchange.The man obviously didn't know - he hadn't read the newspaper.

"Well, it's kind of weird to see you come up here," said Mr. Kenny kindly. "Live here?"

"Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his own handwritten name in the passenger book.

"Did you stay long?"

"No, just a day or two."

"Is that so? Have you had breakfast?"

"I've eaten," said Hurstwood, with a tactful lie. "I'm going to shave."

"Aren't you going to have a drink?"

"I stopped drinking before I shave," said the ex-manager. "See you later, do you live here?"

"Yes," said Mr. Kenny, and then changed the subject to "How's it going in Chicago?"

"Still the same," said Hurstwood, smiling kindly.

"Madam came with you?"

"Do not."

"Okay, I must meet you later. I am going to have breakfast, please come over after you are finished."

"All right," said Hurstwood, walking away.The whole conversation was painful to him, as if every word was enough to complicate matters.This man recalled a thousand memories of the past, and he represented all that he had left behind.Chicago, his wife, that beautiful hotel—it was all touched when he greeted him, made some inquiries.And now he was living in the same hotel with him, looking forward to chatting with him, no doubt counting on playing together.It won't be long before the Chicago newspapers arrive.It is on this day that the local newspapers will report on it.In winning over Carrie, he forgot that he might soon be known as a safe-robber.He was on the verge of crying as he walked into the barber shop.He made up his mind to escape as soon as possible and change to a more remote hotel.

When he came out, therefore, he was glad to see that the passage was empty, and hurried up the stairs.He wanted to find Carrie and go out through the women's door.They're going to have breakfast somewhere inconspicuous.

However, as he walked down the aisle, someone else was watching him.He was an ordinary Irishman, small and poorly dressed, much like the head of a large constituency politician, only slightly smaller.The person was apparently speaking to the waiter, and now looking sharply at the ex-manager.

Hurstwood felt the scrutiny at a distance, and recognized the man.He instinctively sensed that the man was a detective—and that he was being watched.He hurried over, pretending not to notice all this, but in his heart, there were thousands of thoughts churning.What's going to happen now? What can these people do? He's starting to worry about the extradition law.He doesn't really understand this yet, maybe he will be arrested.Oh, it would be too bad if Carrie knew! Mondrian was too dangerous a place for him, and he was anxious to get out of it.

Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he returned.She looked refreshed—happier than ever, but reserved.After he left, she resumed somewhat of her old indifference towards him.Love had not yet burned in her heart, and he felt it too, which added to his troubles.He couldn't hug her; he didn't even try.Something in her expression forbade him to do so.Some of his opinions were, in part, the result of his own encounters and reflections downstairs.

"Are you ready?" he said kindly.

"Yes," she replied.

"We're going out for breakfast now. I don't like this place down here."

"All right," said Carrie.

They walked out.Around the corner, the plain-looking Irishman stood looking at him.Hurstwood could not help showing that he knew the fellow was there.The haughty look in the fellow's eyes was embarrassing, but they walked on.He gave Carrie some information about the town.There was a restaurant not far away, and they went in.

"What a strange city it is," said Carrie, who admired it simply because it was so different from Chicago.

"It's not as lively as Chicago," said Hurstwood. "Do you like it here?"

"No," said Carrie.Her senses were bound to that great western city.

"Well, not as interesting there," said Hurstwood.

"What is there to see here?" asked Carrie, wondering why he had chosen this city for sightseeing.

"Not much," replied Hurstwood. "It's a nice place to rest. There's some pretty sights around."

Carrie listened, but with some uneasiness.Her current situation is such that it is enough to spoil her viewing mood.

"We won't be here long," Hurstwood said.He noticed her dissatisfaction but was happy, "As soon as breakfast is over, you pick up your coat, and we'll go to New York soon. You'll be happy about that, even if it's still like a city besides Chicago."

He did intend to slip away.He'd see what these detectives were up to--what his bosses in Chicago were up to--and then he'd run off--to New York, where it was easier to hide.He knew New York so well, its mysteries and possibilities for mystification were inexhaustible.

However, the more he thought about it, the worse his current situation became.He realized that being here would not help anything.The shop might have hired detectives to watch him—Pinkton's people, or Mooney-Roland's people.Once he tries to leave Canada, they may arrest him.So he might be forced to stay here for months, and what a situation that would be!
(End of this chapter)