sister carrie

Chapter 69 (2)

Chapter 39 Light and Shadow: Two Worlds Divided (2)
According to the facts, she was indeed looking for it, but right now it was a very far-fetched excuse.Miss Osborne went with her to the office of the manager of a company that was planning to put a new opera on Broadway, and went straight back to Miss Osborne's room from three o'clock in the afternoon until now.

Carrie felt the question was an invasion of her freedom.She hadn't considered how much liberty she wanted, but that last step, that latest liberty, was by no means inviolable.

Hurstwood saw it all too clearly.He had his shrewdness, but on the other hand, there was still a certain scruple in the man that kept him from protesting openly.Carrie was drifting out of his life, and he, with that indefinable indifference, was just content to hang his head, knowing that the situation was beyond his control.However, I couldn't help but make soft, disturbing and ineffective yells to show opposition-this method can only gradually deepen the crack.

This rift was further deepened by another incident.The manager, who was looking at the brightly lit stage from the wing, and the chorus of dancers performing a wonderful show, said to the person in charge of the chorus dancers:
"What's the name of the fourth girl on the right—the one at the end of the line now?"

"Oh," said the person in charge, "that's Miss Maconda."

"She's pretty. Why not call her the leader?"

"Okay," said the man.

"That's all. She's better looking than the other woman you have."

"Okay. That's what I'll do," said the conductor.

When Carrie was called out next evening, she thought it was because of some mistake on her part.

"You will be the team leader tonight," said the conductor.

"Yes, sir," said Carrie.

"Keep it up," he went on, "we've got to do it."

"Yes, sir," replied Carrie.

She was very surprised by this change. At first she thought that the original team leader was sick. Later, when she saw that she was still in the queue, her eyes clearly showed a look of dissatisfaction. She thought that maybe it was because she was better.

She was used to deftly turning her head to the side, lifting it slightly upwards, and stretching out her arms as if to make a movement—not limply.Standing at the front of the line, this pose works especially well.

"This girl knows how to take a show," the manager said one night.It occurred to him that he should have a talk with her.He would have been determined to approach her long ago, if it had not been for the old custom of never having anything to do with troupe dancers.

"Make this girl the leader of the team in white," he suggested to the director of the ballet.

There were about twenty girls in the white team, all in white flannel with blue and white trim.The leader of the team wore the same color clothes, dressed brightly, with epaulettes, a silver belt around his waist, and a short knife hanging on one side, which looked particularly elegant.Carrie provided such an outfit, and wore it a few days later, proud of her new honor.She is particularly satisfied knowing that her salary is now 18 yuan instead of 12 yuan.

But Hurstwood knew nothing of that.

"I won't give him the rest of my money," thought Carrie; "I've given enough. I've got to get some clothes myself."

In fact, in this second month, she made bold enough purchases without any consideration of the consequences.The day of paying the rent looked to be more entangled, and besides, the date of paying the credit in the neighbourhood was delayed even further.However, she plans to dress herself up more now.

Her first step was to buy a blouse.As she considered these things, she saw how little she really could buy with her money--and how much more it could have bought if all had been spent on it.She forgot that if she was alone she would have to pay for a room plus food.According to her own imagination, it seems that every penny of the 18 yuan can be spent on clothes and other things she likes.

Later, she picked some things, and not only spent all the rest of the 12 yuan, but also allocated some from the 12 yuan.She also knew that she had gone too far, but her female beauty psychology prevailed.The next day Hurstwood said:
"We owe the grocery store five dollars and forty cents this week."

"Really?" said Carrie, frowning.

She glanced into her wallet, ready to pay.

"I only have eight yuan and twenty cents in total."

"We owe sixty cents to the milkman," went on Hurstwood.

"Yes, and the coalman," said Carrie.

Hurstwood was silent, seeing her new additions; seeing her neglecting her household; seeing her slip out in the afternoon and stay away.He had a sense of what was going to happen.Suddenly, she said:

"I don't know, I can't afford it all. There's only so much money I can make."

This is a direct challenge.Hurstwood should have fought.But he tried to be calm.

"I don't want you to do the whole thing," he said, "I just want to help you for a while until I get a job."

"Oh, yes," replied Carrie, "it's always the same thing. I always get paid more than I earn. I really don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well, I've done my best to find something to do," he exclaimed, "what do you want me to do!"

"You didn't try so hard to find it," said Carrie, "I found something to do."

"Well, I tried too hard," he said, almost on the verge of swearing, "you don't have to weigh me down with your success. All I ask is a little favor from you until I get a job." .I'm not broken yet. I'll be fine."

He tried to speak calmly, but his voice trembled a little.

Carrie's anger was instantly melted.She was ashamed.

"Well," she said, "here is the money," dumping all the money in the purse on the table. On Saturday, I'll still have some money."

"You put it away," said Hurstwood sadly. "I'll just get it all together and pay the grocer."

She put the money back in her purse, and went to order some supper, so that she could have it earlier and not be late.Her little pompousness made her rather regret it, and felt that it was time to make amends.

In a very short moment, their original thoughts flooded into their hearts.

"She makes more than she says," thought Hurstwood. "She says she makes $12, but that's not what you can buy. I don't care. Let her take the money." Keep it to yourself. I'll find something to do in one of these days. Fuck her then."

He said it only in the midst of a fit of anger, but it fairly foreshadowed a possible course and a possible attitude.

"I don't care," thought Carrie, "should tell him to go out and find something. It's not fair that I should keep him."

During these days Carrie introduced several of Miss Osborne's young friends, who might aptly be called pleasure-seekers.Once they came to ask for an afternoon drive with Miss Osborne.Carrie was there.

"Let's go together," Laura said.

"No, I can't," said Carrie.

"Oh, okay, let's go together, what do you want to do?"

"I must be home at five," said Carrie.

"why?"

"Oh, dinner."

"They'll take us to dinner," Laura said.

"Oh, no," said Carrie, "I won't. I can't."

"Oh come on. They're good lads. We'll call you back on time. We're just going for a ride in Central Park."

Carrie thought for a while, and finally obeyed.

"Well, I have to be back at 04:30."

The words went in one ear and out the other for Laura.

After her friendship with Drouet and Hurstwood, she became a little cynical towards young men. —especially to those frivolous pleasure-seekers.She felt that she was older than them.The flattery of some of them seemed ridiculous.However, she is still young physically and mentally, and she is still excited about youth.

"Oh, we'll be back in time, Miss Mactonda," said one of the lads, bowing. "You don't think we'll keep you any longer, do you?"

"Well, I don't know," said Carrie, smiling.

They were off for a drive—and she, looking around, noticed their pretty clothes.And the young men say all the silly jokes and puns that count as humorous in a gang of bums.Carrie saw a grand procession of carriages near the park, from the corner of Ninth Street, past the Museum of Art, to the exit of 110th and Seventh Streets.Once again she was fascinated by the splendor of wealth--magnificent costumes, fine harness, countless horses, and above all, a cloud of beautiful women.Again the plagues of poverty revolted her, but for the moment she forgot somewhat of her troubles, and even of Hurstwood.Hurstwood waited and waited until four, five, and even six o'clock.It was dark when he got up from the rocking chair.

"I don't think she's going home." He said angrily.

"That's the thing," he thought, "she's getting her way now. I don't have a share."

Carrie did later discover her oversight.However, it was a quarter past five when I found out.The convertible was far away on Seventh Street, near the Harlan River.

"What time is it?" she asked. "I must go back."

"A quarter past five," said a companion, after looking at a delicate watch without a cover.

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Carrie, and she leaned back with a sigh. "It's no use regretting it," she said. "It's too late."

"Of course it is," said a young man.What he saw was a vision of a good meal dangling in front of him.He was interested in those excited conversations that might end up being reunited after a play.He was obsessed with Carrie. "We might as well drive to the Telmenico's right now and have something to eat there, shall we, Ospen?"

"Of course," said Osborne cheerfully.

Carrie thought of Hurstwood.She never forgot to make dinner without explaining why.

They drove back and sat down to dinner at a quarter past six.It was a reenactment of the incident at the Shirley's Hotel, and the memory of it came flooding into Carrie's heart achingly.She recalled Mrs. Vance, who hadn't called on Hurstwood since the time she had been received by Hurstwood.She also recalled Arms.

The thought of this image made her heart hang.It was a strong, clear vision.The books he likes are higher than those she reads, and the people he likes are better than those she makes friends with.Some of his ideals burned in her heart.

"It's great to be a good actress." The words resounded clearly.

But what kind of actress is she?
"What are you thinking, Miss Mactonda?" asked her merry companion. "Oh, see if I can guess."

"Oh, don't," said Carrie, "don't guess."

She chased those fantasies away and ate.She put away some of her worries, and was very happy in her heart.However, the suggestion to meet again after the show was over was put forward.She shook her head.

"No," she said, "I can't. I have an appointment."

"Oh, please, Miss Maconda," implored the young man.

"No," said Carrie, "I can't. You've been very kind to me, but I must ask your pardon."

The young man looked downcast.

"Cheer up, old chap," whispered his companion. "Anyway, we'll play together. Maybe she'll change her mind."

(End of this chapter)