sister carrie

Chapter 81 (2)

Chapter 45 Strange Changes of the Poor (2)
He sat down, but soon felt worse.It seemed that the only way was to crawl back into the room, so I stayed in the room all day.

"That Wheeler is sick," a waiter reported to the night clerk.

"What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know. He has a high fever."

The doctor at the hotel went to see him.

"Better take him to Bellevue Hospital," he suggested, "he has pneumonia."

So they drove him away.

Three weeks later, the dangerous period passed, but it was almost May [-]st when I recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital.So he was fired.

The once strong, buoyant manager is now a sickly fellow who rarely walks in the spring sunshine.All the muscles in his body were gone, his face was thin and pale, his hands were bloodless, and his whole body was weak.Together with the clothes he was wearing, he only weighed 130 five pounds.He was given some clothes—a rough brown jacket and a pair of ill-fitting trousers—with some change and words of advice.He was told to apply for relief.

He went back again to the boarding house in Boverly Street, wondering where to go.From here to begging, there is only one step away.

"What can a man do?" he said. "I can't starve to death."

The first time he begged was on the second street where the sun shone.A well-dressed man strolled in his direction from Stephenson Park, and Hurstwood, plucking up his courage, sidled up.

"Could you give me a dime, please?" he said flatly. "I'm in such a position that I can't help asking."

Without even looking at him, the man took out a silver coin from his vest pocket.

"Here you are," he said.

"Thank you very much," murmured Hurstwood, who paid no attention to him at all.

Satisfied with his success, but ashamed of the situation he was in, he made up his mind not to ask for another quarter, because it was enough.While walking, he looked at the pedestrians, but he waited for a long time before he found the right person and the right opportunity.When he proposed, the other party refused.This result shocked him quite a bit, and it took him an hour to recover, and then he begged again.This time, he was given a nickel.He begged for nothing and got another quarter, but it was hard work.

He was at it again the next day, getting a few eye rolls and a generous handout or two.At last it occurred to him that there was a science of faces, which, if it were to be put into practice, consisted in the selection of generous faces.

However, this kind of stuff that hinders pedestrians is not interesting to him.He had seen a man arrested for it, and he was afraid he would be arrested himself.Even so, he went on working, dimly hoping for some unpredictable turn of events.

Then, one morning, it was announced that the Casino Troupe had returned to the city "with Miss Carrie Mactonda."He had been thinking of her a lot in the past.What a success she had--she must have had a lot of money! Nevertheless, it was his chronic misfortune that made him decide to ask her for help.He was so hungry that he said to himself:

"I asked her, and she wouldn't refuse me a few bucks."

So, one afternoon, he walked towards the Casino Theater, and walked in front of the theater a few times, in order to determine where the entrance to the stage was.Then he sat in Briand Park, which was a block away, and he waited there, "She's not going to help me a little bit," he kept saying to himself.

From 06:30, he haunted the corner of 39th Street like a ghost, pretending to be a pedestrian passing by in a hurry, but afraid of missing his target.Now that the moment of great importance has come, he is not without a little flustered.However, he is weak and hungry, and his ability to support is limited after all.Later, when he saw the actors coming one after another, he became more and more nervous, almost to the point where he couldn't hold on.

Once, thinking that he saw Carrie approaching, he rushed forward, but it turned out that he had misunderstood the person.

"Oh, we shall see her soon," he said to himself, as much afraid of meeting her as he was in case she went to the theater by another route.His stomach ached with emptyness.

One after another, people walked past him, all of them well-dressed, and almost all of them were indifferent.He saw carriages passing by, gentlemen accompanying ladies—the hours of evening fun began in this theatre-hotel area.

Suddenly, a carriage drove up, the driver jumped down and opened the door.Before Hurstwood could make a move, the two ladies walked across the wide sidewalk with their skirts in their hands and disappeared at the entrance of the stage. He thought he saw Carrie, but it happened so unexpectedly and so far away. , and he is so elegant and unattainable, he really can't decide.He waited a while longer, famished with hunger.Later, when he saw that the door at the entrance to the stage was closed, and groups of joyful audiences were arriving one after another, he decided that it must be Carrie just now, so he turned and walked in.

"My God," he said, hurrying away from the street where the lucky ones were pouring in, "I need something to eat."

At this hour, when Broadway was at its most interesting, there was a weirdo who was always standing on the corner of No. 60 Erjo Street and Broadway--which also intersected with Fifth Street.At this moment, it is the time when the theater begins to accept the audience.Illuminated billboards announced that tonight's entertainment was in full swing on all fronts.Cabs and carriages passed by, their lights gleaming like yellow eyes.Couples, groups of people, mixed in the crowd that came like a tide.On Fifth Street there were loafers—a few rich men loitering, a gentleman in evening dress had a lady on his arm; a few clubbers hurried from one smoking room to another. one place to go.On the opposite road, in some big hotels, hundreds of windows are brightly lit, and the cafes and billiard rooms are crowded with comfortable and fashionable people who like to have fun.In the vast night, the idea of ​​seeking happiness and seeking happiness is beating regularly like a pulse-a big city that is constantly seeking pleasure through thousands of channels is so full of strange and exciting atmosphere .

The eccentric was none other than a veteran who became a missionary.The man who had been whipped and abused by our peculiar social system came to the conclusion that his duty to God was to help his kind.The form of aid he chose was purely his own.These include providing a bed for the homeless.The person who applied could do so at this particular spot, though he himself had little money to find himself a comfortable place to live.

He picked such a place in a bright atmosphere, and stood here alone.His bulky figure, clad in a large cloak and broad-brimmed hat, awaited the application of those who, through various sources, knew the nature of his philanthropic endeavors.He would stand there alone for a while, gazing like a vagabond at this ever-enchanting spectacle.On the night we speak of, a policeman walked by, greeted him, and called him "Captain" in a friendly way.An urchin, who used to see him often, stopped and looked him over.The rest of the people thought that he was no different from ordinary people, except that he was dressed differently, and that he was just a stranger who was whistling and playing around with nothing to do, that's all.

The first half hour passed, and then some people showed up.Here and there among the passing crowd, one could occasionally see a loafer approaching intentionally.A lazy figure walked across the opposite corner, looking furtively in this direction.Another man came from Fifth Street, walked to the corner of No. 20 Sixth Street, looked around, and limped away again.Two or three of the obvious Boverly boarding-house types sidled up Fifth Avenue from Madison Square, and didn't dare to come over.The cloaked soldier walked up and down a ten-foot strip at his corner, whistling absently.

It was almost nine o'clock, and the noise of the city earlier had somewhat died away.Some hotels are already less active.The weather has also turned colder, and strange figures are still active in all directions—watchers, peepers, all outside the imaginary circle, as if none of them dared to step into that circle—about a dozen people in total.After a while, it became more and more cold, and a figure came forward.This figure came out of the shadows on No.20 Six Streets, walked across Broadway, and approached the waiting figure hesitantly.In these movements, there is a shy and timid look, as if always trying to hide the original intention until the last moment of necessity.Then, suddenly, he came to the soldier and stopped.

The captain recognized it, but didn't say hello in particular.The newcomer nodded slightly and murmured something, as if expecting some present.The other party just motioned him to the sidewalk.

"Stand over there," he said.

This breaks the silence.Just as the soldier resumed his short, dignified steps, some figures came slowly forward.They didn't pay respects to the leader seriously, but just stood beside the other man, made snuffling noises, moved little by little, and wiped the ground with their feet.

"It's cold? Isn't it?"

"Winter is over, I'm glad."

"It looks like it's going to rain."

The motley crew grew to ten people.When one or two people know each other, they start talking.Others stood a few feet away, unwilling to blend in or be excluded.They were irritable, obstinate, silent, their eyes were not fixed on anything, their feet moved forward.

They wanted to talk, but the soldier didn't give them the chance.Once the number of people was enough, he walked to the front.

"Beds, uh, all of you?"

Then came the sound of a slow shuffling, and a murmur of agreement.

"Well, line up here. Let me see what I can do. I haven't got a dime myself."

(End of this chapter)