sister carrie

Chapter 86 (2)

Chapter 47 The Path of the Loser: The Harp in the Wind (2)
Hurstwood walked forward, thinking.Seeing the big silver coin made him somewhat happier.He was still hungry, he thought, and besides, a dime would be enough for the bed.In this way, the thought of death temporarily disappeared from his mind.Only when he could get nothing but insults, did he seem to feel that death was the only way to go.

One day, in the middle of winter, the coldest day of the season began.The first day was cold and gray, and the second day it was snowing.He had been unlucky, and only got a dime in the evening, which he used to buy food.In the evening, he reached the Main Road and No. 60 Qijo Street, from which he turned and walked in the direction of Boverly Street.At this time, I was very tired, because I had been wandering since the morning, and now I dragged my wet feet along the sidewalk.A thin old coat was rolled up to Frozen Red's ears--his crumpled fedora hat was pulled down almost to the top.He put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm going to Broadway right now," he said to himself.

When he approached No.40 Erjie Street, the advertising lights were already on.People are hurrying to dinner.Through the bright windows one can see groups of merrymakers in every corner of the luxurious hotel, and the streets are filled with carriages and crowded trams.

As tired and hungry as he was, he shouldn't have been here in the first place.The contrast was so sharp that he couldn't help but think of the good old days.

"What's the use of that?" thought he, "I'm all over, I'm going to be all over."

People turned to look at him.How strange it was for him to stagger like this.A few policemen kept their eyes on him, to see if he would beg someone.

Once, he stopped aimlessly and looked in the window of a decent restaurant.In front of the restaurant, there is an electric light advertisement.The red and gold decor, the palm trees, the white napkins, the gleaming glassware and, above all, the cozy diners can be seen through the large panes of glass.His heart is already very weak, and he seems to be hungry for something, which shows how important it is to eat.He stopped and remained motionless, his torn trousers were soaked in snow, and he looked inside foolishly.

"Eat," he muttered, "yes, eat. Nobody needs anything else."

Then, his voice became lower and lower, and half of the fantasy in his heart disappeared.

"It's cold," he said. "It's so cold."

The lights on Broadway and No. 30 Nine Streets illuminated Carrie's name.It was written "Carrie Mactonda" and "Casino Corporation."The wet, snow-covered pavement was brightly lit.The name was clearly illuminated, so it attracted the attention of Hester Wardt.He looked up, then at a large gold-rimmed billboard bearing a beautiful life-size lithograph of Carrie.

Hurstwood stared at the portrait for a moment, making a snorting sound, and hunching one shoulder as if something was grabbing him.However, he was so weak that he was not even very conscious.

"It's you," he said to her afterward, "I'm not good enough for you, am I? Eh!"

He wandered for a while, trying to think more orderly.But this is no longer possible.

"She got it." He said incoherently, thinking about money, "Let her give me some money."

He went towards the side door, and then he forgot what he wanted to do, so he stopped and put his hands in a little deeper to warm his wrists.Suddenly, the idea came to him again—to the backstage door!As it should be.

He walked to the entrance and went in.

"Huh?" said the waiter at the door, glaring at him.Seeing him stop, he went over to chase him away, "Go away." He said.

"I want to see Miss Antonda," he said.

"You want to see me, hey?" said the waiter, almost laughing when he saw this appearance. "Get out." And then chase him again, Hurstwood has no strength to resist.

"I want to see Miss Mactonda," he tried to explain even when he was being chased away, "I'm fine. I—" The man finally gave him a push and closed the door.As he pushed, Hurstwood slipped and fell in the snow.It hurt him, and a vague sense of shame grew.He began to cry and swear foolishly.

"Dog!" he said, "Bastard," wiping away the muddy water with his worthless coat, "I used to—I hired a guy like you."

Then came a violent dislike for Carrie--the very indignant thought the whole thing had left in his mind.

"She owes me something to eat," he said. "She owes me that."

He turned around in despair, and once again came to Broadway, stumbled and rushed forward, begging and crying all the way, his thoughts were all confused, like a weak and incoherent state of thinking.

A few days later, on a cold evening, he made up an idea very clearly.At four o'clock in the afternoon, the night was getting thicker, and the snow was falling--a biting cold snowflake, blown by whirlwinds in long thin lines.The streets were covered with snow--a soft, icy carpet six inches thick, turning to brown-black mud under the tread of wagons and passers-by.Along Broadway, people walked carefully in coats and umbrellas.Along Bovery Street people walk stooped, with great collars and hats covering their ears.On Broadway, businessmen and tourists were heading for comfortable hotels.In Bovery Street, the cold-weathered crowd staggered past the dingy shops, lights already flickering in the depths of the shops.The lights on the tram were already on early.The usual chugging of trams was muffled by the snow under the wheels.The whole city was hoarse from the snow.

In the comfortable room of Huayang Golf Hotel, Carrie was reading "Old Man Goriot" ("Old Man Goriot", Balzac's masterpiece. - a translator), which was recommended to her by Ames of.The book was so powerfully written, and the mere fact that Ames recommended it was enough to pique her interest.And she almost fully understood what the book was about.For the first time in her life, she realized how ridiculous and boring her reading had been on the whole.But she was tired and yawned, so she went to the window and looked out of the window, only to see the usual line of carriages zigzagging along Fifth Avenue at that time.

"Isn't that too bad?" she said to Laura.

"Damn it!" agreed the little girl, "I only hope the snow will fall down enough to go sledding."

"Oh, dear," said Carrie.For her, the impression of old man Gao's misfortune is still very clear, "You only think about this, don't you feel sorry for those people who have no clothes and food tonight?"

"Of course I'm sorry," said Laura, "but what can I do? I have nothing."

Carrie smiled.

"You wouldn't care if you had it," she replied.

"I will," Laura said, "but people don't help me when I'm in trouble."

"Isn't it dreadful?" said Carrie, surveying the winter storm.

"Look at that man over there," Lola said with a smile. She saw someone fall. "Don't people look stupid when they fall?"

"We'll have to call a cab to-night," answered Carrie absently.

In the hall of the Empire Hotel, M. Charles Drouet had just arrived, and was blowing snow off a very fine coat.The inclement weather drove him home early, and aroused his desire to have some fun, to keep the snow and the gloom out of life.The chief things to him were a good meal, the company of a young woman, and an evening at the theater.

"Ah, hello, Harry!" he said to a loafer in a comfortable chair in the hall. "How are you?"

"Oh, so-so, passable," said the man.

"The weather is terrible, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's true," said another, "and I'm sitting here thinking where am I going tonight."

"Come with me," said Drouet, "and I can introduce you to a very pretty little girl."

"Who is it?" said the man.

"Oh, there are some girls on No. 40th Street. We can have a good time. I'm looking for you."

"Suppose we find 'em and take 'em out to supper, shall we?"

"Of course," said Drouet, "wait a moment; I'll go upstairs and change my clothes."

"Okay, I'll go to the barber's," said the man, "and get a shave."

"All right," said Drouet, walking toward the elevator.The porn veteran is still the same as before, with only a few pounds of bones.

A passenger train heading for New York, speeding through the snow at forty miles an hour at dusk, had three other people on it, all relevant.

"The dining car is the first batch to serve meals." The bus attendant in a snow-white apron and jacket hurriedly walked through the aisle of the carriage, announcing all the way.

"I don't think I want to fight anymore," said one of the youngest.She is a dark-haired beauty who has become defiant just because she was born lucky.She then pushed a deck of cards away.

"Shall we go in for supper?" her husband asked.This person's clothes can be said to be as beautiful as possible.

"Oh. Not yet," she replied, "but I don't want to fight any more."

"Jessica," her mother called.Her fine dress is also a fine specimen of old age clothing, "Move the tie pins down—not too up."

Jessica did so, stroking her beautiful hair, and glanced at the small watch with a jeweled face.Her husband looked at her carefully, because beauty, even a cold beauty, is still charming from a certain angle.

"Oh, it won't be like this all the time," he said. "It's only two weeks to Rome."

Mrs. Hurstwood crouched comfortably in a corner, smiling slightly.How beautiful it was to be the mother-in-law of a rich young man—she had checked out his financial situation herself.

"Do you think the boat will leave on time if the weather is always like this?" Jessica asked.

"Oh, of course," replied her husband, "it won't make a difference."

A fair-haired son of a banker, also from Chicago, came down the aisle.For a long time he secretly watched this defiant beauty.Even at this moment, he kept looking at her, and she was aware of the gesture.She turned her beautiful face all the way to one side in an expression of magical indifference.That doesn't seem like a modest virtue in a wife at all.In this way, her self-esteem was satisfied.

It was at such a moment that Hurstwood stood in front of a dingy-looking four-story building in a side street off Bovery Street.His once buff coat was ruined by soot and rain.He was in a crowd--the crowd was getting bigger and bigger, and it still was.

(End of this chapter)