Sister Carrie 6 страница

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Fair store with its multitude of delivery wagons about, its long window

display, its crowd of shoppers. It readily changed her thoughts, she

who was so weary of them. It was here that she had intended to come and

get her new things. Now for relief from distress; she thought she would

go in and see. She would look at the jackets.

There is nothing in this world more delightful than that middle state

in which we mentally balance at times, possessed of the means, lured by

desire, and yet deterred by conscience or what of decision. When Carrie

began wandering around the store amid the fine displays she was in this

mood. Her original experience in this same place had given her a high

opinion of its merits. Now she paused at each individual bit of finery,

where before she had hurried on. Her woman's heart was warm with desire

for them. How would she look in this, how charming that would make her!

She came upon the corset counter and pauses in rich reverie as she

noted the dainty concoctions of color and lace their displayed. If she

would only make up her mind, she could have one or those now. She

lingered in the jewelry department. She saw the earrings, the

bracelets, the pins, the chains. What would she not have given if she

could have had them all! She would look fine too, if only she had some

of these things.

The jackets were the greatest attraction. When she entered the store,

she already had her heart fixed upon the peculiar little tan jacket

with large mother-of-pearl buttons which was all the rage that fall.

Still she delighted to convince herself that there was nothing she

would like better. She went about among the glass cases and racks where

these things were displayed, and satisfied herself that the one she

thought of was the proper one. All the time she wavered in mind, now

persuading herself that she could buy it right away if she chose, now

recalling to herself the actual condition. At last the noon hour was

dangerously near, and she had done nothing. She must go now and return

the money.

Drouet was on the corner when she came up.

" Hello, " he said, " where is the jacket and" -looking down-" the

shoes? "

Carrie had thought lead up to her decision in some intelligent way, but

this swept the whole fore-schemed situation by the board.

" I came to tell you that-that I can't take the money. "

" Oh, that's it, is it? " he returned. " Well, you come on with me.

Let's go over here to Partridge's. "

Carrie walked with him. Behold, the whole fabric of doubt and

impossibility had slipped from her mind. She could not get at the

points that were so serious, the things she was going to make plain to

him.

" Have you had lunch yet? Of course you haven't. Let's go in here, " and

Drouet turned into one of the very nicely furnished restaurants off

State Street, in Monroe.

" I mustn't take money, " said Carrie, after they were settled in a cozy

corner, and Drouet had ordered the lunch. " I can't wear those things

out there. They wouldn't know where I got them. "

" What do you want to do, " he smiled, " go without them? "

" I think I'll go home, " she said, wearily.

" Oh, come, " he said, " you've been thinking it over too long. I'll

tell you what you do. You rent a furnished room and leave them in that

for a week? "

Carrie shook her head. Like all women, she was there to object and be

convinced. It was for him to brush the doubts away and clear the path

if he could.

" Why are you going home? " he asked.

" Oh, I can't get anything here. "

" They won't keep you? " he remarked, intuitively.

" They can't" said Carrie.

" I'll tell you what you do, " he said. " You come with me. I'll take

care of you. "

Carrie heard this passively. The peculiar state which she was in made

it sound like the welcome breath of an open door. Drouet seemed of her

own spirit and pleasing. He was clean, handsome, well-dressed, and

sympathetic. His voice was the voice of a friend.

" What can you do back at Columbia City? " he went on, rousing by the

words in Carrie's mind a picture of the dull world she had left. "

There isn't anything down there. Chicago's the place. You can get a

nice room.

Carrie looked out through the window into the busy street. There it

was, the admirable, great city, so fine sing pair of bays, passed by,

carrying in its upholstered depths a young lady.

" What will you have if you go back? " asked Drouet. There was no subtle

undercurrent to the question. He imagined that she would have nothing

at all of the things he thought worth while.

Carrie sat still, looking out. She was wondering what she could do.

They would be expecting her to go home this week.

Drouet turned to the subject of the clothes she was going to buy.

" Why not get yourself a nice little jacket? You've got to have it.

I'll loan you the money. You needn't worry about taking it. You can

get yourself a nice room by yourself. I won't hurt you. "

Carrie saw the drift, but could not express her thoughts. She felt more

than ever the helplessness of her case.

" If I could only get something to do, " she said.

" Maybe you can, " went on Drouet, " if you stay here. You can't if you

go away. They won't let you stay out there. Now, why not let me get you

a nice room? I won't bother you needn't be afraid. Then, when you get

fixed up, maybe you could get something. "

He looked at her pretty face and vivified his mental resources. She was

a sweet little mortal to him-there was no doubt of that. She seemed to

have some power back of her actions. She was not like the common run of

store-girls. She wasn't silly.

In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he-more taste. It was a

finer mental strain in her that made possible her depression and

loneliness. Her poor clothes were neat, and she held her head

unconsciously in a dainty way.

" DO you think I could get something? " she asked.

" Sure, " he said, reaching over and filling her cup with tea. " I'll

help you. "

She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly.

" Now I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go over her to Partridge's and

you pick out what you want. The we'll look around for a room for you.

You can leave the things there. Then we'll go to the show to-night. "

Carrie shook her head.

" We'll, you can go out to the flat them, that's all right You don't

need to stay in the room. Just take it and leave your things there. "

She hung in doubt about this until the dinner was over.

" Let's go over and look at the jackets, " he said.

Together they went. In the store they found that shine and rustle of

new things which immediately laid hold of Carrie's heart. Under the

influence of a good dinner and Drouet's radiating presence, the scheme

proposed seemed feasible. She looked about and picked a jacket like

the one which she had admired at The Fair. When she got it in her hand

it seemed so much nicer. The saleswoman helped her on with it, and, by

accident it fitted perfectly. Drouet's face lightened as he saw the

improvement. She looked quite smart.

" That's the thing, " he said.

Carrie turned before the glass. She could not help feeling pleased as

she looked at herself. A warm glow crept into her cheeks.

" That's the thing, " said Drouet. " Now pay for it. "

" It's nine dollar, " said Carrie.

" That's all right-take it, " said Drouet.

She reached in her purse and took out one of the bills. The woman asked

if she would wear the coat and went off. In a few minutes she was back

and the purchase was closed.

From Partridge's they went to a shoe store, where Carrie was fitted for

shoes. Drouet stood by, and when he saw how nice they looked, said, "

Wear them. " Carrie shook her head, however. She was thinking of running

to the flat. He brought her a purse for one thing and a pair of gloves

for another, and let her buy the stockings.

" To-morrow, " he said, " you come down here and buy yourself a skirt. "

In all of Carrie's actions there was a touch of misgiving. The

deeper she sank into the entanglement, the more she imagined that the

thing hung upon the few remaining things she had not done. Since she

had not done these, there was a way out.

Drouet knew a place in Wabash Avenue where there were rooms. He showed

Carrie the outside of these, and said: " Now, you're my sister. " He

carried to the selection looking around, criticizing, opining. " Her

trunk will be here in a day or so, he observed to the landlady, who was

very pleased.

When they went alone, Drouet did not change in the least. He talked in

the same general way as if they were out in the street. Carrie left her

things.

" Now, " said Drouet, " why don't you move to-night? "

" Oh, I can't, " said Carrie.

" Why not? "

" I don't want to leave them so. "

He took that up as they walked along the avenue. It was a warm

afternoon. The sun had come out and the wind had died down. As he

talked with Carrie, he secured an accurate detail of the atmosphere of

the flat.

" Come out of it, " he said, " they won't care. I'll help you get

along. "

She listened until her misgiving vanished. He would show her about a

little and then help her get something. He really imagined that he

would. He would be out on the road and she could be working.

" Now, I'll tell you what you do, " you go out there and get whatever

you want and come away. "

She though a long time about this. Finally she agreed. He would come

out as far as Peoria Street and wait for her. She was to meet him at

half-past eight. At half-past five she reached home, and at six her

determination was hardened.

" So you didn't get it? " said Minnie, referring to Carrie's story of

the Boston Store.

Carrie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. " No, " she answered.

" I don't think you'd better try any more this fall, " said Minnie.

Carrie said nothing.

When Hanson came home he wore the same inscrutable demeanor. He washed

in silence and went off to read his paper. At dinner Carrie felt a

little nervous. The strain of her own plans was considerable, and the

feeling that she was not welcome here was strong.

" Didn't find anything, eh? " said Hanson.

" No. "

He turned to his eating again, the though that it was a burden to have

her here dwelling in his mind. She would have to go home, that was

all. Once she was away, there would be no more coming back in the

spring

Carrie was afraid of what she was going to do, but she was relieved to

know that this condition was ending. They would not care. Hanson

particularly would be glad when she went. He would not care what became

of her.

After dinner she went into the bathroom, where they could not disturb

her, and wrote a little note.

" Good-bye, Minnie, " it read. " I'm not going home. I'm going to stay

in Chicago a little while and look for work. Don't worry. I'll be all

right. "

In the front room Hanson was reading his paper. As usual, she helped

Minnie clear away the dishes and straighten up. Then she:

" I guess I'll stand down at the door a little while. " She could

scarcely prevent her voice from trembling.

Minnie remembered Hanson's remonstrance.

" Sven doesn't think it looks good to stand down there, " she said.

" Doesn't he? " said Carrie. " I won't do it any more after this. "

She put on her hat and fidgeted around the table in the little

bedroom, wondering where to slip the note. Finally she put it under

Minnie's hair-brush.

When she had closed the hall-door, she paused a moment and wondered

what they would think. Some thought of the queerness of her deed

affected her. She went slowly down the stairs. She looked back up the

lighted step, and then affected to stroll up the street. When she

reached the corner she quickened her pace.

As she was hurrying away, Hanson came back to his wife.

" Is Carrie down at the door again? " he asked.

" Yes, said Minnie; " she said she wasn't going to do it any more. "

He went over to the baby where it was playing on the floor and began to

poke his finger at it.

Drouet was on the corner waiting, in good spirits.

" Hello, Carrie, " he said, as a sprightly figure of a girl drew near

him. " Got here safe, did you? Well, we'll take a car. "

Chapter VIII

INTIMATIONS BY WINTER: AN AMBASSADOR SUMMONER

Among the force which sweep and play throughout the universe,

untutored man is but a wisp in the wind. Our civilization is still in a

middle stage, scarcely beast in that it is no longer wholly guided by

instinct; scarcely human, in that it is not yet wholly guided by

reason. On the tiger no responsibility rests. We see him aligned by

nature with the forces of life-he is born into their keeping and

without though he is protected. We see man far removed from the lairs

of the jungles, his innate instincts dulled by too near an approach to

free-will, his free-will not sufficiently developed to replace his

instincts and afford him perfect guidance. He is becoming too wise to

hearken always to instincts and desires; he is still too weak to always

prevail against them. As a beast, the forces of life aligned him with

them; with the forces. In this intermediate stage he wavers-neither

drawn in her money with nature by his instincts nor yet wisely putting

himself into harmony by his own free-will. He is even as wisp in the

wind, moved by every breath of passion, acting now by his will and now

by his instincts, erring with one, only-a creature of incalculable

variability. We have the consolation of knowing that evolution is ever

in action, that the ideal is a light that cannot fail. He will not

forever balance thus between good and evil. When this jangle of free-

will and instinct shall have been adjusted, when perfect understanding

has given the former the power to replace the latter entirely, man will

no longer vary. The nettle of understanding will yet point steadfast

and unwavering to the distant pole of truth.

In Carrie-as in how many of our wordings do they not? -instinct and

reason, desire and understanding, were at war for the mastery. She

followed whither her craving led. She was as yet more drawn than she

drew.

When Minnie found the note next morning, after a night of mingled

wonder and anxiety, which was not exactly touched by yearning, sorrow,

or love, she exclaimed:

" Well, what do you think of that? "

" What? " said Hanson.

" Sister Carrie has gone to live somewhere else. "

Hanson jumped out of bed with more celerity than he usually displayed

and looked at the note. The only indication of his thoughts came in the

form of a little clicking sound made by his tongue; the sound some

people make when they wish to urge on a horse.

" Where do you suppose she's gone to? " said Minnie thoroughly aroused.

" I don't know, " a touch of cynicism lighting his eye.

" Now she has gone and done it. "

Minnie moved her head in a puzzled way.

" Oh, oh, " she said, " she doesn't know what she has done. "

" Well, " said Hanson after a while, sticking his hands out before him,

" what can you do? "

Minnie's womanly nature was higher than this. She figured the

possibilities in such cases.

" Oh, " she said at least, " poor Sister Carrie! "

At the time of this particular conversation, which occurred at 5 am,

that little soldier of fortune was sleeping in rather troubled sleep in

her new room, alone.

Carrie's new state was remarkable in that she saw possibilities in it.

She was no sensualist, longing to drowse sleepily in the lap of luxury.

She turned about, troubled by her daring, glad of her release,

wondering whether she would get something to do, wondering what Drouet

would do. That worthy had his future fixed for him beyond a

peradventure. He could not see clearly enough to wish to do

differently. He was drawn by his innate desire to act the old pursuing

part. He would need to delight himself with Carrie as surely as he

would need to eat his heavy breakfast. He might suffer the least

rudimentary twinge of conscience in whatever he did, and in just so

far he was evil and sinning. But whatever twinges of conscience he

might have would be rudimentary, you may be sure.

The next day he called upon Carrie, and she saw him in her chamber. He

was the same jolly, enlivening soul.

" Aw, " he said, " what are you looking so blue about? Come on out to

breakfast. You want to get your other clothes to-day. "

Carrie looked at him with the hew of shifting thought in her large

eyes.

" I wish I could get something to do, " she said.

" You'll get that all right, " said Drouet. " What's the use worrying

right now? Get yourself fixed up. See the city. I won't hurt you. "

" I know you won't, " she remarked, half truthfully.

" Got on the new shoes, haven't you? Stick 'em out George, they look

fine. Put on your jacket. "

Carrie obeyed.

" Say, that fits like a T, don't it? " he remarked, feeling the set of

it at the waist and eyeing it from a few paces with real pleasure. "

What you need now is a new shirt. Let's go to breakfast. "

Carrie put on her hat.

" Where are the gloves? " he inquired.

" Here, " she said, taking them out of the bureau drawer.

" Now, come on, " he said.

Thus the first hour of misgiving was swept away.

It went this way on every occasion. Drouet did not leave her much

alone. She had time for some lone wanderings, but mostly he filled her

hours with skirt and shirt waist. With his money she purchased the

little necessaries of toilet, until at last she looked quite another

maiden. The mirror convinced her of a few things which she had long

believed. She was pretty, yes, indeed! How nice her had set, and

weren't her eyes pretty. She caught her little red lip with her teeth

and felt her first thrill of power Drouet was so good.

They went to see " The Mikado" one evening, an open which was

hilariously popular at that time. Before going they made off for the

Windsor dinning-room, which was in Dearborn Street, a considerable

distance from Carrie's room. It was blowing up cold, and out of her

window. Carrie could see the western sky, still pink with the fading

light, but steely blue at the top where it met the darkness. A long,

thin cloud of pink hung in midair, shape like some island in a far-off

sea. Somehow the swaying of some dead branches of trees across the way

brought back the picture with which she was familiar when she looked

from their front window in December days a home.

She paused and wrung her little hands.

" What's the matter? " said Drouet.

" Oh, I don't know, " she said, her lip trembling.

He sensed something, and slipped his arm over her shoulder, patting her

arm.

" Come on, " he said gently, " you're all right. "

She turned to slip on her jacket.

" Better wear that boa about throat to-night. "

They walked north on Wabash to Adams Street and then west. The lights

in the stores were already shinning out in gushes of golden hue. The

are lights were sputtering overhead, and high up were the lighted

window of the tall office buildings. The chill wind whipped in and out

in gusty breaths. Homeward bound, the six o'clock throng bumped and

jostled. Light overcoats were turned up about the ears, hats were

pulled down. Little shop girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours,

chattering, laughing. It was a spectacle of warm-blooded humanity.

Suddenly a pair of eye met Carrie's in recognition. They were looking

out from a group of poorly dressed girls. Their clothes were faded and

loose-hanging, their jackets old, their general make-up shabby.

Carrie recognized the glance and the girl. She was one of those who

worked at the machines in the shoe factory. The latter looked, Carrie

felt as if some great tide had rolled between them. The old dress and

the old machine came back. She actually started. Drouet didn't notice

until Carrie bumped into a pedestrian.

" You must be thinking, " he said.

They dined and went to the theatre. That spectacle pleased Carrie

immensely. The color and grace of it caught her eye. She had vain

imaginings about place. and power, about far-off lands and magnificent

people. When it was over, the clatter of coaches and the throng of fine

ladies made her stare.

" Wait a minute, " said Drouet, holding her back in the showy foyer

where ladies and gentlemen were moving in a social crush, skirts

rustling, lace-covered heads nodding, white teeth showing through

parted lips. " Let's see. "

" Sixty-seven, " the coach-caller was saying, his voice lifted in a sort

of euphonious cry. " Sixty-seven. "

" Isn't it fine? " said Carrie.

" Great, " said Drouet. He was as much affected by this show of finery

and gayety as she. He pressed her arm warmly. Once she looked up, her

even teeth glistening through her smiling lips, her eyes alight. As

they were moving out he whispered down to her, " You look lovely! " They

were right where the coach-caller was swinging open a coach-door and

ushering in two ladies.

" You stick to me and we'll have a coach. " laughed Drouet.

Carrie scarcely heard, her head was so full of the swig of life.

They stopped in at a restaurant for a little after-theater lunch. Just

a shade of a though of the hour entered Carrie's head, but there was no

household law to govern her now. If any habits ever had time to fix

upon her things. They will drive the really non-religious mind out of

bed to say prayers that are only a custom and not a devotion. The

victim of habit, when he had neglected the thing which it was his

custom to do, feels a little scratching in the brain, a little

irritating something which comes of being out of the rut, and images it

to be that prick of conscience, the still, small voice that is urging

him ever to righteousness. If the digression is unusual enough, the

drag of habit will be heavy enough to cause the unreasoning victim to

return and perform the perfunctory thing. " Now, bless me, as a matter

of fact, it has merely done its old, unbreakable trick once again.

Carrie had no excellent home principles fixed upon her. If she had, she

would have been more consciously distressed. Now the lunch went off

with considerable warmth. Under the influence of the varied

occurrences, the fine, invisible passion which was emanating from

Drouet, the food, the still unusual luxury, she relaxed and heard with

open ears. She was again the victim of the city's hypnotic influence.

" Well, " said Drouet at last, " we had better be going. "

They had been dawdling over the dishes, and their eyes had frequently

met. Carrie could not help but feel the vibration of force which

followed, which, indeed, was his gaze. He had a way of touching her

hand in explanation, as if to impress a fact upon her. He touched it

now as he spoke of going.

They arose and went out into the street. The downtown section was now

bare, save for a few whistling strollers, a few owl cars, a few open

resorts whose windows were still bright. Out Wabash Avenue they

strolled Drouet still pouring forth his volume of small information. He

had Carrie's arm in his, and held it closely as be explained. Once in a

while, after some witticism, he would look down, and his eyes would

meet hers. At last they came to the steps, and Carrie stood up on the

first one, her hand head now coming even with his own. He took her hand

and held it genially. He looked steadily at her as she glanced about,

warmly musing.

At about that hour, Minnie was soundly sleeping, after a long evening

of troubled thought. She had her elbow in an awkward position under her

side. The muscles so held irritated a few nerves, and now a vague scene

floated in on the drowsy mind. She fancied she and Carrie were

somewhere beside an old coal-mine. She could see the tall runway and

the heap of earth and coal cast out. There was a deep pit, into which

they were looking; they could see the curious wet stones far down where

the wall disappeared in vague shadows. An old basket, used for

descending, was hanging there, fastened by a worn rope.

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