Sister Carrie / Сестра Кэрри. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Теодор Драйзер
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slowly, after a slight pause.
He had raised his eyes solemnly and was looking into her own. He assumed that he had struck a deep chord. Now was a slight chance to say a word in his own behalf. He leaned over quietly and continued his steady gaze. He felt the critical character of the period. She endeavoured to stir, but it was useless. The whole strength of a man’s nature was working. He had good cause to urge him on. He looked and looked, and the longer the situation lasted the more difficult it became. The little shop-girl was getting into deep water. She was letting her few supports float away from her.
“Oh,” she said at last, “you mustn’t look at me like that.”
“I can’t help it,” he answered.
She relaxed a little and let the situation endure, giving him strength.
“You are not satisfied with life, are you?”
“No,” she answered, weakly.
He saw he was the master of the situation – he felt it. He reached over and touched her hand.
“You mustn’t,” she exclaimed, jumping up.
“I didn’t intend to,” he answered, easily.
She did not run away, as she might have done. She did not terminate the interview, but he drifted off into a pleasant field of thought with the readiest grace. Not long after he rose to go, and she felt that he was in power. “You mustn’t feel bad,” he said, kindly; “things will straighten out in the course of time.”
She made no answer, because she could think of nothing to say.
“We are good friends, aren’t we?” he said, extending his hand.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Not a word, then, until I see you again.”
He retained a hold on her hand.
“I can’t promise,” she said, doubtfully.
“You must be more generous than that,” he said, in such a simple way that she was touched.
“Let’s not talk about it any more,” she returned.
“All right,” he said, brightening.
He went down the steps and into his cab. Carrie closed the door and ascended into her room. She undid her broad lace collar before the mirror and unfastened her pretty alligator belt which she had recently bought.
“I’m getting terrible,” she said, honestly affected by a feeling of trouble and shame. “I don’t seem to do anything right.”
She unloosed her hair after a time, and let it hang in loose brown waves. Her mind was going over the events of the evening.
“I don’t know,” she murmured at last, “what I can do.”
“Well,” said Hurstwood as he rode away, “she likes me all right; that I know.”
The aroused manager whistled merrily for a good four miles to his office an old melody that he had not recalled for fifteen years.
Chapter XIII
His Credentials Accepted: A Babel of Tongues
It was not quite two days after the scene between Carrie and Hurstwood in the Ogden Place parlor before he again put in his appearance. He had been thinking almost uninterruptedly of her. Her leniency had, in a way, inflamed his regard. He felt that he must succeed with her, and that speedily.
The reason for his interest, not to say fascination, was deeper than mere desire. It was a flowering out of feelings which had been withering in dry and almost barren soil for many years. It is probable that Carrie represented a better order of woman than had ever attracted him before. He had had no love affair since that which culminated in his marriage, and since then time and the world had taught him how raw and erroneous was his original judgment. Whenever he thought of it, he told himself that, if he had it to do over again, he would never marry such a woman. At the same time, his experience with women in general had lessened his respect for the sex. He maintained a cynical attitude, well grounded on numerous experiences. Such women as he had known were of nearly one type, selfish, ignorant, flashy. The wives of his friends were not inspiring to look upon. His own wife had developed a cold, commonplace nature which to him was anything but pleasing.
Hurstwood had gone, at Drouet’s invitation, to meet a new baggage of fine clothes and pretty features. He entered, expecting to indulge in an evening of lightsome frolic, and then lose track of the newcomer forever. Instead he found a woman whose youth and beauty attracted him. In the mild light of Carrie’s eye was nothing of the calculation of the mistress. In the diffident manner was nothing of the art of the courtesan. He saw at once that a mistake had been made, that some difficult conditions had pushed this troubled creature into his presence, and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to the rescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He wanted to win Carrie because he thought her fate mingled with his was better than if it were united with Drouet’s. He envied the drummer his conquest as he had never envied any man in all the course of his experience.
On this Friday afternoon, scarcely two days after his previous visit, he made up his mind to see Carrie. He could not stay away longer.
“Evans,” he said, addressing the head barkeeper, “if any one calls, I will be back between four and five.”
He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, which carried him to Ogden Place in half an hour.
Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on a light gray woolen dress with a jaunty double-breasted jacket. She had out her hat and gloves, and was fastening a white lace tie about her throat when the housemaid brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished to see her.
She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say that she would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing.
Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glad or sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence. She was slightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was more nervousness than either fear or favor. She did not try to conjecture what the drift of the conversation would be. She only felt that she must be careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination for her. Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and went below.
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