Chapter X

by Theodore Dreiser

　　THE COUNSEL OF WINTER--FORTUNE'S AMBASSADOR CALLSIn the light of the world's attitude toward woman and her duties,the nature of Carrie's mental state deserves consideration.Actions such as hers are measured by an arbitrary scale. Societypossesses a conventional standard whereby it judges all things.All men should be good, all women virtuous. Wherefore, villain,hast thou failed?For all the liberal analysis of Spencer and our modernnaturalistic philosophers, we have but an infantile perception ofmorals. There is more in the subject than mere conformity to alaw of evolution. It is yet deeper than conformity to things ofearth alone. It is more involved than we, as yet, perceive.Answer, first, why the heart thrills; explain wherefore someplaintive note goes wandering about the world, undying; makeclear the rose's subtle alchemy evolving its ruddy lamp in lightand rain. In the essence of these facts lie the first principlesof morals."Oh," thought Drouet, "how delicious is my conquest.""Ah," thought Carrie, with mournful misgivings, "what is it Ihave lost?"Before this world-old proposition we stand, serious, interested,confused; endeavouring to evolve the true theory of morals--thetrue answer to what is right.In the view of a certain stratum of society, Carrie wascomfortably established--in the eyes of the starveling, beaten byevery wind and gusty sheet of rain, she was safe in a halcyonharbour. Drouet had taken three rooms, furnished, in OgdenPlace, facing Union Park, on the West Side. That was a little,green-carpeted breathing spot, than which, to-day, there isnothing more beautiful in Chicago. It afforded a vista pleasantto contemplate. The best room looked out upon the lawn of thepark, now sear and brown, where a little lake lay sheltered.Over the bare limbs of the trees, which now swayed in the wintrywind, rose the steeple of the Union Park Congregational Church,and far off the towers of several others.The rooms were comfortably enough furnished. There was a goodBrussels carpet on the floor, rich in dull red and lemon shades,and representing large jardinieres filled with gorgeous,impossible flowers. There was a large pier-glass mirror betweenthe two windows. A large, soft, green, plush-covered couchoccupied one corner, and several rocking-chairs were set about.Some pictures, several rugs, a few small pieces of bric-a-brac,and the tale of contents is told.In the bedroom, off the front room, was Carrie's trunk, bought byDrouet, and in the wardrobe built into the wall quite an array ofclothing--more than she had ever possessed before, and of verybecoming designs. There was a third room for possible use as akitchen, where Drouet had Carrie establish a little portable gasstove for the preparation of small lunches, oysters, Welshrarebits, and the like, of which he was exceedingly fond; and,lastly, a bath. The whole place was cosey, in that it waslighted by gas and heated by furnace registers, possessing also asmall grate, set with an asbestos back, a method of cheerfulwarming which was then first coming into use. By her industryand natural love of order, which now developed, the placemaintained an air pleasing in the extreme.Here, then, was Carrie, established in a pleasant fashion, freeof certain difficulties which most ominously confronted her,laden with many new ones which were of a mental order, andaltogether so turned about in all of her earthly relationshipsthat she might well have been a new and different individual.She looked into her glass and saw a prettier Carrie than she hadseen before; she looked into her mind, a mirror prepared of herown and the world's opinions, and saw a worse. Between these twoimages she wavered, hesitating which to believe."My, but you're a little beauty," Drouet was wont to exclaim toher.She would look at him with large, pleased eyes."You know it, don't you?" he would continue."Oh, I don't know," she would reply, feeling delight in the factthat one should think so, hesitating to believe, though shereally did, that she was vain enough to think so much of herself.Her conscience, however, was not a Drouet, interested to praise.There she heard a different voice, with which she argued,pleaded, excused. It was no just and sapient counsellor, in itslast analysis. It was only an average little conscience, a thingwhich represented the world, her past environment, habit,convention, in a confused way. With it, the voice of the peoplewas truly the voice of God."Oh, thou failure!" said the voice."Why?" she questioned."Look at those about," came the whispered answer. "Look at thosewho are good. How would they scorn to do what you have done.Look at the good girls; how will they draw away from such as youwhen they know you have been weak. You had not tried before youfailed."It was when Carrie was alone, looking out across the park, thatshe would be listening to this. It would come infrequently--whensomething else did not interfere, when the pleasant side was nottoo apparent, when Drouet was not there. It was somewhat clearin utterance at first, but never wholly convincing. There wasalways an answer, always the December days threatened. She wasalone; she was desireful; she was fearful of the whistling wind.The voice of want made answer for her.Once the bright days of summer pass by, a city takes on thatsombre garb of grey, wrapt in which it goes about its laboursduring the long winter. Its endless buildings look grey, its skyand its streets assume a sombre hue; the scattered, leaflesstrees and wind-blown dust and paper but add to the generalsolemnity of colour. There seems to be something in the chillbreezes which scurry through the long, narrow thoroughfaresproductive of rueful thoughts. Not poets alone, nor artists, northat superior order of mind which arrogates to itself allrefinement, feel this, but dogs and all men. These feel as muchas the poet, though they have not the same power of expression.The sparrow upon the wire, the cat in the doorway, the dray horsetugging his weary load, feel the long, keen breaths of winter.It strikes to the heart of all life, animate and inanimate. Ifit were not for the artificial fires of merriment, the rush ofprofit-seeking trade, and pleasure-selling amusements; if thevarious merchants failed to make the customary display within andwithout their establishments; if our streets were not strung withsigns of gorgeous hues and thronged with hurrying purchasers, wewould quickly discover how firmly the chill hand of winter laysupon the heart; how dispiriting are the days during which the sunwithholds a portion of our allowance of light and warmth. We aremore dependent upon these things than is often thought. We areinsects produced by heat, and pass without it.In the drag of such a grey day the secret voice would reassertitself, feebly and more feebly.Such mental conflict was not always uppermost. Carrie was not byany means a gloomy soul. More, she had not the mind to get firmhold upon a definite truth. When she could not find her way outof the labyrinth of ill-logic which thought upon the subjectcreated, she would turn away entirely.Drouet, all the time, was conducting himself in a model way forone of his sort. He took her about a great deal, spent moneyupon her, and when he travelled took her with him. There weretimes when she would be alone for two or three days, while hemade the shorter circuits of his business, but, as a rule, shesaw a great deal of him."Say, Carrie," he said one morning, shortly after they had soestablished themselves, "I've invited my friend Hurstwood to comeout some day and spend the evening with us.""Who is he?" asked Carrie. doubtfully."Oh, he's a nice man. He's manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's.""What's that?" said Carrie."The finest resort in town. It's a way-up, swell place."Carrie puzzled a moment. She was wondering what Drouet had toldhim, what her attitude would be."That's all right," said Drouet, feeling her thought. "He doesn'tknow anything. You're Mrs. Drouet now."There was something about this which struck Carrie as slightlyinconsiderate. She could see that Drouet did not have thekeenest sensibilities."Why don't we get married?" she inquired, thinking of the volublepromises he had made."Well, we will," he said, "just as soon as I get this little dealof mine closed up."He was referring to some property which he said he had, and whichrequired so much attention, adjustment, and what not, thatsomehow or other it interfered with his free moral, personalactions."Just as soon as I get back from my Denver trip in January we'lldo it."Carrie accepted this as basis for hope--it was a sort of salve toher conscience, a pleasant way out. Under the circumstances,things would be righted. Her actions would be justified.She really was not enamoured of Drouet. She was more clever thanhe. In a dim way, she was beginning to see where he lacked. Ifit had not been for this, if she had not been able to measure andjudge him in a way, she would have been worse off than she was.She would have adored him. She would have been utterly wretchedin her fear of not gaining his affection, of losing his interest,of being swept away and left without an anchorage. As it was,she wavered a little, slightly anxious, at first, to gain himcompletely, but later feeling at ease in waiting. She was notexactly sure what she thought of him--what she wanted to do.When Hurstwood called, she met a man who was more clever thanDrouet in a hundred ways. He paid that peculiar deference towomen which every member of the sex appreciates. He was notoverawed, he was not overbold. His great charm wasattentiveness. Schooled in winning those birds of fine featheramong his own sex, the merchants and professionals who visitedhis resort, he could use even greater tact when endeavouring toprove agreeable to some one who charmed him. In a pretty womanof any refinement of feeling whatsoever he found his greatestincentive. He was mild, placid, assured, giving the impressionthat he wished to be of service only--to do something which wouldmake the lady more pleased.Drouet had ability in this line himself when the game was worththe candle, but he was too much the egotist to reach the polishwhich Hurstwood possessed. He was too buoyant, too full of ruddylife, too assured. He succeeded with many who were not quiteschooled in the art of love. He failed dismally where the womanwas slightly experienced and possessed innate refinement. In thecase of Carrie he found a woman who was all of the latter, butnone of the former. He was lucky in the fact that opportunitytumbled into his lap, as it were. A few years later, with alittle more experience, the slightest tide of success, and he hadnot been able to approach Carrie at all."You ought to have a piano here, Drouet," said Hurstwood, smilingat Carrie, on the evening in question, "so that your wife couldplay."Drouet had not thought of that."So we ought," he observed readily."Oh, I don't play," ventured Carrie."It isn't very difficult," returned Hurstwood. "You could dovery well in a few weeks."He was in the best form for entertaining this evening. Hisclothes were particularly new and rich in appearance. The coatlapels stood out with that medium stiffness which excellent clothpossesses. The vest was of a rich Scotch plaid, set with adouble row of round mother-of-pearl buttons. His cravat was ashiny combination of silken threads, not loud, not inconspicuous.What he wore did not strike the eye so forcibly as that whichDrouet had on, but Carrie could see the elegance of the material.Hurstwood's shoes were of soft, black calf, polished only to adull shine. Drouet wore patent leather but Carrie could not helpfeeling that there was a distinction in favour of the softleather, where all else was so rich. She noticed these thingsalmost unconsciously. They were things which would naturallyflow from the situation. She was used to Drouet's appearance."Suppose we have a little game of euchre?" suggested Hurstwood,after a light round of conversation. He was rather dexterous inavoiding everything that would suggest that he knew anything ofCarrie's past. He kept away from personalities altogether, andconfined himself to those things which did not concernindividuals at all. By his manner, he put Carrie at her ease,and by his deference and pleasantries he amused her. Hepretended to be seriously interested in all she said."I don't know how to play," said Carrie."Charlie, you are neglecting a part of your duty," he observed toDrouet most affably. "Between us, though," he went on, "we canshow you."By his tact he made Drouet feel that he admired his choice.There was something in his manner that showed that he was pleasedto be there. Drouet felt really closer to him than ever before.It gave him more respect for Carrie. Her appearance came into anew light, under Hurstwood's appreciation. The situation livenedconsiderably."Now, let me see," said Hurstwood, looking over Carrie's shouldervery deferentially. "What have you?" He studied for a moment."That's rather good," he said."You're lucky. Now, I'll show you how to trounce your husband.You take my advice.""Here," said Drouet, "if you two are going to scheme together, Iwon't stand a ghost of a show. Hurstwood's a regular sharp.""No, it's your wife. She brings me luck. Why shouldn't shewin?"Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at Drouet. Theformer took the air of a mere friend. He was simply there toenjoy himself. Anything that Carrie did was pleasing to him,nothing more."There," he said, holding back one of his own good cards, andgiving Carrie a chance to take a trick. "I count that cleverplaying for a beginner."The latter laughed gleefully as she saw the hand coming her way.It was as if she were invincible when Hurstwood helped her.He did not look at her often. When he did, it was with a mildlight in his eye. Not a shade was there of anything savegeniality and kindness. He took back the shifty, clever gleam,and replaced it with one of innocence. Carrie could not guessbut that it was pleasure with him in the immediate thing. Shefelt that he considered she was doing a great deal."It's unfair to let such playing go without earning something,"he said after a time, slipping his finger into the little coinpocket of his coat. "Let's play for dimes.""All right," said Drouet, fishing for bills.Hurstwood was quicker. His fingers were full of new ten-centpieces. "Here we are," he said, supplying each one with a littlestack."Oh, this is gambling," smiled Carrie. "It's bad.""No," said Drouet, "only fun. If you never play for more thanthat, you will go to Heaven.""Don't you moralise," said Hurstwood to Carrie gently, "until yousee what becomes of the money."Drouet smiled."If your husband gets them, he'll tell you how bad it is."Drouet laughed loud.There was such an ingratiating tone about Hurstwood's voice, theinsinuation was so perceptible that even Carrie got the humour ofit."When do you leave?" said Hurstwood to Drouet."On Wednesday," he replied."It's rather hard to have your husband running about like that,isn't it?" said Hurstwood, addressing Carrie."She's going along with me this time," said Drouet."You must both go with me to the theatre before you go.""Certainly," said Drouet. "Eh, Carrie?""I'd like it ever so much," she replied.Hurstwood did his best to see that Carrie won the money. Herejoiced in her success, kept counting her winnings, and finallygathered and put them in her extended hand. They spread a littlelunch, at which he served the wine, and afterwards he used finetact in going."Now," he said, addressing first Carrie and then Drouet with hiseyes, "you must be ready at 7.30. I'll come and get you."They went with him to the door and there was his cab waiting, itsred lamps gleaming cheerfully in the shadow."Now," he observed to Drouet, with a tone of good-fellowship,"when you leave your wife alone, you must let me show her arounda little. It will break up her loneliness.""Sure," said Drouet, quite pleased at the attention shown."You're so kind," observed Carrie."Not at all," said Hurstwood, "I would want your husband to do asmuch for me."He smiled and went lightly away. Carrie was thoroughlyimpressed. She had never come in contact with such grace. Asfor Drouet, he was equally pleased."There's a nice man," he remarked to Carrie, as they returned totheir cosey chamber. "A good friend of mine, too.""He seems to be," said Carrie.