Chapter XX

by Theodore Dreiser

　　THE LURE OF THE SPIRIT--THE FLESH IN PURSUITPassion in a man of Hurstwood's nature takes a vigorous form. Itis no musing, dreamy thing. There is none of the tendency tosing outside of my lady's window--to languish and repine in theface of difficulties. In the night he was long getting to sleepbecause of too much thinking, and in the morning he was earlyawake, seizing with alacrity upon the same dear subject andpursuing it with vigour. He was out of sorts physically, as wellas disordered mentally, for did he not delight in a new manner inhis Carrie, and was not Drouet in the way? Never was man moreharassed than he by the thoughts of his love being held by theelated, flush-mannered drummer. He would have given anything, itseemed to him, to have the complication ended--to have Carrieacquiesce to an arrangement which would dispose of Droueteffectually and forever.What to do. He dressed thinking. He moved about in the samechamber with his wife, unmindful of her presence.At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. The meat towhich he helped himself remained on his plate untouched. Hiscoffee grew cold, while he scanned the paper indifferently. Hereand there he read a little thing, but remembered nothing.Jessica had not yet come down. His wife sat at one end of thetable revolving thoughts of her own in silence. A new servanthad been recently installed and had forgot the napkins. On thisaccount the silence was irritably broken by a reproof."I've told you about this before, Maggie," said Mrs. Hurstwood."I'm not going to tell you again."Hurstwood took a glance at his wife. She was frowning. Just nowher manner irritated him excessively. Her next remark wasaddressed to him."Have you made up your mind, George, when you will take yourvacation?"It was customary for them to discuss the regular summer outing atthis season of the year."Not yet," he said, "I'm very busy just now.""Well, you'll want to make up your mind pretty soon, won't you,if we're going?" she returned."I guess we have a few days yet," he said."Hmff," she returned. "Don't wait until the season's over."She stirred in aggravation as she said this."There you go again," he observed. "One would think I never didanything, the way you begin.""Well, I want to know about it," she reiterated."You've got a few days yet," he insisted. "You'll not want tostart before the races are over."He was irritated to think that this should come up when he wishedto have his thoughts for other purposes."Well, we may. Jessica doesn't want to stay until the end of theraces.""What did you want with a season ticket, then?""Uh!" she said, using the sound as an exclamation of disgust,"I'll not argue with you," and therewith arose to leave thetable."Say," he said, rising, putting a note of determination in hisvoice which caused her to delay her departure, "what's the matterwith you of late? Can't I talk with you any more?""Certainly, you can TALK with me," she replied, laying emphasison the word."Well, you wouldn't think so by the way you act. Now, you wantto know when I'll be ready--not for a month yet. Maybe notthen.""We'll go without you.""You will, eh?" he sneered."Yes, we will."He was astonished at the woman's determination, but it onlyirritated him the more."Well, we'll see about that. It seems to me you're trying to runthings with a pretty high hand of late. You talk as though yousettled my affairs for me. Well, you don't. You don't regulateanything that's connected with me. If you want to go, go, butyou won't hurry me by any such talk as that."He was thoroughly aroused now. His dark eyes snapped, and hecrunched his paper as he laid it down. Mrs. Hurstwood saidnothing more. He was just finishing when she turned on her heeland went out into the hall and upstairs. He paused for a moment,as if hesitating, then sat down and drank a little coffee, andthereafter arose and went for his hat and gloves upon the mainfloor.His wife had really not anticipated a row of this character. Shehad come down to the breakfast table feeling a little out ofsorts with herself and revolving a scheme which she had in hermind. Jessica had called her attention to the fact that theraces were not what they were supposed to be. The socialopportunities were not what they had thought they would be thisyear. The beautiful girl found going every day a dull thing.There was an earlier exodus this year of people who were anybodyto the watering places and Europe. In her own circle ofacquaintances several young men in whom she was interested hadgone to Waukesha. She began to feel that she would like to gotoo, and her mother agreed with her.Accordingly, Mrs. Hurstwood decided to broach the subject. Shewas thinking this over when she came down to the table, but forsome reason the atmosphere was wrong. She was not sure, after itwas all over, just how the trouble had begun. She was determinednow, however, that her husband was a brute, and that, under nocircumstances, would she let this go by unsettled. She wouldhave more lady-like treatment or she would know why.For his part, the manager was loaded with the care of this newargument until he reached his office and started from there tomeet Carrie. Then the other complications of love, desire, andopposition possessed him. His thoughts fled on before him uponeagles' wings. He could hardly wait until he should meet Carrieface to face. What was the night, after all, without her--whatthe day? She must and should be his.For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy and feelingsince she had left him, the night before. She had listened toDrouet's enthusiastic maunderings with much regard for that partwhich concerned herself, with very little for that which affectedhis own gain. She kept him at such lengths as she could, becauseher thoughts were with her own triumph. She felt Hurstwood'spassion as a delightful background to her own achievement, andshe wondered what he would have to say. She was sorry for him,too, with that peculiar sorrow which finds somethingcomplimentary to itself in the misery of another. She was nowexperiencing the first shades of feeling of that subtle changewhich removes one out of the ranks of the suppliants into thelines of the dispensers of charity. She was, all in all,exceedingly happy.On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the papersconcerning the event, and, in view of the flow of common,everyday things about, it now lost a shade of the glow of theprevious evening. Drouet himself was not talking so much OF asFOR her. He felt instinctively that, for some reason or other,he needed reconstruction in her regard."I think," he said, as he spruced around their chambers the nextmorning, preparatory to going down town, "that I'll straightenout that little deal of mine this month and then we'll getmarried. I was talking with Mosher about that yesterday.""No, you won't," said Carrie, who was coming to feel a certainfaint power to jest with the drummer."Yes, I will," he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, adding,with the tone of one who pleads, "Don't you believe what I'vetold you?"Carrie laughed a little."Of course I do," she answered.Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was his mentalobservation, there was that in the things which had happenedwhich made his little power of analysis useless. Carrie wasstill with him, but not helpless and pleading. There was a liltin her voice which was new. She did not study him with eyesexpressive of dependence. The drummer was feeling the shadow ofsomething which was coming. It coloured his feelings and madehim develop those little attentions and say those little wordswhich were mere forefendations against danger.Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for hermeeting with Hurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which wassoon made, and hastened down the stairs. At the corner shepassed Drouet, but they did not see each other.The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn intohis house. He hastened up the stairs and burst into the room,but found only the chambermaid, who was cleaning up."Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?""Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes ago.""That's strange," thought Drouet. "She didn't say a word to me.I wonder where she went?"He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he wanted,and finally pocketing it. Then he turned his attention to hisfair neighbour, who was good-looking and kindly disposed towardshim."What are you up to?" he said, smiling."Just cleaning," she replied, stopping and winding a dustingtowel about her hand."Tired of it?""Not so very.""Let me show you something," he said, affably, coming over andtaking out of his pocket a little lithographed card which hadbeen issued by a wholesale tobacco company. On this was printeda picture of a pretty girl, holding a striped parasol, thecolours of which could be changed by means of a revolving disk inthe back, which showed red, yellow, green, and blue throughlittle interstices made in the ground occupied by the umbrellatop."Isn't that clever?" he said, handing it to her and showing herhow it worked. "You never saw anything like that before.""Isn't it nice?" she answered."You can have it if you want it," he remarked."That's a pretty ring you have," he said, touching a commonplacesetting which adorned the hand holding the card he had given her."Do you think so?""That's right," he answered, making use of a pretence atexamination to secure her finger. "That's fine."The ice being thus broken, he launched into further observationpretending to forget that her fingers were still retained by his.She soon withdrew them, however, and retreated a few feet to restagainst the window-sill."I didn't see you for a long time," she said, coquettishly,repulsing one of his exuberant approaches. "You must have beenaway.""I was," said Drouet."Do you travel far?""Pretty far--yes.""Do you like it?""Oh, not very well. You get tired of it after a while.""I wish I could travel," said the girl, gazing idly out of thewindow."What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood?" she suddenlyasked, bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her ownobservation, seemed to contain promising material."He's here in town. What makes you ask about him?""Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got back.""How did you come to know him?""Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last month?""Get out," said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called morethan half a dozen times since we've been here.""He hasn't, eh?" said the girl, smiling. "That's all you knowabout it."Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was uncertain asto whether she was joking or not."Tease," he said, "what makes you smile that way?""Oh, nothing.""Have you seen him recently?""Not since you came back," she laughed."Before?""Certainly.""How often?""Why, nearly every day."She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering whatthe effect of her words would be."Who did he come to see?" asked the drummer, incredulously."Mrs. Drouet."He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then attempted tocorrect himself so as not to appear a dupe."Well," he said, "what of it?""Nothing," replied the girl, her head cocked coquettishly on oneside."He's an old friend," he went on, getting deeper into the mire.He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, but thetaste for it was temporarily removed. He was quite relieved whenthe girl's named was called from below."I've got to go," she said, moving away from him airily."I'll see you later," he said, with a pretence of disturbance atbeing interrupted.When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. His face,never easily controlled by him, expressed all the perplexity anddisturbance which he felt. Could it be that Carrie had receivedso many visits and yet said nothing about them? Was Hurstwoodlying? What did the chambermaid mean by it, anyway? He hadthought there was something odd about Carrie's manner at thetime. Why did she look so disturbed when he had asked her howmany times Hurstwood had called? By George! He remembered now.There was something strange about the whole thing.He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, drawing upone leg on his knee and frowning mightily. His mind ran on at agreat rate.And yet Carrie hadn't acted out of the ordinary. It couldn't be,by George, that she was deceiving him. She hadn't acted thatway. Why, even last night she had been as friendly toward him ascould be, and Hurstwood too. Look how they acted! He couldhardly believe they would try to deceive him.His thoughts burst into words."She did act sort of funny at times. Here she had dressed, andgone out this morning and never said a word."He scratched his head and prepared to go down town. He was stillfrowning. As he came into the hall he encountered the girl, whowas now looking after another chamber. She had on a whitedusting cap, beneath which her chubby face shone good-naturedly.Drouet almost forgot his worry in the fact that she was smilingon him. He put his hand familiarly on her shoulder, as if onlyto greet her in passing."Got over being mad?" she said, still mischievously inclined."I'm not mad," he answered."I thought you were," she said, smiling."Quit your fooling about that," he said, in an offhand way."Were you serious?""Certainly," she answered. Then, with an air of one who did notintentionally mean to create trouble, "He came lots of times. Ithought you knew."The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did not try tosimulate indifference further."Did he spend the evenings here?" he asked."Sometimes. Sometimes they went out.""In the evening?""Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though.""I'm not," he said. "Did any one else see him?""Of course," said the girl, as if, after all, it were nothing inparticular."How long ago was this?""Just before you came back."The drummer pinched his lip nervously."Don't say anything, will you?" he asked, giving the girl's arm agentle squeeze."Certainly not," she returned. "I wouldn't worry over it.""All right," he said, passing on, seriously brooding for once,and yet not wholly unconscious of the fact that he was making amost excellent impression upon the chambermaid."I'll see her about that," he said to himself, passionately,feeling that he had been unduly wronged. "I'll find out,b'George, whether she'll act that way or not."