Chapter XXVI

by Theodore Dreiser

　　THE AMBASSADOR FALLEN--A SEARCH FOR THE GATECarrie, left alone by Drouet, listened to his retreating steps,scarcely realising what had happened. She knew that he hadstormed out. It was some moments before she questioned whetherhe would return, not now exactly, but ever. She looked aroundher upon the rooms, out of which the evening light was dying, andwondered why she did not feel quite the same towards them. Shewent over to the dresser and struck a match, lighting the gas.Then she went back to the rocker to think.It was some time before she could collect her thoughts, but whenshe did, this truth began to take on importance. She was quitealone. Suppose Drouet did not come back? Suppose she shouldnever hear anything more of him? This fine arrangement ofchambers would not last long. She would have to quit them.To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on Hurstwood.She could only approach that subject with a pang of sorrow andregret. For a truth, she was rather shocked and frightened bythis evidence of human depravity. He would have tricked herwithout turning an eyelash. She would have been led into a newerand worse situation. And yet she could not keep out the picturesof his looks and manners. Only this one deed seemed strange andmiserable. It contrasted sharply with all she felt and knewconcerning the man.But she was alone. That was the greater thought just at present.How about that? Would she go out to work again? Would she beginto look around in the business district? The stage! Oh, yes.Drouet had spoken about that. Was there any hope there? Shemoved to and fro, in deep and varied thoughts, while the minutesslipped away and night fell completely. She had had nothing toeat, and yet there she sat, thinking it over.She remembered that she was hungry and went to the littlecupboard in the rear room where were the remains of one of theirbreakfasts. She looked at these things with certain misgivings.The contemplation of food had more significance than usual.While she was eating she began to wonder how much money she had.It struck her as exceedingly important, and without ado she wentto look for her purse. It was on the dresser, and in it wereseven dollars in bills and some change. She quailed as shethought of the insignificance of the amount and rejoiced becausethe rent was paid until the end of the month. She began also tothink what she would have done if she had gone out into thestreet when she first started. By the side of that situation, asshe looked at it now, the present seemed agreeable. She had alittle time at least, and then, perhaps, everything would comeout all right, after all.Drouet had gone, but what of it? He did not seem seriously angry.He only acted as if he were huffy. He would come back--of coursehe would. There was his cane in the corner. Here was one of hiscollars. He had left his light overcoat in the wardrobe. Shelooked about and tried to assure herself with the sight of adozen such details, but, alas, the secondary thought arrived.Supposing he did come back. Then what?Here was another proposition nearly, if not quite, as disturbing.She would have to talk with and explain to him. He would wanther to admit that he was right. It would be impossible for herto live with him.On Friday Carrie remembered her appointment with Hurstwood, andthe passing of the hour when she should, by all right of promise,have been in his company served to keep the calamity which hadbefallen her exceedingly fresh and clear. In her nervousness andstress of mind she felt it necessary to act, and consequently puton a brown street dress, and at eleven o'clock started to visitthe business portion once again. She must look for work.The rain, which threatened at twelve and began at one, servedequally well to cause her to retrace her steps and remain withindoors as it did to reduce Hurstwood's spirits and give him awretched day.The morrow was Saturday, a half-holiday in many businessquarters, and besides it was a balmy, radiant day, with the treesand grass shining exceedingly green after the rain of the nightbefore. When she went out the sparrows were twittering merrilyin joyous choruses. She could not help feeling, as she lookedacross the lovely park, that life was a joyous thing for thosewho did not need to worry, and she wished over and over thatsomething might interfere now to preserve for her the comfortablestate which she had occupied. She did not want Drouet or hismoney when she thought of it, nor anything more to do withHurstwood, but only the content and ease of mind she hadexperienced, for, after all, she had been happy--happier, atleast, than she was now when confronted by the necessity ofmaking her way alone.When she arrived in the business part it was quite eleveno'clock, and the business had little longer to run. She did notrealise this at first, being affected by some of the old distresswhich was a result of her earlier adventure into this strenuousand exacting quarter. She wandered about, assuring herself thatshe was making up her mind to look for something, and at the sametime feeling that perhaps it was not necessary to be in suchhaste about it. The thing was difficult to encounter, and shehad a few days. Besides, she was not sure that she was reallyface to face again with the bitter problem of self-sustenance.Anyhow, there was one change for the better. She knew that shehad improved in appearance. Her manner had vastly changed. Herclothes were becoming, and men--well-dressed men, some of thekind who before had gazed at her indifferently from behind theirpolished railings and imposing office partitions--now gazed intoher face with a soft light in their eyes. In a way, she felt thepower and satisfaction of the thing, but it did not whollyreassure her. She looked for nothing save what might comelegitimately and without the appearance of special favour. Shewanted something, but no man should buy her by falseprotestations or favour. She proposed to earn her livinghonestly."This store closes at one on Saturdays," was a pleasing andsatisfactory legend to see upon doors which she felt she ought toenter and inquire for work. It gave her an excuse, and afterencountering quite a number of them, and noting that the clockregistered 12.15, she decided that it would be no use to seekfurther to-day, so she got on a car and went to Lincoln Park.There was always something to see there--the flowers, theanimals, the lake--and she flattered herself that on Monday shewould be up betimes and searching. Besides, many things mighthappen between now and Monday.Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heavenknows what vagaries of mind and spirit. Every half-hour in theday the thought would come to her most sharply, like the tail ofa swishing whip, that action--immediate action--was imperative.At other times she would look about her and assure herself thatthings were not so bad--that certainly she would come out safeand sound. At such times she would think of Drouet's adviceabout going on the stage, and saw some chance for herself in thatquarter. She decided to take up that opportunity on the morrow.Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and dressed herselfcarefully. She did not know just how such applications weremade, but she took it to be a matter which related more directlyto the theatre buildings. All you had to do was to inquire ofsome one about the theatre for the manager and ask for aposition. If there was anything, you might get it, or, at least,he could tell you how.She had had no experience with this class of individualswhatsoever, and did not know the salacity and humour of thetheatrical tribe. She only knew of the position which Mr. Haleoccupied, but, of all things, she did not wish to encounter thatpersonage, on account of her intimacy with his wife.There was, however, at this time, one theatre, the Chicago OperaHouse, which was considerably in the public eye, and its manager,David A. Henderson, had a fair local reputation. Carrie had seenone or two elaborate performances there and had heard of severalothers. She knew nothing of Henderson nor of the methods ofapplying, but she instinctively felt that this would be a likelyplace, and accordingly strolled about in that neighbourhood. Shecame bravely enough to the showy entrance way, with the polishedand begilded lobby, set with framed pictures out of the currentattraction, leading up to the quiet box-office, but she could getno further. A noted comic opera comedian was holding forth thatweek, and the air of distinction and prosperity overawed her.She could not imagine that there would be anything in such alofty sphere for her. She almost trembled at the audacity whichmight have carried her on to a terrible rebuff. She could findheart only to look at the pictures which were showy and then walkout. It seemed to her as if she had made a splendid escape andthat it would be foolhardy to think of applying in that quarteragain.This little experience settled her hunting for one day. Shelooked around elsewhere, but it was from the outside. She gotthe location of several playhouses fixed in her mind--notably theGrand Opera House and McVickar's, both of which were leading inattractions--and then came away. Her spirits were materiallyreduced, owing to the newly restored sense of magnitude of thegreat interests and the insignificance of her claims uponsociety, such as she understood them to be.That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter andprotracted stay made it impossible to dwell upon her predicamentor the fortune of the day. Before retiring, however, she satdown to think, and gave herself up to the most gloomyforebodings. Drouet had not put in an appearance. She had hadno word from any quarter, she had spent a dollar of her precioussum in procuring food and paying car fare. It was evident thatshe would not endure long. Besides, she had discovered noresource.In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in VanBuren Street, whom she had not seen since the night of herflight, and to her home at Columbia City, which seemed now a partof something that could not be again. She looked for no refugein that direction. Nothing but sorrow was brought her bythoughts of Hurstwood, which would return. That he could havechosen to dupe her in so ready a manner seemed a cruel thing.Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and speculation.She was in no mood, after her failure of the day before, tohasten forth upon her work-seeking errand, and yet she rebukedherself for what she considered her weakness the day before.Accordingly she started out to revisit the Chicago Opera House,but possessed scarcely enough courage to approach.She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however."Manager of the company or the house?" asked the smartly dressedindividual who took care of the tickets. He was favourablyimpressed by Carrie's looks."I don't know," said Carrie, taken back by the question."You couldn't see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow,"volunteered the young man. "He's out of town."He noted her puzzled look, and then added: "What is it you wishto see about?""I want to see about getting a position," she answered."You'd better see the manager of the company," he returned, "buthe isn't here now.""When will he be in?" asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by thisinformation."Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve. He'shere after two o'clock."Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young mangazed after her through one of the side windows of his gildedcoop."Good-looking," he said to himself, and proceeded to visions ofcondescensions on her part which were exceedingly flattering tohimself.One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing anengagement at the Grand Opera House. Here Carrie asked to seethe manager of the company. She little knew the trivialauthority of this individual, or that had there been a vacancy anactor would have been sent on from New York to fill it."His office is upstairs," said a man in the box-office.Several persons were in the manager's office, two lounging near awindow, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-topdesk--the manager. Carrie glanced nervously about, and began tofear that she should have to make her appeal before the assembledcompany, two of whom--the occupants of the window--were alreadyobserving her carefully."I can't do it," the manager was saying; "it's a rule of Mr.Frohman's never to allow visitors back of the stage. No, no!"Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but no onemotioned her to be seated. The individual to whom the managerhad been talking went away quite crestfallen. That luminarygazed earnestly at some papers before him, as if they were of thegreatest concern."Did you see that in the 'Herald' this morning about Nat Goodwin,Harris?""No," said the person addressed. "What was it?""Made quite a curtain address at Hooley's last night. Betterlook it up."Harris reached over to a table and began to look for the"Herald.""What is it?" said the manager to Carrie, apparently noticing herfor the first time. He thought he was going to be held up forfree tickets.Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at best.She realised that she was a novice, and felt as if a rebuff werecertain. Of this she was so sure that she only wished now topretend she had called for advice."Can you tell me how to go about getting on the stage?"It was the best way after all to have gone about the matter. Shewas interesting, in a manner, to the occupant of the chair, andthe simplicity of her request and attitude took his fancy. Hesmiled, as did the others in the room, who, however, made someslight effort to conceal their humour."I don't know," he answered, looking her brazenly over. "Haveyou ever had any experience upon the stage?""A little," answered Carrie. "I have taken part in amateurperformances."She thought she had to make some sort of showing in order toretain his interest."Never studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an airintended as much to impress his friends with his discretion asCarrie."No, sir.""Well, I don't know," he answered, tipping lazily back in hischair while she stood before him. "What makes you want to get onthe stage?"She felt abashed at the man's daring, but could only smile inanswer to his engaging smirk, and say:"I need to make a living.""Oh," he answered, rather taken by her trim appearance, andfeeling as if he might scrape up an acquaintance with her."That's a good reason, isn't it? Well, Chicago is not a goodplace for what you want to do. You ought to be in New York.There's more chance there. You could hardly expect to getstarted out here." Carrie smiled genially, grateful that heshould condescend to advise her even so much. He noticed thesmile, and put a slightly different construction on it. Hethought he saw an easy chance for a little flirtation."Sit down," he said, pulling a chair forward from the side of hisdesk and dropping his voice so that the two men in the roomshould not hear. Those two gave each other the suggestion of awink."Well, I'll be going, Barney," said one, breaking away and soaddressing the manager. "See you this afternoon.""All right," said the manager.The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read."Did you have any idea what sort of part you would like to get?"asked the manager softly."Oh, no," said Carrie. "I would take anything to begin with.""I see," he said. "Do you live here in the city?""Yes, sir."The manager smiled most blandly."Have you ever tried to get in as a chorus girl?" he asked,assuming a more confidential air.Carrie began to feel that there was something exuberant andunnatural in his manner."No," she said."That's the way most girls begin," he went on, "who go on thestage. It's a good way to get experience."He was turning on her a glance of the companionable andpersuasive manner."I didn't know that," said Carrie."It's a difficult thing," he went on, "but there's always achance, you know." Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he pulledout his watch and consulted it. "I've an appointment at two," hesaid, "and I've got to go to lunch now. Would you care to comeand dine with me? We can talk it over there.""Oh, no," said Carrie, the whole motive of the man flashing onher at once. "I have an engagement myself.""That's too bad," he said, realising that he had been a littlebeforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about to go away."Come in later. I may know of something.""Thank you," she answered, with some trepidation and went out."She was good-looking, wasn't she?" said the manager's companion,who had not caught all the details of the game he had played."Yes, in a way," said the other, sore to think the game had beenlost. "She'd never make an actress, though. Just another chorusgirl--that's all."This little experience nearly destroyed her ambition to call uponthe manager at the Chicago Opera House, but she decided to do soafter a time. He was of a more sedate turn of mind. He said atonce that there was no opening of any sort, and seemed toconsider her search foolish."Chicago is no place to get a start," he said. "You ought to bein New York."Still she persisted, and went to McVickar's, where she could notfind any one. "The Old Homestead" was running there, but theperson to whom she was referred was not to be found.These little expeditions took up her time until quite fouro'clock, when she was weary enough to go home. She felt as ifshe ought to continue and inquire elsewhere, but the results sofar were too dispiriting. She took the car and arrived at OgdenPlace in three-quarters of an hour, but decided to ride on to theWest Side branch of the Post-office, where she was accustomed toreceive Hurstwood's letters. There was one there now, writtenSaturday, which she tore open and read with mingled feelings.There was so much warmth in it and such tense complaint at herhaving failed to meet him, and her subsequent silence, that sherather pitied the man. That he loved her was evident enough.That he had wished and dared to do so, married as he was, was theevil. She felt as if the thing deserved an answer, andconsequently decided that she would write and let him know thatshe knew of his married state and was justly incensed at hisdeception. She would tell him that it was all over between them.At her room, the wording of this missive occupied her for sometime, for she fell to the task at once. It was most difficult."You do not need to have me explain why I did not meet you," shewrote in part. "How could you deceive me so? You cannot expectme to have anything more to do with you. I wouldn't under anycircumstances. Oh, how could you act so?" she added in a burstof feeling. "You have caused me more misery than you can think.I hope you will get over your infatuation for me. We must notmeet any more. Good-bye."She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner droppedit reluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain as to whethershe should do so or not. Then she took the car and went downtown.This was the dull season with the department stores, but she waslistened to with more consideration than was usually accorded toyoung women applicants, owing to her neat and attractiveappearance. She was asked the same old questions with which shewas already familiar."What can you do? Have you ever worked in a retail store before?Are you experienced?"At The Fair, See and Company's, and all the great stores it wasmuch the same. It was the dull season, she might come in alittle later, possibly they would like to have her.When she arrived at the house at the end of the day, weary anddisheartened, she discovered that Drouet had been there. Hisumbrella and light overcoat were gone. She thought she missedother things, but could not be sure. Everything had not beentaken.So his going was crystallising into staying. What was she to donow? Evidently she would be facing the world in the same old waywithin a day or two. Her clothes would get poor. She put hertwo hands together in her customary expressive way and pressedher fingers. Large tears gathered in her eyes and broke hotacross her cheeks. She was alone, very much alone.Drouet really had called, but it was with a very different mindfrom that which Carrie had imagined. He expected to find her, tojustify his return by claiming that he came to get the remainingportion of his wardrobe, and before he got away again to patch upa peace.Accordingly, when he arrived, he was disappointed to find Carrieout. He trifled about, hoping that she was somewhere in theneighbourhood and would soon return. He constantly listened,expecting to hear her foot on the stair.When he did so, it was his intention to make believe that he hadjust come in and was disturbed at being caught. Then he wouldexplain his need of his clothes and find out how things stood.Wait as he did, however, Carrie did not come. From potteringaround among the drawers, in momentary expectation of her arrivalhe changed to looking out of the window, and from that to restinghimself in the rocking-chair. Still no Carrie. He began to growrestless and lit a cigar. After that he walked the floor. Thenhe looked out of the window and saw clouds gathering. Heremembered an appointment at three. He began to think that itwould be useless to wait, and got hold of his umbrella and lightcoat, intending to take these things, any way. It would scareher, he hoped. To-morrow he would come back for the others. Hewould find out how things stood.As he started to go he felt truly sorry that he had missed her.There was a little picture of her on the wall, showing herarrayed in the little jacket he had first bought her--her face alittle more wistful than he had seen it lately. He was reallytouched by it, and looked into the eyes of it with a rather rarefeeling for him."You didn't do me right, Cad," he said, as if he were addressingher in the flesh.Then he went to the door, took a good look around and went out.