Sister Carrie / Сестра Кэрри. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“If we could have such a home as that,” said Mrs. Hale sadly, “how delightful it would be.”

“And yet they do say,” said Carrie, “that no one is ever happy.”

She had heard so much of the canting philosophy of the grapeless fox[61].

“I notice,” said Mrs. Hale, “that they all try mighty hard, though, to take their misery in a mansion.”

When she came to her own rooms, Carrie saw their comparative insignificance. She was not so dull but that she could perceive they were but three small rooms in a moderately well-furnished boarding-house. She was not contrasting it now with what she had had, but what she had so recently seen. The glow of the palatial doors was still in her eye, the roll of cushioned carriages still in her ears. What, after all, was Drouet? What was she? At her window, she thought it over, rocking to and fro, and gazing out across the lamp-lit park toward the lamp-lit houses on Warren and Ashland avenues. She was too wrought up to care to go down to eat, too pensive to do aught but rock and sing. Some old tunes crept to her lips, and, as she sang them, her heart sank. She longed and longed and longed. It was now for the old cottage room in Columbia City, now the mansion upon the Shore Drive, now the fine dress of some lady, now the elegance of some scene. She was sad beyond measure, and yet uncertain, wishing, fancying. Finally, it seemed as if all her state was one of loneliness and forsakenness, and she could scarce refrain from trembling at the lip. She hummed and hummed as the moments went by, sitting in the shadow by the window, and was therein as happy, though she did not perceive it, as she ever would be.

While Carrie was still in this frame of mind, the house-servant brought up the intelligence that Mr. Hurstwood was in the parlor asking to see Mr. and Mrs. Drouet.

“I guess he doesn’t know that Charlie is out of town,” thought Carrie.

She had seen comparatively little of the manager during the winter, but had been kept constantly in mind of him by one thing and another, principally by the strong impression he had made. She was quite disturbed for the moment as to her appearance, but soon satisfied herself by the aid of the mirror, and went below.

Hurstwood was in his best form, as usual. He hadn’t heard that Drouet was out of town. He was but slightly affected by the intelligence, and devoted himself to the more general topics which would interest Carrie. It was surprising – the ease with which he conducted a conversation. He was like every man who has had the advantage of practice and knows he has sympathy. He knew that Carrie listened to him pleasurably, and, without the least effort, he fell into a train of observation which absorbed her fancy. He drew up his chair and modulated his voice to such a degree that what he said seemed wholly confidential. He confined himself almost exclusively to his observation of men and pleasures. He had been here and there, he had seen this and that. Somehow he made Carrie wish to see similar things, and all the while kept her aware of himself. She could not shut out the consciousness of his individuality and presence for a moment. He would raise his eyes slowly in smiling emphasis of something, and she was fixed by their magnetism. He would draw out, with the easiest grace, her approval. Once he touched her hand for emphasis and she only smiled. He seemed to radiate an atmosphere which suffused her being. He was never dull for a minute, and seemed to make her clever. At least, she brightened under his influence until all her best side was exhibited. She felt that she was more clever with him than with others. At least, he seemed to find so much in her to applaud. There was not the slightest touch of patronage. Drouet was full of it.

There had been something so personal, so subtle, in each meeting between them, both when Drouet was present and when he was absent, that Carrie could not speak of it without feeling a sense of difficulty. She was no talker. She could never arrange her thoughts in fluent order. It was always a matter of feeling with her, strong and deep. Each time there had been no sentence of importance which she could relate, and as for the glances and sensations, what woman would reveal them? Such things had never been between her and Drouet. As a matter of fact, they could never be. She had been dominated by distress and the enthusiastic forces of relief which Drouet represented at an opportune moment when she yielded to him. Now she was persuaded by secret current feelings which Drouet had never understood. Hurstwood’s glance was as effective as the spoken words of a lover, and more. They called for no immediate decision, and could not be answered.

People in general attach too much importance to words. They are under the illusion that talking effects great results. As a matter of fact, words are, as a rule, the shallowest portion of all the argument. They but dimly represent the great surging feelings and desires which lie behind. When the distraction of the tongue is removed, the heart listens.

In this conversation she heard, instead of his words, the voices of the things which he represented. How suave was the counsel of his appearance![62] How feelingly did his superior state speak for itself! The growing desire he felt for her lay upon her spirit as a gentle hand. She did not need to tremble at all, because it was invisible; she did not need to worry over what other people would say – what she herself would say – because it had no tangibility. She was being pleaded with, persuaded, led into denying old rights and assuming new ones, and yet there were no words to prove it. Such conversation as was indulged in held the same relationship to the actual mental enactments of the twain that the low music of the orchestra does to the dramatic incident which it is used to cover.

“Have you ever seen the houses along the Lake Shore on the North Side?” asked Hurstwood.

“Why, I was just over there this afternoon – Mrs. Hale and I. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They’re very fine,” he answered.

“Oh, me,” said Carrie, pensively. “I wish I could live in such a place.”

“You’re not happy,” said Hurstwood, 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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Примечания

1

satchel – сумка

2

Whatever touch of regret at parting characterized her given up. – Если у нее и были сожаления при расставании, то они исчезли.

3

fedora hat – мягкая фетровая шляпа

4

traveling canvasser – коммивояжер

5

drummers – (амер.; разг.) коммивояжер, «зазывала»

6

masher – щеголь, серцеед

7

insignia of the Order of Elks – эмблема тайного ордена Лосей

8

aroused by memories of longings their show windows had cost her – оживившись при воспоминании о страстных желаниях, которые она испытала, стоя перед их витринами

9

You want to see Lincoln Park – Вы непременно должны осмотреть Линкольн-парк

10

Her sister carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil. – Вид сестры свидетельствовал о беспросветности ее жизни, наполненной тяжелым трудом.

11

steady round of toil with her – привычный круг ее обязанностей

12

shanties and coal-yards – лачуг и угольных складов

13

much as inquiring her name – даже не спросив, как ее зовут

14

to avoid taciturn replies – избегать вопросов, которые могли остаться без ответа

15

She would speak for that when silent on all else. – Она могла бы молчать о чем угодно, но только не об этом.

16

gingham apron – холщовый фартук

17

Gee, but he was a mark. – Здурово, его было видно издалека.

18

Duffer. – Болван.

19

Rubber! – Клизма!

20

He’s too fresh. – Он ужастный нахал.

21

rich young “rounders” – богатые молодые бездельники

22

Laid up, they say, … Say, he’s a gouty old boy! – Болен, говорят … Старик страдает подагрой!

23

high hat and Prince Albert coat – в цилиндре и сюртуке

24

when the little toiler was bemoaning her narrow lot – когда маленькая труженица оплакивала свою жалкую долю

25

“Well,” he said, as he took her arm – and there was an exuberance of good-fellowship in the word which fairly warmed the cockles of her heart. – Ну, – сказал он, беря ее под руку, и в тоне его было столько простого товарищеского чувства, что у девушки стало тепло на душе.

26

Hashed brown potatoes. – Жаренный картофель.

27

all the rage that fall – крик моды в ту осень

28

wavered in mind – была в нерешительности

29

but this swept the whole fore-schemed situation by the board – но это «смыло» все заранее заготовленные фразы «за борт»

30

Drouet seemed of her own spirit and pleasing. – Друэ, казалось, полностью понимал ее и был таким приятным.

31

He would be out on the road and she could be working. – Он бы отправился в деловую поездку, а она могла бы поработать.

32

… what are you looking so blue about? – … о чем грустим?

33

Say, that fits like a T (tee)… – Вот это да! Подходит тютелька в тютельку…

34

You stick to me and we’ll have a coach. – Держитесь за меня и у нас будет свой экипаж

35

They had been dawdling over the dishes. – Они уже давно сидели над пустыми тарелками.

36

game of euchre – юкер (род карточной игры)

37

Sec – (фр.) сухой (о вине)

38

steam launch – паровая яхта

39

He says it's a dandy. – Он говорил, что она превосходна.

40

a local aldermanic junket – развлекательная поездка членов местного муниципалитета

41

Wherefore, villain, hast thou failed? – А потому, о преступница, как смела ты перешагнуть за пределы дозволенного?

42

That was a little, green-carpeted breathing spot than which, today, there is nothing more beautiful in Chicago. – И тогда уже эта площадь, красивее которой нет сейчас в Чикаго, представляла собой сплошной зеленый газон.

43

jardiniиres – (фр.) жардиньерка

44

pier-glass mirror – трюмо

45

Welsh rarebits – гренки по-валлийски (с сыром)

46

The finest resort in town. It’s a way-up, smell place. – Один из самых излюбленных баров в городе. Шикарное место.

47

He was lucky in the fact that opportunity tumbled into his lap – Ему повезло, что удача сама свалилась ему в руки

48

I won’t stand a ghost of a show – у меня нет шансов выстоять

49

sharp – знаток, мастак

50

dimes – американская монета в 10 центов

51

Fine stepper, wasn’t she? – Прекрасная походка, не правда ли?

52

he must be all in all to each – он должен целиком отдавать себя каждой

53

It was the ancient attraction of the fresh for the stale. – Вечное влечение увядающего к юному и свежему.

54

gossamer threads – легкие нити паутины

55

I’m afraid you keep her cooped up out there. – Мне кажется, вы держите ее взаперти.

56

Not me – Вот уж неправда

57

spick and span – с иголочки, нарядно, изящно

58

parquet – (амер.) передние ряды партера

59

he looked carefully about him and counted the cost of every inch of conspicuity – он внимательно следил, чтобы его присутствие не было замечено

60

Governor – (разг.) отец

61

canting philosophy of the grapeless fox – лицемерных рассуждений о лисе и зеленом винограде

62

How suave was the counsel of his appearance! – Как красноречиво говорила за него его внешность!