Chapter 10 Chapter Ten Winter's Advice: The Messenger of Happiness Visits

Carrie's state of mind is worth exploring in light of the world's attitudes toward women and their responsibilities. Her behavior is measured by artificially arbitrary yardsticks, and society has traditional standards by which everything is judged: men should be good, women should be Have chastity. Therefore we have to ask: Wicked man, why did you fall? Although Spencer and modern natural philosophers have done a lot of analysis, our understanding of morality is still very naive and superficial. Moral problems cannot be explained by the theory of evolution alone. It is not enough to simply conform to the laws of everything in the world, because moral problems Deeper than that, and more complex than we have hitherto comprehended. First, who can answer why the heart vibrates? And who can explain why some sad tunes are popular and enduring in the world? And finally, who can say What kind of alchemy makes the roses always full of flowers regardless of the weather, like red lights hanging high on the branches? The essence of these facts contains the most basic principles of morality.

"Ah," thought Drouet, "my victory is marvelous." "Oh," said Carrie, sadly and worriedly, "what have I lost?" We face this age-old question and ponder it, both interested and confused, trying to find out the true meaning of morality and seek the real answer to right behavior. By the standards of certain classes of society, Carrie is now comfortable enough. . . in the eyes of those who starve and suffer from cold and rain, she is now at peace Drouet rented three furnished rooms on the West Side at Oden Square, just across from Union Park, a little place with green grass and fresh air, the beauty of which is nowhere to be found in Chicago these days. The view from the windows was wonderful and delightful. The best room overlooked the lawn of the park. There was a small lake in the green grass. The bare branches swayed in the cold wind, and the treetops rose behind. The steeple of the Union Park Congregational Church, and in the distance, there are several church towers.

The room is comfortably furnished. The floor is covered with a beautiful Brussels carpet, and a large vase pattern filled with exotic flowers is woven on the bright background of dark red and light yellow. There is a large full-length mirror between the two windows. In one corner stood a large soft couch, covered with green terry velvet, and some rocking chairs were scattered about. Some pictures, some small rugs, and a few curios, these were the interior of the room. All are furnished. In the bedroom at the back of the front room was a large trunk of Carrie's, which Drouet had bought for her. There was a long line of clothes hanging in the closet.... She had never had so many clothes, and so many styles. It suits her so well. There is another room, which is intended to be a kitchen, where Drouet has asked Carrie to install a simple portable gas stove, in order to cook simple meals and Drouet's favorite oysters and cheese bread. There was a bathroom at the end. The whole house was comfortable, gas-lit, and thermoregulated, with a grate lined with asbestos, which was just introduced at the time, and it was impressive. It was very comfortable and pleasant. As Carrie's natural industriousness and cleanliness had developed, the place was very comfortably and pleasantly kept.

It was in this comfortable place that Carrie settled down, freed from the difficulties of life which had been threatening her, but at the same time she was burdened with many psychological burdens. It was possible that her relationships had changed so much. Think of her as a newcomer saying farewell to the old. She sees a prettier Carrie in the mirror, but in the mirror in her head, she sees a uglier Carrie than before. The mirror represented her own and worldly opinions. She wavered between the two images, not knowing which to believe. "My God, what a beauty you are!" Drouet liked to exclaim to her often.

So she looked at him with wide open eyes and joy. "You know how beautiful you are, don't you?" he would go on. "Well, I don't know," she answered, and she could not help being glad that someone thought she was beautiful. Though she believed she was beautiful, she could not be sure, lest she should be too vain and think too highly of herself. But her conscience does not flatter her like Drouet does. She hears another voice from her conscience. To this voice she justifies, pleads, excuses herself. After all, this conscience is not A wise and upright counselor. It is only the petty conscience of the vulgar, mixed with the opinions of the world, and the influence of her past circumstances, habits, customs. With this conscience, the voice of the world is really heard as the voice of God.

"Alas, you are fallen!" said the voice. "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Look at the people around you," said the voice softly, "look at the nice people. They don't bother to do what you do. Look at the nice girls. If they know you're so irresistible , they will avoid you. You give up trying without fighting." Carrie would hear this voice speaking to her when she was alone at home, looking out of the window at the park. Not very often though... only when nothing else interrupted her, The comfort of the house was not too strong, and the sound came only when Drouet was away. It was clear at first, but Carrie was never quite convinced, for she always had something to answer: the threat of severe winter in December. , she was lonely, she was in need, she was afraid of the howling wind, etc. The voice of poverty answered for her.

Once the bright summer is over, the city is covered with gray air. Throughout the long winter, it wears this gray coat and engages in various activities. The countless buildings, the sky, and the streets are covered with A layer of gray tones was added. The bare trees and the dust and waste paper flying in the wind added to the gloomy and severe atmosphere. The cold wind swept across the long and narrow streets, and there seemed to be something in the wind that aroused people's attention. It is not only poets, artists, or gentlemen with delicate feelings who feel this melancholy. Even dogs and ordinary people are affected. They feel as deeply as poets, but they cannot express their feelings like poets The sparrows perched on the electric wires, the cats hiding in the door openings, and the shaft horses trudging with heavy loads all felt the breath of the long and bitter winter. Everything in the world, all living and inanimate things, deeply felt It pierces the heart. If it weren't for the joyful fires, the commercial activities for profit, the amusement parks that sell joy, the usual display of goods in and out of the shops, and the colorful things in the streets. Signboards, without bustling customers, we will quickly feel the heavy hand of cold winter on our hearts. When encountering rainy days, the sun refuses to give us the light and heat we deserve. It is frustrating. Our dependence on light and heat is far beyond the imagination of ordinary people. We are just a group of insects bred by light and heat. Without light and heat, we will cease to exist.

In this gray and cold winter, the secret voice of conscience becomes weaker and weaker. This kind of ideological struggle does not come to mind all the time. Carrie is not a sullen person, nor does she have the determination not to give up until the truth is reached. There was a way out, so she simply gave up thinking about it. Drouet's behavior during this period was exemplary of his kind. He took her about, spent money on her, and even took her with him on business. When he was doing business in the neighborhood, he sometimes I will also leave her alone at home for two or three days. But generally speaking, they are often together.

Not long after they had thus settled, Drouet said one morning: "Listen, Carrie, I have asked my friend Hurstwood to come over to our house some evening." "Who is he?" asked Carrie suspiciously. "Oh, he's the manager of the Fermer's, and he's a nice guy." "And what about the tavern?" "It's the best restaurant in town, and it's a luxurious place." For a moment Carrie was perplexed. She thought of Drouet's words, and wondered how she should behave in such a situation. "Never mind," said Drouet, reading her thoughts; "he doesn't know anything. You are Mrs. Drouet now."

This seemed to Carrie somewhat flippant and inconsiderate. She could see that Drouet's feelings were not so delicate. "Why don't we get married?" she couldn't help asking, remembering his vows. "Well, of course we're going to get married," said he, "as soon as my little business is out of the way." He meant an estate. He had told her that he had the estate in hand, that he needed to worry about it and put it in order, and the like. Solve your personal problems with peace of mind. "We'll be married when I get back from business in Denver in January."

Carrie took these words as a foundation of hope...it was a consolation to her conscience, a pleasant solution. Once they were married, her error was righted, her Behavior is beyond reproach. As a matter of fact, she did not love Drouet. She was wiser than he, and dimly saw his faults. If this were not the case, if she could not appreciate and know him, her situation would be very difficult. It will be worse, because she will love him. She will be afraid of not being loved by him, afraid of losing his favor, afraid of being abandoned and homeless. She will be tortured by these worries. And now, she Her feelings were a little wavering. At first she was eager to get him completely, and then she took it easy and waited patiently. She was not yet sure what she thought of him, or what she wanted to do. When Hurstwood called, she found him in every way wiser than Drouet. He paid her a compliment that every woman would appreciate. His greatest charm is his attentiveness. He has been trained by his profession to please those happy fellow men, the businessmen and high professionals who patronize his hotel. So, when he meets a person who fascinates him, he will certainly Will use more subtle means to gain favor. A beautiful woman, no matter what kind of beautiful emotion she has, always inspires him to display his greatest charm. He is gentle, quiet, confident, and gives the impression that he only wants to serve you ...what can be done to make the lady happier. Drouet was good at such matters, too, if he thought it worth the effort. But he was too conceited, and lacked Hurstwood's gentleness. He was too frivolous, too gay, too Confidence. He often succeeds in seducing girls who are fledgling and inexperienced in love. But when he meets a woman with a little experience and high sentiments, he can't do anything. He can't succeed. In Carrie, what he saw was One kind of girl, not the former. In fact, he was too lucky for the opportunity to present itself. In a few years, when Carrie had a little experience and life was a little smoother, he would never even try to get close to her. "You ought to have a piano here, Drouet," said Hurstwood that evening, smiling at Carrie, "so your wife can play." Drouet had not thought of this. "Yes, we should buy one," he said cheerfully. "I can't play," said Carrie courageously. "It's easy to learn," replied Hurstwood, "and you'll be pretty good at it in a few weeks." He was in the best spirits that night for the amusement. He wore a new suit of particular fineness, with the collar turned down sharply, and was evidently made of the finest materials. The waistcoat was of expensive Scotch tweed, There were two rows of mother-of-pearl buttons, and his cravat was of shining silk, neither fancy nor sober. His clothes were not as striking as Drouet's, but Carrie could see the material. Hurstwood wore black shoes of soft calfskin, polished only to a faint shine. Drouet wore patent leather shoes. But Carrie felt that fine clothes should go well with soft shoes. Good leather shoes. She noticed these details almost unconsciously. She was used to Drouet's clothes, and on this occasion, these details showed themselves naturally. "Shall we play yuca poker?" proposed Hurstwood, after some talk. He was tactful, avoiding any subject which would suggest that he knew of Carrie's past. His conversation was quite impersonal, Talked only of things that had nothing to do with anyone. Carrie was at ease by his manner, and pleased by his attentions and good humor. He assumed seriousness and interest in every word she said. An air of interest. "I can't play cards," said Carrie. "Charlie, you are not doing your duty," he said to Drouet, very amiably. "But," he went on, "we can teach you together." He was so articulate that Drouet felt that he admired his choice. His every move expressed his willingness to be with them. Drouet then felt closer to him, and this increased his affection for Carrie. Hurstwood's appreciation gave him a new appreciation of her beauty. The atmosphere was greatly enlivened. "Come, let me see your cards," said Hurstwood, looking politely over Carrie's back. "What cards do you have?" He looked at them for a while. "Your cards are very good," he said. Say. "You're lucky. Come, I'll teach you how to beat your husband. You listen to me." "Well," said Drouet, "if you two collude and cheat, I shall have no hope of winning. Hurstwood has always been a good player." "No, it's your wife. She brings me luck. Why can't she win?" Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at Drouet. Hurstwood put on an air of a simple friend, as if he were only here to pass the time pleasantly, and all Carrie was doing was to amuse him. . "Very well," said he, not playing his good cards, so as to give Carrie a chance to win, "I think a beginner can play like this, and the results are not bad." Carrie smiled happily when she saw that she was going to win the game. With Hurstwood helping her, she seemed invincible. He did not look at her very often. When he did, it was only with gentle eyes. There was only pleasure and kindness in his eyes, and there was no trace of evil. He put away his cunning and shrewdness, and showed His face was upright. Carrie had no doubts that he was engrossed in the enjoyment of the game before him. She could feel that he thought she played well. "It's not fair to play cards without a lottery head," he said after a while, putting his fingers into the pocket of his jacket, "and let's put a dime bet." "Good," said Drouet, going to get his money. But Hurstwood was ahead of him, and had brought out a fistful full of new dimes. "Here," he said, making a small pile of coins before each one. "Oh, it's gambling," said Carrie, laughing, "it's not good." "Never mind," said Drouet, "it's just for fun. If you only bet ten cents, you can still go to heaven." "Don't talk morality to us yet," said Hurstwood gently to Carrie, "and wait until we see who wins the money." Drouet smiled. "If your husband wins money, he'll tell you how bad it is to gamble." Drouet laughed out loud. Hurstwood spoke flatteringly, and his meaning was so obvious that even Carrie caught the humor in it. "When are you going?" Hurstwood asked Drouet. "Wednesday," he replied. "It's a disgrace that your husband is so often, isn't it?" said Hurstwood to Carrie. "She's going with me this time," said Drouet. "Before you go, be sure to go to a play with me." "No problem," said Drouet. "What do you say, Carrie?" "I would love to," she answered. Hurstwood managed to get Carrie to win the money as best he could. He was glad she had won, counted her winnings over and over, and finally piled them together and placed them in her outstretched hand. Then they ate together. There was a snack. During the meal, he poured wine for everyone. After the meal, he took his leave very tactfully. "By the way," he said, looking first at Carrie and then at Drouet, "you should be ready at seven-thirty, and I'll fetch you." They accompanied him to the door. There stood his carriage, its red light glowing cheerfully in the darkness. "Listen," he said to Drouet, in the tone of an old friend, "the next time you leave your wife alone, you must let me take her out to play, so that she will not be so lonely." "All right," said Drouet, pleased with Hurstwood's kindness. "You are too kind," said Carrie. "It's nothing," said Hurstwood. "I'd expect your husband to take such good care of me." He smiled and walked briskly, impressing Carrie. She had never been in the society of such a bearing. As for Drouet, he felt the same pleasure. "A very nice fellow," he said to her, when they were back in their comfortable room, "and very friendly with me." "It seems so," said Carrie.