Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven: Fashion in Seduction: Emotion in Self-Defense

Carrie was good at learning the ways of the rich, and imitating all the superficial things of the lucky ones. Seeing something, she asked herself what it would look like if it were properly worn on her body. We know, of course Not good feelings, nor wisdom. A wise man does not bother about such things, and a fool does not bother about it. Fresh clothes held a great allure for Carrie. Whenever she approached them, they seemed to be slyly Whispering self-boasting, her heart's desire makes her listen to these voices. Ah, what a voice these inanimate things have! Who shall translate for us the voice of these gems?

"My dear," said the lace cravat from Partridge's, "I look so pretty in you. Don't throw me away." "Oh, such a small foot," said the new pair of moccasins, "how lovely it is to put on me. What a pity it would be without my help." Once these things are in her hands and on her body, she may dream of giving them up. The idea of ​​​​these things coming from wrong sources may cause her so much pain that she does not want to think about it. But she will never Willing to give up these things. Her conscience will cry to her: "Put on those old clothes, put on those old shoes!" But these appeals are in vain. She may be able to overcome the fear of hunger and go back to the old days .Under the final pressure of conscience, she may be able to overcome her resistance to drudgery and the narrow life. But to make her disfigure her face. To put her in rags and look shabby? Absolutely not. arrive!

Drouet contributed to her views on this and other related matters, and further weakened her resistance to material temptations. This can easily happen if other people's views match the desires of our hearts. He argues that He praised her beauty again and again from the bottom of his heart, and he looked at her with such admiration, which made her fully aware of the importance of beauty. At present, she does not have to act like a beautiful woman. But she learns this knowledge very quickly. Like him Like men of that sort, Drouet had a habit of observing and judging women in the street who were fashionably dressed or beautiful. He had a feminine love of dress, and was therefore well versed in the matter. Eyes, though he knew nothing intellectually. He noticed how they had small feet, how they raised their chins slightly, how they twisted their bodies curvaceously and gracefully. To him, a woman was coquettish The swaying of his hips is as attractive to the drinker as the color of wine is to the drinker. He will turn his head and follow the receding figure for a long time with his eyes. He will be excited like a child with an unchecked enthusiasm. .He adores what women hold dear to themselves...elegance. Like a faithful believer, he bows down before this shrine with them.

"Did you see that girl who just went by?" he said to her, the first day they walked together in the street. "She walks beautifully, doesn't she?" Carrie watched with attention the graceful gesture of the admired. "Yes, she walks beautifully," she replied cheerfully, thinking that perhaps she had some slight defect in that respect. Since the man's gait was beautiful, she had to take a closer look. Instinctively, she thought Mimic that gesture. Of course, she could do that too. A girl as clever as herself would see the knack of doing something, and put it into practice, once she saw it repeated, admired, and admired. Drouet was not shrewd enough to see the uselessness of it. Tactful. He should have pitted Carrie against herself, and not with a woman who was better than herself. It would have been much better. Had he been dealing with an experienced woman, he would not have done it. It was a stupid thing. But he regarded Carrie as a young girl who had just debuted, and was not as smart as her, so he couldn't understand her feelings. So he continued to enlighten her, and continued to hurt her. Injury is really a stupid thing.

Carrie accepted his instruction calmly. She saw what Drouet liked, and dimly saw his faults. A woman learns that a man is openly unsympathetic, and her opinion of him declines. She thinks that there is only one person in the world who deserves the highest compliment, and that is herself. If a man can win the favor of many women, he must be used to pouring honey on them all. In the apartment complex where they lived, she received instruction of the same nature. In the same building lived a theater clerk, Mr. Hale. He was the manager of the Stander Theatre. His wife was a lovely brunette, thirty-five years old. A person who leads a decent life. Mr. Hale earns $45 a week. His wife is very attractive, imitating the mind of a teenager, and objecting to the family life of housekeeping and raising children. Like Drouet and Jia Like Carrie, they rented a three-bedroom apartment above Carrie.

Not long after Carrie moved in, Mrs. Hale became acquainted with her, and went out with her. For a long time, this was her only company. The small talk of the manager's wife became her channel of acquaintance with the outside world. Those shallow and boring things, The reverence for wealth, those traditional moral values, sifted through the mindless Mrs. Manager, and confused Carrie for a moment. Her own emotions, on the other hand, are a purifying force. There is a force within her which is constantly urging her upward. It cannot be denied. Those emotions call her constantly through the soul. Suite across the hall There lived a young girl and her mother. They were from Evansville, Indiana, the wife and daughter of a railroad accountant. The daughter came here to learn music, and the mother came to keep her company.

Carrie was not acquainted with them. But she saw the daughter come and go. She saw her several times sitting at the piano in the drawing room, and often heard her play. The girl, for her part, was well dressed. She was elegant. A ring or two of precious stones gleamed on her white fingers as she played. Carrie was now affected by music. Her sensitive temperament resonated with certain pieces, as a string of a harp resonates with a corresponding key on a piano. Her emotions were naturally delicate, Certain melancholy tunes aroused dim contemplation in her mind, aroused her desire for what she lacked, and made her more attached to the good things she had. There was a short song that the young lady played with special tenderness. Carrie heard the song from the open door downstairs in the drawing-room. It was the time when day and night alternated. In the eyes of the unemployed and the vagabond, such moments clouded the world. Sad and pensive tones. Thoughts drifted back to the distant past, bringing back a few dried flowers, those vanished joys. Carrie sat at the window and looked out. Drouet had not returned since going out at ten o'clock in the morning. A little walk by herself, and a little reading of a book by Bessie M. Clay, which Drouet had left there. But she did not like it very much. Then she changed into her evening dress. When she Sitting looking at the park opposite, she was full of hope and melancholy, as nature, thirsting for change and life, is at such times. The piece of music that was quietly passed on made her deeply moved, with mixed feelings. She couldn't help recalling the best and saddest things in her limited career, and for a while she regretted her mistakes.

She was in the midst of this mood when Drouet entered, bringing with it a quite different atmosphere. Dusk had fallen, but Carrie had forgotten to light the lamp. The fire in the grate was already very weak. "Where are you, Gard?" he called, using the pet name he had given her. "Here," she said. There was sorrow and loneliness in her voice, but he did not hear it. There was no poet in him to read a woman's mind on such occasions, and to comfort her in the sorrows of life. On the contrary, He struck a match and lit the gas lamp. "Well," he cried, "you are weeping."

There were still tears in her eyes, which were not dry yet. "Hush!" he said, "you shouldn't be crying." He held her hand, and from his egoism kindly thought that perhaps she was crying because she felt alone in his absence. "Well, well," he went on, "everything is all right now. Let us waltz around to the music." No proposal could have been more inappropriate. Carrie saw at once that he could not understand her feelings, and sympathized with her. She could not yet clearly point out his faults, or the differences between them, but she felt it. It was his first big mistake.

In the evening, when the girl walked briskly out in the company of her mother, Drouet spoke highly of her manners. This made Carrie aware of the nature and significance of those fashionable gestures and movements of women: they make a man appear Elegant and extraordinary. She pursed her lips in imitation of the railroad accountant's daughter in front of the mirror, and at the same time turned her head slightly. Had this gesture been repeatedly pointed out in other women, Carrie was a natural imitator. She began to learn the little gestures that beautiful and vain women invariably perform. In short, her knowledge of manners increased greatly. Her The appearance changed accordingly: she became a charming girl.

Drouet noticed the changes. That morning he saw the new bow in her hair and the new hairstyle. "You look pretty curly like that, Gard," he said. "Is that so?" she answered sweetly. She tried some other fads the same day. Her gait was more graceful than ever, the result of imitating the elegance of the railroad accountant's daughter. It is difficult to express the influence of this young lady on the same floor. It is for this reason that when Hurstwood visited, the young The woman was no longer the Carrie whom Drouet had first accosted. Her deficiencies in dress and manner had largely been rectified. She was lovely, well-mannered, and shy from a lack of self-confidence. There was a childlike expression, which at once attracted the affectation of a gentleman. This fresh charm is ancient. His emotion still retains an appreciation for the innocent youthful charm, and now this The feeling was rekindled. He looked at her beautiful cheek and felt a subtle light of life emanating from it. There was not a trace of the cunning to which his sensual nature was accustomed in her large clear eyes. Her little vanity, if he could see it, would only amuse him. "Strange," thought he, as he drove away in his carriage, "how the fellow Drouet could have got her." He saw at a glance that her sentiments were more refined than Drouet's. The carriage was jolting forward, and the gas lamps on both sides quickly receded. His gloved hands were clasped on his chest, and he could only see the room under the light and Carrie's face, and he thought of the young beauty giving birth. fun of. "I'll give her a bouquet," he thought, "and Drouet won't mind." He did not hide from himself for a single moment the fact that he was infatuated with her. He was not troubled by the fact that Drouet was first. He simply let his thoughts float like gossamer threads, hoping that they would be like spider's threads, where it will hang. He does not know and cannot guess what the result will be. A few weeks later, the traveling Drouet, returning from a short business trip to Omaha, met on the streets of Chicago a richly dressed woman, one of his many old acquaintances. It was a surprise, and now I am talking about addiction with this acquaintance, so I changed my original intention. "Come, let's dine together," said he, not thinking at all of the possibility of meeting acquaintances and causing trouble. "Very well," said his companion. They went together to a high-end restaurant suitable for conversation. It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they met, and it was half past seven after dinner. At the end of a little anecdote, Drouet's face broke into a smile. Just then his and Hurstwood's eyes met. Hurstwood was coming in with some friends, and when he saw Drouet and With a woman, and this woman was not Carrie, he came to a conclusion in his mind at once. "Hmph, the wretch," thought he, with a touch of indignation and sympathy, "is so heartless that it hurts that little girl." After Drouet's eyes met Hurstwood's, he paid no attention to it, and continued to think about it lightly, until he realized that Hurstwood was deliberately pretending not to see him, and he was a little worried. Then he noticed some of the latter's expression. He thought of Carrie and their last meeting. God, he had to explain to Hurstwood. A casual half-hour chat with an old friend shouldn't cause a fuss, take it too seriously. For the first time in his life he had a troubled conscience. Such complex moral questions were beyond his grasp. Hurstwood would laugh at his lack of affection, and he would laugh with Hurstwood. Carrie would not hear Yes, and the girlfriend who's dining with him now won't know. But he can't help but feel that things are bad...his reputation is stained, but he hasn't actually done anything bad. He ends listlessly After dinner, I sent my girlfriend to the car, and then went home. "He didn't tell me anything about his new lovers," thought Hurstwood, "he thought I thought he really loved that little girl." "I have just introduced him to Carrie, and he will not think that I am still making love," thought Drouet. "I saw you the other day," said Hurstwood gently, the next time Drouet entered the fine tavern he was obliged to visit, and held out his forefinger suggestively, as a parent speaks to a child. "It was an old acquaintance of mine. I met it just as I was leaving the station," explained Drouet. "She used to be a great beauty." "Isn't it a little bit attractive?" said another, pretending to be joking. "Oh, no," said Drouet; "this time it's just impossible to escape." "How long will you stay here this time?" asked Hurstwood. "Only for a few days." "You must take that little girl out to dinner with me," said he, "and you'll get her bored if you shut her up. I'll book a box, and we'll go and see Joe Jefferson." play." "I didn't shut her up," said the salesman, "I'll definitely come." Hurstwood was delighted to hear this. He could not believe that Drouet had any affection for Carrie. Looking at the well-dressed, carefree salesman, he could not help feeling jealous of the man he had liked. He began to use To look at him with the eyes of a rival in love, for his wit and charm, to find out where his weaknesses lie. No doubt he may think of Drouet as a good man, but to think of him as a lover is a bit unnerving. It's disrespectful. He could have fooled him. Well, if Carrie could see something like Thursday's little accident, the matter would be settled. While he was laughing and chatting, these thoughts were running through his head, almost a little Carried away. But Drouet was not aware of it. He was not able to analyze the eyes and emotions of a man like Hurstwood. He stood there, smiling, and accepted the invitation, while his friend looked at him with a hawk's eye. he. The heroine of this peculiarly complex comedy is not thinking of any of them at this time. She is still busy adjusting her thoughts and feelings to the new environment, and she is not yet troubled and troubled by them. painful danger. One evening Drouet saw her dressing before the mirror. "Jade," he said, catching her, "I believe you've grown vain." "Nothing of the sort," she answered with a smile. "Yes, you are very pretty," he said, putting his arms around her, "put on your dark blue suit, and I'll take you to the theater." "Why, I have promised Mrs. Hale to go to the Fair with her to-night," she replied apologetically. "Did you promise?" he said, thinking absently of the situation. "I wouldn't have gone to the Exposition if it had been me." "I don't know," answered Carrie, not knowing what to do, but not offering to cancel the appointment and go to the theater with him. Just then there was a knock at the door, and the maid handed in a letter. "He said he would answer," explained the maid. "It's from Hurstwood," said Drouet, as he opened it, looking at the name on the envelope. "You must go to Joe Jefferson's play with me tonight," said the letter, "and we agreed that day that I shall be the host this time, and nothing else." "You see, what is the matter to be done?" asked Drouet innocently. Carrie was eager to agree. "You decide, Charlie," she replied with reservations. "I think we'd better go if you can cancel your appointment with upstairs," said Drouet. "No problem," replied Carrie without thinking. While Drouet was looking for paper to write his reply, Carrie went to dress. She scarcely gave a thought to why she was so interested in the invitation. "Should I wear my hair the way it was yesterday?" she asked, coming out with several dresses dangling together. "Of course," he replied cheerfully. She was relieved to see that he was not suspicious at all. She did not think that the reason she was willing to go was because Hurstwood was attractive to her. She just felt that the idea of ​​Hurstwood Drouet playing with her three The other two arrangements were more interesting. She dressed carefully, apologized upstairs, and set off. "I must say," said Hurstwood, as they reached the theater hall, "that you are very charming to-night.", Carrie felt her heart beat under his admiring gaze. "Come with me now," he said, leading the way through the antechamber into the hall. If there is any costume exhibition, it is in the theater. As the saying goes, "unwashed in water" is used to describe clothes that are crisp and new, and it is true here. "Have you seen Jefferson play?" he asked, turning sideways to Carrie in the box. "No," she replied. "Ah, he's such an interesting actor, very likable," he went on, introducing as many compliments as these people could think of. He sent Drouet to get the program and what he had heard about Jay Telling her about Folsom, Carrie felt an indescribable joy. The surroundings, the decoration of the box, the manner of her companion...all hypnotized her. The first time their eyes met by chance, there came over her a heat of emotion from his eyes which she had never experienced before. She could not explain it, for the next time Hurstwood's glance and gestures seemed to There is only kindness and hospitality, and I have no opinion of her. Drouet joined the conversation, but he was not at all funny by comparison. Hurstwood entertained them both, so that Carrie thought him a very different person. She felt instinctively that he was stronger and more refined than Drouet, though He is so simple at the same time. By the end of the third act, she has decided that Drouet is only a good man, and that he is lacking in other respects. In obvious contrast, her opinion of Drouet is getting lower and lower. "I've had a good time to-night," said Carrie, as they left the theater after the play. "Yes, it is very pleasant," added Drouet. Little did he know, there had been a war, and his defenses had been weakened. He was like the emperor of China sitting on the court of dragons, complacent, no Knowing that his best province has been taken from him. "You have given me a good evening, or I would be very dull," said Hurstwood, "good-bye." He took Carrie's little hand, and an electric current of affection passed between them. "I'm tired," said Carrie, leaning back on the seat of the car, when Drouet began to speak. "Then you rest for a while, I'm going to smoke a cigarette." He stood up, stupidly walked to the platform in front of the tram, and let these love games go.