Chapter 22 Chapter 22 The Rise of the War: The Battle of Family and Carnal Desires

The misfortune of the Hurstwoods was that the jealousy which had sprung from love did not go away with it. Mrs. Hurstwood was particularly jealous, and events later turned it into hatred. Physically , Hurstwood was still worthy of his wife's old affection. But he had dissatisfied her in the sense of their life together. With his love gone, he could no longer be considerate to her. And this For women, it is worse than murder and arson. We often determine our opinion of others from self-interest. Mrs. Hurstwood's self-interest makes her see her husband's indifferent character through colored glasses. .Those words and behaviors that are just out of indifference between husband and wife have ulterior motives in her opinion.

In this way she became bitter and suspicious. Jealousy made her notice every negligence in his conjugal relations; likewise, jealousy made her notice how easy and graceful he was in life. His attention to personal grooming showed no sign of diminishing interest in life. His every movement, every look expressed his fondness for Carrie, the way this new pursuit brought him. Mrs. Hurstwood felt something, she smelled the change in him, as an animal smells danger at a distance. Hurstwood's behavior directly and powerfully reinforces this feeling. We have seen him impatiently prevaricate in the service of his family, which no longer brings him pleasure and satisfaction. For her annoying pressing , he has been in a fit of rage lately. These little quarrels are actually caused by an atmosphere full of discord. It is self-evident that a cloudy sky will bring thunderstorms. Since he publicly expressed dissatisfaction with her plans Mrs. Hurstwood, therefore, was very angry when she left the table this morning. In the dressing-room she saw Jessica still combing her hair slowly. Hurstwood had left the house.

"I hope you won't be so late at breakfast," she said to Jessica, as she went to get her crochet basket, "the food is cold, and you haven't eaten it yet." She lost her former peace today because of her temper, so it's Jessica's bad luck that she will be a disaster. "I'm not hungry," she answered. "Then why didn't you tell the maid to pack up the things earlier, and make her wait all morning?" "She'll have no objection," said Jessica coldly. "Well, she has no objection, but I have objection," her mother retorted. "Besides, I don't like you talking to me in this way. You are too young to play with your mother."

"Well, mother, don't quarrel," said Jessica, "what happened this morning?" "It's nothing, and I didn't quarrel with you. Don't think that if I indulge you in some things, you can let others wait for you. I won't allow you to do that." "I didn't ask anyone to wait for me," said Jessica sharply. Her attitude changed from the original sarcasm and indifference to a sharp retort: ​​"I said I was not hungry, and I didn't want breakfast." "Be careful how you speak to me, miss. I won't let you. You hear me, I won't let you!"

Before Mrs. Hurstwood had finished speaking, Jessica was walking towards the door. She tossed her head and brushed off her pretty dress, showing an air of independence and indifference to herself. She had no desire to quarrel with anyone. Such little disputes are commonplace. They are the result of the development of an independent and selfish nature. Little George shows greater sensitivity and excess in all matters involving personal rights. He tries to make everyone feel that he is a man, The privileges of a man. . . . For a youth of nineteen, that's arrogance so unwarranted, so unreasonable.

Hurstwood was a man who gave orders and had a touch of good feeling. He found himself losing control and understanding of those around him more and more, which irritated him very much. Now, when little things like this early trip to Wakeshire were brought up, he clearly saw his place in the family. It wasn't him calling the shots, he was just following them. , ousted him from his position of authority, and added an exasperating moral blow, such as a contemptuous sneer or a mocking sneer, his temper could no longer be contained. He raged almost without restraint, I wish I could cut myself off from this family which seemed to constitute the most vexing obstacle to his passions and opportunities.

Still, despite his wife's best efforts to rebel, he maintains the façade of being the head of the family. She throws tantrums and publicly contradicts him for no reason other than a sense that she can. She has no concrete proof , to prove that she is justified in doing so... She doesn't have any evidence or excuse. But what is lacking now is an excuse. As long as there is an excuse, her seemingly unfounded resentment will have a solid basis. The cloud of doubt has already gathered, and only one piece of solid evidence provides a cold wind, and the angry storm is about to pour down. Now at last she got a little word of Hurstwood's misbehavior. Not long after this incident of Hurstwood and Carrie's drive west on Washington Mrs. Hurstwood came across Mrs. Hurstwood at the door. He was walking east on the same avenue and recognized Hurstwood, but only after he had passed. He didn't see Carrie well... ..not sure if it was Mrs. Hurstwood or their daughter.

"You ignore old friends when you go for a drive, don't you?" he said jokingly to Mrs. Hurstwood. "I always say hello if I see them. Where is that?" "On Washington Avenue," he answered, expecting her eyes to light up with the memory. She shook her head. "Yes, near the Horne Road, where you are with your husband." "I suppose you are mistaken," she answered. Then she remembered that her husband was involved in the matter, and at once she had many new suspicions, but she did not show them on the surface. "I'm sure I saw your husband," he went on, "but I'm not sure the other is you. It may be your daughter."

"Perhaps so," said Mrs. Hurstwood, but she was sure it was not so, for Jessica had been with her for weeks, and she tried to hide her feelings in order to get more details. "In the afternoon?" she asked slyly, with an air of knowing. "Yes, about two or three o'clock." "That must be Jessica," said Mrs. Hurstwood. She did not want to be seen to care much about the matter. The doctor had a point of his own, but didn't say it. At least as far as he was concerned, he didn't think the matter was worth discussing further. During the hours and days that followed Mrs. Hurstwood mused over the news. She thought it absolutely certain that the doctor had seen her husband. It was probable that he was driving in a carriage with other women, But she said she was "busy". She then recalled with increasing annoyance how he often refused to go out with her, to visit friends, and, in fact, to take her to any of the social pleasures that were part of her life. He was seen at the theater with friends he called Moy. And now he was seen driving in a carriage. Likely, he would have an excuse for it again. And maybe she didn't Someone else knows. Otherwise, why is he so busy recently and so indifferent to her? In the past six weeks, he has become surprisingly irritable, and he is surprisingly fond of picking up things and running outside, no matter what is going on at home .why?

She remembered, with a more subtle emotion, that he no longer looked at her with satisfaction or admiration in the past. It was obvious, among other reasons, that he thought she was old and uninteresting now. Perhaps he saw her face. Wrinkles. She is old, but he is still dressed as Mr. Pianpianjia. He still goes to the places of pleasure and entertainment with great interest. But she... She didn't think about it any further. She just found the whole situation so outrageous that she hated him. She didn't say anything about it at the time, because in fact it wasn't certain, and there was no need to bring it up. It was just that the atmosphere of suspicion and resentment grew stronger, and from time to time it caused some small quarrels like a drizzle. These small quarrels were often caused by Angers flared up and turned into brawls. The Waukesha vacation was just a continuation of that sort of thing.

The day after Carrie's appearance at Affley Hall, Mrs. Hurstwood took Jessica to the races. There was also a fellow of Jessica's acquaintance, Mr. Bud Taylor, the son of the local furniture store owner. They took a carriage and left early. They happened to meet several of Hurstwood's friends, all of them members of the fraternity, and two of them had been to the play the night before. She would not mention it, but Jessica's young friends were courting her most of the time. Jessica's attention was drawn to him, and Mrs. Hurstwood, who was bored, spent most of her time in the company of acquaintances. After a casual greeting, a short chat among friends began, which was extended to a long chat. She heard this interesting news from a person with whom she greeted casually. "I know," said the man, who was wearing a very nicely patterned sweatshirt and a binoculars slung over his shoulder, "you didn't come to our little show last night." "No?" inquired Mrs. Hurstwood, wondering how he could mention in that tone an act she had never heard of. She was about to ask: "What act?" the man added: " I saw your husband." Her surprise was immediately replaced by more subtle suspicion. "Yes," she said cautiously, "is it all right? He didn't tell me that." "Very well, one of the best amateur performances I've ever seen. There's an actress who astounds us all." "Is it?" said Mrs. Hurstwood. "Yes, it's a pity you didn't go. I hear you're not well, and I'm sorry for you." "Uncomfortable!" Mrs. Hurstwood was on the verge of repeating the words. But she restrained her complicated impulses of denial and questioning, and said in an almost harsh tone: "Yes, what a pity." "Looks like there are quite a few people here today for the races, don't they?" remarked the acquaintance, and the conversation turned to other matters. The manager's wife still wanted to ask more questions, but she couldn't find an opportunity. She was at a loss for a while, and she was eager to figure out what kind of scam he was playing. Why did she say that she was sick when she was not sick? This is another The example shows that he was unwilling to take her out, and even made excuses to cover it up, and she was determined to find out more things. "Did you go to the show last night?" she asked, when she was seated and greeted by another friend of Hurstwood's. "Go, but you didn't go." "Yes," she replied, "I was a little unwell." "I heard from your husband," he answered. "Oh, the play was very interesting, much better than I had expected." "Did a lot of people go?" "The theater is full. It's a great fraternity event. I saw several of your friends, Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Barnes, and Mrs. Collins." "Then it's a social gathering." "Yes, that's right. My wife had a great time." Mrs. Hurstwood bit her lip. "Well," she thought, "that's what he does. Tell my friends I'm sick and can't come." She wondered why he went alone. There must be ghosts in it. She racked her brains to find out his motives. After thinking about it all day, when Hurstwood came home in the evening, she was full of anger, eager for an explanation, eager to get revenge on him. She wanted to know why he did it. She was sure it was not like What she heard was so simple, there must be something else behind it. Malicious curiosity and suspicion, combined with the lingering anger of the morning, made her look like the embodiment of imminent disaster. She paced up and down the room, eyes gathering more and more. The darker and darker shadows, the cruel lines around the corners of the mouth revealed the cruelty of the barbarians. On the other hand, we have every reason to believe that the manager came home beaming and in the best of moods. The conversation with Carrie and the engagement with her made him so elated that he could sing. He was complacent and proud of his success. , and proud of Carrie. He was now friendly to everyone, and he had no ill will towards his wife. He was willing to be pleasant, to forget her existence, and to live in the atmosphere of his renewed youth and gaiety. For the present, therefore, the home seemed to him very pleasant, very comfortable. In the hall he found an evening paper, left there by the maid, which Mrs. Hurstwood had forgotten. In the dining-room the table was set. The tablecloth was spread, the napkins set, the glass and colored china gleaming. Through the open door he saw the fire in the kitchen crackling in the stove, and supper almost ready. In the small backyard, the little George was playing with a new dog he had bought. In the living room, Jessica was playing the piano, and the merry waltz sounded throughout the cozy home. It seemed to him that everyone, like himself, was in good spirits again. , devoted to youth and beauty, keen on pleasure-seeking. He wanted to praise everything around him. He took a satisfied look at the spread table and shining sideboard before going upstairs, ready to go to He went to the living room with the window facing the street, and sat comfortably in an arm-chair reading the newspaper. But when he went in, he found his wife combing her hair with a brush, and meditating as she brushed. He went in with a light heart, and was going to say something nice and promise something to appease his wife. But his wife said nothing. He sat down in the big chair, moved a little, Making himself more comfortable, he opened the paper and read it. Presently he saw an interesting report of a game between the Chicago baseball team and the Detroit baseball team, and a pleasant smile appeared on his face. While he was reading the newspaper, his wife looked him inadvertently through the mirror in front of her. She noticed his happy and contented air, his easy manner, and his joyful mood, which made her even more angry. She couldn't understand him. After ridiculing her, indifference and neglect, how could he show such an air in front of her? If she tolerated it, he would continue to do so. She was thinking about what to say to him, how Only by emphasizing her request and how to talk about this matter can she vent her anger completely. In fact, just like the sword hanging over Damocles' head is only held by a hair, her anger is only due to It is still waiting for the wording to break out for the time being. Meanwhile, Hurstwood was reading an interesting piece of news about how a stranger new to Chicago had been seduced by a casino hustler. He thought the news was very interesting, moved a little, and was alone. Laughed. He hoped it would get his wife's attention so he could read the news to her. "Haha," he cried softly, as if talking to himself, "this is so funny." Mrs. Hurstwood went on brushing her hair, not even bothering to glance at him. He moved again, then read another message. At last he felt that it was time to let his good mood out. Giulia might still be brooding over the morning's incident, but it was not difficult to solve. In fact, she No, but he didn't mind. If she wanted, she could go to Waukeshire right away, the sooner the better. He'd tell her that as soon as he got a chance, and the matter would pass. "Did you notice the news, Julia?" he said at last when he saw another. "A lawsuit has been filed against the Illinois Central Railroad to keep them from building railroads in Lake Shore." She didn't want to answer him, but finally forced herself to say: "No." The tone was very sharp. Hurstwood pricked up his ears. The tone of her voice rang alarm bells in his brain. "It would be all right, if they did," he went on, half to himself, half to her, but already he had the feeling that something was wrong with his wife today. He turned his attention again to the paper, very alertly, But he was paying attention to her movements in his heart, trying to figure out what happened. In fact, if he hadn't been thinking of other things, a well-behaved man like Hurstwood . . . . would not have made such a big mistake not to see that his wife was full of anger. Carrie's care and promises to him made him so excited that he couldn't keep his mind. Otherwise, he wouldn't feel the atmosphere in the house. So lovely. There was so little joy and excitement in the atmosphere to-night, he had been mistaken. If he had come home in the same mood as he used to, he would have been better prepared for the situation at hand. He read the newspaper for a few more minutes, and then felt that he should find some way to ease the conflict. It was obvious that his wife did not intend to make peace with him easily. So he asked: "Where did you get that dog that George is playing in the yard?" "I don't know," she said aggressively. He put the newspaper on his knees, and looked absently out of the window. He had no intention of losing his temper, but of keeping his face pleasant, and hoping, by asking this question or that, to come to some kind of gentle understanding. "Why were you so angry about that thing in the morning?" he said at last. "It's not worth arguing about. You know, if you really want to go to Wakeshire, you go." "You stay alone and flirt with others, don't you?" she cried, turning to him, with a sharp, angry sneer on her stern face. He froze as if he had been slapped in the face. His persuasive and conciliatory attitude disappeared immediately, and he quickly turned to the defensive, but for a while he didn't know how to answer. "What do you mean?" he asked finally pulling himself together, looking at the ruthless and resolute woman in front of him. She ignored her and continued to dress in front of the mirror. "You know what I mean," she said at last, as though she had too much evidence in her hands to bother to speak. "No, I don't understand," he said obstinately, but his heart was tense, and he was wary of the next attack. The air of the woman's final showdown put him at a disadvantage in the quarrel. She didn't answer. "Hmph!" He tilted his head and snorted softly. This was his most feeble move, and his tone was not at all sure. Mrs. Hurstwood, noticing the feebleness of his words, turned to face him like a wild animal, and was ready to deliver another powerful blow. "I want the money for Waukeshire tomorrow morning," she said. He looked at her in amazement. He had never seen such a cold, determined expression in her eyes...such an expression of unconcerned cruelty. She seemed composed...full of confidence and determination to get out All control was taken from him. He felt that all his cunning was powerless against her, defenseless. He had to fight back. "What do you mean?" he said, jumping up. "You do! I want to know what you've got tonight?" "I'm not evil," she burst into anger, "I just want the money, and you'll put on airs after you get the money." "Putting airs? Hmph! You don't want to get money from me, what do you mean by all those insinuations?" "Where were you last night?" she shot back, and her words sounded vehement. "Who did you drive in the carriage with on Washington Avenue? Who were you at the theater with when George saw you that night? Do you think Am I a fool to confuse you? Do you think I'm going to sit at home and believe your 'too busy,' can't come? I'm going to let you spread the word that I can't come? I want you Just understand, I don't have any use for your old-fashioned manner. You don't want to judge me or the children anymore. The relationship between me and you is completely over." "You're lying," said he, cornered and unable to think of any other excuse. "Lying? Huh!" she said fiercely, but then regained her restraint, "you can say it's a lie if you like, anyway, I know it in my heart." "It's a lie, I tell you," he said in a low, stern tone. "You've been asking around for months, trying to find out what the crime is. Now you think you've found it. You think you're ready to throw a tantrum." , crawling over my head. Humph! I tell you it can't be done. As long as I'm in the house, I'm the head of the house. Don't you or anyone try to give orders to me, don't you hear ?" With a fierce look in his eyes, he pushed towards her step by step. Seeing this woman's calm and sarcasm, she was sure of victory, as if she was already the head of the family, for a moment he wanted to strangle her to death. She looked straight at him... like a witch. "I'm not giving you orders," she answered. "I'm just telling you what I want." She spoke so calmly, so courageously, that he was somehow discouraged. He could not fight her back, could not ask her to produce evidence. Somehow, he felt as if her flashing eyes showed that evidence and the law were in her hands. That side also reminded him that all his property was in her name. He was like a warship, powerful and intimidating, but without sails, he could only swing and struggle in the sea. "What I'm going to tell you," he said at last, recovering a little composure, "is that there are things you don't want to get your hands on." "We'll see," she said. "I'll find out what my rights are. If you don't want to talk to me, maybe you'll be willing to talk to my lawyer." It was a very fine play of hers, and it worked at once. Beaten, Hurstwood had to retreat. He realized now that she was not trying to browbeat, and that he was confronted with a difficult problem. He could hardly Knowing what to say. The joy of the day was gone now, and he was restless and irritated. What to do? "As you please," he said at last, "I don't want to quarrel with you any more." And he strode out of the room.